In Durban, South Africa, refugees who fled violence in their home countries now find themselves fleeing again — this time from the streets of a city where they sought sanctuary. An anti-immigration movement called March and March has set a September 30 deadline for undocumented foreigners to leave, a declaration with no legal standing but enormous psychological weight. For communities already displaced from makeshift camps, beaten in the streets, and turned away by police, the deadline is less a legal threat than a signal — that belonging, not paperwork, is what is truly being demanded. As loc
South African refugees brace for violence as anti-immigration deadline nears
Hundreds of refugees displaced from makeshift camps; at least four injured in September 3 confrontation; one tuberculosis death reported at the camp; multiple refugees beaten by attackers with sticks.
Paperwork may offer limited protection when anger is directed first at being foreign.
Mark
Why does a deadline with no legal force matter so much? Isn't it just words?
Mimi
Because the last deadline created real fear, and this time there's a history. In 2008, xenophobic violence killed dozens. People remember that. When a movement with thousands of supporters sets a date and says leave or else, people take it seriously—especially when they've seen what happens before.
Luke
But we should be clear: the deadline itself won't cause violence. What matters is whether people act on it. Has March and March explicitly called for violence, or are they just saying undocumented migrants should leave?
Mimi
They say they're targeting undocumented migration, not foreigners generally. But the refugees I spoke to—many of them documented—say the hostility doesn't start with a request for papers. It starts with being visibly foreign.
Mark
So the police are supposed to protect them. Are they?
Mimi
That's the core problem. Bahebwa said police refused to open cases after attacks because the victims were foreigners. Muyumba said police allow March and March violence. Police say they have no plans to change their approach because of the deadline, but refugees don't trust that.
Luke
Has Al Jazeera independently verified those police refusals? Or are those allegations from the refugees?
Mimi
Those are allegations. Police haven't publicly responded to the specific claim about refusing to open cases. That's an important gap.
Mark
What about the government's response? Are they doing anything?
Mimi
They've intensified deportations. Between June and August, they processed nearly 87,000 foreign nationals for deportation. But that's government enforcement, not protection for people who are documented and have a right to be here.
Luke
And the 274 people moved to Lindela—were they given a real choice, or was it coerced?
Mimi
They were told: go back to communities you fled, or go to a detention facility. That's technically a choice, but it's a choice between two bad options. About 150 stayed in Durban rather than go to Lindela.
Mark
Where are those 150 now?
Mimi
Trying to find accommodation in the same city, in the same communities they fled. The reporting doesn't say whether they've found housing or where they're sleeping now.
The Pulse
- A September 30 deadline set by the anti-immigration group March and March has no legal force, but for refugees already beaten and displaced, deadlines do not need courts to cause harm.
- Hundreds of refugees who camped outside Durban's Refugee Reception Centre for months were given an impossible choice: return to the neighbourhoods where they were attacked, or board buses to a detention facility hundreds of kilometres away.
- At least four people were injured in a September 3 confrontation at the camp, one man died of tuberculosis in the makeshift settlement, and six salon workers were hospitalised after being beaten with sticks — while police repeatedly refused to open cases for foreign victims.
- Community representative Kafuti Muyumba says he does not trust police to protect refugees, citing what he describes as their passive tolerance of March and March violence, and drawing direct comparisons to the deadly xenophobic waves of 2008 and 2015.
- With South African local elections scheduled for November 4, migration has become a charged political issue, and refugees like Bishop Raphael Bahebwa — 26 years in the country — are now in hiding, warning that September 30 is not an endpoint but an escalation.
In Durban, South Africa, refugees who fled violence in their home countries now find themselves fleeing again — this time from the streets of a city where they sought sanctuary. An anti-immigration movement called March and March has set a September 30 deadline for undocumented foreigners to leave, a declaration with no legal standing but enormous psychological weight. For communities already displaced from makeshift camps, beaten in the streets, and turned away by police, the deadline is less a legal threat than a signal — that belonging, not paperwork, is what is truly being demanded. As local elections approach, those who have lived in South Africa for decades are asking whether the calendar will offer any relief, or whether the hostility will simply find a new date.
Bishop Raphael Bahebwa has lived in South Africa for 26 years, having fled the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Today he is in hiding, afraid that speaking openly about refugee rights could cost him his life.
For roughly four months this year, Bahebwa was among hundreds of refugees and asylum seekers sleeping on the pavement outside Durban's Refugee Reception Centre on Che Guevara Road. They had come from the DRC, Burundi, Uganda, Mozambique, and Tanzania — many driven from their neighbourhoods by xenophobic hostility, seeking protection from the Department of Home Affairs. Instead, the street became their shelter. Civil society groups and volunteers kept them fed. One man with tuberculosis died there. The hostility they had fled eventually found them: on September 3, members of March and March, an anti-immigration movement active across South Africa, confronted the camp. Violence broke out, police intervened, and at least four people were injured.
March and March frames its campaign as opposition to undocumented immigration and deteriorating community conditions, not to foreign nationals broadly, and its leaders reject accusations of xenophobia. But for refugees with legal documentation, the distinction offers little comfort. Earlier in the year, six refugees working near Durban's Warwick Street Market were beaten by men with sticks; two were hospitalised. When Bahebwa and others tried to report attacks to police, they were turned away — told they could not open cases because they were foreigners.
