The engines may be silent for now, but South Africa’s F1’s dream is roaring back to life. With hundreds of millions of rands worth of upgrades and fans ready to “sell their livers” for a ticket, Kyalami’s revival could mark the nation’s return to the global racing map.
Kyalami, founded in 1961, hosted F1 races but lost status due to apartheid sanctions and financial issues.
The decision to host lies with the Department of Sports, Arts and Culture and F1 Management, not Kyalami.
The planned R100-million track upgrades will be fully funded by Kyalami’s owner.
In 2010, the world’s gaze turned to South Africa as people from across the globe waved their flags, cheered, and danced during the FIFA World Cup. The streets of Johannesburg pulsed with energy, and local businesses experienced unprecedented growth. Fifteen years later, a parallel dream is emerging – this time, not in football, but in F1.
Could the roar of engines replace the roar of supporters? Could the return of F1 to Kyalami once again place Johannesburg on the global stage as a world-class African city, one that benefits ordinary citizens as much as the elite?
For lifelong F1 fan Kevin Matla, the idea of F1’s return is more than just news, it’s personal. “For me, F1 is life,” he says, recalling how he’s been following the sport since 2005. The possibility of a local Grand Prix fills him with pride and excitement, especially since the last race in 1993 was held under conditions that excluded many South Africans.
Kyalami’s Grand Prix Circuit has long been a place of transformation. Founded in 1961 with the “Kyalami 9 Hours”, an endurance race, the track rose to global prominence in 1967 when it hosted its first Formula One event, cementing its reputation for motorsport excellence.
Through the 1970s and 1980s, Kyalami thrived as a premier racing destination, until its F1 chapter closed in 1985 following international sanctions against South Africa’s apartheid regime.
Kyalami experienced a short-lived resurgence in the 1990s, hosting races in 1992 and 1993, but financial and political issues brought it to a halt again. By the early 2000s, the circuit had lost its international appeal, relegated to hosting local events and remembered fondly through nostalgia.
For Matla, hosting F1 again would mark a national achievement, boosting tourism, creating jobs, and reigniting pride among South Africans. He believes that while ticket prices may be high, the event will still attract strong local support, “I know there are rumours that tickets are going to be R10 000; people might have to sell their homes or their livers.
FIA Approval: A New Era for Kyalami
In 2014, entrepreneur Toby Venter, CEO of Porsche South Africa, acquired the Kyalami Grand Prix Circuit at an auction, marking a major turning point for the historic track. His multimillion-rand investment transformed Kyalami into a world-class facility that now meets international racing standards. This effort culminated in the circuit earning FIA Grade 1 approval, the highest level of certification required to host Formula One races.
According to Porsche South Africa’s Group Public Relations Manager, Christo Kruger, the certification represents more than just a technical achievement; it’s a symbol of readiness and revival. With this recognition, Kyalami now stands as the only FIA Grade 1 circuit on the African continent, positioning it one step closer to reclaiming its place on the global motorsport stage.
With this recognition, the countdown has officially begun. “According to the FIA rules, Kyalami now has three years from the day of approval to do the upgrades and then the final inspection,” says Kruger. “Homologation [official approval] happens, and we are then accredited with Grade 1, if everything is done within the approved scope,” Kruger says.
A visual of precision and progress, the official circuit layout outlines Kyalami’s 16 turns and 18 camera points, symbolising South Africa’s readiness to meet international racing standards once again.
Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
The announcement has fuelled excitement within South Africa’s motoring community, reigniting hopes of seeing F1 cars roar through the Midrand circuit once again. Planning for upgrades is already underway, though construction has not yet begun due to Kyalami’s packed calendar of local events, such as the Festival of Motoring and M-Fest.
However, the future of the project ultimately hinges on F1’s commitment to return. Kruger noted that while some improvements will proceed regardless, the scale of investment will depend on whether the international organisers confirm South Africa’s inclusion in the upcoming calendar.
Eyes locked on the track, South African female driver Simphiwe Mohlahlo waits in her BMW, focused and ready for her race on one of the country’s most iconic circuits. For her, Kyalami represents both legacy and opportunity for women in motorsport. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes locked on the track, Nathi Msimanga sits in full focus, ready for the challenge ahead. The determination in his gaze says it all: he’s here to compete, to push limits, and to belong among South Africa’s best. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
For Wits mechanical engineering student and professional Toyota Gazoo Racing driver Nathi Msimanga, Kyalami is more than just a circuit, it’s “the most prestigious track in the country;” a place that mirrors the speed and sophistication of international circuits. Yet despite Kyalami’s world-class design, Msimanga remains doubtful about Formula One’s return in 2027, though he believes it could shine a spotlight on South African motorsport.
“If F1 does come here, it’ll force companies, sponsors, and media to finally give our sport the attention it deserves,” he says. He adds that consistent funding, promotion, and government support are key to making racing accessible for all, and to inspiring the next generation of South African drivers.
And for South African female driver Simphiwe Mohlahlo, who competes in the MSA4 and Formula Libre series, Kyalami Grand Prix Circuit represents more than just asphalt and corners, it’s a symbol of legacy and opportunity. “Racing there feels like being part of history,” she says, noting how rare it is for local drivers to experience the track.
Screens, radios, and precision, the nerve centre of every race. From here, officials monitor every lap, every turn, every moment that defines safety and speed. It’s the unseen engine that keeps Kyalami running.
Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Mohlahlo believes that a possible F1 return in 2027 would not only spotlight the perseverance of South African motorsport but also open doors for emerging talent, particularly women. She praised initiatives like the F1 Academy for inspiring young girls and called for more national activations, academies, and sponsorship support to grow the sport sustainably. Confident in the country’s ability to host F1, she adds that such an event could invigorate the economy and elevate local representation on the global stage, a dream she hopes to see realised in her lifetime.
