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.
“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.
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
Easy access to credit may seem like a ‘plug’, but starting life with a negative balance after you graduate can keep you financially stuck.
Students are falling into debt traps through easy credit access.
Credit providers deliberately target students, who are vulnerable customers due to poor financial know-how.
The hidden costs of affordable credit turn small purchases into financial burdens.
The new Nike Air Max 95s have dropped, and of course, this sneakerhead has got to get their hands on the hottest kicks on the block. The price of these is quite steep, but there’s a tempting alternative at the bottom of his screen to buy now, pay later.
With just a few clicks, the shoes would be his. There are many options to choose from: MobiCred, PayFlex, and PayJustNow. Add this impulsive buy to an existing The Foschini Group (TFG) clothing account, already sitting at more than R5,000, with instalments at R550 a month.
Like many South African students, they had fallen into the trap. The student credit trap.
The resurgence of youth credit
TransUnion reported that between December 2018 and December 2022, approximately 58% of South Africans began their credit journey with a clothing account.
In the second quarter of 2024, new credit originations were up to 15.2% compared to the previous year, with consumption-driven products such as credit cards, personal loans, and retail credit making up to 83% of new accounts. Millennials and Gen Z hold 62% of these accounts. Overall, this means, about 30% of South Africans are credit-active, meaning they currently have access to at least one form of credit.
Meanwhile, nearly 50% of South Africans aged 21-30 with active credit have fallen behind on at least one loan or account repayment.
Buy Now, Pay Later (BNPL) services are making debt even more mainstream. A PayFlex survey from 2022 has shown that 89% of South Africans who have used BNPL services in the previous three months intended to continue with those services, and the service achieved an impressive Net Promoter Score of +82.
This means customer satisfaction and loyalty are so high that users would recommend these services to others.
Debt diaries
“I opened my clothing account during my final undergrad year, when I was receiving NSFAS and an allowance. My income was higher, which is why the credit limit was more generous. Now I’m just watching myself drown in debt because I have neither,” said Bhongo Mahlangu, an IT graduate.
With R6,569.80 outstanding and no job, monthly instalments have become impossible to keep up with. “What seems like a small instalment at first, quickly becomes impossible when you’ve got no income,” he said.
Banks and retail stores in South Africa actively target university students with credit. Store accounts from retailers such as Markham, Edgars, and Truworths are quite popular, with statistics showing that one in four students owns a store card, yet 42% don’t know they’re liable to pay interest on top of what they owe.
BNPL services like PayFlex and MobiCred blur the lines between “affordable now” and “debt later” by normalising credit and qualifying young buyers to delay financial strain while accumulating liabilities.
It’s just sales and commission, says a salesman
“The first thing is students don’t have debt, and they’re gullible, so they’re easier to convince,” said Thabiso Moloi, an account salesman with three years of retail work experience.
Standing against the rack neatly packed with stylish denims, he hangs the new stock of jeans. “Let’s say you came in to get this pair of jeans, it’s easy to convince you to get our two for one special. You always want to be up to date with the fashion trends.”
The store account isn’t just a card; it’s a strategy to lock in loyalty early, encouraging repeat visits and larger purchases on each return.
This strategy is a double-edged sword: retailers profit by catering to students’ materialism and desire for instant rewards, while students blindly walk into a debt trap.
It starts on campus
Many students enter university relying on official financial aid like the National Student Financial Aid Scheme (NSFAS) to cover tuition fees and living expenses. However, easy access to student loans encourages additional borrowing that often goes unnoticed.
“Some of the initiatives that Wits has, currently, are [sic] the Standard Bank loan, which is an unsecured loan. We also have Fundi that students can go to,” said Ismail Soobader, board member of the South African Student Finance Forum (SASFF).
Universities directly add to the debt cycle by allowing students to register under repayment plans, carrying tuition and accommodation fees forward.
“Interest on these loans is charged if you defer on two or more repayments,” added Soobader.
