Moving beyond xenophobia: Structural violence, conflict and encounters with the ‘other’ Africans

Abstract

This paper examines conflict and cooperation between South Africans and Somali spaza shop owners in townships and informal settlements in the context of post-apartheid structural inequities. I argue that Somali and other poor newcomers suffer the same daily insecurity as the majority of the population. However, with the exception of the concerted killings, lootings and displacement of migrants in 2008–2009, this Somali case shows that contact between newcomers and local people is not always antagonistic and that newcomers are not passive victims of violence, but rather engage successfully in both competition and collaboration to cement their presence in these areas. I conclude that violence against migrants is rooted in South Africa's continuing structural violence and communal crisis, a condition characterised by tensions with compatriots as well as with newcomers. To solve the problem, attention must be paid to the persistence of this structural violence in the post-apartheid political dispensation.

Keywords:

• structural violence
• informal sector
• xenophobia
• Somali refugees
• South Africa

1. Introduction

Hosting the 2010 FIFA World Cup placed South Africa on the global stage. The international media attention preceding this tournament exposed the triumph of democracy as well as the challenges confronting this nation in overcoming the legacy of apartheid. The contradictions inherent in its costly preparation for the event, its extreme poverty, and violence against migrants committed by previously oppressed South Africans, received intense coverage. As in Pedahzur and Yishai's (1999) discussion of xenophobia in Israel, one implicit message conveyed by the South African debate is that oppressed peoples should always take the high moral ground, and never oppress others. While protection for all peoples in these two nations is enshrined in their constitutions, the lived experiences of these societies reveal the complex political, economical and cultural factors that contribute to conflict and ‘othering’ of newcomers, and the tensions between the ideal and reality and between law and practice.

This paper examines contact, conflict and cooperation between South Africans and Somalis in townships and informal settlements. It describes the context in which the two encounter each other and the way they perceive each other. I argue that this relationship is conditioned by the structural inequities that persist in this post-apartheid nation. Such inequities include extremely high rates of violent crime that disproportionately affect poor communities, and a widening chasm between the haves and the have-nots. I argue that, with the exception of the concerted killing, looting and displacement of migrants in 2008 and 2009, both Somalis and locals confront the everyday reality of violence that all township and informal settlement residents experience, a violence that eclipses the 2008–2009 killings. Newcomers are thus drawn into the persistent communal crisis and tension with co-nationals as well as with other newcomers. Finally I demonstrate that newcomers are not passive recipients of violence, but rather engage successfully in both competition and collaboration to cement their presence in these areas.

I draw from ethnographic data collected over the summers of 2007 and 2009 in Gauteng, the Western Cape and the Eastern Cape. I conducted 64 formal interviews, 42 with Somali and Ethiopian refugees (30 and 12 respectively) in these three regions, and 22 with South African-born men and women living in the Western Cape (Langa, Philippi, Khayelitsha and Delta) and Gauteng (Atteridgeville, Mamelodi and Soshanguve). Hundreds of hours of conversations and intensive ethnographic work in these areas also inform the research. While the study covered wider topics, my primary focus here is the spaza shop sector, and the opportunities and challenges arising from group contact in this arena. In this article I focus on the Somali and South African data. I asked both groups how and when they come into contact with the other group, and about their perceptions of each other.

2. Group conflict: Theoretical approaches

Theories on group tensions emphasise different facets of society that might trigger negative reactions to those outside the ‘imagined community’. One approach attributes group conflict to the ‘struggle of human groups for survival’ in environments transformed by migration or changes in population trends (Feagin & Feagin, 1999:47). Glazer and Moynihan (1970) argue that competition for scarce resources best explains ethnic conflict. People's perception of threat, which may not have objective reality, is sufficient to trigger tension with the ‘other’ (Giles & Hertz, 1994:317). Another approach, the cultural-symbolic theory, suggests that conflict results not from economic competition but rather from ‘early political and value socialisation’ (McConahay, 1982:692). Cultural differences between groups play a more central role in group conflict than economic disparities (Wimmer, 1997:22). Defining others whose practices are incompatible with the dominant ethos as ‘unbelonging’ triggers negative attitudes towards minorities (Wimmer, 1997:23). A third approach sees macro-societal characteristics that trigger major collective identity crises as being more central than mono-factors such as the economy or the culture:

Such deep-gripping crises occur again and again after intensive phases of modernization if the promises of a societal model – for instance, that of the social welfare state – can no longer be kept and therefore ‘anomic tensions’ spread over all social positions. This leads to a crisis of collective identity so that the calm self-certainty which might enable unproblematic relations with the minorities gets lost. (Wimmer 1997:27)

The erosion of the confidence necessary for harmony with others in society leads to a rejection of the ‘other’ (Wimmer, 1997). The search for identity involves excluding others to facilitate dealing with the crisis itself. This approach links macro-processes to micro group dynamics, and is thus more nuanced. The next section reviews literature on xenophobia in South Africa and looks at how it approaches this topic in the light of the theoretical positions discussed here.

2.1 Xenophobia: Migrant–local relations in South Africa

There is an assumption implicit in some of the literature that post-apartheid rule should have transformed the way South Africans treat and perceive migrants. The highly publicised violence against migrants, which culminated in the deaths of over 60 foreigners and South Africans in 2008, and the intermittent attacks on newcomers and their properties over the last decade have produced a discourse that lays the full blame for this violence on poor black South Africans in townships and informal settlements, portraying them as filled with hatred for others. For example Sinclair, discussing attacks against migrants in South Africa, says ‘these stand as a sad reflection of the inability of South African people to acknowledge the contribution and inevitability of foreigners in the new South Africa, as much as an indictment of the government to lead the way by example’ (1999:466). Morris underscores how black Africans, ‘especially those originating from countries north of South Africa's neighbours’, become scapegoats for the slow progress in reaping the rewards of liberation from apartheid rule (1998:1117). Many of these writings accentuate the race of these victims. Another feature is attributing prejudice to all South Africans, regardless of race and class (Crush & Pendleton, 2007), but Crush also points out that South Africans of all races exhibit ‘a distinct aversion’ to other Africans and would choose European and North American immigrants over Africans (2000:112). Neocosmos denies that poverty and frustration explain this violence and points to how it was inflicted solely on African foreigners: ‘After all why were not whites or the rich or for that matter white foreigners in South Africa targeted instead?’ (2008).

The above literature, however, rarely distinguishes prejudice from discrimination and violence. Moreover, reasons for prejudice might vary for different classes and races, and grouping these tells us little about when, if and why prejudice might translate to action. For example, while it might be true that all South Africans are prejudiced against African migrants, violence against the migrants and the location where these attacks occur remain specific. Rarely are migrants and refugees killed in rich suburban areas in South Africa, nor do white citizens and white migrants seek their livelihoods in townships and informal settlements and thus become victims. As Mngxitama puts it, there are ‘no white kwerekweres’ in South Africa (2008:197).1 The spatial concentration of this violence translates to silence about privileged groups within this social arrangement, and thus a lack of critical analysis regarding segregation and the continuing poverty, relative poverty, crime and exclusion affecting millions of people. The 2008 violence was also preceded by anti-government riots and demands for better social rights. As the more nuanced literature on attacks against migrants illustrates, migrant scapegoating by the police, high level government officials and the media significantly exacerbates migrant insecurity (Danso & McDonald, 2001; Murray, 2003; Landau, 2004; HRW, 2008; Neocosmos, 2008; Misago et al., 2009).