How Major Events Put South Africa on the Map
Hosting big sports events has been a game-changer for South Africa, and the potential F1 has the potential to be another.
The 1995 Rugby World Cup stands as one of South Africa’s most powerful symbols of unity and healing after apartheid. When Nelson Mandela wore the Springbok jersey to present the trophy, it became a defining moment that showed the world a nation coming together, united through sport and shared pride.
The iconic Kyalami Grand Prix Circuit, sprawled across Midrand’s picturesque landscape, is more than just a racing track, it’s the pulsating heartbeat of SA’s motorsport. This revered circuit has been the stage for countless thrilling moments. With its rich history and nostalgic charm, Kyalami is a treasured gem in the world of racing, and the nation is eagerly yearning for the day when it will once again reverberate with the thunderous roar of Formula 1 engines, sending shivers down the spines of petrolheads and reviving the country’s glorious racing heritage.
Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
In 2010, South Africa made history as the first African nation to host the FIFA World Cup, a moment that not only boosted the economy but reshaped the nation’s image. The government invested over R30-billion in infrastructure, from transport and airports to world-class stadiums, creating around 66 000 construction jobs and injecting R7,4-billion into the economy, with R2,2-billion benefiting low-income households. Beyond the numbers, the tournament became a nation-branding triumph, transforming global perceptions of South Africa’s people, cities, and capability to deliver on the world stage.
The World Cup showed the world that South Africa is a great country to visit and host events. Over 500,000 South Africans, including taxi drivers and volunteers, helped make visitors feel welcome. The country got the highest score ever for hosting a World Cup, which was a big achievement. After the tournament, more people came to South Africa for vacation (up 31%) and business (up 47% in Cape Town).
Hosting major events does more than bring sporting success; it reshapes how the world sees a country and strengthens national pride. For Johannesburg, a successful return of F1 to Kyalami could have the same effect, boosting the city’s reputation, inspiring locals, and attracting new investment. Beyond the race itself, it would signal that Johannesburg is not only capable of hosting world-class events but also stands out as a vibrant, globally recognized African city, a symbol of ambition, progress, and pride. Such high-profile events play a key role in nation and city branding, showcasing South Africa’s potential on the international stage while reinforcing Johannesburg’s identity as a world-class African city.
A relic of Kyalami’s F1 past, this worn Goodyear tyre carries the weight of history, rubber that once touched the same tarmac where legends raced three decades ago. It marks the last time South Africa hosted a Formula 1 Grand Prix, a moment that still echoes in the hearts of local fans who remember the roar of engines and the pride of seeing their country on the global stage. Today, it stands as more than just an object of nostalgia, it’s a symbol of unfinished business, a reminder of a dream paused but never forgotten. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
According to Professor Mfaniseni Sihlongonyane from Wits University’s School of Architecture and Planning, hosting international events such as F1 presents both opportunities and significant challenges for cities. He notes that infrastructure, funding, and the “critical mass” of participants are key factors in determining whether a country can successfully host and sustain such events. However, Sihlongonyane acknowledges that F1’s return could stimulate multiple sectors, from hospitality and transport to food and automotive industries, creating employment and boosting economic activity. He cautions, though, that South Africa must ensure inclusivity by supporting small businesses, women, and youth through subcontracting and empowerment initiatives. “It shouldn’t just be about large corporations benefiting,” he explains. For him, Johannesburg’s approach should centre on a social contract with F1, one that promotes economic growth while advancing social justice and community participation.
Who Decides F1’s Return?
While Kyalami may be ready to host, the final decision on whether F1 returns to South Africa does not rest in its hands. According to Kruger, the circuit’s role is limited to being the venue. “Kyalami is not really responsible for F1 coming back, that’s very much up to the Department of Sports, Arts and Culture and a promoter,” he explains.
The government, together with F1 Management, will ultimately decide whether South Africa secures a spot on the 2027 racing calendar. Kyalami’s task, meanwhile, is to ensure the track remains in top condition and meets all technical and logistical requirements once approval is granted.
Eighteen eyes on every corner. The circuit’s surveillance system reflects Kyalami’s world-class standards, a blend of technology, safety, and ambition as it prepares for potential FIA-level events. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Behind the scenes, negotiations and financial guarantees have already been submitted, but the costs involved are steep. “The planned track upgrades are expected to cost around R100-million, an amount that will be self-funded by Kyalami’s owner, OT Venter Investments,” Kruger says.
Formula One is a huge money-maker globally. In 2024, it earned over $3.4 billion, with a big chunk coming from cities and countries paying to host races. This shows how valuable it is to host an F1 event. The sport is also super popular, with 5.7 million people attending races in 2022, a big increase from 2019. Kruger acknowledged that while the enthusiasm for F1’s return is strong, the financial reality remains daunting. Hosting fees for international races can range between $25 million and $54 million, depending on the location.
Logistics and Local Impact
Bringing F1 back to South Africa would be a complex operation, one that extends far beyond the racetrack. Temporary grandstands, hospitality suites, and infrastructure upgrades would all have to be set up to meet F1’s international standards. The surrounding roads and access routes to Kyalami would also need attention to accommodate the thousands of fans expected to attend.
Shops and restaurants hum quietly inside Kyalami Corner, just a few minutes from the racetrack. For now, the calm reflects ordinary life, locals grabbing coffee, but if Formula 1 returns, this space could transform overnight. The sound of engines would spill into nearby businesses, bringing a rush of fans, tourists, and international media. For store owners, it’s more than just excitement, it’s the promise of economic revival, a chance to feel the same national buzz last seen during the 2010 FIFA World Cup. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
Beyond the logistical hurdles, the project holds the potential to benefit local communities. Kyalami’s management has expressed plans to include fan parks and fan zones that would create space for small vendors and local entrepreneurs to participate, ensuring that the excitement of the event extends beyond the gates of the circuit.
