Zama Zamas terrorise villagers across South Africa: They're digging closer to my house, threatening to swallow me and my grandchildren

The word "zama zama" – a term synonymous with desperation and defiance – echoes across South Africa, from the abandoned mines of Stilfontein to the chrome-rich lands of Witrantjie.

It speaks of forced labour, shattered dreams, and a stark juxtaposition to the biblical tale of the Tower of Babel. While the builders of Babel sought to reach heaven, the zama zamas, driven by hunger and poverty, risk their lives in the hellish depths of abandoned mines, seeking only a glimmer of survival.

In Stilfontein, love letters, smuggled from the perilous depths of abandoned mineshafts, bear witness to the desperate hopes of men risking their lives for their families. These desperate scribbles, promises of return, often belie a grim reality.

The zama zamas, a diverse group hailing from Lesotho, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and beyond, are united not by faith or ambition, but by a profound desperation. They descend into the underworld, not drawn by visions of glory, but by the unrelenting hunger that compels a father to provide, even if it means gambling with his life.

For these men, the abandoned mines are both a lifeline and a death trap. They gather from distant lands, speaking a broken dialect of survival, often struggling to even communicate in Fanakalo, the mining industry's patchwork language. Yet, communication is not merely a convenience; it is the difference between life and death in the unforgiving environment of the mines.

The stark contrast between the builders of Babel, who dreamt of touching the heavens, and the zama zamas, who risk being buried kilometres below the surface, is striking. While Babel's workers sought to defy the divine, these illegal miners confront a system that has already abandoned them, clawing through rock and dust in search of life-changing ore.

The cost of this desperate pursuit is staggering. Operation Vala Umgodi, a South African Police Service operation in Stilfontein, played out like a siege. As shafts were sealed and supply lines cut, miners faced starvation, dehydration, and suffocation underground. Their eventual emergence was a horrifying spectacle: skeletal figures, their hollowed faces betraying weeks of hunger.

A similar scene unfolded in Mpumalanga's Sabie region, where rescue teams pulled 153 people from South Mine, an abandoned gold shaft. Among the rescued, 95 were from Lesotho, 32 from Mozambique, and 16 from Zimbabwe, all undocumented.

Only 10 were South Africans, and they were released. The rescue highlighted the complex web of syndicates operating underground, with some Lesotho nationals facing charges of kidnapping and illegal mining.

The scale of illegal mining in South Africa is immense, with estimated annual losses exceeding R70 billion. This is not merely a matter of individual desperation; it is a systemic problem with far-reaching consequences. In Witrantjie, near Rustenburg, the consequences are tragically visible. Here, illegal miners operate on an industrial scale, using heavy machinery – excavators, front-end loaders, and dump trucks – to extract chrome. This large-scale mechanised operation has devastated the community, leaving homes clinging precariously to the edge of 100m-deep open pits.

The arrival of the zama zamas around 2018 marked a turning point for Witrantjie. Residents were intimidated into relinquishing their land, fearing violence if they resisted. This fear-and-assimilation campaign has torn apart the once close-knit community. Fields and backyards have been reduced to rubble, creating a landscape of dangerous excavations. The impact on individuals is devastating. Batseba Mqoma (69), who invested over R500 000 in her dream retirement home, now finds her house cracked and teetering on the edge of a dangerous pit. She spends her days watching her grandchildren, fearing the worst.

"When I built my house, the mining was far [from here] and small-scale. But, by the time I finished, it was right in my back yard. After two months away, I returned to find my back yard on the edge of a deep pit," she recounted.

"Now, I spend my days watching my grandchildren to keep them away from the edge. This is not the retirement I had hoped for, it is a disaster waiting to happen and there is nothing I can do about it," she lamented.

The community's dilemma is their forced dependence on the zama zamas. Those who refuse to cooperate face threats of violence and intimidation. Molotsi More (48), who allowed mining on his ancestral land, admitted that he receives only a small fraction of the profits – about R3 000 for every 8 tons of chrome – while each tipper truck load fetches up to R40 000.

"We had investors coming here to mine chrome on our land. People started letting them mine on their family plots. I’m from here too and knew my family’s fields were already being mined. It was either I joined in, or our plot would be mined anyway. So, like everyone else, I allowed the investors to mine," More explained.

He highlighted the involvement of Chinese, Mozambicans, Basotho, Zimbabweans, and South Africans in the large-scale operation. "So, we are the biggest losers because it’s our land that is being destroyed while we are thrown scraps. The illegal miners take advantage of us because they know we have involved ourselves in illegal activity by allowing them to mine. Also, the other issue is poverty, which has left people with no choice but to join in to scrape a living," he added.

The scale of the illegal chrome mining operation is staggering. A Bloomberg report estimated that a million tons of chrome ore per year – more than 10% of South Africa's total chrome production – comes from illegal mines. At least 3 500 tons of chrome-bearing rock were trucked out of Witrantjie village alone in a single day. The illegal miners operate with apparent impunity, seemingly protected by connections within the police and the Department of Minerals Resources and Energy. Residents report that police raids are often preceded by warnings, allowing the zama zamas to escape with their heavy machinery.

"Moments before police or department [officials] arrive for a blitz, you will see them [illegal miners] hurrying away, abandoning their heavy machinery," one resident said.

"They disappear into the large dunes of rubble, which indicates they have been tipped off." The situation has fostered an atmosphere of fear and distrust, turning neighbours against each other.

"We are not free. Our lives are controlled by those who are here to extract minerals from beneath our land, and there’s nothing we can do. The police come but leave as quickly as they arrive," a resident said.

The destruction extends beyond Witrantjie. In the nearby village of Raborifi, illegal miners have ravaged a smallholding, leaving it on the brink of collapse and blocking the access road.