Consequently, Misago et al. argue that violence against migrants is best understood as ‘rooted in the micro-politics of township and informal settlements’ (2009:2). This nuanced analysis takes us beyond attitudes and perceptions. However, I would argue that these authors over-emphasise the role of leadership in fuelling or preventing violence against newcomers. Although leadership is a highly important factor, this is not an adequate explanation. Of course, ‘trusted, competent, and committed leadership (from grassroots to high-level officialdom) can make a significant difference in terms of preventing social tensions from turning into xenophobic violence’ (Misago et al., 2009:2–3). But while such leadership is necessary, it is not sufficient to combat the widespread everyday violence against migrants of the kind that occurred before, during and after the highly publicised attacks of 2008–2009, and that continues to occur, as will be shown in this paper. The deep-rooted structural violence that makes South Africa the most violent country in the world (leading in Interpol's three categories of violence – serious assaults, robbery and violent theft, and murder; Nedbank ISS, 2001), and one of the most unequal (Schwabe, 2004), urgently needs to be put on the policy agenda. Structural violence is defined as social, economic, political and psychological relations of domination, exploitation and exclusion among and within individuals and groups (Gil, 1998). Discussions about protecting newcomers unfortunately often separate violence against migrants from the pervasive everyday structural violence against local poor black populations. Though much of the available research touches on some aspects of the socioeconomic divisions and on the persistent violence, segregation and marginalisation that affect the formerly oppressed South African majority exclusively, few identify this structural violence as fundamental for discussions on xenophobia (Mngxitama, 2008; Pillay, 2008).

2.2 The South African poor and the search for social rights

For political analysis of migrant–local relations, it is critical to start by acknowledging the major transformations that have occurred in South Africa since 1994. Governments since apartheid have enacted policies to diminish the myriad problems inherited from decades of apartheid rule. The delivery of millions of houses to poor South Africans through the Reconstruction and Development Programme, minimum wage legislation and the provision of a safety net for the poorest in society all represent major accomplishments (Møller, 1998, 2007; The Economist, 2010). In addition, increased education expenditure now provides new opportunities for poor children, and the emergence of a growing African middle class is the direct result of black empowerment projects (The Economist, 2010:9–13).

Despite the above progress, however, the physical and material insecurity of the majority of the population has actually worsened since 1994. For example, although heavy-handed policing and the high rate of prosecutions curtailed crime during the World Cup, crime remains omnipresent, winning South Africa the unenviable designation of a ‘high crime society’ (Berg & Scharf, 2004) suffering from what the Nedcor Project (1996, cited in Louw, 1997:151) calls ‘murderous intolerance’. Gender violence also remains endemic, with a 2009 survey stating that 28% of South African men admitted to at least one rape in their lifetime (The Economist 2010:12). Moreover, the United Nations' International Homicide Statistics for 2004 (UNODC, 2004) show estimated rates ranging from 40 to 69 intentional homicides per 100 000 of the population for South Africa, the highest for all countries (some others, for comparison, are Jamaica 33.7 to 55.2, El Salavador 56.4 to 57.5, Ethiopia 6.1 to 19.03, Ghana 2.0 to 11.6, USA 5.6 to 5.9, Bangladesh 2.3 to 7). Consequently, providing private security emerges as one of the most lucrative businesses in the country, with 300 000 to 450 000 people working in this sector, compared to 150 000 in the police force (Blackmore, 2003:439–40; The Economist, 2010:12). However, this security-for-hire is available only to those who can afford it, which leaves out those living in most areas of townships and informal settlements.

Accounting for this violence is of course a complex matter. The decades of political violence, the prevalence of firearms, antagonism between gangs, and anti-apartheid political movements are some contributing factors (Murray, 1994; Louw, 1997; Kynoch, 1999). Moreover, complete denial of citizenship rights to blacks under apartheid created distrust of formal leadership and institutions such as the police force and courts, and produced a culture where taking the law into one's own hand is common (Misago et al., 2009). Any communal cohesion engendered by apartheid rule was also weakened by the structural violence in part characterised by the unfair treatment of the majority, and brutal attacks on many, and the political divisions within the black population, all of which undermine social control and family structures.

