Book review 17: Zama Zama, Inside the Illicit Mining Underworld Graham Coetzer

When the Gold Under My Feet Came Too Close to Home

I grew up in a small town called the Westrand. The Westrand is far from every other city. Driving from the Westrand to another city requires patience because of the amount of time spent traveling. The town is relatively quiet and because of apartheid spatial planning, some parts appear old. Although far removed from other cities, the surrounding areas are relatively accessible in terms of schools, malls and recreational facilities. 

As a Westrander, I love the mountainous and scenic views when driving around. The challenging routes when running or walking are breathtaking. One thing about the Westrand is that it is a tight-knit community–your circles are always interconnected. You really have to live here to understand it. 

Another discovery I made in my early years was that it was built on gold. 

Gold?

I questioned how such a very remote town could be associated with gold. That discovery stayed with me for years. 

Until one day, during my first experience using public transport  to travel to Johannesburg city for my internship programme. I was waiting for the “taxi” –as we call them in South Africa–to fill up with more passengers. 

Whilst I waited a group of young men dressed in bright yellow and orange overalls rushed into the taxi and the passengers immediately began complaining to the driver. 

I was confused because, for a moment, I believed they were being discriminated against. An elderly woman even threatened to get off the taxi. As passengers, we could not wait indefinitely for more people to arrive. 

Then an elderly man calmed the situation down.  He told the driver that because we were running late, the young men should be permitted to travel with us. 

Everyone went silent and the taxi driver drove off. 

When the men dressed in bright overalls eventually got off, I leaned closer to the elderly man and asked him about the passengers’ reactions towards them. 

He answered,  “These are the “zama-zama” gold mine diggers. They dig for gold illegally in South Africa.” 

Zama-zama is an isiZulu expression loosely associated  with taking a chance, keep on trying or hustling. In South Africa, the term zama-zama is commonly used to describe illegal or informal artisanal miners who enter abandoned mine shafts to dig or scavenge gold. 

The elderly man explained that, according to his understanding, it’s like a chain. They dig, find buyers and sell the gold. More like a job, he said. They have bosses they report to and receive a share. 

However, he warned me that the work was dangerous and that the people involved could also be dangerous. That, he said, was why the passengers had been so upset. 

For a moment, that discovery confirmed everything.  The Westrand was indeed built on gold. 

Years later

Years later, I would have a life threatening encounter that reminded me of the conversation I had with that elderly man. 

At the time, I was using public transport for a completely  different reason: I was going to attend a hair appointment. 

When I entered the taxi, I was the only passenger. The taxi driver insisted that I move to the front seat. 

I followed his instruction and sat in the front. He then asked whether I was in a hurry. 

He asked if he could make a quick delivery stop before taking me to my final destination. I agreed because the area we were traveling towards was familiar.

Why not? 

Until things took a wrong turn. 

I asked this taxi driver what we were delivering. 

His long pause screamed trouble.  His response was that if the police stopped us, we would both be arrested. 

One would think, I would have stopped and gotten out of the taxi,right? 

No.

I am known to be bold and brave. Instead of asking him to stop, I asked what we were delivering. 

Gold, he said.

“We are going to drop off gold.”

He smirked and told me that if we were stopped, we were going to jail. 

I didn’t waste time. I immediately asked to see this gold because if I was going to get arrested I needed to see what I was being arrested for.

There it was. 

For the first time, I saw the gold ore in its natural form- straight from the ground and packed into the bags. 

I asked the man, whom I realised was posing as a taxi driver, what his role was. He explained that his role was to transport the ore to supervisors. According to him, the supervisors were responsible for cutting and cleaning the ore. 

The process did not end there.

He told me that the supervisors were also connected to the bosses. The bosses, he explained, were not involved in the physical work of digging and distributing the ore. 

According to his account, the zama-zamas would dig and then meet with people like him to transport the ore for cleaning and cutting. Once that process was completed, an intermediary would collect it and connect with the boss’s assistant. From there, it would eventually reach the bosses, who made the real money. 

“We have never met the bosses”, he told me. “We are too scared because they are heartless”. 

“I am part of the chain, but not the main boss.”

He told me that his share for distribution was R 1400,00, which he considered a significant amount of money given where he came from. 

I asked where he came from. 

“Mozambique,” he said. 

He explained that his father had introduced him to this line of work because it was the quickest way to make money. His father had been arrested by the police and had already spent nine months in prison.

He wasn’t worried. 

His father, he said, would eventually come out. Besides, his father had taught him everything he needed to know about the business.

I gasped.

He told me that the money paid the bills and he had even built a large home for his family in Mozambique. When he had made enough money, he said, he would  return to his country and be rich there. 

I started having heart palpitations. 

Then we approached the supervisor’s gate. 

He leaned over to me and said: 

“You need to act like my girlfriend. Because if the supervisor finds out you are not, they will kill you.”

I simply nodded my head and complied. 

Besides, it was too late for me to escape. Even though I was familiar with the area, my chances of getting away safely felt minimal. 

I was watching a life threatening situation unfold before my eyes. 

By nature, I am calm and collected and that worked in my favour that day. 

Four honks later, four large men emerged from a house built with corrugated iron. They looked at me sitting next to this man and I smiled. 

They opened the door and took the bags containing the ore. 

The man followed them inside the house and within minutes returned to the taxi. 

I was waiting to be taken to my long-overdue hair appointment. We drove off and slowly, my nervous system began to regulate. 

He said that he wanted to take me to my hair appointment. 

I refused.

He boasted about how he could change my life. 

I was livid but I remained composed because I had realised that I had just escaped a life-threatening situation. 

Immediately, I called him a criminal, momentarily forgetting that my life had been hanging by a thread. 

Surprisingly, he simply told me to get out his taxi. 

And that is how my life was spared. 

A story that came back to me

This is a true encounter. 

When I saw Graham Coetzer’s Zama Zama Inside The Illicit Mining Underworld , I immediately bought it. 

Illicit mining in South Africa is not a distant problem. It is a challenge that continues to affect communities across the country including communities close to home.

Reading Graham’s investigation brought back memories of the elderly man in that taxi years ago and the frightening experience I later had myself.

South Africa’s illicit mining crisis demands serious attention. The intersection between unemployment, poverty, organised criminal networks and abandoned mine infrastructure has created an environment in which people can become entangled in dangerous and illegal economies.  

We need government to treat illicit mining as a national priority. 

But we also need to understand the people and systems that sustain this underground economy.

There are people at every level of the chain, each playing a role and according to the account I was given, protecting their interests by whatever means necessary.

Graham investigative journalism is a calling and an act of courage.  

Zama Zama Inside The Illicit Mining Underworld is a call for the government, communities and society to confront the growing challenge of illicit mining. 

It is closer than we think. 

In communities like the Westrand and surrounding areas we have witnessed this underground economy expand over the years. 

We need an intervention, because the sound of whistling zama-zama’s is an alarming signal that something much bigger is happening beneath our feet.

A big thank you to Graham and his team for the work they do. 

Your work is invaluable and your courage is unwavering. 

Thank you so much Bab Graham. 

I have been an undercover citizen involuntarily and I can confirm that some of what you uncovered resonates deeply with what I experienced myself.. 

I urge you to read this book. 

Book 17 of 2026 

Eye-opening read.

Phiwe Mncwabe is a Communications & Public Engagement Writer, Pan-African storyteller and Founder of Botlhale Hub Afrika. She writes on governance, leadership, public policy and African affairs through research-informed storytelling that encourages thoughtful public dialogue. 

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