Unpacking the unseen side of Johannesburg, where informal workers keep the city running despite lacking recognition and job security.
- The “City of Gold’s” informal workers keep the city running, but remain unprotected and often unseen.
- Street vendors and domestic workers form the backbone of the city’s economy, while battling insecurity and police harassment.
- Despite promises and policies, informal traders still face eviction and neglect from law officials.
The day’s work starts at dawn, with traders, cleaners and recyclers rousing Johannesburg’s thriving economy through informal trading. It’s 4am on a Thursday morning and Thomas Huuguamze, a 50-year-old street vendor is getting ready to set up his stall on the pavements at Soweto’s Zone 6, Bara taxi rank[LM1] . By 5.30am he needs to have his umbrella and table set up with a colourful spread of sweets for the early-bird taxi riders on their way to work. He is relieved that today it is not raining, otherwise that would mean no trade. No work means no pay, which means he won’t be able to send enough money back home in Mozambique. “My problem is my umbrella,” he says with a tired smile. “When it rains there’s no work for me, I close my shop.”
About 45 minutes away, in Cosmo City, we meet Beauty Moyo, a 35-year-old domestic worker. Before dawn breaks, she is awake, moving quietly through her small kitchen, as she boils water for a bath and packs lunch for her partner of 14 years. By 6.30am he’s out of the door, and only then does she attend to herself. Accompanied by the sounds of bird chirps, she packs a change of clothes in her bag, throws on her jeans and a jacket. The time is 7.30am, so she hurriedly walks to the taxi rank. Her route to Sandton is long and crowded, but she’s used to it. By 9am, she’s ringing the intercom at the gate of a sleek house owned by two lawyer brothers where she’s worked for the past three years. They treat her with respect, and she returns the favour with loyalty and laughter that fills the home. It’s hard work, but she takes pride in it, creating a world different to her own.
Johannesburg is known as Africa’s “City of Gold”, its glass buildings stand tall and twinkle, but its shine relies on the informal sector. Johannesburg’s skyscrapers, Africa’s biggest stock exchange, and corporate headquarters coexist with a foundational city of informal yet essential labourers who keep it running.
Through the lively streets of Cosmo City, Soweto’s taxi ranks, and the inner city’s pavements, the informal sector is the hidden gem of South Africa’s financial capital.
Statistics South Africa (Stats SA) reports that Gauteng is home to 28,9% of the nation’s informal businesses, with a large portion based in Johannesburg. “They play an important role in providing a market for the poorer people of the economy, which is important for low-income consumers. A large portion of the economy hasn’t recognised street vendors and informal traders” says Pat Horn, an International Coordinator of StreetNet International.
Inside Joburg’s hidden economy
The quiet struggles for survival that sustain Johannesburg’s world-class status are under-acknowledged. The city’s true economic story is written not only in the boardrooms of Africa’s richest square mile, but in the resilience of its informal workers.
Johannesburg’s informal economy a way of putting food on the table for many, including locals and foreign nationals. The sector acts as a shock absorber to the country’s inequality. According to Stats SA’s Quarterly Labour Force Survey (QLFS) for Quarter 2 of 2024, Gauteng’s unemployment rate remains high, at 32.9%.
“The formal economy cannot create enough jobs for people in South Africa,” says David Francis, a researcher at the University of the Witwatersrand, who is an urban market economist. “People have to subsist in the informal economy, because of the apartheid legacy.”
While the labour of informal workers generates money and provides essential services across the city of Johannesburg, the sector itself is denied credible recognition and protection. “This is where I live, when they chase us away, I’ll come back. I don’t have another plan,” added Huuguamze.
This mirrors the country’s broader contradictions, where political freedom has not translated into equality on the ground.
Despite these challenges, the informal economy supports approximately 377 000 people, which accounts for about 19,5% of the city’s employment. However, it is characterised by insecurity and is often inaccurately depicted.
“Research shows a disjoint in the government and the municipality, the quarterly data does not reflect the actual numbers on the ground,” says Francis.
The wealthy north shines with skyscrapers and firms, while the south and townships battle with poverty and unemployment. The so called “City of Gold”, Africa’s powerhouse, depends on the markets, domestic workers, and street vendors from these townships to keep its formal economy running.
The stories stats can’t tell
In the busy streets of Soweto’s Diepkloof, the scorching sun shines down on Huuguamze’s worn-out umbrella. He takes off his jersey and wears a discoloured cap. He immigrated to South Africa in 2008, for “greener pastures”. Renting a small R500 bachelor flat, Soweto has become his home away from home. For three years, a small portion of a shared pavement has become his workplace and lifeline.
Huuguamze turned to selling goods after leaving his contractual jobs, frustrated by months of unpaid wages. “Some contracts pay; some have stories. I see this business as being better,” he says. Now, his stall is his main source of income. With a wife and five children to feed in Mozambique. He works tirelessly to send home about R2,000 every month, and relies on a stokvel to restock and cover rent in tough times. But life as a street vendor is not easy. The weather and law officials are his biggest challenges[LM2] .
He sighs in frustration. “Makuqhamuka iMetro, siyabaleka sonke nje, akunandaba ukuthi uyi South African noma owangaphandle, sonke siyabaleka. [When the Metro police come, we all run, it doesn’t matter if you’re South African, or from outside, we all run.]
With a weary voice, he continues, “…uma unga baleki, bathatha istock sakho, siyabaleka. [If you don’t run, they confiscate your stock, so we run.]
Having a wife and five children still in school is what keeps him motivated.
Despite his challenges, Huuguamze remains at his post everyday, dusk till dawn, determined to make a living and keep his family fed, a symbol of resilience amid the daily struggles of the city’s informal economy.
