Keneilwe Morwagae
By Keneilwe Morwagae
I remember when I was a little girl, me and other kids in my neighbourhood would play by the stream with clean water flowing and a clean riverbed. You could hear it before you saw it – that soft, happy sound of water running over stones. Clean water bubbling and rushing, as if the river was laughing.
We would take off our shoes, chase the water, and collect the smooth beautiful stones at the bottom. The water was so clear you could see your own feet. We would also make paper boats and race them against each other as we run along the bank to see which one came first. We would shout and laugh, our feet splashing, following our little boats as the stream carried them away. We didn’t have any idea where that water was flowing to.
We did not know that what we were playing in was just a mere upstream which flow into a bigger downstream. We thought it was just a small stream, we did not know it was someone else’s drinking water downstream. To us, it was just our playground, with its own music.
Today everything has changed, before I can even reach the stream I have to pass through an illegal dumping site, not created out of choice or enjoyment, but out of desperation- when no waste service is provided, what alternative do community members have?
The vibrant sounds that were once present are gone and there are no paper boats. The water struggles to flow as plastic bags cling to the bushes and nappies, bottles and other household rubbish clutter the shore.
And I understand why…
In many communities, municipal waste removal is not consistent and in other places it does not occur at all. Bins overflow for weeks. There is no drop-off point, no communication and when municipalities do communicate, they end up not delivering what they promised. People are left with rubbish in their homes and no place to take it. So, they do what feels like the only option – they take it to the stream, thinking they are getting rid of their household waste but unknowingly contributing to water pollution. They are doing it not because they don’t care, but because the municipality has failed them.
But unfortunately, what we dump upstream does not stay upstream.
The stream connects to a bigger river, the river to a dam. The dam feeds our treatment plant that is supposed to give us safe water to drink. We dump at the top and drink at the bottom. The more polluted our streams become, the more expensive it becomes to clean the water at the treatment plants – a cost that hits municipalities directly, and a cost that could have been avoided through regular refuse removal.
Waste collection is not a favour; it is a basic service. Its failure is not just a service delivery gap; it is an environmental and health crisis.
If we want to fix this, we must start with the basics. Local governments must restore consistent waste collection and where trucks cannot reach, we need bins and safe dumping sites. Our streams are not dustbins and the path to the stream should not be a landfill.
As the custodian of South Africa’s water resources, the Department of Water and Sanitation (DWS) annually spearheads the Clear Rivers Campaign during Mandela Month to raise awareness about the protection of our water resources through community clean-up initiatives. The campaign is not confined to the month of July; it is a continuous programme.
I can still picture that clear riverbed, the joyful sounds of water, and our paper boats speeding along. I hope the next young girl who approaches a stream hears the water before noticing the waste nearby. Protecting the upstream is how we protect everyone downstream.
Keneilwe Morwagae, communications intern, Department of Water and Sanitation Free State
