A planned protest march in Durban, South Africa, organized by the anti-immigrant movement Operation Dudula, descended into chaos and confrontation, culminating in dramatic scenes where individuals, reportedly Nigerian nationals, poured paint over South African protesters.

The incident has not only intensified the heated debate over illegal immigration but has fueled deep-seated accusations that the South African Police Service (SAPS) is corrupt and actively protects foreign nationals engaged in illicit activities.

The footage captures a raw, highly charged moment of civic unrest, exposing the deep fissures within South African society regarding economic opportunities and national identity.

The Attack: Paint as a Weapon of Defiance

The core of the incident occurred during the Operation Dudula march, which was primarily aimed at drawing attention to areas dominated by foreign nationals—areas that protesters claim are hubs for drug dealing and other criminal enterprises.

As the protesters moved past a building, the scene turned hostile.

“ya kusemashini wasithola ngopende ama zayizayela phansi kwi clown phoyisa abuka angenza lutho amaphoyisa ngempende uma ebuka.”

The protestors allege that individuals from a building—explicitly identified as Nigerian nationals by the speaker—threw paint at them.

One marcher, a woman described as having a completely darkened face (“Omunye usisi nje ekuseni wonke ubuso om emnyama”), was hit with paint.

The crowd’s reaction was one of shock and immediate fury, compounded by the presence of the police.

This act of defiance, using paint as a symbolic weapon, is viewed by Operation Dudula as a direct insult to South African authority and an attempt to intimidate them into silence.

The Police: A Shield for Criminals?

Perhaps the most damaging aspect of the event, and the principal driver of the crowd’s anger, is the perceived inaction and outright complicity of the police officers present.

The protesters directly accuse the SAPS of observing the assault without intervention.

“buka amaphoyisa awenzi lutho, siyawakhombisa umuntu ukuthi nangu umuntu ositshela ngopenda, wathatha izinyathela abukelwa okusho ukuthi wona amaposi ukuthi la ukuthi azamahlangane nizovele nixebuke nje leyo mhlampe nje mhlampe indlule yayo legenge leyonto mhlampe Hay unul.”

The speaker suggests that the police’s failure to act on a clear assault is evidence of their collusion—implying that the police are compromised and “working together” with the foreign individuals who threw the paint.

This incident feeds into a broader, entrenched narrative among Operation Dudula supporters: that police corruption ensures the protection of criminal enterprises run by foreign nationals.

“Before we even got to the police station policeman are already showing signs of what we already know that doing which is favoring people who are not from South Africa because they are getting money from them.”

This allegation is explicitly linked to drug trafficking.

The protesters assert that the police are “getting money” to protect these activities, citing that they have seen “police van money soman shops because open if not Nghe protect drugs evacuers niger.

” The presence of drug activity in the area (“The high building is the drugs.

It’s the crime is the undocumented people living here.”) is the central grievance that the police are failing to address, or worse, actively enabling.

The Sovereignty Slogan: “South Africa Does Not Belong to Them”

The march, despite the violence, served as a platform for Operation Dudula to reiterate its core ideology.

The rhetoric is one of reclaiming national sovereignty and economic control.

The leader on the ground makes a fiery declaration that emphasizes the group’s unwavering commitment to removing undocumented individuals.

“ngithi mina amaphoyisa wayeka ukusijwayeza namandla ayivazi yebo Nyangizwa ngithini kulama bhilidi lawa lawa belokhu belokhu silunguza bakhona nosisi bethu e South Africa sanibona lapho emabhikisini Sanibonani lapho, hai nina nisems msebenzini ngiyanibona, sanibona nina ningasebenzi eningekho ezansi So it’s not nigeria Ethiopia.”

The protest is framed as a struggle for the soul of the country.

The demonstrators repeatedly stress that they are marching because the city, particularly areas like Point Road, has been taken over by illegal activities that South African citizens are unwilling to tolerate.

“South Africans would rather go and stand somewhere else than come to point road and we are tired of that, we are tired.”

The calls are direct and uncompromising: South Africa is for South Africans, and undocumented people must be deported.

The leader demands that if the country is looking for “illegals,” they will find them in Nigeria.

The protesters believe their movement is the only effective check against a corrupt system.

They openly challenge the police, daring them to arrest them for speaking the truth about corruption (“Phoyisa olufuna ukungibopha namhlanje ningibophele ukuthi ngithe amaphoyisa awekijwayeza ngamazi anjalo yebo”).

This aggressive stance is an attempt to turn the tables, framing the police as the criminals and the protesters as the true defenders of the law.

Mobilization and the Path Forward

The incident, far from deterring the movement, appears to have galvanized it.

The leaders immediately call for broader mobilization, stressing that a collective voice is necessary to force change.

“Abasukume bonke abantu, bayilwele lento iyadinga ukuti basukume sonke izwi lizo lizoba namandla akuzwakale masebaningi sibancane angidelile baphi abantu.”

The confrontation in Durban serves as a stark warning of the deep social and economic tensions gripping South African cities.

It pits citizens who feel they have lost control of their country against foreign residents who are often engaged in precarious economic activities and are, in turn, subjected to xenophobic hostility.

The failure of the police to enforce the law impartially during the march—as perceived by the protesters—does more than just fuel the immediate anger; it severely undermines the public’s confidence in the State’s ability to govern fairly and uphold its own laws, guaranteeing that the conflict between Operation Dudula and undocumented communities will continue to escalate.