In terms of material security, South Africa is now more unequal than it was under apartheid (The Economist, 2010:12). The wealth of a few and the abject poverty of millions give the impression of ‘two nations’ of extremes (Adepoju, 2003:4). Pillay's discussion of ‘class inequality as a systematic problem of uneven development [abundance/scarcity, wealth/poverty, stuffed/starved, insider/outsider, power/powerlessness, empowerment/disempowerment]’ (2008:94) captures the schizophrenic contradictions in this nation. Problems such as unemployment rates ranging from 25% to 40% among black South Africans have a detrimental effect on those on the margins of society, and some estimate that the unemployment rate is even higher for young people, who are the perpetrators of most of the violence against newcomers (Kingdon & Knight, 2004; IDASA, 2008). Hence, a large segment of the South African poor remains outside the post-apartheid political dispensation, as the daily physical and material dangers they face resemble those of the apartheid era. Unsurprisingly then, some in this group continue to use violence – the tool of social relations and conflict resolution that was normalised under apartheid – because they remain culturally, residentially and economically segregated from current institutions of power. It is in this context of communal crisis that migrants come into contact with poor citizens in the informal sector.

3. Intertwined fates: Struggles among the poor

This section examines the converging and diverging themes that emerged from the interviews that were conducted to discover the perceptions and understandings of contact and conflict in spaces where marginalised people live.

3.1 Crime, poverty and communal crisis

Apartheid era policies for the majority of the population stifled economic opportunities in townships, but post-apartheid conditions have permitted this sector to emerge from ‘the shadows’ (Rogerson, 2000:674). Poor locals and newcomers thus concentrate in this niche in order to survive, since openings are scarce in the formal sector. Micro enterprises such as spaza shops often provide a living for just the owner and at most a few employees (Rogerson, 2000:675). Unlike skilled and educated African migrants settled in middle-class South African residential areas, millions of newcomers to the townships have to compete with poor unskilled South Africans for livelihood opportunities. These non-citizens establish their residences on the edges of townships and informal settlements, the only places they can afford. A smaller number of entrepreneurs, however, set up small shops, serving both as home and business. Somali men establish such spaza shops, while their families settle in areas that have only a minority of blacks such as the coloured areas of Cape Town or the Indian Muslim areas of Gauteng.

Consistent with crime statistics and common perceptions of violence in the literature, the Somalis and locals who were interviewed expressed their concerns about living and working in an area rife with violence. All the South African interviewees recounted experiencing violence to themselves or their property or both, or having close family members who were victimised. Crush and Pendleton (2007) say there is pervasive fear of crime in the townships, where victimisation is more likely than in secure gated communities, and several interviewees confirmed this. The following are two expressions of insecurity taken from the interviews:

Oh, the crime is so high! If you are sleeping, you are so scared – maybe someone will open your door and like I told you last time, there was a man who opened my daughter's shelter and beat my daughter and stick something in her. It was a screwdriver. So we are not safe in our community – we are not safe at all. (South African woman, 46 years old, Khayelitsha resident, June 2009)

No, no, it is not safe. They can even rob you in daylight. No one cares. Other people come, everyone comes from different areas. Now, what can I say? Yes, the community is not together now. One does not care about the other. (South African man, 21 years old, Langa resident, June 2009)

A 40 year old South African mother working as a cleaner to provide for five others (two grandchildren and three daughters) who all live with her spoke of what she called an epidemic of violence, HIV and drugs in her own family and neighbourhood, stating that one daughter who is a drug addict is causing her much heartache:

But my first-born daughter was involved in this because she is doing drugs. They took that DVD, sold it and bought drugs… She is taking dagga [cannabis] and another drug they call nyaope [a mixture of cannabis and heroin]. (Atteridgeville, July 2009)

Many of those living in areas stricken by poverty and violence reported living with the uncertainty of when they might be hit, robbed or beaten. This represents a communal crisis, an absence of trust and cohesion with neighbours and with the larger community, and not mere everyday insecurity. All the interviewees described a level of violence similar to that of the political terror of the early 1990s. The current violence, however, is apolitical, while intrinsically linked to the political history of this nation and the persistent structural inequities. The Khayelitsha resident quoted above mentioned a recent killing in her area. Alcohol and drug abuse and lack of opportunities for youth were often stressed to explain this crisis. The young Langa resident cited above also described how he had lost a brother to gang violence. His statement that ‘the community is not together now’ testifies to absence of social cohesion and lack of empathy, where neighbours do not come to each other's rescue. These expressions of insecurity make it clear that the majority of residents in these areas occupy the epicentre of the notorious South African high crime statistics.

