In the shadow of one of Africa's busiest airports, eight women have been found dead since mid-July — their bodies scattered across the industrial margins of Johannesburg, their lives reduced to coordinates on a police map. The most recent, Elizabeth Moselakgomo, had taken every precaution a woman in South Africa learns to take; she joined a running club so she would not run alone, and still she did not come home to her eight-year-old daughter. Her death has become a mirror held up to a nation that kills women at nearly six times the global rate, forcing a reckoning with the distance between a
Eight women's bodies near Johannesburg airport ignite femicide crisis in South Africa
Eight women murdered, including Elizabeth Moselakgomo (38), leaving an eight-year-old daughter orphaned; victims found half-naked with visible bruising or decomposed.
In this country we are prey.
Mark
So eight bodies in a few weeks, clustered around the same airport. Are police saying these are connected?
Mimi
They were looking at a serial killer angle initially, but by Monday the police spokesperson said nothing confirmed that yet. They do have a suspect in custody for the first killing in July—the woman's boyfriend. But the others, they're still investigating.
Luke
So we don't actually know if these are connected crimes or separate incidents that happen to be in the same area. That's an important distinction.
Mimi
Yes. And it matters because the fear in the community is partly about the idea of a predator, but the reality might be messier—multiple perpetrators, different circumstances.
Mark
Why did this particular case blow up when South Africa has been dealing with femicide at crisis levels for years?
Mimi
Moselakgomo was a runner, part of a community. She had a young daughter. Her friend posted on Instagram that went viral. The case had a narrative—a missing woman, a family searching, a child waiting at home.
Luke
So it's not that this case is uniquely tragic. It's that it became visible in a way others haven't.
Mimi
Exactly. And that visibility is what prompted the president to direct police to prioritize these investigations. But activists are pointing out that shouldn't be necessary—that the intensity of the search shouldn't depend on a case going viral.
Mark
What are women being told to do?
Mimi
Police advised women not to walk or run alone, to avoid isolated areas, to stay vigilant. But women's groups responded with anger—saying they're already taking precautions, already doing everything right, and it's not enough.
Luke
So the official response is essentially telling victims to change their behavior, not addressing the perpetrators or the systems that allow this to happen.
Mimi
That's the criticism, yes. Women For Change said it should not take a missing woman and a viral case before an area gets searched with intensity. The burden keeps landing on women.
Mark
Has the government actually done anything since declaring this a crisis last year?
Luke
The source says Ramaphosa declared it a national crisis in November 2025 after protests at the G20 summit. But campaigners say there's been no concrete plan or action. Just the declaration.
Mimi
And now, after these eight bodies, he's directed police to prioritize the investigations. But again, that's reactive, not preventive.
Mark
What would prevention look like?
Mimi
That's what activists are asking. Some are calling on men to take responsibility, to stop looking away, to hold each other accountable. But structurally, it would mean resources, training, investigation capacity, and a culture shift.
Le Pouls
- Five bodies surfaced in a single week near OR Tambo airport, compressing years of slow-burning crisis into days and shattering whatever numbness remained.
- The geographic clustering — victims found half-naked, bearing signs of violence, spread across Kempton Park and Olifantsfontein — has communities gripped by fear and investigators examining whether a serial killer is at work.
- Police responded by urging women not to walk alone, igniting fury from advocates who noted that Moselakgomo had done everything right and was murdered anyway — the burden of survival placed squarely on those being killed.
- President Ramaphosa, who declared femicide a national crisis in November 2025 without following through with concrete action, has now directed police to prioritize the investigations under intense public pressure.
- Running clubs are holding memorials, social media is amplifying grief, and women's organizations are demanding structural change — but the country is holding its breath to see whether viral outrage will outlast the news cycle.
In the shadow of one of Africa's busiest airports, eight women have been found dead since mid-July — their bodies scattered across the industrial margins of Johannesburg, their lives reduced to coordinates on a police map. The most recent, Elizabeth Moselakgomo, had taken every precaution a woman in South Africa learns to take; she joined a running club so she would not run alone, and still she did not come home to her eight-year-old daughter. Her death has become a mirror held up to a nation that kills women at nearly six times the global rate, forcing a reckoning with the distance between a government's declarations and the daily reality of women who move through the world as prey.
Eight women's bodies have been found in the sprawl around Johannesburg's OR Tambo international airport since mid-July, five of them in a single week. The most recent was Elizabeth Moselakgomo, 38, who went for a run on September 9 and never returned. Her eight-year-old daughter waited, then alerted relatives. Police found her body on Saturday; by Monday, her story had spread across social media — a missing runner, a child left behind, a community searching.
The geography of the deaths is its own kind of evidence. Four bodies appeared in Kempton Park, directly across the highway from the airport, all partially undressed and bearing visible signs of violence. Two more surfaced in Olifantsfontein, miles to the north. The clustering and the proximity to a major transit hub suggested something deliberate. Detectives initially explored a serial killer angle, though a police spokesperson later walked that back, noting a suspect — the boyfriend of the first victim, killed in July — was already in custody.
