Imagine if we're scared in our own African continent
In the long arc of African solidarity — forged through shared struggles against colonialism and apartheid — a troubling fracture has emerged. Nigeria has formally summoned South Africa's acting High Commissioner to answer for a wave of violence against foreign nationals, including the killing of at least two Nigerians and four Ethiopians in recent weeks. The confrontation lays bare a tension as old as migration itself: the gap between the ideals nations profess and the conditions they permit within their own borders.
- At least six African migrants — two Nigerians and four Ethiopians — have been killed in South Africa in recent weeks, with homes and businesses also targeted in what appears to be a coordinated campaign rather than isolated incidents.
- Organized groups are conducting identity checks outside hospitals and schools, creating a climate of fear that has left migrants unable to move freely in a country that once symbolized African liberation.
- Nigeria escalated the crisis to the diplomatic level by formally summoning South Africa's acting High Commissioner, warning that the violence threatens the bilateral relationship between two of Africa's most influential nations.
- President Ramaphosa has condemned the attacks but muddied his message by cautioning migrants to respect local laws — a statement widely read as hedging blame toward the victims.
- South Africa's 2.4 million official migrants, and many more undocumented, exist at the intersection of economic anxiety, political resentment, and a fragile pan-African identity now visibly under strain.
Nigeria's government summoned South Africa's acting High Commissioner this week to lodge a formal protest over escalating violence against foreign nationals — a diplomatic intervention that signals just how serious Lagos views the deteriorating situation on the ground.
The violence has been building for weeks. At least two Nigerians and four Ethiopians have been killed, and beyond the deaths, organized groups have been stopping people outside hospitals and schools to demand identification papers. Homes and businesses belonging to migrants have been attacked in what observers describe as a systematic pattern rather than spontaneous unrest.
South Africa, the continent's most developed economy, has long drawn workers from across Africa. It officially hosts around 2.4 million migrants — roughly 4 percent of the population — with the true number believed to be considerably higher. The current wave of hostility has been fueled by familiar grievances: accusations of illegal residency, job competition, and involvement in crime. A specific flashpoint emerged earlier this year when a Nigerian community leader in the port city of KuGompo was installed in a traditional leadership role, which some South Africans interpreted as foreigners claiming political authority over their own communities.
President Ramaphosa condemned the attacks during a Freedom Day address, invoking the solidarity other African nations showed South Africa during the apartheid struggle — but he also warned migrants to respect local laws, a remark that struck many as deflecting responsibility onto the victims.
For those caught in the violence, the wound runs deeper than politics. One Nigerian man told the BBC that the attacks feel like a betrayal of something fundamental: 'We are blacks, we are brothers — everybody comes here just to survive.' A security guard, stranded by protests, put the fear in continental terms: 'Imagine if we're scared in our own African continent — what if we go to Europe?'
Whether Nigeria's diplomatic summons will ease tensions or entrench them remains to be seen. What is already clear is that the violence has exposed a painful collision between economic desperation, local resentment, and the fragile ideal of African brotherhood.
Nigeria's government called in South Africa's acting High Commissioner on Monday to lodge a formal complaint about a surge of violence targeting foreigners within South Africa's borders. The meeting was framed as an urgent diplomatic intervention, with Nigeria's foreign ministry stating it would express "profound concern" about the attacks and warn that the situation threatens the relationship between the two nations.
The violence has been mounting for weeks. At least two Nigerian nationals and four Ethiopians have been killed in recent incidents, according to local reporting. Beyond the deaths, there have been documented attacks on the homes and businesses of foreign nationals, and organized groups have taken to stopping people outside hospitals and schools to demand identification papers. The pattern suggests something more systematic than isolated incidents—a wave of coordinated action against migrants.
South Africa, as the continent's most developed economy, has long been a destination for Africans seeking work. The country officially hosts about 2.4 million migrants, representing just under 4 percent of the population, though the actual number is believed to be substantially higher when undocumented residents are counted. Most come from neighboring countries like Lesotho, Zimbabwe, and Mozambique, which have historical ties to South African labor markets. Nigerians represent a smaller portion of this migrant population, but their presence has become a flashpoint.
The anti-immigrant sentiment has roots in local grievance and, in at least one case, in a specific political trigger. Earlier this year, tensions escalated after a Nigerian community leader in the port city of KuGompo was installed in a traditional leadership position—a role sometimes translated as "king." Some South Africans in the area interpreted this as an attempt by foreigners to seize political authority in their own communities. The incident crystallized broader anxieties that had been simmering: accusations that foreigners are in the country illegally, that they are taking jobs from South Africans, and that they are involved in criminal activity, particularly drug trafficking.
President Cyril Ramaphosa has publicly condemned the attacks, but his messaging has been mixed. During a Freedom Day address last week—commemorating South Africa's first democratic elections in 1994—he reminded South Africans of the support other African nations provided during the struggle against apartheid. Yet he also cautioned foreigners to respect local laws, a statement that some read as placing partial blame on the migrants themselves.
The human toll is evident in the accounts of those caught in the violence. One Nigerian man told the BBC that the attacks feel like a betrayal of African solidarity: "It is not okay because we are blacks, we are brothers... everybody comes here just to survive." A security guard, unable to reach his workplace because of the protests, expressed a deeper anxiety about the continent itself. "It's just making us scared," he said. "Imagine if we're scared in our own African continent—what if we go to Europe?"
The diplomatic summons signals that Nigeria views the situation as serious enough to warrant formal state action. Whether the meeting will ease tensions or harden positions remains unclear. What is certain is that the violence reflects a collision between economic desperation, local resentment, and the fragile bonds of continental solidarity.
Citas Notables
It is not okay because we are blacks, we are brothers... everybody comes here just to survive.— Nigerian migrant, speaking to BBC Pidgin
It's just making us scared—imagine if we're scared in our own African continent—what if we go to Europe?— Security guard unable to reach work due to protests
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why did Nigeria wait until now to formally summon the envoy? Couldn't they have acted sooner?
The violence has been building for weeks, but these things often reach a threshold before governments move. Once you have documented deaths—two Nigerians, four Ethiopians—and organized groups stopping people for papers outside hospitals, it becomes impossible to treat as isolated incidents. That's when diplomacy kicks in.
The president condemned the attacks but also told foreigners to respect local laws. That seems like he's hedging.
It does. He's trying to hold two positions at once: defending the principle of African solidarity while also acknowledging that his own citizens have grievances about illegal residency and job competition. But when you're the president and violence is happening, hedging can feel like permission to the people doing the attacking.
What's the actual scale here? 2.4 million migrants in a country of how many people?
South Africa has roughly 60 million people. So migrants are about 4 percent officially, but everyone knows the real number is higher. That's a lot of people competing for the same jobs, the same housing, the same resources. The resentment doesn't need to be rational to be real.
The thing about the Nigerian "king" in KuGompo—that seems almost trivial compared to the violence.
It is trivial in isolation. But it became a symbol. Local South Africans saw it as foreigners trying to claim political power in their own communities. That's when abstract anxiety about migration becomes concrete anger. The violence didn't start there, but that incident crystallized it.
Do you think the diplomatic meeting will actually change anything?
Probably not immediately. Nigeria is signaling that this matters at the state level now, which raises the stakes. But the real issue—economic competition, illegal residency, crime—those don't get solved in a Monday meeting. What might change is whether the violence continues openly or whether South Africa's government feels enough pressure to actually enforce order.