Kruger emphasizes that a return of this scale would not be fleeting. “F1 doesn’t do once-off events. They will want to sign a deal for a minimum of five years to seven, and sometimes up to ten years,” he says. Such a long-term commitment would not only secure South Africa’s place on the global racing calendar but also demand consistent investment in maintenance and event management to keep the circuit world-class.
Despite the enthusiasm surrounding the possibility, Kruger remains grounded about the uncertainty of the outcome. When asked what message he had for South Africans hoping to see the sport return home, his response is simple: “Pray. It’s really not in our hands; we can only stay hopeful that negotiations with F1 Management are successful.”
As South Africa awaits an official decision, the prospect of F1 returning to Kyalami is tantalizingly close. Backed by Toby Venter’s revival efforts, FIA approval, and public excitement, this moment reinforces one thing, Joburg truly is a world-class African city, capable of hosting global events that bring people and opportunities together. The wait may be long, but South Africa’s F1 dream is finally on track and ready to take off.
From the outside, Kyalami stands as both a landmark and a promise, a place where South Africa’s motorsport legacy meets its future ambitions. Once the stage for legendary Formula 1 races, the circuit now waits, carrying decades of history, triumph, and struggle within its walls. For many, this circuit symbolise a new chapter, a nation eager to reclaim its place on the global racing map and prove that world-class competition can thrive again on African soil. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
FEATURED IMAGE: Kyalami Grand Prix Racetrack. Photo: Dikeledi Ramabula
In a city chasing world-class status, Johannesburg’s alternative youth measure this goal not through politics or wealth, but by how freely the city’s residents can express themselves and live the lives they choose, no matter how unconventional.
On a Saturday night in northern Johannesburg, the faithful gather not in pews but under the pulsing lights and sloped ceilings of the Sognage night club. The room is dark and hot, with the only light illuminating the members of a band called Cape Cross Delusion. A metal riff from the guitarist fills the room like a hymn, and bodies move in rhythm, their arms raised and heads bowed as they headbang to the beat. Around the mosh pit, the crowd is draped mostly in black, donning leather jackets, fishnets, and heavy boots that thud as they stomp their feet. Many of them are adorned with piercings that glint when the light catches their faces, and dark eyeliner that frames their eyes locked onto the stage. Mbali Ntuli (25) will remember that night forever, her first metal concert, which she describes as a kind of baptism. She laughs when she says this but insists that that night felt almost religious. “It felt like church, or like a sanctuary almost,” she says. “You just feel so good, you know. You just feel so bloody good.”
Johannesburg’s leaders have spent decades chasing the dream of making the city “world-class, the phrase a nagging promise in city plans, political speeches, and tourist slogans. This vision is typically built on the idea of what success looks like in other major hubs such as London or New York. But these cities are not just iconic because of their economic prowess. Their status is also founded on their immense cultural capital, which is something built from the streets up, not from the elites down.
Ntuli’s Johannesburg is loud, expressive and unapologetically different. The alternative subcultures in the city ask the question: what if being world-class was about something deeper? So much of South Africa’s history and identity is about freedom. So why not measure the city’s world-class status by the freedom to be yourself – to dress how you want, love who you want, and exist without fear? For those in the city’s alternative scene, that kind of freedom is what truly defines Johannesburg.
Unapologetic and authentic is how Baitseng Mello (20) describes Johannesburg. It’s a city where freedom of expression is enjoyed by young people who choose to live outside the “norm”. Photo: Mbali Khumalo
British punk to Joburg resistance
The label “alternative” means opposing dominant cultural norms. It’s an umbrella term for several subcultures that define themselves as breaking away from what society deems as normal or appropriate. Punk, goth, emo, and sometimes queerness are the core alternative archetypes that stand opposed to mainstream ideals of fashion, music, love, and other forms of self-expression..
This rebellious posture has its roots in the punk movements that emerged in 1970s England. The Museum of Youth Culture in the United Kingdom describes punk as a “way of doing”, informing everything “from music through design, fashion, artwork, writing and performance.” It arose from disillusioned British youth who had little faith in their government to address rising inequality, working class exploitation, and labour movements that saw mass strikes and growing unionisation, especially in mining. Young Britons saw punk style, with its distinctive black leather, silver chains, studs, spiky hair and brash makeup, as a way of signalling that they didn’t align with Britain’s social and political conservativism.
Helgard Olwage, bassist for The Burnouts, performs at Rumours Lounge in Strydom Park. Photo: Mbali Khumalo
At the same time, South African youth were going through their own anti-establishment movements with the rise of anti-apartheid student activism, notably punctuated by the 1976 Soweto Uprisings where police killed over 170 students. Amidst this resistance, South Africa’s multi-racial punk subcultures emerged, rebelling against conservative Afrikaner nationalism that sought to dictate both racial and socio-cultural norms. Their main outlet was music. The country’s first multiracial punk band, National Wake, was formed in 1978 in a student commune in downtown Johannesburg. In his article, ‘Punks of the Witwatersrand’, journalist Chris Webb describes the neighbourhoods of Hillbrow, Parktown, and Yeoville as sites of “political organising, multi-racial collaboration, and artistic exploration”. While the punk era of 1970s South Africa didn’t totally mirror its British inspiration in form and style, rebelling against the apartheid government, even just by making music or living together, was very punk.
Listen to a new bonus episode of the We Should Be Writing podcast to discover the little-known world of rebellion and resistance within Johannesburg’s underground punk music scene.
Freedom, worn out loud
In today’s alternative Johannesburg, fashion is the first language of freedom. It’s how authenticity, creativity, queerness and belonging announce themselves without a word.