Somalis also lamented this insecurity. They described the challenges of eking out a livelihood and the constant vigilance required to defend themselves and their properties. These spaza shop owners mostly interact with locals through a metal barrier separating customers from store clerks. The need to use these barriers is itself testimony to a communal crisis. Despite the barriers, however, robberies, killings and attacks against Somalis are front-page daily news. The Somali Association of South Africa (SASA) has documented the deaths of over 600 Somalis since the late 1990s, killings that rarely lead to arrests and prosecution (personal communication, Ahmed Dowlo, SASA President, Mayfair, 10 July 2009). This translates to a yearly average of over 20 Somali deaths by violence, killings that do not provoke the outrage triggered by the 2008–2009 violence and looting. Although the acute episode and the continuing violence are connected, the latter, the everyday violence against Somalis and other newcomers, becomes invisible within South Africa's unacceptably high crime statistics. For example, the yearly homicide numbers for 2003–2009 in Gauteng ranged from 3444 to 4433, and the total sexual crimes from 15 124 to 18 176 (SAPS, 2011). Unfortunately, expecting migrant and refugee ‘outsiders’ to be exempt or not disproportionately affected by such normalised violence is illogical. A Somali store owner described the prevailing insecurity thus:

Your success depends on getting many people to the store, and on how alert you are. You can sometimes fend them off. But most of the attacks occur when you least expect it – they will sneak up on you. Sometimes you lose and other times you win. See, you cannot be ready all the time! You are running a business and helping your customers, so you cannot be alert all the time. Do you treat your customers as customers or enemy? It is impossible! There is a Somali proverb about ‘the hunter and the hunted’. We are hunting for business and we are like, don't lose this customer, open the door for him and tell him ‘welcome brother’ – and he has already planned to rob you. (Somali store owner, 43 years old, Philippi, June 2009)

The metaphor of the ‘hunter and the hunted’, with each scheming to outwit the other, precisely represents Somali spaza owners' experience in some townships and informal settlements. Young disfranchised men on the margins of the greater South African society see them as easy prey to rob, and in some cases kill. Most customers do not pose a problem, but the generalised fear of not knowing when thugs will strike renders all male customers suspect, and thus potential robbers and killers. Asked how one can explain this pervasive violence in these areas, many Somalis stressed the legacy of apartheid:

They are very poor people. I heard that in 1997 there were two brothers – one of them went to a shop and robbed a loaf of bread. He could not eat it without a drink – so he went back and snatched a bottle of Coca-Cola from someone. By the time he came back to his shack, the bread was gone and he ended up killing his brother … They are mentally, economically and socially colonised. In my opinion, the worst thing that befalls on someone is poverty … Guns are available in abundance in the locations. They know Somalis as ‘mobile ATMs’ because they normally find money on all the Somalis they rob. Furthermore, in this country it seems that the criminal has more rights than the victim. (Somali store owner, 36 years old, Delta, June, 2009)

Spaza shop owners had a good grasp of the structural violence in South Africa. This Somali with a Grade 8 education argued that the apartheid legacy looms large in this context. Moreover, the very slow process of prosecution in South Africa and corruption and the abuse of migrants by law enforcement personnel (Landau, 2004:13; Misago et al., 2009:34) make migrants sceptical of receiving a fair outcome from the system. This distrust hampers their ability to advocate on their own behalf. The ubiquitous violence locals and newcomers describe is not abstract, but rather everyday shared experiences in townships and informal settlements, indicative of South Africa's position as one of the most violent nations in the world. Thus migrants and refugees seeking their bread in these areas become victims, not merely because they are foreigners, but because they cannot escape from the communal and structural violence plaguing the nation – extreme rates of unemployment, poverty, crime and inequality. I suggest that the overemphasis on xenophobia in the literature distracts attention from the fact that this violence against migrants is part and parcel of an accepted and generalised violence that is disproportionately afflicting poor black South Africans in informal settlements and in some areas of townships; a crisis rarely put on the public agenda. The Nelson Mandela Foundation captures the essence of this crisis when it says that ‘it is as though the poor and crime necessarily coexist and therefore little attention is given to how this threatens their basic right to safety and security’ (2009:32).

