Let me tell you a small story.

A man’s roof began to leak.

At first, it was just a drop. Then two. Then a steady rhythm—kpok… kpok… kpok—right in the middle of his living room.

Naturally, the man became angry.

But instead of fixing the roof, he did something remarkable.

He chased the rain.

That, in many ways, is where South Africa finds itself today.

When the economy coughs, the foreigner catches a cold.

And suddenly, the Zimbabwean is the problem. The Nigerian is the suspect. The Ghanaian is the explanation.

Meanwhile, unemployment is seated comfortably like a chief at a durbar—well-fed, well-known, and completely untouched.

Ah.

In our part of the world, we say: “When the drumbeat changes, the dance must also adjust.”

But here, the dance has changed… while the drummer remains the same.

Let us not pretend this is new.

2008 came and left its scars. 2015 returned with familiar anger. 2019 reminded everyone that the script had not been rewritten—only rehearsed.

Now, in 2026, the performance has improved.

It is no longer just about mobs in the streets.

It is about language in high places. It is about policies that whisper what mobs used to shout. It is about organised movements that believe prosperity is hiding behind a border post.

But let us ask a simple question—one that does not trend on social media:

If you remove all the foreigners tomorrow, will the jobs appear on Monday?

Or will unemployment wake up, stretch, and ask for breakfast as usual?

Because here is the uncomfortable truth.

Xenophobia is not born.

It is cultivated.

Watered daily with frustration. Fertilised with inequality. And harvested politically when convenient.

In such soil, the foreigner becomes a very useful crop.

And yet, history is watching this moment with raised eyebrows.

This same South Africa once leaned on the shoulders of Africa.

From Ghana to Nigeria to Zambia, the continent stood in solidarity when apartheid refused to sit down.

Today, some of those same Africans are being told:

“Go home.”

If irony were a person, it would have applied for South African citizenship by now.

But let us not laugh too quickly.

Because this is not just a South African story.

It is an African story.

When systems fail, we personalise the problem. When leadership hesitates, narratives take over. And when frustration rises, the nearest outsider becomes the nearest solution.

Easy.

Convenient.

Wrong.

There is another proverb worth remembering:

“The lizard that ruins its own home has no right to complain about the weather.”

If systems are weak, institutions are fragile, and opportunities are scarce, the answer cannot be found in chasing those who did not design the system.

So what is the way out?

Not slogans.

Not blame.

Not periodic outrage followed by national amnesia.

The way out is less dramatic—but far more effective:

Fix the system, not the scapegoat
Strengthen institutions, not suspicions
Create opportunity, not enemies
Tell the truth—even when it is politically inconvenient

Because until then, the cycle will continue.

And each time it does, it will feel justified… even when it is misplaced.

Let me end where we began.

The man is still chasing the rain.

The roof is still leaking.

And the living room is slowly flooding.

Let’s Talk
Is xenophobia in South Africa really about foreigners…

Or about the roof we have refused to fix?

SouthAfrica# Xenophobia #AfricanUnity #PublicPolicy #Leadership