Baitseng Mello (20) believes self-expression isn’t just about looking different, it’s about refusing to disappear. Sitting at a table outside the Matrix, a small retail hub inside Wits University, she stands out in an all-black outfit, complete with an oversized leather jacket, chunky boots and a silver spiked necklace. She tells the story of her sheltered upbringing in Pretoria. Being the only daughter in her family meant that there were rigid guidelines for self-expression. This has changed dramatically since coming to study in Johannesburg. “Today, I dress how I feel. Sometimes I feel masculine, and whenever I [would] express that through my clothes my dad would ask me: ‘Why are you dressed like that? Are you gay? You’re not a boy.’ Even for family events, he would buy me dresses and skirts so I would look more feminine,” she says.
“It’s crazy that being in Joburg has helped me express my femininity more. Back in Pretoria at home, they tried to suppress me and I hated it,” she says. “When it was being forced on me, I thought, no, I’m going to reject this because you’re forcing it on me.”
Mello says coming to Johannesburg gave her freedom to shed the expectations of femininity that were instilled within her family growing up. She uses her newly-found freedom of expression to experiment with femininity and masculinity in her everyday style. Photo: Mbali Khumalo
Sitting near the library lawns on the university’s East Campus, Joburger Tyreece Garach (21) shares that it was her mother’s support that empowered her rebellious style. “I appreciate her because I could not imagine being the type of child [where] when I leave the house, I’m wearing a whole different outfit and then I get to the bus stop and take it off.”
Among the throng of students shuffling to class, you simply can’t miss her. Garach’s matching brown crochet tank top and mini skirt are accentuated by fishnet tights and thigh-high leather boots. Black lipliner frames her smile and the geometric pattern inked on her forehead draws you towards her eyebrow and septum piercings. A spiky neo-tribal tattoo covers her back, topping off her edgy look. Her style not only expresses her personality but her queerness too. “The way I dress, it’s to express my sexuality as well. I’m a lesbian. The way I dress may seem to be for the male gaze, but my eye makeup, all these piercings, it tells them to stay away!” she laughs. “It’s for the women. This is the expression of alternative people and for me, alternative people are the gays.”
Style and sexuality intersect, for born and bred Joburger Tyreece Garach (21). For her, alternative fashion signals both her personal style and her sexual identity. Photo: Mbali Khumalo
The risks of being seen
While Johannesburg is largely experienced as an accepting and inclusive city, it isn’t immune to the challenges facing the rest of the country. For alternative women, their self-expression doesn’t shield them from misogyny. In many ways, it heightens their visibility as a target for it.
Garach and her partner, both femme-presenting lesbians, have frequently had their relationship invalidated because of how they present. Men have flirted and pushed for their cell phone numbers, despite the women reiterating that they are queer. “When we go out together, often men don’t take us or our relationship seriously. Everything is so deeply rooted in patriarchy,” she says. “At the same time, in Braam [Braamfontein] specifically, men are a lot less pushy about it. I think that’s because this is such an accepting place. People are very aware of all these alternative people living alternative lifestyles,” she explains.
Garach cheekily describes her style as “edgy, 1980s hoochie mama.” She refuses to shrink herself, choosing to wear as much or as little as she pleases. Photo: Mbali Khumalo
Beyond their relationships, alternative women also use clothing to assert who they are, despite the judgment that follows. “Sometimes before I leave the house, I ask myself, should I tone it down, should I cover up, and the answer is no. I never tone it down,” Ntuli says. “You could walk around wearing a short skirt and you get people calling you a slut. They start calling you names, which is annoying.”
Despite experiencing the heavy metal scene in Johannesburg as a kind of sanctuary, Ntuli knows that the ugliness that exists in the rest of society can bleed into what should be her safe space. “Metal is a male-dominated industry, so the scene can be like that as well. When you go to these gigs you need to make sure you’re in good hands because this is South Arica, after all. I love my community but that doesn’t mean that gender-based violence doesn’t happen with us as well,” she says. Regardless of these risks, she’s not letting them stop her from finding solace in the heavy metal scene. “I tell all my female friends that if they haven’t gone to a metal show, that they need to. It is the best experience. It gives women a space to express their strength and just rebel.”
Johannesburg isn’t perfect. For alternative women, standing out can mean harassment and judgement from society. While this is a lived experience for just about all women, being different can heighten your visibility in unpleasant ways. Photo: Mbali Khumalo
Africa’s alternative youth, beyond Joburg
Unlike many of its African counterparts, Johannesburg is often considered to be more accepting and inclusive. The diversity in the kinds of people that are drawn to the city and make it their own is something unique. For other African youth, their experience of alternative self-expression can be bleak.
Akon Areet (20) knows this first-hand. She is the eldest daughter of South Sudanese parents who fled to Kenya when the Sudanese civil war began in 2023. After a short stay in a refugee camp in Kakuma, the family settled in Eldoret, where they already had a few relatives. Areet’s parents have since moved to the United States to work and send money back to support her and her siblings.
She began experimenting with alternative fashion last year as a way to express herself and her sense of style, which she describes as goth. She has silver piercings on her eyebrows and lips, and her hair is a shaggy pink wolfcut, with the bottom layers dyed grey. Her thick eyeliner accentuates her eyes, making them standout further against the white makeup that covers the rest of her face.
While she feels more authentic than ever, her new identity hasn’t been received warmly. “Kenya is a really conservative place. There’s not really a lot of alternative people here and when you’re different, people will ostracise you,” she shares. A sore spot for Areet is that her self-expression is considered white-washed, especially her piercings. “People tell me that I’m trying to be white because of them, but my piercings are the most African thing about me, in so many ways,” she says. “As Africans, we have a lot of body modifications. We have tattoos, piercings and scarification. I love my piercings because they actually bring me closer to my roots.”