3.2 The hunter and the hunted: Competing interests

South African-born interviewees cited the now common grievances against newcomers and migrants, claiming that they contribute to crime, sexually exploit local women, displace South African workers by accepting lower wages and undermine the labour unions. However the most commonly recurring theme had to do with migrants driving locally owned shops out of business and setting up unfair competition. Acknowledging that competition and thus lower prices benefit poorer sectors of society, a young local man said that ‘the women of the neighbourhood, mostly housewives, they love the foreigners’. This captures the poor clients' preference for buying staples at reasonable prices, something they cannot do when relying on a limited number of spazas. When asked how the larger community felt once the migrants were chased out of their areas in 2008, one woman responded thus:

Because the migrants left when they were robbed, then the community said we are suffering now because those people were so cheap to us – we could buy something as they were not so expensive. (Khayelitsha resident, 46 years old, June 2009)

When asked where she does her shopping, another woman said:

I like to do my shopping, especially my grocery, from Somalians, because if I have got maybe R500 I can buy a lot of stuff from them, you see. But these people [locals], some of them are very expensive, so I cannot buy – we cannot afford it! (Mamelodi resident, 42 years old, July 2009)

The Khayelitsha resident above in fact stressed how many in her community view the newcomers as hard-working decent people, whereas young men who attack them and loot the stores ‘don't want to work, they do drugs, and they want money for free’. This is consistent with some South African views collected by Misogo et al. (2009). Perceptions that the socioeconomic status of newcomers was better than that of locals was a significant factor in the ‘othering’ of migrants. This point crystallised for me when I accompanied a refrigerated van delivering raw chicken to spaza shops around Somerset West owned by Somalis and Ethiopians. I was impressed by the Somali driver's ability to distinguish migrant-owned stores from those owned by locals, and asked him how he knew. He replied that most local spazas showed little outward sign that these were business premises, whereas migrant-run establishments always had advertisements listing goods, prices and specials on their front walls. This was consistent with early research in Kwazakhele and Mamelodi which found that over 70% of home-based businesses operated without any outward indication of their operations (Liedholm & McPherson, 1992:43, 74, cited in Rogerson, 1993:64). That Somali and Ethiopian entrepreneurs always placed these signs, while locals continued to do very little advertising, testifies to the visibility and success of migrant enterprises in the eyes of local competitors, whose businesses remain underdeveloped. The symbolic meaning of migrant achievement in this sector can thus have the effect of mobilising segments of the local community against them.

Somalis in this study proudly acknowledged that they provide stiff competition to local business owners. They focused on the necessity of offering good prices, seeking lower profit margins and exploiting the opportunities existing in South Africa's previously neglected townships and squatter areas. They also attributed the hostility and violence against them and their properties to jealousy:

First it is out of jealousy. Somalis are full of energy and even though they do not speak the language, you would think they were born for business. The main reason we are attacked, robbed, killed and beaten up every day is out of jealousy. For example, we see a Xhosa-owned house – we go to him and tell him that we want to build a store there. We would rent the place and sign an agreement. We build a brick store on his property. (Somali store owner, 30 years old, Bellville, June 2009)

Not speaking English or any of the local languages further separates the Somalis from these communities where they establish their stores. Though some eventually learn enough to engage in basic communication, many of the Somali interviewees stressed that they lacked both the resources and the time to take language classes, an impossible luxury for refugees who came to support their families left behind. But the symbolic meaning of this lack of communication drives a further cultural and economic wedge between these two groups. The Bellville interviewee above recounted how the local Xhosa watches the Somali's progress, who in a matter of months expands what started as a small spaza while his Xhosa landlord remains in his shack.