This keeps students in class but often leaves graduates burdened with institutional debt, as many cannot access their academic records or certificates until balances are settled, limiting job opportunities needed to repay what they owe.
SASFF works on addressing the challenges and developing best practices in student finance administration within the higher and further education sectors in Southern Africa. A conference hosted by the organisation in September 2025, had student debt and strategies for mitigation firmly on the agenda.
FUNDING WOES: Although having made it through the registration threshold, this student still has a large amount of debt she owes to the university. Photo: Zimasa Mpemnyama/File
Credit is a tool, not “extra income”
One of the biggest red flags with student spending is how easily credit is mistaken for “extra money”. Students swipe their store cards or sign up for the BNPL instalments without fully considering how these obligations will add up over time.
“As a student, generally your needs strip your income, and having a line of credit becomes really tempting and it lands people in trouble,” said Seth Randall, who worked as a financial advisor for more than three years.
The result is that debt, which initially seems manageable, snowballs into a monthly expense that follows them long after the purchase has lost its shine.
Randall emphasized that the key to avoiding this snowball effect lies in treating credit as a tool to build a credit score, not as disposable income.
“If you know that you’re not going to be tempted to use it inappropriately, don’t go there, until you’re earning consistently …people dig themselves into a hole they may never get out of,” added Randall.
Store accounts and BNPL services can help short term, but only if repayments are met. One missed instalment triggers penalties and a bad credit report on Credit Bureau.
Many students also underestimate how much more they end up paying when using buy now pay later services or store accounts compared to paying cash.
For example, the Nike Air Max 95s priced at R3,499.00 may seem manageable when split into instalments, but once interest charges are added, the total cost can climb to R3,799.00 or even R3,999.00.
What looks like an affordable monthly repayment quickly becomes a more expensive purchase, and this hidden cost is one of the main reasons student debts build up so quickly.
Swipe now, smile later?
According to an article by Kirsten Minnaar from The Daily Investor, nearly 45% of South Africans under 25, and approximately one million between 18 and 24, use credit out of the 20 million credit users nationwide.
For many, a retail account is the first step into the formal credit market, and when managed responsibly, it builds a positive credit history.
“I opened this account actually to work on my credit score, and I just got too carried away with the sneakers and clothes offered to me,” said Mahlangu.
Although these BNPL services seem more like a disadvantage, they can also carry advantages when used and maintained wisely. Flexibility, allowing for split instalments that are more manageable.
Additionally, BNPL services also provide short-term breathing room, allowing students to make significant and valuable purchases, such as laptops or textbooks, without depleting their cash flow all at once.
At their best, BNPL services can be a convenient budgeting tool, helping young consumers manage expenses across the month without sliding into bigger debt with credit cards.
Over upward of a million of this is unpaid, which shows that young people are struggling to keep up with their debt.
Buy now, pay later services may bring instant gratification, but for many students, it means carrying debt long before their first paycheck. The swipe today becomes the weight they drag into tomorrow.
FEATURED IMAGE: A screenshot of one of the buy now, pay later services. Photo by: Kamvelihle Mtwazi
A powerful series by Paul Weinberg captures the human experience in an oppressive society.
A room full of pictures that mirror our society as it was and now is. A new photographic exhibition at the Wits Arts Museum showcases history and collective trauma.
The museum filled with Paul Weinberg’s work told so stories through photographs. Bringing together nearly five years of Weinberg’s work, most of the exhibition was filled with black and white archival images, which was one of the things that caught me by surprise.
One of the photographs taken by Weinberg on display shows P.W Botha taking a salute at a military parade in 1980. Photo by: Kamvelihle Mtwazi
The collection released, “Between the craft” displayed pictures that were thought-provoking, informative and had deeper meanings. Each image highlighted themes, from oppression to reconciliation and allowed the audience to construct their own perspective.
One of the images captured was of the ‘boers’ with their guns in an authoritative position and their young black farm workers. These photographs were not just captured; they were telling stories, testimonies, and a call to action, to end the oppression of black people.
