In the heart of South Africa’s Cape Flats, where the scars of apartheid continue to shape the present, gang violence has reached devastating levels, turning neighborhoods into war zones and homes into mourning grounds. In Wesbank, a distraught father, Devon Africa, lies on a single bed pointing to bullet holes in the wall, evidence of the violence that claimed the life of his four-year-old son, Davin, who was killed in a shoot-out between rival gangs in February. Just two years earlier, his 12-year-old daughter, Kelly Amber was also gunned down in a similar attack. Now, he and his wife, Undean Koopman, are left clinging to their youngest daughter, who asks daily where her brother is. “He’s with Jesus,” Undean tells her. “In daddy’s heart and in my heart.”
Wesbank is one of many areas within the Cape Flats a sprawling network of townships outside Cape Town where gang violence has become a deadly epidemic. These communities, originally created under apartheid to forcibly displace non-white residents from Cape Town’s center, have remained underdeveloped, underserved, and largely ignored by successive governments. As a result, gangs have moved in to fill the void, offering social services, protection, and employment in place of a failing state. The Western Cape province now records the highest number of gang-related killings in South Africa, despite repeated government pledges to curb the violence.
President Cyril Ramaphosa launched a special anti-gang unit in 2018 and briefly deployed the military to the region in 2019, but the killings have persisted. Experts say policing alone won’t work. “There’s a whole history of people born into gangs,” says Gareth Newham, head of the Justice and Violence Prevention programme at the Institute for Security Studies. “They provide food, money for electricity and school fees services the government is failing to offer.”
In the community of Hanover Park, located just 15 kilometers from Wesbank, Pastor Craven Engel is trying to stop the bloodshed from the ground up. Known as the “Peacemaker,” Pastor Engel runs Ceasefire, a conflict mediation program that works with gang members to broker truces, rehabilitate addicts, and steer young people away from a life of violence. His approach detection, interruption, and transformation focuses on understanding the root causes of gang culture, including generational trauma, drug addiction, and chronic unemployment. “About 70% of children here have some form of addiction,” says Engel. “There’s no real economy here, just drugs and gangs.”
He’s in constant communication with community leaders and even imprisoned gang bosses, often intervening in real-time to prevent retaliatory killings. Yet his efforts, though brave and impactful, are underfunded. Government support for his programme has dried up, forcing him to rely on charitable donations to fund six-to-12-week rehabilitation courses.
One of the latest recruits is Fernando “Nando” Johnston, a member of the notorious Mongrels gang. Born into gangsterism, Nando is trying to escape the cycle of violence with the help of Pastor Engel. “In this game, there are only two options prison or death,” says Nando, who has started the rehabilitation program and remains drug-free two weeks in. His mother, Angeline April, emotionally pleads for him to stay the course. “Please just make the best of this opportunity, Nando,” she says. He replies, “Yes mummy, I always make the best of a situation.”
But even with moments of hope, the environment remains dangerous. Ceasefires are short-lived. One brokered by Engel was broken just days later by a drive-by shooting that left two dead. And young children continue to be caught in the crossfire.
Pastor Engel’s mission is urgent. “The gangs are now recruiting children as young as eight years old. They are the future foot soldiers,” he warns. One of the most harrowing realities is that even community members who oppose gangs are wary of calling the police, fearing retaliation or corruption. “People don’t trust that the police will come or that they aren’t compromised,” says Newham.
In Pastor Engel’s office, a tattered newspaper clipping about a slain gang leader serves as a grim reminder of the stakes. Yet he presses on, aided by former gangsters like Glenn Hans, who now uses his own story to persuade others to choose peace. “I was in this game too,” Hans tells a group of young gang members. One responds chillingly, “The more we kill, the more ground we have.”
The government’s failure to sustain long-term solutions has left local leaders like Engel to fill the void. “Nobody is going to come from overseas or from our own government to save us,” he says. “We must build resilience and create hope ourselves.”
Back in Wesbank, the trauma lingers for families like the Africas, whose lives have been irrevocably changed. “This is where he slept,” Devon says, pointing at the bullet hole on the wall. The cycle of violence continues, fueled by inequality, abandonment, and systemic failure. Yet amid the despair, people like Pastor Engel and those choosing to change, like Nando, offer a fragile but powerful resistance to a broken system.
The Cape Flats may be bleeding, but within its shadows are glimmers of hope, carved out by those who refuse to give up on their communities.
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