What does leadership in informal urban settings look like in the context of just urban transitions?

Published: 9 June 2026

Authors: Kurisani Mdhluli and Rogini Naidoo

It’s five o’clock in the morning, long before children arrive, and word has already spread that another unexpected water outage has hit. Almost immediately, neighbours rush to their trusted water source with buckets in hand, hoping to collect just enough water to start their day. This “public” facility is neither owned by the government nor supported by big business. It is an Early Childhood Development (ECD) centre at the heart of an informal settlement run by a woman whose water tank has become a critical point of access in times of crisis. This arrangement is not facilitated by policies or regulations. It is an organic community solution based on solidarity and social trust. Soft greetings are exchanged as people carefully fill their containers, turning an under-resourced urban space into a node of collective survival.

In the Governing the Just Urban Transition (GoJUT) project, we set out numerous research questions, including: What does leadership look like in informal urban spaces where service deficits and governance gaps shape daily life? In our engagement with Nandi, who runs an ECD, we uncovered a story of everyday community leadership grounded in the practice of social entrepreneurship, community activism, and a deep commitment to collective wellbeing. In this blog we share her story, which is not necessarily unique but extraordinary in that it shows, in vivid detail, a kind of leadership that is critical for a just urban transition agenda.

The ‘just urban transition’ is often spoken about in technical terms, with commentators discussing policy reforms, climate strategies and infrastructure upgrades. At its core, however, this is a human-centred agenda, which ensures that the shift toward more sustainable and resilient cities does not leave anyone behind. To succeed, it must be grounded in values like fairness, dignity, understanding and care.

Discussions around the ‘just urban transition’ often question who will lead this transition. In South Africa, leadership is often imagined as something political and formal, held by political representatives, big business personalities, traditional leaders and even religious leaders. However, a just transition requires us to think about leadership differently. We need to look beyond formal institutions and politically influential leaders and consider informal or incidental leaders who help communities cope with resource crises daily. In doing so, we can recognise the importance of organic community-rooted leadership that is forged through lived experience rather than official titles.

Community leaders gain trust when they are present: locals know them, see their daily efforts, and recognise that their actions come from a place of care, not from the pursuit of votes or personal gain. This form of leadership is not glamorous, and does not always come with media attention, funding or formal recognition. Instead, it is steady, authentic, and deeply embedded in the everyday rhythms of community life. This is why it matters for a just urban transition.

Nandi, a social justice activist, collective development advocate and social entrepreneur who runs an ECD centre, is one such community leader. Her story shows how entrepreneurship can shape an entire community’s relationship to resources, care and collective progress.

Nandi’s ECD centre was founded a few decades ago, after she noticed a growing problem in the community: children were spending their days wandering the settlement while their parents worked or hunted for jobs in the inner city. This situation exposed children to countless dangers, such as unsafe electrical connections, illness, predators and other risks that come with living in an under‑serviced informal settlement.

Over time, the centre has become more than a childcare facility. It is a place of safety and learning for young people, with a newly established aftercare programme focused on children aged seven to fifteen. These children receive homework support, are taught to read, and are provided with lunch. For older residents, the facility serves as a reliable community hub where neighbours access shared resources, especially water.

Water outages are frequent in informal settlements, and the consequences can be dire for residents without storage systems. During outages, Nandi’s large water tank serves more than her ECD centre: It also helps nearby households gain access to water. Although the tank is not unlimited, Nandi believes sharing is necessary because water is more than a resource, it is a human right.

Community‑rooted leadership, as epitomised by Nandi, is empathetic, flexible and innovative. Her work enables communities to respond effectively to moments of uncertainty and crisis. Water is not the only resource that she shares. Her ECD occasionally transforms from a childcare facility during the day to a community gathering space in the evening. We recall a specific scene during one of our research visits to her area:

It’s Friday evening, and as dusk settles, people drift toward the ECD while engaging in conversations on current community affairs. Inside one of the bigger classrooms, toys and tables are packed away to create space for adult-sized chairs. A struggle song slowly erupts, filling the room, until it’s interrupted by a speaker introducing the meeting agenda, officially kickstarting the meeting. The gathering is political in its nature and centred on service delivery and broader community concerns.

This act of care is best articulated in Nandi’s simple but profound motto: “Essential resources must be stretched to their maximum potential to benefit the greatest number of people”. Rooted in the ethos of Ubuntu, this belief recognises that individual dignity and prosperity are rooted in the welfare of the whole community.

Nandi’s leadership goes beyond sharing space and resources. In an interview with her, she spoke about giving grace to parents who pay fees late, as many are surviving on precarious incomes from informal trading or small social grants. She chooses patience over punishment because she understands the extent of precarity in her community.

This story reminds us that just urban transitions do not happen only through policies, official plans, or large infrastructure projects. They take place in everyday spaces, through decisions made by people who care deeply about their communities. Nandi does not wait for formal systems to respond before acting. In informal settlements, where state support is often limited or unreliable, justice is practised through relationships, trust and shared responsibility. Nandi’s leadership shows how justice and dignity can be embedded into daily life through sharing resources, creating safe spaces for children, and responding with empathy to families living with economic uncertainty.

Conclusion

Nandi’s story shows that a just urban transition is already underway in informal settlements where communities build collective resilience to resource crises. This is not the outcome of some grand strategy, it is being achieved through everyday acts of leadership, care and solidarity. Justice takes shape where people choose to share, listen and hold their communities together in the face of ongoing uncertainty. If urban transitions are to be truly just, politicians and officials must recognise, value and support these forms of local leadership because they could enable the equitable redistribution of resources, representation and recognition that would allow communities to thrive.