Akon Areet is one of the only alternative people living in her conservative town of Eldoret, Kenya. She finds community online, connecting with other goths within and outside of Africa. Photo: Akon Areet/Instagram
She hasn’t let family pressure stop her, despite sometimes feeling isolated. The alternative scene in Eldoret is virtually non-existent. “There are no goth clubs here. I barely see alternative people. I’ve never met an alternative person from here.”
This is in stark contrast to the sense of community that alternative youth in Johannesburg say they’ve found through their self-expression. “When I started expressing myself, that’s when I found my community, my people,” Mello says of her experience in Johannesburg. “If I kept myself stifled, I wouldn’t have found the other queer and alternative people that are like my family now”.
Freedom is the heart of this city
When contemplating if Johannesburg is a world-class African city, freedom of expression rarely comes to mind. The city’s glaring structural challenges often overshadow the resilience and boldness of its people. But to them, self-expression is a part of what makes living in Johannesburg a world-class experience. “Having a city where acceptance is a big part of the way we live shows we have a mindset of liberation. That’s something really unique to Johannesburg,” Garach says. “I think Joburg is a world-class city simply for that fact that it allows everyone to be themselves. Even if there are people judging in silence, as long as they’re not projecting onto you who they think you should be, who cares!”
This city isn’t perfect nor is it immune to challenges like misogyny and queerphobia that threaten freedom of expression. But even with its imperfections, it gives people the courage to be unapologetically themselves – a truly world-class freedom.
FEATURED IMAGE: For Tyreece Garach (21), Joburg is a city where liberation is a mindset embodied daily by its residents. Photo: Mbali Khumalo.
The city of gold is losing its shine as it continues to neglect the lives of miners.
Visiting the Gold Reef City Mining Exhibition was an unforgettable experience that dropped me into the depths of Johannesburg’s rich gold mining history. I was welcomed by tour guides laughing loudly with all-teeth showing. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming as I was given a safety helmet and torch to go underground. As I prepared to descend the shaft, a wave of anticipation mixed with anxiety washed over me. The gate of the shaft was sealed shut and my guide began her rehearsed rant as my heart raced at each gradual bump I felt, as we began to descend. The sun disappeared the lower we went and my grip on the railing tightened. The mine entrance glistened with light streams of water as we were engulfed in darkness.
We are now 75m underground, the chilly air shocked me as I was expecting a wave of heat, but the calm tour guide Zakile shared that it was due to the ventilation underground. I could see smoke appear as I talked, my hand searching for my torch to take it all in. The dim light flickered as we passed through narrow mine tunnels, Zakile pointing out the rocks and mannequins placed to give a more realistic experience. You can hear each thump of our steps, leaving an echo, the trickling of water droplets from the walls. The walls around us were rough and hard, the decades of extraction felt, right on my fingertips. I can see the remnants of thousands of miners who have been down this mine, day in and day out, dealing with harsher conditions than what we are experiencing now. The souls that have walked these pathways and helped make Johannesburg the City of Gold it’s known to be today.
The life of David Muphandu
My experience couldn’t have been further removed from the dangerous realities that gold miners face every day. Long hours spent in tight cramped tunnels, thick hot air, sweat dripping from their foreheads, a life David Muphandu, a miner of over 14 years, knows all too well.
“I would clock in at 05:00, then once I clock in, I go straight to the shaft waiting for the cage to go down. The shaft was supposed to come and collect us past six, then we go down,” says Muphandu, his cadence is slow and monotone, as he recalls his days at the mine “[By] 08:00, we have a safety meeting underground. After [the] safety meeting, we sign the book [to confirm attendance], then we go straight to the workplace,” he shares.
Commissioned in 1926, the Winder machine was originally part of the Crown Mines, which was once the largest and richest gold mining operation in the world. The winder controlled the cables that raised and lowered cages carrying miners and equipment down the vertical shaft. The machine helped create efficient transportation for the mine. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
Muphandu would ensure that the machine he is operating works properly, because any faulty part could lead to serious injury. He exits the mine when they are done after 13:00 or 14:00, he pulls out his silver container as he proceeds to quickly eat his lunch. After work he removes his Personal Protective Equipment (PPE), showers, puts on his home clothes and leaves.
Having a typical nine to five is rare in the mining industry. “It depends sometimes, if we don’t work well straight, maybe we have a delay of tools or maybe someone is not there. Sometimes we can leave latest let’s say at 17:00 or 18:00,” he says.
His story reflects the reality behind the shiny image of Johannesburg as the city of gold and pulls into question its status as a world- class African city.
Where it all began
Gold was first discovered in the Witwatersrand area in 1886 by George Harrison, which led to the Witwatersrand Gold Rush. Johannesburg was soon established as a mining town and rapidly became South Africa’s largest city and economic hub often called the “City of Gold” due to the massive gold deposits in its surrounding areas.
In the early 20th century, Johannesburg’s economy and urban growth revolved heavily around deep underground mining operated by large corporations. The mining industry attracted a diverse workforce, including local Black Africans who worked in difficult, often dangerous conditions, as well as skilled European miners.
The mining industry is full of diversity, “On the mine, we are not the same and we come from different places, there [are] people from Maputo, there’s people from Lesotho, there’s people from Mthatha, there’s people from KZN, there’s people from Venda, people from Bush, people from different places,” says Muphandu.
Over more than a century, gold mining has driven Johannesburg’s development but also left a legacy of social inequality, environmental damage, and health issues, not just for the miners, but the community surrounding the mine.
In recent decades, Johannesburg’s gold mining has declined due to depletion of shallow deposits, rising operational costs, infrastructure challenges, and global market shifts. Most of the mines have shut down, jobs have been lost, and the sector’s contribution to the city’s economy has decreased, in comparison to other metal groups, such as platinum.
