Published: 23 February 2026. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online.
In the dust‑choked streets of Gugulethu informal settlement near Springs, people dropped everything to chase whispers of gold buried beneath the earth, driven by hunger and an absence of employment. The rumour spread fast on social media that someone had struck gold while digging a hole for a fence post on the edge of a veld known locally as a kraal, and within days hundreds had descended with shovels and makeshift tools. Families, neighbours and strangers arrived from nearby townships and provinces hundreds of miles away, all hoping a few grams of gold might change their dire circumstances. Local councillor Dean Stone described the scene as chaotic and desperate, with community members desperate for any chance to feed their children and pay for basic school transport.
This miniature gold rush was a stark reminder of South Africa’s deep economic malaise, where unemployment has soared for years and poverty grips too many households. Recent government statistics put the national jobless figure at roughly 42 per cent, and nearly four in ten people live below the official poverty line, struggling on about £65 a month. In Gugulethu, that grim reality was laid bare as young men and women, some as young as ten, latched on to the hope that a speck of gold dust could be the answer to empty cupboards.
For a few, the gamble paid off in the short term. Two sisters, Nomsa and Thokozile, told journalists they had extracted a small handful of precious metal from the soft brown soil, selling their finds for about 2,000 rand, used to buy food and cover their daughter’s transport to school. But those modest gains were overshadowed by the overwhelming sense of frustration and futility that came with the forced closure of the digging site. Government authorities, citing the need to uphold the law and protect public safety, moved in with heavy machinery to fill the trenches and arrest those involved in what they deemed illegal mining.
The rush quickly caught the attention of the Department of Mineral and Petroleum Resources, which condemned the unregulated excavation as unlawful under the nation’s Mineral and Petroleum Resources Development Act. Officials warned that unauthorised mining pits posed grave dangers to life, especially for children, and undermined the rule of law designed to protect land and resources. They reiterated that aspiring miners could seek assistance to formalise their operations and obtain the permits required to operate legally.
Yet many locals argued that the formal process for securing licences was effectively out of reach for people mired in poverty. Stone, the councillor, questioned how individuals with no transport or means could be expected to travel to Johannesburg simply to apply for paperwork, urging the government to bring support services directly to impoverished communities. In the eyes of many, the end of the informal rush was another missed opportunity to wrestle some control back from grinding economic hardship.
The frenzy in Gugulethu echoed the early days of South Africa’s gold narrative, recalling how the Witwatersrand gold fields gave birth to Johannesburg in the late 19th century. Springs itself sprang to life in 1904 after gold discoveries, becoming a hub of wealth before entering a period of decline as easy finds dried up and formal mining operations left behind scarred landscapes. Today, the region’s beige ridges and bleached soil stand as silent memorials to that bygone era, as abandoned mine dumps loom near the humble homes where modern prospectors gathered in hope.
As the authorities withdrew and giant diggers filled the pits, some residents protested, warning that their desperation could drive them toward theft and crime if no alternatives emerged. They feared that even the slight earnings from selling gold fragments and the tiny sense of agency gained by working their own land were preferable to the bleak choices of unemployment and hunger. Community leaders lamented that without meaningful jobs, people might resort to desperate measures, undoing the fabric of neighbourhood safety and wellbeing.
South Africa’s broader struggle with illegal and informal mining, however, stretches far beyond Gugulethu. Across the country, thousands of miners known as “zama zamas” operate in disused shafts and abandoned fields, drawn by the faint hope of striking wealth amidst devastated terrains left by formal mining companies. Estimates by analysts suggest that tens of thousands are involved in illicit mining, contributing to significant losses in revenue and creating a parallel economy that often eludes regulation and worker protections.
These informal miners face a gauntlet of dangers. Without legal status, they lack labour protections and work in perilous conditions, vulnerable to collapses, toxic gases, and conflict with armed criminal syndicates that have taken control of many old mine sites. Efforts by the government to crack down on illegal activity, including proposed legislative reforms and enforcement operations, underscore a long‑standing tension between enforcing the law and addressing the root causes that drive people underground in the first place.
Critics argue that the state’s approach of labelling these miners as criminals overlooks the systemic inequalities that have created such desperation. In many adjacent communities where mines once offered stable employment, the closure of operations has left economic devastation in its wake, with little investment in alternatives to mining jobs. Some policy makers and advocacy groups contend that formalising the artisanal mining sector could provide much‑needed jobs and integrate thousands of workers into a regulated economy, offering safer conditions and stable incomes.
In response to these calls, initiatives have been proposed to bring community leaders, government and industry together in dialogue, seeking ways to ensure that mining wealth contributes to sustainable infrastructure like schools and clinics long after the extraction is done. Yet progress remains slow, and for ordinary residents of settlements like Gugulethu, life remains a daily struggle against poverty and social exclusion.
As the dust settles on the recent rush for gold, memories of those frantic days linger in the minds of many who participated, not as eager prospectors but as people who saw in a rumour a fleeting glimpse of hope. The promise of finding wealth beneath the soil may have dissolved with the backfill, but the deeper issue remains: without jobs or opportunities, South Africans in places like Gugulethu may short‑circuit their futures for the slim chance of striking fortune.




























































