A different perspective
Across town, Moyo’s day takes a different shape, but the same determination reflects in her job as she sweeps the afternoon away.
As afternoon sun beams catch on the veranda, Moyo sweeps dust onto the grass. Her faded apron clings to her, and she adjusts a worn out headscarf before continuing.
Originally from Zimbabwe, she came to Johannesburg in 2010 after her father passed away. Things at home became hard, and she couldn’t matriculate. As a young woman coming to South Africa, she had dreams of opening her own business one day. “I don’t like working for people, I wanted a decent job, my own business,” she says with her head tilted down and sincere in tone.
With two children, four siblings, and a mother aged 67, her income supports their needs. “Working here supports my family, they can go to school, and I can support them,” she says, with a faint smile.
Moyo sells perfumes as a side hustle, in light of her business ownership dreams. “At least people buy the perfumes I sell, the money helps me a lot,” she says positively.
Although she’s got aspirations, the value of Moyo’s work lies in the support she gives to families. “I help them a lot,” she explains, “because they have the finances but not the energy to clean. I clean the windows, bedrooms and kitchen,” she says with pride.
Yet, even with her dedication and pride, she says job security is never guaranteed. “…akuna security kulo msebenzi” [there’s no security with this job], maybe next year there won’t be funds for me at the job”, she says with a saddened voice.
Despite the challenges faced, Moyo has learnt skills far beyond just cleaning. She learnt organisational skills, multitasking in a fast-paced environment, and to adapt to different homes and personalities. “Kahle kahle ngifunde ukubekezela nokusebenza nabantu,” [I’ve learnt perseverance, and to work with people]she says with humility.
Policy Perspective
While The City of Johannesburg’s Informal Trading Policy recognises informal work as important, the city’s treatment on the ground contradicts this. As Huuguamze mentioned, street vendors are chased on pavements, and a portion of domestic workers lack social security.
“Officials pretend this is a mysterious sector and they often don’t know what to do, but the needs of these workers are inexpensive, necessary and doable,” says Jane Barret, a retired researcher from Woman in Informal Employment Globalizing and Organizing (WIEGO).
This disconnect between policy and practice mirrors a broader trend. According to a Southern Centre for Inequality Studies (SCIS) report, “policies aimed at formalising and regulating informal trade sometimes clash with the realities on the ground, and ambush traders’ aspirations to earn a reliable income.”
Despite official recognition of their contribution, informal traders still face harassment, insecure trading spaces, and limited inclusion in policy-making processes.
“WIEGO has been very intentional with helping people in this sector, providing basic training and support to legal traders,” added Jane. WIEGO has collaborated with SCIS and StreetNet on this study continues to support informal workers through training, advocacy, and the promotion of fairer[LM1] policies.
The unseen hands powering Johannesburg
Informal trading in Johannesburg is viewed as a “foreign” activity, which overlooks South Africans in this sector and deepens social divisions driven by xenophobia and exclusion. Foreign nationals in this sector experience harsh treatment daily, while trying to navigate the city as more than just workers, but as outsiders in a constantly unwelcoming environment.
According to an article by Nicola Mawson, published on IOL Business, the informal sector contributes up to 6% of the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) in South Africa.
Despite this contribution, law officials continue treating informal workers as a challenge to be managed rather than assisting the economy. “They won’t solve the problem if they get rid of the people who contribute to a large population of the economy,” says Horn.
During the COVID-19 lockdown, the hustle of informal trading kept Johannesburg alive. Street vendors became the heroes of the pandemic when formal work stopped. Today, spaza shops, markets and street traders are responsible for billions of rands, quietly driving Johannesburg’s economy.
This shows that the informal economy drives local spending, which in turn boosts formal businesses and the city’s overall economy.
Shifting from problems to partners
Johannesburg continues to walk a fine line between inclusion and control of informal trading. “They need to acknowledge the informal economy, creating a safe space for trading,” says Francis.
According to critics like Francis and Horn, shifting away from these restrictions would only strengthen the relationship between traders and the government. “Negotiation should be implemented, that means both sides commit themselves to doing things in agreement with the other party,” adds Horn.
Researchers stress that meaningful development depends on involving informal workers as partners in shaping policies, not just as recipients of it. Recognising their contribution would redefine informality to a sign of economic democracy, then exclusion.
Bridging North and South
As Moyo changes out of her apron, and Huugamaze packs his goods away, it’s clear that survival in the informal economy comes with its challenges and uncertainty.
Johannesburg’s true narrative is not solely captured by its skyscrapers, stock exchanges, and formal economy. It’s equally narrated on the playgrounds of street vendors, waste pickers, and inside well-built homes where informal workers work tirelessly.
Individuals like Huuguamze, and Moyo, represent more than mere survival, they are an important part of the formal system, supporting households, communities and the economy at large, even when they have dreams of their own. “I don’t like that I’m a domestic worker, I feel like I’m just too poor, but I don’t have a choice,” says Moyo, her voice betraying a sense of hopelessness.
Despite their efforts, they “bekezela” [persevere]. Against all odds, their persistent resilience reveals the authentic heartbeat of the city of Johannesburg.
Acknowledging and rewarding informal workers as partners on a larger scale would strengthen Johannesburg’s economy and bridge the gap between policy and practice. This is when the city’s “gold” will truly shine, reflecting formal and informal efforts of those who build it from the ground up.
FEATURED IMAGE: Many immigrants in Johannesburg rely on informal or small-scale businesses to earn a living, facing both opportunity and vulnerability in a challenging economic climate. Photo: Sanele Sithetho/File