Johannesburg faces the challenge of balancing its identity as a historic “City of Gold” with the realities of a contracting, troubled mining industry that continues to impact many workers’ lives.
Golds contribution to the economy
The average price of gold as of October, 2025, has risen significantly, reaching around R59, 169 ( $3, 275) per ounce, and would waver between R48, 939 and R75, 385 per ounce throughout the year. This creates space for investment in the country and potential socio- economic growth. The gold mining industry’s contribution to South Africa’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) has been decreasing slowly over the past five years due to the depletion of gold and increased global competition. Out of all the primary platinum metal groups, gold is performing or contributing the least in production.
“The gold price is doing very well in the international market. I mean it’s now on record price; it’s now on four thousand dollars an ounce,” says Livhuwani Mammburuu, the head of communications for the National Union of Mine Workers. The new developments in the gold price are exciting however miners are not able to take part in claiming the fruits of their labour. “You will find a situation where the executives’ pay themselves millions of bonuses and workers who work hard underground do not get anything,” he says.
This reenactment captures the ancient gold smelting process where raw gold is heated in a furnace to over 1,064°C, melting it into liquid form. Once molten, the gold is carefully poured from the crucible into moulds, solidifying into bars, a crucial final step in transforming mined gold. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
The realities of working in the gold mining industry
In 2025 the lives of gold miners remain challenging as they try to adapt to changing circumstances. Many miners that are employed on formal operations still experience low and fixed wages. [The] National Union of Mine Workers (NUM) is having wage negotiations with one of the biggest gold companies in South Africa, called Sibanye-Stillwater, and the negotiations are not going well at all,” says Mammburuu.
“We have just recently declared a dispute with Sibanye-Stillwater, because we do not agree on the wage offer that they’re presenting to us. They are presenting 4,5% salary increase, which- the NUM, is not happy with,” he says.
“It’s very tough [when] you are dealing with a company that does not want to pay good salaries for its employees who are our members,” says Mammburuu, breathing heavily with anger and frustration.
Many miners, face physically demanding and often hazardous working conditions deep underground. These miners work for hours with varying hours to make more money.
“According to the working hours it was eight hours, but because of delay of work and transport to take us to the surface, sometimes we could be there for two days, the shaft being damage, there is no escape road for emergency,” Muphandu says. “Sometimes we take shortcuts to finish the job or manage time, but these shortcuts are more dangerous. Before working, we must put in temporary support and wait for the safety officer’s approval, but sometimes the safety officer doesn’t come. We are often forced to use old tools because of delays in new tool deliveries, which is very dangerous and can lead to accidents,” he says.
South Arica’s gold mining industry reported a total of 11 fatalities in 2024, which is a 45% decrease from 20 in 2023, the industry still has a long way to go to ensure zero fatalities.
“There is the Mine Health and Safety Act, companies need to adhere to [it], at NUM we are still worried about workers that are still dying underground. It’s not enough to see workers fatalities happening in the mines, we want to see a situation where there are zero fatalities and zero injuries in the mining industry, that’s what we are striving for,” says Mammburuu.
“There were people who got sick, so we always wear masks and full PPE before getting on the cage to go underground. But underground, because it’s hot, many take off their masks, which is wrong, since it helps prevent dust and coughing from spreading illnesses like TB. I personally never got sick from the mine, but I once fell because I incorrectly put my safety belt on, and I injured my left leg. Some miners even fall off the cage before it reaches the ground, it can get very dangerous underground,” says Muphando.
The living conditions of miners remain inhumane. Many miners have resorted to living in shacks, as these are the only form of housing closest to the mine. “If you look at- where these mines are situated, you’ll see a lot of shacks around those mines. Our members are also getting a living at allowance. A living at allowance is equal as a housing allowance so members when they get that living at allowance, they’ve got a duty to go and rent or buy decent houses, “says Mammburuu.
Ntando Ndlovu, a fourth-year mining and engineering student, did his vacation work at the Sibanye-Stillwater mine. “They said to me if you don’t enjoy your job you are going to do the least and but for them, they actually enjoy what they are doing, in a team environment, that team dynamic is actually what keep[s] them going every now and then,” Ndlovu says.
Miners must receive a fair income to support their families. When one mine is no longer operating or supportive, they will move to a different mine. “Yeah, but you know now the mine industry, especially if you no longer have that mentality to mine, you always discuss which shaft pays and how to get there, so some of us left and went to Rustenburg’s platinum mines where it was better, but then COVID-19 happened and we couldn’t get in, though some friends still work there; you know, to work in SA you have to do something or get information,”Muphando says. “I quit the mine, during COVID-19, so I left around 2020 or 2021.”
The future of gold mining in Johannesburg
As gold mines around Johannesburg continue to shut down and lay off miners who depend on that income, what is a way forward for this once fruitful industry? “We see poverty, we see shacks, to be honest there is nothing much that is being done to empower communities and empower mine workers themselves. We don’t really see much of what mining is doing for communities around Gauteng,” says Mammburu.
Non-profit organizations find ways to include and support mine workers that have been retrenched due to a mine shut down, to find other means of employment. Providing miners with skills that can support them on and off the mine can be beneficial for the whole community.
“We’ve [NUM] got an entity called Mine Workers Development Agency. It helps our members who are retrenched, to start businesses and – farming – it is playing a very big role to empower those workers that have been retrenched. The other thing the NUM is doing is we have built an artisan academy. [The miners] get trained, they get qualifications and become qualified artisans, they go and look for jobs again.”
“The gold price is increasing exponentially, but from where I was the gold is depleting, so the mine will close in three to five years to come. It’s a major issue because most of the people in the surrounding community rely on the Sibanye water operation,” Ndlovu says.
