Underground, the men were gathering in the excavated area at a depth of about 1,300 meters in Shaft 11.
Patrick had arrived there in November, having heard that there might be food, while the men around him in Shaft 10 tried to survive on salt and toothpaste mixed with water collected at the bottom of the rock face. On his way down the hallway, he had seen a body hanging from the shadowy mass of steel beams above him. The man had fallen from the upper levels while trying to escape.
As she half-crawled, half-staggered down the hallway, she felt like she heard her children telling her, “You’re not going to die here. This is not going to be your grave.”
But now, in Pit 11, panic was growing. The rescues were too slow. Not enough food or water was coming down. Patrick found it difficult to hold on to hope. The miners were weakening and had only the stagnant water that oozed from the rock to sustain them. In two days seven people had died.
Below the men, the well stretched further into darkness filled with water to an unknown depth.
One day, a miner looked at Patrick with scared eyes: “You know what?” panting. “I’m going to jump down this well.”
Patrick pleaded.
“No, man, you can’t do that,” Patrick told him. “It’s not our time to die here. We must believe in God. Our graves are not going to be so deep. We will get out. We have families outside.”
The man did not jump, but his desperation affected Patrick deeply. He still believed in his own survival, but the atmosphere among the starving and dying men in Pit 11 was too much to bear.
On December 22 he decided to return to Well 10 and climb the beams. It was dangerous, but he had to do something to survive.
He had barely entered the hallway that led back to Well 10 when, somewhere in the darkness, he heard a voice.
“Do you want to buy some meat? Some pork?” the voice asked. “There are people who sell it if you want some.”
Then he saw some men cooking over the fire.
Patrick returned to Well 11 and informed the leaders that the people were eating some type of meat. They found the man who had approached Patrick and showed them the meat. It was human flesh. Then they found the man who had sold it to them. He admitted that he had taken it from the bodies of people who had fallen and died while trying to get out.
The leaders were horrified. “You’re not supposed to eat human flesh,” they said.
“We are hungry. What can we do? We are not going to kill these people. They are falling and we find them hanging,” the men told them.
Patrick was surprised that the men were not punished, but he could not condemn them either. It was the only way they had found to survive. But the horror of it spurred him on. He returned to Well 10 and began to climb.
On December 25, Christmas Day, the sunlight nearly blinded him as he climbed out of the well. He climbed more than 1 kilometer (0.6 mi) over three days, cut his arms on sharp steel, and came across nine bodies hanging from the rafters.
He saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye and a flash of steel. A police officer grabbed him, put his hands behind his back and handcuffed him. He was vaguely aware of a small crowd watching and the uproar of their angry voices as the police shoved him into a white van.
Mandla and Johannes watched as their friend Patrick was handcuffed and taken away. Four miners had arrived early that morning. After giving his mother the medication, Zinzi went to Well 10 to see if there was any news about his brother. There was nothing to celebrate this Christmas, he thought.
But there were still noises coming from inside the well and the men were climbing up. Four more miners emerged throughout the morning. There was no sign of Zinzi’s brother, Ayanda.
‘We have to take them to their families’
At the end of December, police removed the anchor stones from the rope pulley in pit 11.
Against a backdrop of legal action as human rights groups pressed for the government to rescue the miners, Johannes, Mandla and others pleaded with police at the pit entrance.
“Let’s not bury them alive,” Johannes urged. “Let’s help them re-emerge. Then the law must take its course. Arrest them, do what you want, but save those lives.”
Since there had been no shortage of supplies since Christmas, on January 9 the community rebuilt the pulley system and two handwritten notes appeared.
“Mothers and fathers, we come in peace. People around us die every hour and currently 109 people have died,” said the first.
The second began: “Greetings parents, keep in mind that there are many decomposing bodies here, also know that even today there will be bodies to recover, know that the food you have sent is not enough to feed all the people who are here.”
The next day, Judge Ronel Tolmay of the Pretoria High Court ordered the government to rescue the men.
But on January 13, Mine Rescue Services refused to descend, believing the men underground might be heavily armed or a kingpin and his henchmen were holding the miners against their will.
Mandla and another community leader volunteered to go down to the red rescue cage to confirm that there were no weapons, that it was safe to continue the rescue and organize the men underground.
It took 25 minutes to descend in the darkness to the trapped miners. Mandla could smell the corpses before he reached the starving, sick men and the dozens of wrapped bodies. He felt sorry when he told the survivors: “I tried to fight with our government and told them they were killing them, but they didn’t listen to us.”
“But we are here at least to save their bones. We have to take them to their families.”
Only six men could fit properly in the cage, but Mandla helped more into the cage, up to 12.
For the next three days, Zinzi watched the cage rise and fall. Every time the cage came to the surface, she felt hope fill her, thinking that she would find her brother alive in it.
On January 16, 2025, when the last cage appeared, Zinzi, who had remained strong for his family, mentally collapsed.
Eighty-six bodies were recovered from the mine and 246 miners were rescued alive. Zinzi’s brother Ayanda was not among them, nor was Nthatisi’s boyfriend Bahlekase.
Following the rescue, seven more people died in hospital, raising the death toll to 93.
MACUA, which represents the interests of the Stilfontein community, blamed the government and police for the deaths. They have requested that parliament launch an investigation, which has been referred to the Portfolio Committee on Mineral and Petroleum Resources. No investigation has been launched. MACUA questions why there has been no investigation by the Independent Police Investigative Directorate (IPID) and notes the silence of most government agencies.
“The operation, which was approved at cabinet level, must ultimately be held accountable and pay reparations,” Christopher Rutledge, executive director of MACUA, told Al Jazeera.
The South African Human Rights Commission investigated the events at Stilfontein in September 2025 and concluded that depriving the miners of essential supplies violated their human rights. They conducted another investigation in February of this year and are expected to present their findings in May.
Police have not released the names of the deceased, although 38 people have been identified. At least 30 people among the unclaimed bodies received funerals.
About 1,800 miners surfaced and were arrested at Stilfontein, of whom about 1,500 were deported, while 27 foreign children were handed over to the Department of Social Development. The youngest was 14 years old.
Al Jazeera contacted the South African Police Service, the president’s office and the Department of Mineral Resources and Energy with questions but did not receive a response.
Meanwhile, Khuma township is largely quiet and the dusty streets almost deserted.
Nearby wells have been sealed and police presence has returned to routine local patrols.
Protests briefly broke out in February. Roads were barricaded with logs, stones and burning tires, as residents driving them demanded jobs and better service delivery.
The municipality’s economy has collapsed without money in circulation. Many people stay at home, waiting, not knowing what the future holds for them. Some meet to discuss their situation in local taverns. There is little else to do.