In mid-September, the government cleared the camp. Refugees were offered two options: return to the communities where they had been attacked, or travel to Lindela, a government detention facility in Gauteng long associated with deportation. On September 15, 274 people boarded buses to Lindela. Around 150 others stayed in Durban, searching for somewhere else to go.
Kafuti Muyumba, a DRC-born small business owner and community representative, said many refugees are too afraid to return to neighbourhoods where they built their lives — lives now disrupted by months of upheaval. He does not trust the police. "Even the police allow March and March violence," he told Al Jazeera. The moment, he said, echoes the xenophobic violence of 2008 and 2015, when dozens were killed and thousands displaced.
March and March's September 30 deadline for undocumented foreigners to leave carries no legal authority — the government has made clear that private citizens cannot deport anyone. But the deadline does not need legal force to generate fear. An earlier June 30 deadline produced real anxiety. With South African local elections set for November 4 and migration a growing political flashpoint, Bahebwa remains in hiding. "They are scapegoating us as foreigners," he said. "It is not going to end on September 30. It has to do with the elections."
Bishop Raphael Bahebwa has spent 26 years in South Africa as a refugee from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. He arrived seeking safety. Now he is in hiding, afraid that speaking publicly about the rights of foreigners will get him killed.
For months this year, Bahebwa slept on the pavement outside the Durban Refugee Reception Centre on Che Guevara Road, along with hundreds of other refugees and asylum seekers. Many came from the DRC and Burundi; others from Uganda, Mozambique, and Tanzania. They had fled their neighbourhoods because they feared attacks from people hostile to their presence. They came to the Department of Home Affairs office hoping for protection. Instead, the street became their home. For roughly four months, men, women, and children lay exposed to the elements, dependent on civil society groups and volunteers for food and medicine. One man with tuberculosis died at the camp. Conditions were desperate, with irregular access to basic necessities.
The hostility they had fled followed them there. On September 3, members of March and March—an anti-immigration movement that has organized protests across South Africa this year—confronted the refugees and asylum seekers. Violence erupted. Police intervened. At least four people were injured. Days later, at another protest, police formed a barrier between the two groups as tensions mounted. March and March frames its campaign as targeting undocumented immigration and deteriorating conditions in South African communities, not foreign nationals as a whole. Its leaders have repeatedly rejected accusations of xenophobia. But for people like Bahebwa, the distinction between documented and undocumented migrants offers little protection. Hostility on the streets rarely begins with a request for papers.
Earlier in the year, six refugees working in salons near Durban's Warwick Street Market were beaten by men carrying sticks. Two were hospitalized. When Bahebwa and others tried to report earlier attacks to police, they were turned away. Police told them they could not open cases because they were foreigners. There was nowhere to go.
In mid-September, the government moved to clear the camp. Refugees were given two options: return to the communities they had fled, or accept temporary accommodation at Lindela, a government-run immigration detention facility hundreds of kilometres away in Gauteng. The choice fractured the community. Some feared Lindela, a place historically associated with detention and deportation. Others could no longer endure life on the pavement. On September 15, 274 people were transported by bus to Lindela. About 150 others chose to stay in Durban and search for alternative housing.
Kafuti Muyumba, a small business owner from the DRC and a representative of the refugee community, said many were too afraid to return to the neighbourhoods where they had built their lives and businesses. They had lost their livelihoods during months of upheaval. Muyumba said he does not trust the police. "Even the police allow March and March violence," he told Al Jazeera. "They came with sticks and say we are attacking them." For Muyumba, the current moment echoes earlier waves of xenophobic violence—in 2008, when violence spread through townships and informal settlements, killing dozens and displacing thousands, and again in 2015. Those memories make the rhetoric surrounding September 30 difficult to dismiss.
March and March has declared a September 30 deadline for undocumented foreigners to leave South Africa, with warnings of further demonstrations if demands are not met. The deadline has no legal authority. The government has said that private citizens cannot deport anyone from South Africa. But deadlines do not need legal force to create fear. An earlier June 30 deadline created anxiety that proved real. For refugees who spent months sleeping outside the DHA office, September 30 represents another layer of uncertainty. Some have been moved hundreds of kilometres away. Others are trying to find new homes in communities they once fled. Among the migrants Al Jazeera spoke to, there is shared anxiety that paperwork may offer limited protection when anger is directed first at being foreign. South Africa will hold local government elections on November 4, in a campaign in which migration has become an increasingly prominent political and social issue. Bahebwa, who has lived in South Africa for more than a quarter of a century, says he is hiding and does not know what September 30 will bring. "They are scapegoating us as foreigners," he said. "It is not going to end on September 30. It has to do with the elections."
Notable Quotes
Even the police allow March and March violence. They came with sticks and say we are attacking them.— Kafuti Muyumba, refugee community representative
They are scapegoating us as foreigners. It is not going to end on September 30. It has to do with the elections.— Bishop Raphael Bahebwa
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