The current high gold price offers hope for investment within the country and improved working conditions for miners. However, we need to come to terms with a harsh reality. Johannesburg cannot claim its place as a world-class African city when the very people who built it continue to struggle daily. True wealth and progress within a city is seen through the lives of those who live and breathe it. The abundance from gold wealth needs to be shared fairly and miners’ dignity and livelihoods need to be prioritised and valued.
FEATURED IMAGE: The above photograph shows the passageway of the Gold Reef City mine, located 75 meters underground. The dimly lit tunnel echoes the footsteps of over 40,000 miners who travelled this path decades ago, offering a glimpse into the challenging conditions deep within Johannesburg’s historic gold mine. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
African immigrants have long been drawn to Johannesburg, South Africa’s economic center. The city is a ray of hope for people looking for a better life, but beyond the city’s busy streets and dazzling buildings, the lack of integration and safety prevails.
Deep scars from xenophobic attacks in 2008, 2015, and 2019 underscore the necessity of communication and understanding in order to resolve conflicts between residents and foreign migrants.
Johannesburg’s economy benefits significantly from migrant-owned businesses, despite facing challenges in accessing formal employment and documentation.
Vibrant networks of entrepreneurship and support have grown in the face of hardship, and migrant-owned companies that employ South Africans and boost the local economy have shown incredible tenacity and will.
In a tiny salon tucked between cafés and clothing stores on a busy Braamfontein street, Privilege Jumo, a 29-year-old nail technician from Zimbabwe, leans over his client’s hands, focused yet very calm. Taxis hoot non-stop, and the air smells of acetone and hair moisturisers. Between brush strokes, Jumo shares his story, about movement, hustle, and hope in the city where he currently resides.
“When I decided to come to South Africa, I was seeking greener pastures,” he says, reflecting on his 2019 arrival in Johannesburg. He came to pursue his studies in engineering, but soon realized that surviving in Johannesburg required more than qualifications.
“The process of getting funding for my studies was not easy ,so I ended up dropping out”, he admits. Jumo set up a business after having trouble finding steady work because he did not have a work permit. He now runs a nail technician business, relying on word of mouth and digital marketing to get clients.
“To get employed in Johannesburg, you need a work permit. And the government has not been issuing them for quite some time,” he says.
Jumo’s words echo a widespread frustration among foreign immigrants who find themselves caught between legal issues and economic necessity. Many are forced to develop their own ways in the informal sector since they do not have legitimate work permits or residency status.
It is obvious that his story is a metaphor for Johannesburg’s informal sector, which depends on necessity and adaptability to thrive. Most citizens benefit from these small businesses that migrants have started because of being excluded from formal work.
Juliet Mashabela, acting chief economist at Productivity SA, an entity of the South African Department of Employment and Labour, explains the role of migrants in Johannesburg: “They create employment through small-scale entrepreneurship, circulate money within communities, and contribute significantly to local consumption patterns.”
Johannesburg mayor Dada Morero and mayoral committee members in the Johannesburg CBD, cracking down on illegal trading in October 2025. Photo: Nomfundo Zungu
However, their existence is usually politicised. “Data consistently shows that migrants are net contributors to urban growth, but in times of economic distress, they become target for unemployment and crime”, Mashabela continues.
For decades, Johannesburg has been a magnet for migrants, both foreign and domestic. People looking to improve their lives are drawn to the city by its economic prospects, cultural diversity, and relatively stable political system. Data from Statistics South Africa shows that about 1,42 million foreign migrants came to live in Gauteng between 2022 and 2025, with many of them settling in the inner-city suburbs of Johannesburg.
Professor Loren Landau, an international migration specialist at the African Centre for Migration & Society (ACMS), says migrant labor is key to Johannesburg’s formal and informal sectors.
“Migrants who contribute to the retail sector, service, and construction sectors are often overlooked by the official system. Instead of searching for possibilities, they work together to create them. However, the city’s promise of opportunities is mixed with uncertainty. Migrants are frequently caught in cycles of instability as a result of xenophobic violence, limited access to documentation, and limited economic opportunities”, he explains.
Xenophobic attacks in Johannesburg
Recurrent outbreaks of xenophobic violence have revealed deep socioeconomic divides that lie beneath the “World Class African City”, as South Africans – many of whom are unemployed and living in poverty – accuse foreign migrants of snatching opportunities, jobs, and homes.
During the most notorious outbreaks, in 2008, 2015, and 2019, many people were killed, and thousands were left homeless, their stores plundered, and their homes torched. Many of the victims were small business owners who had established their lives in Johannesburg’s congested inner-city neighborhoods such as Hillbrow and Yeoville, and in the township of Alexandra, migrants from African countries like Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Nigeria, and the Democratic Republic of Congo.
“I still remember the xenophobic attacks that occurred in 2008 like it was yesterday, just thinking about it makes me sad because I lost a lot of close friends and relatives”, said Hugette Mbombo, a 45-year-old hairdresser from Congo.
In 2022, under the banner of “Operation Dudula”, anti-immigrant sentiment reappeared in Johannesburg’s townships, targeting migrants, informal traders, and foreign-owned enterprises.
Siphiwe Ndlovu, a community leader from Alexandra, admits the conflicts but thinks communication is essential. “We must stop viewing immigrants as rivals. They contribute to the success of our communities by employing South Africans in many of their enterprises”, Ndlovu explained.
Instead of tackling the underlying causes of problems like inequality, unemployment, and poor urban planning, the government’s reaction is still primarily reactive, sending out police during flare-ups.
Although widespread attacks have decreased, xenophobia is still present in daily life. Immigrants report experiencing subtle forms of prejudice in public services, rental markets, and workplaces. “Sometimes you can feel it in how people look at you like you don’t belong,” says Mbombo. “Even after so many years, they still call us kwerekwere (foreigners)”, Mbombo adds.