Weinberg created a dynamic non-linear story that still guided the audiences’ interpretation of his messages. This was done through the arrangement of the images and the titles.
“Intro, Travelling Light” was a photo series displayed the ‘dark days’ black people faced during Apartheid. It embodied that “between the cracks, life continues with its pain and joy,” with a range of images displaying people rejoicing even in times of oppression. Creating the light for themselves during dark times.
“Then and Now” mirrored society’s revolution of what was, and what became. Capturing protests, brutalities, deaths, and funerals. Weinberg added “I didn’t enjoy it,” in his caption. This is what inspired him to look into religion and spirituality.
“Moving Spirit” included moving pieces that focused more on spirituality than religion, which dropped the idea of division between colour, gender, and class.
The sky-blue wall representing the liberation in spirituality. Photo by: Kamvelihle Mtwazi
Weinberg expresses his gratitude to have experienced various kinds of spirituality where all these themes were not important, “travelling in pursuit of the spirit,” he captioned in one of his pieces.
An image that touched me the most is a photograph of two elderly sisters, re-uniting after 20 years of separation, after their removal in Riemvasmaak, 1995.
The second floor of the museum had walls of colour: orange and sky-blue, divided by a wall of black and white images with a white background. This was a lovely way to narrate the ending of the stories.
The first wall was bright orange, filled with frames of beautiful landscapes, taken from all over South Africa, titled “Earthsongs”.
The overall experience was thought-provoking, and the touch of colour at the end represented the light at the end of the tunnel.
The exhibition is an experience pleasing to the eye, because the images were boldly expressive of emotions.
Vuvu rating 10/10
FEATURED IMAGE: An image of two elderly sisters, reuniting after 20 years of separation, after their removal in Riemvasmaak, 1995.
City Power and Braam residences again leave students concerned about food security.
Power outages disturb students, who are unable to charge or cook for days.
Student groceries have gone to waste with fridges not working.
SRC responded by giving out lunch to students.
The lights may have flickered on briefly, but power outages are back. The lights have been on and off for almost a fortnight.
Braamfontein and surrounding areas, including parts of Randburg, Hillbrow and Melville, first went dark on April 22. The cause, a ‘trip and flashed MSS’, which is a flash of light caused by electrical discharges from damaged electrical equipment, according to City Power.
Ward councillor of region 60, Sihle Nguse, said, “They are trying their level best, but this work requires everyone to be hands-on.”
He emphasised how law enforcement and student housing institutions need to play their part in assisting students during this time.
The outage has affected students’ routines significantly, as City Power technicians work on restoring electricity. Many are unable to cook, while food has spoiled and internet access is intermittent.
Lesedi Magonare, a third-year Film and Television student, said the outage comes with financial costs. “Having to resort to takeout and fast food […], my finances were messed up; I overspent in that category.”
In response to students’ frustrations, the Wits Student Representative Council (SRC) partnered with Nguse to provide relief. Some 356 sandwiches were given to South Point and some on-campus residence students.
“They [students] sent emails and messages telling us about how they are affected by the power outage, and they really want us to do something about that situation,” said SRC deputy president, Boipelo Settspu.
City Power released 13 public statements on April 29 alone to update and assure residents in affected areas that the issue is being worked on.
Despite these public statements, the power outage in Braamfontein resumes. “I submitted an assignment late because there was no way to charge my laptop, and the computer labs as well were not working,” Magonare added in frustration.
“Now we have to readjust our schedules to charge equipment. It was a bit inconvenient,” added Magonare, counting 8 days without electricity.”
Although power outages in Braamfontein are not new, this ongoing issue continues to leave students vulnerable to infrastructure failures.
FEATURED IMAGE: An image of a student without lights and an uncharged laptop during the power outage. Photo by: Kamvelihle Mtwazi
Johannesburg's underground punk rock scene has always been about more than simply music. From the beginning, it's been a site of rebellion against injustice and a community for those who dare to go against the norm. In this episode of We Should Be Writing, Mbali Khumalo takes you into this world, with guests from the […]