Somali business owners recognise the advantages they hold over small local entrepreneurs. Three factors drive this advantage. First, the informal sector has become the main source of income for Somalis since the state collapse of 1991. Most Somali refugees have therefore been exposed to the workings of this sector. Second, Somalis almost always only hire co-ethnics to work in these stores, and rarely employ others; when they hire locals, it is always a woman who helps out in the store and also acts as a cultural broker. The numerous Somalis I have spoken to confirm that the rite of passage into spaza shop ownership involves working for someone else for a year or two and gaining experience of the minute details of running such stores, while saving capital to go into partnership with others in the same position. A few young men collect R20 000 or more and then identify the best location for a small enterprise, or otherwise buy out a group selling their shop. This co-ethnic collaboration also extends to stock acquisition, with a handful of spaza shops in the same area purchasing their stock together. Thus economy of scale gives them an advantage over small local spaza owners with limited networks and meagre capital. Consequently, migrants seek lower profit margins. And third, Somalis initially receive substantial support, and even credit, from Muslim Indian wholesalers, which allows them to start small and expand and finally dominate this sector in many areas around Gauteng and the Eastern and Western Cape. This co-religious backing does not exist for unskilled resource-poor home-based local spaza shop owners working in marginalised and underdeveloped residential areas.

A successful Somali who owns a medium size mini-market in Khayelitsha, among other enterprises, described this unequal competition:

I remember that when I first entered the townships, locals would sell for 50 rand an item that we bought for 18 rand. As you know, many people living in townships are living on a subsidy grant, social grants. They get a small amount of money and a small number of business people were abusing them. The Somalis came and they started selling goods at a reasonable price, not at the purchasing price, but at a reasonable price. All the locals flocked to the Somali establishments. The reason for that is that anyone who leaves some money in their pocket is a friend to the locals – the common man loves the Somali. But your business rival, the man you are in competition with, he will never be in good terms with you. (Somali store owner, 45 years old, Bellville, June 2009)

This stiff competition was also captured by Mzwandile Mfundisi, secretary of the Kraaifontein Small Business Association:

Our members are closing shops every day because of this situation – we are losing money every day. And every day you see another shop opening. One minute the house is standing there, the next minute it's a shop. Some of these houses don't even have toilets yet. It affects our people who have been running businesses here for years who can't even afford to support their families properly. Since the beginning of the year more than 20 local people have closed their shops. (Cited in Nicholson, 2008)

Violence against Somalis and their properties is in part linked to what a segment of the local population perceives as injustice against already struggling South African marginalised poor blacks, who believe their post-apartheid aspiration to social mobility is being thwarted by newcomers. Foreigners ‘buying up local businesses at “give-away” prices as people battled the economic downturn’ (Underhill, 2009) and very limited government monitoring and regulation of small-scale enterprise are bound to cause tensions to flare between groups competing for limited opportunities on the margins of an area already plagued by communal crisis. Whether local people's fears are exaggerated or a valid concern is irrelevant as long as they are in dire straits and newcomers continue to compete for, and often win, the limited economic niches that exist in informal settlements and some township areas. According to Rogerson, most poor black South Africans have been socialised to work for others and lack the education and skills necessary to succeed in entrepreneurial pursuits (2000:691). Somalis remain aware of this disadvantage, but also realise that they can play a role in diminishing the hostility towards their presence in these mostly unpoliced and dangerous urban areas.

3.3 Negotiated harmony

However, focusing only on the generalised violence that affects locals and migrants and on the more targeted hostility towards newcomers ignores the steps newcomers take to cement their presence and even establish dominance in this sector by building alliances with citizens. A few Somalis reported pursuing a new agenda of winning support from the larger communities, arguing that such alliances can be instrumental in protecting them in times of crisis. Following the 2008 displacement of migrants, a Somali who co-owns two stores in the Pretoria region (Atteridgeville and Soshanguve) lost some of his property, but started over with a different strategy calculated to win local hearts and minds:

It was October 2008. I bought the shop in September but was busy establishing it until October. When I got everything ready, I announced a football event just before opening the shop. I organised a meeting with the local elders. I told them that I want to organise a football competition in order for all of us to get to know each other. I asked ‘How many football teams are there in the township?’ They said we have eight teams. I said I will fund a cup. The cost was six thousand seven hundred rand. They were close to tears! They said yes and they took microphones into the streets of the township. They agreed on a particular date and prepared the stadium, the referees and the football teams. The majority of the township residents were there. (Somali store owner, 44 years old, Mayfair, July 2009)

I asked this interviewee how he thought this initiative would benefit him and he replied:

When they talk about us negatively and decide to do bad things to us, I want to create people who will say in their meetings ‘Is that not the guy who did this or that for us? What do we want from him?’

