4 days ago
eNCA journalists reflect on chaos, looting & reporting from the frontlines
The July Unrest occurred in KwaZulu-Natal and Gauteng, from 9 to 18 July 2021. The protests were sparked by the arrest and incarceration of former President Jacob Zuma.
The protests quickly escalated resulting in looting, rioting, rise in racial tensions, damage to property, violence and the deaths of more than 350 people.
It is estimated that the July unrest also caused more than R50 billion in damage to the South African economy.
eNCA Senior Reporter Dasen Thathiah and eNCA Camera Operator Nkanyiso Mdlalose were there, reporting from the frontlines.
In the video below, they both reflect on the life-changing experience four years on.
A Reporter's Reflection of The July 2021 Unrest – Four Years On
By Dasen Thathiah
The term "unrest" is such a misnomer. Sure, for anyone who wasn't there, it works.
A public disturbance? Riots? Maybe a failed insurrection? For those of us who lived through it - on the frontlines - it was a catastrophic nightmare.
The first eight days overflowed with anxiety, fear, sadness, anger, trepidation.
The recipe for a lifetime of unspoken trauma. The province that raised us was set alight.
Its infrastructure abused, the fragile economy gang-raped. People who lived alongside me mutated into savages.
Others became statistics, no longer referred to by name, but only as a collective.
"More than 350 died," we say. Yet the ones who orchestrated it are most likely still alive and well.
But we don't just grieve for the departed. We mourn the jobs lost, the livelihoods shattered, the businesses buried.
About ten percent of the murders took place in a north Durban township. The nature of the violence birthed the term "Phoenix Massacre." Its impact pushed race relations decades back.
A minority of barbarians in a usually warm, close-knit community turned on their long-time neighbours in the most brutal way.
Both "sides" paid with their loved ones, casualties of a racial war. This wasn't just a story to us. It was our lived experience.
We saw the bodies strewn across the roadway. We know the helplessness of not being able to save the ones taking their last breaths. We felt the racism directed at us.
And propagandists capitalised on the confusion that reigned.
People who look like me wanted someone to blame for the backlash stemming from the actions of a small group of racist murderers.
So, one propagandist offered me to them as a virtual sacrifice on Facebook. It worked.
I was labelled a traitor, threatened, ostracised, blamed and even became the subject of a campaign led by some to get me fired.
Just for telling the truth; for standing up when it was easier to sit down.
A few days later, another propagandist on Twitter (X) doctored a video clip to create a new narrative. "Journalist by day, vigilante killing black people at night," they said.
So, while the city burned around me, I had my own fires to extinguish. Fake news threatened to reduce my career to ashes.
I was fortunate to navigate this space with a colleague who I regard as a dear friend; a brother.
Together, Nkanyiso and I - a pair that had seen the ugliest side of people during the unrest - helped each other stay true to our beliefs.
Armed with an eNCA camera and a microphone, we showed you not just the bad, but the inspirational.
We listened as the voices of good South Africans grew loud enough to eventually overpower the evil ones.
We introduced you to the community heroes, who outnumbered the racist vigilantes.
We held the government to account for its failures.
Simply put, we followed the truth even when the path was deserted.
Four years later, we reflect on an unbelievable time that should never be forgotten.
It should serve as a reminder of exactly what we are not as South Africans.
