Zama-Zamas: Are They Really Your Hiking Nightmare?

I’ve always been THAT person. You know, the one who doesn’t blindly inhale opinions and instead makes up my own mind.

Naturally, this has earned me ridicule. Consistently.

But here we are.

That said, it’s becoming increasingly hard to tell the difference between an actual threat and premium, fear-mongering hysteria.

So, after my last post (the one about Segwati Safari Quad Bike Trails), I did the unthinkable.…

I Googled to get more on these elusive zama zamas.

I know. Growth. Disgusting.

Now, this is going to be polarizing… and please, don’t come for me—because honestly, knowledge is power.

For the first time in my life, I wanted more information and actually went looking for it.

Hiking has clearly changed me.

A responsible adult?

Pfft. Let’s not get carried away.

First, Beryl, Jared, Sybil… UNCLENCH. - or maybe hydrate first.

Let’s be very clear. I am NOT condoning illegal mining. Zama-zamas (who apparently lurk in abandoned shafts, waiting to star as the villain in every suburban fear-mongering story), are not misunderstood Disney characters.

Yes, their work is illegal.

Yes, it’s dangerous.

No, they are not creeping through your favorite hiking trail, ready to mug you for your mineral water or Hi-Techs.

Most of the hysteria around zama-zamas feels familiar, because it is.

Exaggeration.

Panic.

Political leverage.

These are people taking extreme risks to survive.

Many are migrants escaping poverty and unemployment.

Some are former South African miners who lost formal work.

They dig tunnels with rudimentary tools in abandoned shafts because the alternative is starvation.

Is there danger? Absolutely. Mostly to them.

Tunnel collapses. Lack of oxygen. Toxic chemicals. Violent clashes between rival groups. This is not a low-risk side hustle.

The term zama zama literally means “take a chance,” which should be clear: it’s their lives on the line, not yours.

And yet the narrative is always the same: “Don’t hike! Stay home! Danger lurks!” Unless you’re planning a casual stroll into a 200-meter-deep abandoned mine shaft, your risk is negligible.

Especially when compared to everyday life in our cities, where we stop at robots and hit the lock button three times for emotional reassurance.

But fear sells, so here we are.

Here’s the reality, as I understand it (fully acknowledging that I could be wildly wrong and will inevitably be told so).

Zama-zamas are a symptom of poverty and inequality, not a suburban menace.

Their underground economy is risky, yes, but it keeps desperate families fed.

Next time you’re on a trail, take a deep breath, enjoy the view, and remember: the most immediate threat to zama-zamas is themselves.

The threat to you?

Probably a snake.

Or a loose rock.

Maybe both.

Let’s stop the fear‑mongering, acknowledge the real risks, and - just maybe - leave room for a little humanity.

And always remember: deep breaths, not WhatsApp forwards.

Namaste-ish.