This man in fact also hired two South Africans, a woman full time and a man part time. He did not view these initiatives as mere goodwill gestures, but rather as an investment that would pay dividends in the future if and when migrants and their businesses became targets of violence. Another rapprochement initiative involved a successful Somali businessman in Khayelitsha who funds a feeding programme for children in the area where his store is located. In another example, a group of Somali spaza owners bought a cow to sacrifice in an informal settlement on the edge of Atteridgeville as a symbolic reconciliation and celebration gesture to bury the hatchet of the violence inflicted on migrants in this area. In the words of one of the South African community leaders involved in this ceremony:

After reintegration of those displaced, we had to start with the reconciliation as there must be healing. We killed a cow as a form of cleansing. Believing in our own Africanism, Bantu-ism, that one cannot easily accept the apology from the other part, of the crime committers, if we don't sit like this at the table, having something to eat together. Because when my stomach is full, I can easily agree to say ‘I am now your brother, I can forgive you – I heard your apology and your apologies were accepted’. (Atteridgeville, July 2009)

The examples above illustrate moments of cooperation and collaboration and thus trust-building within these communities, rather than the constant animosity and conflict that discussions of xenophobia depict.

4. Conclusion

Comparing local and migrant narratives to examine how the two groups come into contact with and relate to each other reveals that conflict is in part linked to competition and in part to symbolic interpretations of migrant success in informal settlements and townships. Somali spaza shop owners' achievements in some niches illustrate the economic opportunities that attract many groups. In contrast to the homogenising representations of newcomers as vulnerable victims, this study showed how differentiated migrants and refugees are. They include some whose economic situation is as dire as that of most South Africans, and others who are successful entrepreneurs, such as some Somalis who enjoy extensive co-ethnic and co-religious networks and resources. Another matter requiring attention is migrant agency in curtailing hostility against their person and property. This agency permits us to appreciate these newcomers' initiatives and the calculations they make to assess their situation and change their behaviour and their relationship with locals. For example, some Somali migrants are taking new approaches to engage and invest in these communities. Support for the pursuit of such initiatives by migrants and refugees as well as local communities can further promote empathy, integration, communication and social cohesion – a state of affairs that is necessary, though not sufficient, to overcome the current communal crisis.

This article challenges the race-centred analysis that anchors discussions of violence against migrants in the media and academic literature. The maxim that South Africans have a particular loathing for other Africans leaves little space for alternative explanations of the conflict between locals and newcomers. Incorporating the structural conditions in the context of contact historicises this violence, without denying the ‘othering’ and hostility towards migrants in post-apartheid South Africa. Institutionalised xenophobia – mistrust and fear of the ‘other’ – has anchored South African society's racially based divisions in the past. This structural violence unfortunately remains a reality for millions of South Africans, whose basic material and physical security is constantly under threat. The 2008 mass displacement and deaths of migrants and refugees grabbed local and global media attention, but this article draws attention instead to the communal crisis that results in the violent deaths of thousands of South Africans, migrants and refugees every year. Focus on race downplays South Africa's unenviable record as the most violent and one of the most unequal societies in the world. Policy interventions to deal with violence against newcomers will have to attend to the complexity described here, without which it will fail to counter animosity against migrants and refugees. A push to protect the rights of newcomers is bound to worsen their position unless local people's social, economic and political rights are protected at the same time.

Notes

¹ Kwerekwere is a derogatory word used by South African blacks in townships and informal settlements to refer to African migrants and refugees. The word connotes the languages these newcomers speak, unintelligible to the locals, and their inability to converse in local African languages.