Civil society groups and researchers point to economic frustration and weak governance as drivers of these tensions. With youth unemployment sitting above 33%, foreigners are frequently used as easy scapegoats.
However, Landau explains that xenophobia is not simply about foreigners, “It reflects a deeper crisis of inequality and exclusion. Migrants are just the visible face of a system that fails most of its citizens,” he says.
Integration in Johannesburg is an ongoing negotiation between acceptance and exclusion. Even after years or even decades of residence in South Africa, many migrants continue to face social and legal marginalisation.
According to research conducted by the Center for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation (CSVR), prejudice is not an isolated incident but rather is ingrained in South Africa’s system. It is caused by political scapegoating, unemployment, and the belief that immigrants “take jobs” from South Africans.
In truth, studies from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and the African Centre for Migration & Society (ACMS) suggest that migrants are more likely to create employment than to take it away. They fill labour shortages, open small enterprises, and stimulate demand in township economies.
Professor Landau attests to these studies, saying that, “integration does not only regularise their status. Without proper documentation, you can’t open a bank account, register a business, or rent legally. The system perpetuates informality.”
Migrants and the Informal Economy
The sounds of blow dryers mix with the chatter of clients and other street vendors as Mbombo moves gracefully through her small salon. Her hands are steady, talented, and sure as she braids hair. Each braid tells a story of strength, migration, and identity.
Mbombo came to South Africa in 2003 to escape the instability in Kinshasa. She had nothing except a suitcase and a desire to start again. “When I first came to Johannesburg, I didn’t know anyone,” she recalls, her voice warm but firm. “I only had my hands and the skill my mother taught me.”
Starting as a mobile hairdresser, Mbombo would walk from one flat to another in Hillbrow and Berea, offering affordable styles to fellow African migrants trying to make ends meet. She saved up enough money over time to rent a modest area that was only sufficient for two sofas and a mirror. That small beginning has turned into a successful salon that is very important to her parenting her three kids.
“I wanted to create something stable for my children,” Mbombo says. “Many people see foreign women like me only as outsiders or survivors. But we also serve as businesswomen, creators, and a part of our city’s history.”
For Mbombo, Johannesburg is a place of both opportunity and hardship. She discusses openly the difficulties of managing a business, such as xenophobic animosity, rent increases, and immigration visas. “When the attacks happened in 2019, I closed my salon for two weeks,” she remembers quietly. “People were scared. I was also scared. But I told myself, I’ve built this life here, I’m not going to give up.”
Her salon has since become more than a workplace; it is a small refuge for women in the migrant community. Between styling and laughter, conversations often drift to family back home, school fees, and dreams of stability. “We support each other,” Mbombo explains. “When one sister is struggling, the others help. That’s how we survive.”
Two decades later, Johannesburg feels like home, even if it does not always treat her as such. Mbombo smiles as she looks out onto the street outside her salon, alive with taxi hooters and street vendors calling for customers. “This city gave me a second chance,” she says. “It’s not perfect, but it gave my children and me a better life.”
According to Stats SA’s 2022 Labour Force Survey, Johannesburg’s informal economy employs nearly 30% of the city’s labour force. A significant portion of this sector consists of migrants who operate tiny spaza shops, sell food, fix electronics, and trim hair.
According to Mashabela, the city’s economy benefits from about R100-billion in annual revenue from the sale of goods, services, and rent from unofficial migrant-owned enterprises.Yet, few of these contributions are formally recognised.
“They are effectively invisible in GDP calculations and policy planning”, she notes. “But if migrants were suddenly removed, inner-city economies would collapse overnight.”
The administrative obstacles facing migrants in South Africa are immense. The Department of Home Affairs (DHA) is often criticised for its inefficiency, corruption, and restrictive restrictions. Residency, work permit, and asylum renewal applications can take years to process. In recent years, the administration has spoken more about “irregular immigration” and linked foreigners to crime and stress in society.
“Migrants become convenient scapegoats,” says Landau. “But blaming migration distracts from the need for broader economic reform and inclusive development”.
Rethinking Belonging in a ‘World-Class African City’
Amid such adversity, NGOs like theAfrican Diaspora Forum in Johannesburg, and Jesuit Refugee Service in Cape Town, provide support like psychosocial help, entrepreneurial training, and legal assistance. Through neighborhood markets, athletic events, and religious gatherings, grassroots projects often headed by migrants themselves promote social solidarity. These spaces promote intercultural dialogue and remove stereotypes. Although Jumo’s and Mbombo’s futures are still uncertain, they are not hopeless.
“Trying other cities is definitely going to be my next option,” Jumo muses. Mbombo still has hopes and dreams of sending her children to university. “I want them to have papers, education, and respect. Perhaps they may be referred to as South Africans in the future,” she says.
Their words provide a more complex conversation that the one that is often reduced to statistics and slogans. Essentially, immigrants are humans looking for dignity, not boundaries. Johannesburg’s reputation as a “World-Class African City” is seriously threatened by the way it treats foreign migrants on a daily basis.
Despite the fact that the city relies on variety and a strong economy, social animosity and laws that prohibit people from living freely in the city undermine its future goals. According to experts, inclusive migration management which includes access to documentation, support for small enterprises, and anti-xenophobic education may turn migration from a catastrophe into a positive force.
As Landau puts it, “The issue is not migrants. They are part of the solution. The question is whether South Africa is ready to embrace that reality”.
In the end, Johannesburg’s story is for everyone who lives in it. Through bravery, adaptability, and unwavering optimism, migrants like Jumo and Mbombo continue to influence the beat of the city, demonstrating perseverance, participation, and a common goal of creating a better life.
FEATURED IMAGE: A photo of a march and march protest against illegal immigration. Photo by:Nomfundo Zungu
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
