The protests have displaced more than 25,000 undocumented migrants, but what the numbers do not capture are the rippling effects on indigenous communities that have lived alongside these travellers for millennia. The sense of belonging that indigenous people hold for shared land and water is now challenged by what many interpret as a hardening of borders.
In Johannesburg’s township of Soweto, police foot patrols surround the ancient meeting places that once hosted elders who shared stories under the tree of the community. Reporters note that shops in the city centre remain shuttered, creating a quiet that is hardly a sign of peace, but a sign of waiting for the next wave of conflicts to settle.
When President Cyril Ramaphosa urged protesters to refrain from intimidation, senior Councilor Zulu elder Ms. Mhloli said: ‘Our ancestors taught us that the land belongs to all living, not just those who occupy the borders of a map.’ She stresses that the mindset of isolating land alienates the many who work and study many towns, including Protector villages where ancestral spirits are free.
Meanwhile, the movement Operation Dudula has amplified a call to ‘push the police to do their job’ if undocumented migrants do not leave the country. A 42‑year‑old Malawian man, Nelson Mbewe, tells a BBC correspondent his heart is torn. He says: ‘I came to earn a living for my family and for my people, but they call us Makwerekwere – a derogatory slur. The justification is simply that our country is human, not a foreign country for tourists.’
In Durban, the transit camp where white tents hold Polisi employees and fugitives alike were dismantled in an attempt to clear the camp for repatriation. A woman in sarong, eyes tightly pinned to a bus board, whispers a plea: ‘We are all parts of the same fibre. No matter the politics, Africa cannot be whole without the South African night.’ She reminds the city that “the land does not forget the touch of the palms of many tribes.”
As the government claims more than 50,000 migrants have been arrested, the parasite of xenophobia clings to South Africa’s history, with past violence reminding the communities that the past is alive. Hundreds of the new repatriated persons will be flown or bused to Malawi, Mozambique and Nigeria, but the root of the problem remains: a belief that anyone who cannot “prove legitimate” is a threat to community life.
With the new security presence, indigenous communities are re‑examining old treaties that promise coexistence. Elder Nkululeke, a Xhosa elder, urges the Dream speak of a new generation: ‘The belief that land belongs to its holder must now be extended to the land that feeds the descendants of all tribes we love. We need to honour the truth that the land hides many tongues.’
While protestors march and police guard streets, the future of South Africa’s ecological stewardship is tied to how the government balances borders with ancestral wisdom. The ongoing upgrades of repatriation processes must avoid forgetting the old belief that the land is for sustaining all we share.
The situation remains fluid, and the indigenous perspective half‑easily visible below the banners is a quiet call to keep the pulse of the earth lasting.
