By Sitha Maliwa
On the dusty stretch of TuTurfontein Road in Johannesburg, trash isn’t just garbage – it’s gold. Amid the towering mounds of waste and the rhythmic clatter of trollies pushed by calloused hands, a silent war rages, driven by desperation, survival, and the promise of profit.
What began as a simple hustle – sorting through discarded waste to find treasures worth selling – has ballooned into a booming, multi-million rands industry. At the heart of this growing business are the recyclers: men and women who transform trash into cash by collecting and selling items like copper, steel, batteries, and plastic to make a living.
But the riches buried in the city’s refuse have come at a cost. Two rival groups – largely made up of Zulu and Sotho men – are now locked in a fierce battle for control of this unregulated territory. Their battleground? The sprawling landfill sites scattered along Turffontein Road.
For many, recycling has become a lifeline. Every morning, trollies roll out of nearby informal settlements as recyclers make their way to the landfills. There, they dig, sort, and stack whatever they can find. At day’s end, their goods are guarded overnight by security teams – usually hired muscle from the same communities – who charge R150 per load for protection.
A sorter named Thabiso, 28, says the job isn’t just physically demanding – it’s risky. “We walk far, sometimes 10 or 15 kilometres, just pushing heavy trollies. The roads are dangerous, the sun is hot, and people can get sick. But if you’re lucky, you can make R3,000 to R5,000 in a good day.”
But as more people realize the value of waste, competition has intensified – and with it, the conflict. Tensions reached a boiling point recently when the Zulu group accused the Sotho faction of stealing loads they were paid to protect. The accusation caused a breakdown in trust with clients and escalated into physical violence. According to a local security guard working near the dump, a deadly fight broke out just over a week ago. “Two people died right here,” she says, pointing to a patch of flattened grass behind a makeshift shack. “They were fighting over bags of scrap.”
Now, many recyclers work in fear, unsure if their livelihoods – or lives – are safe. Despite the danger, the recyclers press on. For them, the waste offers something many other jobs can’t: immediate cash and a shot at a better life. “Some of us are saving to study,” says Nompumelelo, 32, a single mother of two. “This money feeds our families. It’s not just trash – it’s hope.”
But that hope comes with hard truths. Respiratory issues, injuries, and long hours are common. With little government oversight, few safety measures exist to protect the workers or resolve disputes like the one between the rival guarding groups.
As Johannesburg continues to grow, so does the waste it produces – and so does the recycling economy. What remains uncertain is whether this growth will come with the structure and support needed to ensure safety and fairness for the people who fuel it. Until then, the war over waste in Turffontein shows no signs of slowing down. – @NewsSA_Online