Motsoaledi Warns Dudula, Don’t Deny Healthcare to Citizens in Anti-Migrant Push-Zimbabweans Caught in Crossfire of South Africa’s Anti-Immigrant Tensions

Its a law of the jungle….

Staff Reporter

 South Africa — For thousands of Zimbabwean migrants living in South Africa, seeking healthcare has become a nerve-wracking gamble, one that forces them to weigh their need for treatment against the risk of confrontation, humiliation, or outright denial of service.

The challenges have been mounting in recent years, with the rise of anti-immigrant sentiment fuelled by grassroots movements such as Operation Dudula. Originally formed as a civic protest group, Operation Dudula has gained notoriety for its aggressive stance against undocumented foreign nationals, often accusing them of draining South Africa’s public resources, particularly in the health sector.

This week, South Africa’s Minister of Health, Dr. Aaron Motsoaledi, confirmed that he has held direct talks with members of the group to address their growing interference in public health facilities. According to the minister, the conversation was both frank and urgent. He warned the group’s leaders that in their zeal to “protect” South African resources, they could inadvertently deny care to South African citizens themselves.

“I cautioned them to be careful,” Motsoaledi said. “If they start screening patients based on assumptions about nationality, they could end up turning away South Africans who simply do not have the correct documents on hand at the time.”

For many Zimbabweans in South Africa, some undocumented, others with expired work permits, and a few holding asylum-seeker status, the warning feels like a bittersweet admission of a reality they have long faced. While public hospitals in South Africa are legally required to provide emergency care to anyone regardless of nationality, stories abound of migrants being subjected to hostile questioning, being pushed to the back of the queue, or having non-urgent procedures postponed indefinitely.

Tinashe, a 34-year-old from Gweru who has lived in Johannesburg for over a decade, says the situation has deteriorated sharply. “Before, you could go to a clinic and wait like everyone else. Now, some nurses ask for your ID before they even ask what’s wrong with you,” he told The Post On Sunday. “If they think you’re from Zimbabwe, they say the hospital is full or that you must go back home for treatment.”

The reality is more complex than political rhetoric often admits. Many Zimbabweans in South Africa contribute to the economy, working as teachers, domestic workers, construction labourers, and in the informal sector, yet remain excluded from medical aid schemes due to their documentation status or the nature of their work. Without access to private healthcare, they rely heavily on South Africa’s public system.

Operation Dudula insists that undocumented migrants are “overburdening” hospitals, leading to overcrowding and resource shortages for South African citizens. But health rights activists argue that the crisis in South Africa’s public health system stems from years of underfunding, mismanagement, and corruption, not from the presence of foreign nationals.

Dr. Nomfundo Maseko, a Johannesburg-based health policy expert, says the scapegoating of migrants is dangerous. “If we start deciding who deserves care based on nationality, we are undermining the principles of medical ethics and human rights,” she explained. “The Constitution and international conventions South Africa has signed oblige us to provide healthcare to all who need it.”

Motsoaledi’s intervention with Operation Dudula is an attempt to cool tensions, but it has also put a spotlight on the bigger question: how does South Africa balance its strained healthcare resources while honouring its human rights commitments? For Zimbabwean migrants, the answer will determine whether the clinic becomes a place of healing, or a gate of rejection.

Many live in uncertainty. “I am diabetic,” said 52-year-old Maidei, who came from Mutare in 2008. “If I get sick, I have to choose, do I risk going to hospital and being chased away, or do I try to find money for private treatment I can’t afford? Sometimes, I just pray the pain will pass.”

The minister’s warning to Operation Dudula may slow the spread of vigilante-style screening at health facilities, but for the countless Zimbabweans in South Africa who already feel invisible, it is a reminder that their struggle for dignity, access, and the right to basic healthcare is far from over.

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