What has cracked open the country's numbness is the face attached to the pattern. Moselakgomo had joined a running club two years earlier specifically so she would not train alone. Her friend Sakane Mokoena remembered her as someone who spoke constantly about her daughter, who left gatherings early to get home to her child. When Mokoena posted on Instagram after the identification — "In this country we are prey" — the words landed in a nation already exhausted by its own statistics.
South Africa records a femicide rate of 12.2 per 100,000 people, nearly six times the global average. In November 2025, President Ramaphosa declared gender-based violence a national crisis after hundreds of women protested on the eve of the G20 summit. No concrete action followed. When police responded to this latest wave of killings by urging women not to walk or run alone, the backlash was immediate. Women For Change pointed out that Moselakgomo had taken every precaution available to her — and it had not saved her. "We are tired of being told to be vigilant," they said.
By Tuesday, Ramaphosa had directed police to prioritize the murder investigations. Activists, however, are asking for something deeper. Bafana Khumalo of Sonke Gender Justice called on men to stop looking away: "Violence against women is our business. We need, as men, to begin to face each other squarely and hold each other accountable." Running clubs across the country have organized memorials. The question now is whether a viral case and a moment of national anger will translate into the sustained, structural change that might actually interrupt the pattern — or whether, once the attention fades, women will simply be left to keep watch over themselves.
Eight women's bodies have been discovered in the sprawl around Johannesburg's OR Tambo international airport since mid-July, five of them surfacing in a single week. The most recent identification was Elizabeth Moselakgomo, a 38-year-old who went for a run on September 9 and never came home. Her eight-year-old daughter waited, then alerted relatives. Police found her body on Saturday. By Monday, when family members confirmed who she was, the story had already spread across social media—a missing woman, a child left behind, the machinery of a community searching.
The geography of these deaths tells its own story. Four bodies turned up in Kempton Park, directly across the highway from the airport, all of them partially undressed and bearing visible signs of violence. Two more appeared in Olifantsfontein, about fifteen miles north. A fifth was found twenty-five miles to the southeast, naked and decomposed. Police added a sixth victim to the investigation—a woman whose body had been discovered on September 7, also in Olifantsfontein. The clustering, the pattern, the proximity to one of Africa's busiest airports: all of it suggested something organized, something deliberate. Detectives initially examined the possibility of a serial killer. By Monday, a police spokesperson walked that back. "For now, nothing tells us that we've got a serial killer," Athlenda Mathe said. But they did confirm that a suspect—the boyfriend of the first victim, killed in July—was in custody.
What makes this moment different, what has cracked open the country's numbness, is the scale compressed into days and the face attached to it. Moselakgomo was a runner. She had joined a running club two years earlier specifically so she would not train alone on Saturday mornings. Her friend Sakane Mokoena remembered her as someone who spoke constantly about her daughter, who left gatherings early to get home to her child, who carried a lightness and kindness that made people want to be near her. When Mokoena posted on Instagram after the identification—"In this country we are prey"—the words landed in a country already exhausted by its own statistics.
South Africa kills women at a rate of 12.2 per 100,000 people, according to UN data from 2022. That is nearly six times the global average. The country has one of the highest femicide rates on earth. For years, activists and women's groups have demanded that the government treat gender-based violence as what it is: a crisis requiring resources, investigation, structural change. In November 2025, after hundreds of women protested on the eve of the G20 summit in Johannesburg, President Cyril Ramaphosa declared femicide a national crisis. But a declaration is not a plan. No concrete action followed. Women kept being killed.
When police issued a statement on Saturday urging women in and around Kempton Park not to walk or run alone, to avoid isolated areas, to remain vigilant and travel in groups, the response was swift and furious. Women For Change, an advocacy organization, spoke for many: "It should not take a missing woman, a desperate family, runners and communities searching, and a case going viral, before an area is searched with this intensity." The burden of safety, they pointed out, had been placed on the people being murdered. "We are tired of being told to be vigilant when women are already doing everything possible to stay alive." Moselakgomo had taken precautions. She had joined a club. She had not run alone. It had not saved her.
On Tuesday, President Ramaphosa directed police to prioritize the murder investigations. The acting police minister, Firoz Cachalia, acknowledged the urgency. But activists and community leaders are asking for something deeper: a reckoning with the culture that permits this violence to continue. Bafana Khumalo, a co-executive director of Sonke Gender Justice, called on men to stop looking away, to stop claiming it is not their business. "Violence against women is our business," he said. "We need, as men, to begin to face each other squarely and hold each other accountable."
Running clubs across South Africa have organized memorial events for Moselakgomo. Mokoena said she hopes the attention—the moment when the country stood still to acknowledge what is happening—will push the government and police toward real protection. But the question hanging over all of it is whether a viral case, a sympathetic victim, a moment of national anger will translate into the kind of sustained, resourced, structural change that might actually interrupt this pattern. Eight women are dead. One of them left behind a daughter. The country is watching to see what happens next.
Citations marquantes
It should not take a missing woman, a desperate family, runners and communities searching, and a case going viral, before an area is searched with this intensity.— Women For Change advocacy group
Violence against women is our business. We need, as men, to begin to face each other squarely and hold each other accountable.— Bafana Khumalo, co-executive director of Sonke Gender Justice
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