When research meets reality: The challenges of conducting fieldwork in Khayelitsha amid violence and extortion

Published: 31 March 2026

Authors: Kurisani Mdhluli, Rogini Naidoo and Asemahle Mahlungwana

Khayelitsha is a township of striking contrasts. Though often portrayed as dangerous, it pulses with life, creativity and community. Its streets are spaces of trade, entertainment and connection. Yet this vibrancy coexists with deep challenges, including violence, extortion and fear that shape daily life. These conditions are not random. They stem from apartheid-era spatial planning, ongoing neglect and systemic marginalisation. Despite these conditions, Khayelitsha residents resist and thrive. As researchers working in Khayelitsha, we have questioned how we should engage with a community shaped by both beauty and brutality. And how can our research honour these dynamics without reducing them to data?

In qualitative research, one principle is evident: research must be relational. This means building trust, sharing power and engaging ethically with communities is necessary, not just studying them. In Khayelitsha, where marginalisation and violence meet poor living conditions, relational research is especially critical. It values people as partners in knowledge creation and ensures that research benefits those involved. When relationships are genuine, research becomes more insightful, more respectful and ultimately, more transformative.

Research, especially in disadvantaged communities, often has a poor reputation for being extractive and inequitable. In Khayelitsha, researchers are known for passing by, extracting data, and then leaving, offering little in return for participants who enabled the research. Promises from government, NGOs, and development agencies often end in disappointment, which deepens mistrust. With rising violence and extortion, residents are sceptical. There is an urgent need for relational research to rebuild trust between communities and researchers, to counter community disengagement, reduce physical risks for researchers in these areas, and contribute to more inclusive policies and practices.

This piece reflects on our data collection experience in Khayelitsha for the Governing the Just Urban Transition (GoJUT) project. GoJUT is an interdisciplinary project exploring how small businesses in low-income communities, specifically Alexandra in Johannesburg and Khayelitsha in Cape Town, navigate ongoing crises around water and electricity access. The project is grounded in a simple but powerful idea: a fair and sustainable urban future depends on collaboration between communities, businesses and the government.

For the Cape Town case study, we focused on two areas in Khayelitsha, Makhaza and the BM Section, where we conducted in-depth interviews, ethnographic observations and Photovoice with several small business operators. Conducting research in Khayelitsha has meant navigating a complex social terrain shaped by violence, informal governance and other dynamics that pose risks for both residents and researchers. Building trust-based relationships has been critical not just for safety and logistics, but also for understanding the lived experiences of participants and Khayelitsha’s political and socio-economic dynamics. We have fostered relationships within the community that have sustained our fieldwork and kept us safe. Whenever there were violent protests or potentially dangerous incidents at our research sites, community members would alert us prior to our visits. At one point, we had to suspend fieldwork for several weeks due to ongoing shootings at a location we frequently visited. Community leaders kept an eye on the situation and informed us when it was safe to return. Moments like these reminded us of the importance of community trust and being embedded in the social fabric of the study area.

Researchers often arrive in study areas as outsiders, and building trust can be difficult. Residents are understandably cautious, and even well-meaning researchers can make mistakes with serious consequences. One such lesson unfolded at Vuyani Meat Market near a busy taxi rank, where one of us interviewed four vendors without first informing the taxi operators who oversee the space. The taxi association was naturally upset. Local protocol had been accidentally violated. Although the project is committed to respectful engagement, this incident revealed a gap in our understanding of local governance structures. To repair the damage, the researcher acknowledged their mistake and explained the project’s purpose. Reconciliation came through Ukuhlawula, a local ritual of accountability involving a few litres of cold drink. This gesture transformed tension into trust, and the researcher was welcomed back.

Finding collaborative pathways to a fair and sustainable future is no easy task. By exploring the realities, needs, and hopes of diverse urban stakeholders, we aim to contribute to this work. Research is not just about asking questions and extracting answers. It is about relationships, respect, and learning to navigate unfamiliar environments with humility and care. The genuine relationships we built have gone beyond ensuring safety and access. They have given us a sense of belonging, helped us follow local guidance, uphold ethical standards, and avoid exploitative practices. Sometimes, ethical research requires more than formal protocols. It demands relational ethics rooted in mutual respect, reciprocity, and ongoing engagement with the community.

Ultimately, relational research also demands that we realise the ethical and practical limits of research itself.

Relational research within Khayelitsha also helped us realise where it was not possible to research particular topics. In Makhaza, for example, there are relatively new informal settlements, such as Island, with no formal business structures or forums. The community has had limited and often negative interactions with the state. The state is known for monitoring and disconnecting unauthorised water and electricity connections. Here, residents were hesitant to speak to outsiders, especially about their businesses and the details of land occupation.

Conversely, in the BM Section, informal traders openly discuss the extra-legal aspects of their businesses. They justify their presence on Cape Town’s streets by invoking human and citizenship rights: a grassroots expression of the “right to the city”. Traders are familiar with research, and some know of previous projects conducted by the Politics and Urban Governance Research Group (PUG). Many are part of local business forums and have worked with universities and development agencies. They also have better experiences with the state. Some operate from government-built markets with formal stalls and basic services like water and electricity. Our research identified and respected these different community dynamics: it shaped the topics that we covered and the approaches that we took in each area.

A relational approach to research also enabled us to engage in broader dialogues over the use of social research in marginalised settings. Communities such as those within Khayelitsha are not voiceless, but they are often ignored. Since the formation of Khayelitsha, protest has been a powerful tool through which residents speak to (and challenge) authority. Our hope, as researchers, is that our research can play a role in supporting inclusive dialogues and bring the lived experiences of those living in marginalised communities into conversation with those in power. Unfortunately, many residents do not see the direct benefits of research. And who can blame them? When facing urgent issues like unemployment, hunger, and environmental crises, research can feel extractive, especially when it offers no immediate solutions. Sometimes, the only tangible benefit of research that residents see is furthering the researcher’s career.

The relationships that we forged in Khayelitsha enabled us to engage in honest discussions about research and its limits. One small business owner, for example, declined an interview but engaged us in a robust conversation. He explained his preference for programmes offering direct benefits like funding or business support. We understood his perspective and think that refusal is an important dynamic within relational research. While we think it is necessary to keep making the case for the long-term value of social research, we also need to ensure that we demonstrate this with our commitment to playing a part in long-term action and change.

Conclusion

Conducting research in places like Khayelitsha is more than an academic exercise, it is a relational and ethical process paving a way for social justice. The realities of violence, extortion and mistrust are real, but so too are the possibilities for connection, learning and transformation. When researchers approach communities with humility, transparency and respect, the narrative shifts from extraction to collaboration.

In spaces where marginalisation meets rising violence, research must honour lived experience and support enduring change. Our fieldwork journey confirmed that meaningful research is built not just on methods, but on relationships. A just urban transition begins with listening, learning and showing up with care and empathy.