By Khanyisa Dunjwa (Social Justice Activist, writing in my personal capacity)
When dozens die overnight from rising floodwaters, it’s more than a weather event – it’s failure of governance and planning. The deadly floods in Mthatha weren’t just caused by rain, but by systemic under-preparedness and long-standing neglect.
This is not the time for platitudes. It’s time to treat disaster preparedness with the same seriousness, funding, and urgency we gave to the COVID-19 pandemic.
The Eastern Cape is no stranger to floods. Yet when the rains came this time, the response was painfully inadequate. The province had weather forecasts, disaster management plans, and national agencies offering support – but these resources didn’t translate into real-time action. Reportedly, only one functional rescue helicopter was available. Emergency teams arrived late, and in many cases, locals had to rescue one another. The tools exist, but the infrastructure is fragile, poorly maintained, and critically underfunded.
The Eastern Cape is no stranger to floods. Yet when the rains came this time, the response was painfully inadequate. The province had weather forecasts, disaster management plans, and national agencies offering support—but these resources didn’t translate into real-time action. Reportedly, only one functional rescue helicopter was available. Emergency teams arrived late, and in many cases, locals had to rescue one another. The tools exist, but the infrastructure is fragile, poorly maintained, and critically underfunded.
Local governments are expected to respond to localised crises – but without sufficient personnel, vehicles, communication systems, and funding, they cannot. Municipalities like OR Tambo need better-equipped disaster units, emergency shelters, and early warning systems that actually reach remote communities.
Many of the homes washed away had been built along riverbanks – known as high-risk zones. This disaster underscores another truth: the role of settlement planning in disaster vulnerability.
People don’t build homes near rivers out of ignorance. These are homes built by hardworking people committed to providing shelter for their families. That these homes were destroyed shows that individual efforts can’t compensate for absence of coordinated state planning.
The lack of affordable, safe housing forces families into dangerous areas. It’s not enough to warn communities about risks. Government must provide viable alternatives – safe areas with infrastructure, services and secure tenure.
This raises urgent questions about land. In many Eastern Cape areas, people settle wherever land is open – not by choice, but due to lack of alternatives. Low-cost housing developments are too few and too delayed. It’s time for a more inclusive approach, including allocating communal land for people to build their own homes with proper support.
South Africa has a history of communal land tenure, especially in rural areas under traditional leadership. But these systems are often excluded from formal development planning. Government should partner with traditional leaders to support safe settlement on communal land. This includes engineering support, flood-risk mapping, and service delivery.
Countries like Uganda and Ethiopia use land-sharing, communal titling, and local planning committees to help vulnerable communities build safer settlements. South Africa can adapt such models to fit its legal and cultural context. A flexible, participator approach to land use may be the only way to meet growing housing needs while avoiding disaster risk.
Disaster awareness must become part of civic education. Residents should know evacuation routes, emergency numbers, and flood signs. Education campaigns through schools, clinics and community centres can build a culture of preparedness.
Community involvement is essential. Civic groups, neighbourhood watchers, faith-based organisations and school must be included in planning and response. Community based early warning systems – where residents monitor and act on weather changes – have proven effective elsewhere. We need that here, too.
But Mthatha’s disaster also raises questions about dignity – in life and in death. We saw bodies dragged through the mad, often in full view of grieving relatives. Emergency workers were stretched thin, but this was painful to witness. In a country that promises dignity for all, it was a harsh reminder of our unpreparedness. Disaster response must include trained personnel, recovery equipment and protocols that uphold dignity. Families should not have to see their loved one treated like debris.
The media must also do better. Some journalists in Mthatha showed disturbing insensitivity, asking poorly framed questions, pushing cameras in the faces of grieving families. One mother was asked to describe her feelings on live TV while still in shock. This is unacceptable. There is a difference between reporting a tragedy and exploiting it. Coverage must be empathetic. Human stories matter – but they must be handled with care. Families deserve space to mourn.
If COVID-19 taught us anything, its that big emergencies require big responses. The KwaZulu-Natal floods of 2022 should’ve been our turning point. Over 400 lives were lost, and billions of rands in infrastructure damage exposed the vulnerability of poor communities. We promised change. But clearly, we didn’t learn enough.
Why didn’t we use KZN as a blueprint to build better systems elsewhere, like in the Eastern Cape? We had the data. We had the warning. Yet we failed to act.
The climate crisis demands the same national leadership, urgency and coordination that we saw during the pandemic. That means establishing a national disaster fund, real-time data sharing, floodplain rezoning, and local emergency audits. It means working with civil society because NGOs are often first on the ground.
Recovery must go beyond food parcels and shelter. Rebuilding must prioritise resilience. Roads, bridges, homes – everything must be climate ready. Poor communities need insurance schemes, rebuilding grants, and psychosocial support.
We must audit each province’s disaster readiness. What equipment exists? Where are the helicopters? Are community halls designated as shelters? What happens when cell networks fail? These are not hypothetical questions. They’re lifesaving. This isn’t just about the weather. It’s about justice.
The people who died in Mthatha were mostly poor and Black. Their deaths were not inevitable. They were the result of inequality and policy failure. If floods hit a wealthy suburbs, the outcome would likely be very different. That truth should trouble us all.
Every climate disaster risk deepening the very inequalities that make some more vulnerable than others. Preparedness must be about equity, not just logistics.
We can’t undo what happened in Mthatha. But we can honour the victims by ensuring it never happens again. That means planning ahead, resourcing disaster teams, educating communities, and upholding the dignity of every South African – before, during, and after the storm. The next flood is not a matter of it. It’s a matter of when. Will we be ready? We must be.
