Safety Concerns in Cape Town Prompt Parents to Turn to Former White-Only Schools

In Cape Town, South Africa, fears of crime and gang violence in the city’s sprawling and under-resourced townships are forcing some parents to make difficult, life-altering decisions regarding their children’s education. Increasingly, families are opting to send their children on long and often costly commutes to schools located in historically white, affluent suburbs in search of safety and quality learning.

Among those making the sacrifice is Sibahle Mbasana, a 34-year-old clothing designer living in Khayelitsha, Cape Town’s largest township. Recalling the traumatic experiences her sons endured at their former school, she shared: “Thugs would come into the school with guns, threaten teachers, and snatch their laptops right in front of the learners. Imagine your child going through this regularly.”

Khayelitsha, like many townships surrounding Cape Town, continues to grapple with high crime rates, limited public services, and school infrastructure that has deteriorated over the years. Even when security is provided at township schools, Ms Mbasana noted, guards are often unable to deter criminal elements. “There’s hardly any security at the school, and even if there is, they are powerless to do anything.”

Crime Fears in Cape Town Townships Drive Parents to Former White-Only Schools

Ms Mbasana’s children — 12-year-old Lifalethu, 11-year-old Anele, and 7-year-old Buhle — now attend a public school in Simon’s Town, a seaside suburb nearly 40km away. The school offers better facilities, safer surroundings, and smaller class sizes. The family undertook the move after years of witnessing the impact of violence and instability on their children’s well-being.

“Buhle never had to go to that [township] school because I had already endured so much with the boys. I told myself I wasn’t going to let her go through that,” Mbasana said. While she and her husband dream of relocating to a safer neighborhood altogether, the high cost of living outside the township remains prohibitive. “We don’t want to live in the township, but we have to because we can’t afford to move out. Speak to anyone in the township — they’ll tell you they would move out if they could.”

More than 30 years after the end of apartheid, many black South Africans still find themselves confined to socio-economic conditions shaped by the legacy of segregation. The Bantu Education Act of 1953, one of apartheid’s cornerstones, systematically underfunded and marginalized black education. Its effects are still deeply felt today in the form of overcrowded classrooms, crumbling infrastructure, and a dangerous proximity to gang activity in many township schools.

While there are exceptions — schools in the townships that have managed to achieve remarkable academic success under strong leadership and dedicated teaching — security has become a breaking point for many families. Reports of gangs demanding “protection fees” from school staff have heightened concerns. In one instance, teachers at Zanemfundo Primary School in Philippi East were allegedly told to hand over 10% of their salaries to local extortionists.

“It is not safe at all. We are in extreme danger,” one teacher told South African news outlet GroundUp. “These gangs come to the school, wielding guns. Our lives are at risk. Teachers are asking for transfers because they no longer feel safe.”

In response, the Western Cape Education Department (WCED) has reportedly stationed a private security company at Zanemfundo Primary School, while local police are tasked with increased patrols in the area. Despite these efforts, the problem remains widespread. Similar incidents have been reported at five other schools in nearby Nyanga, Philippi, and Samora Machel townships.

The reality of this daily struggle is driving a steady migration of students from townships to former model C schools — once reserved for white pupils under apartheid — in neighborhoods that still benefit from better resources, funding, and infrastructure. These schools are now racially integrated and technically part of the public education system, but many maintain higher academic standards and more secure environments, largely thanks to additional parent funding and better location.

The decision to enroll children in distant schools comes at a price. Many parents spend significant portions of their income on transport and fees, and children often leave home before dawn and return well after dark. Still, for families like the Mbasanas, the sacrifice is worth it.

“We do what we must to protect our children’s future,” Ms Mbasana said. “It’s not just about education — it’s about survival. I want my kids to go to school knowing they’ll come back home safe.”

As South Africa, Cape Town continues to  confront its past, the story of education in Cape Town’s townships underscores how the shadow of apartheid still looms — and how, for many families, equality remains a distant dream.