No water, no farming: Broken pipes halt KZN women farmers

The South African government makes a great deal of the fact that it supports women’s empowerment in agriculture. But does it?

As an anthropologist, I’ve been engaged in long-term ethnographic research in KwaZulu-Natal since 2007, focusing mostly on rural food systems and food-based livelihoods and before that on health care.

We conducted research into the Isibonelo Cooperative, a small-scale women-led farming cooperative in KwaZulu-Natal. We found that weak governance and old infrastructure had led to women’s dispossession from the land they had farmed for decades.

This isn’t happening through formal dispossession, but because failing irrigation infrastructure is making farming impossible. Old and damaged equipment, high operating costs, and institutional barriers interact to limit the viability of smallholder farming on South Africa’s smallholder irrigation schemes.

The inability of the women to farm has significantly affected their well-being and that of their families.

Women make a substantial contribution to smallholder farming in South Africa. They have the skills and determination to farm. But they depend on adequate water infrastructure and functioning institutional arrangements to make it happen.

The collapse of farming in Makhathini

The Isibonelo Cooperative is a small-scale women-led farming cooperative in KwaZulu-Natal. It belongs to the Makhathini Irrigation Scheme, situated in the north of the province near the borders of Eswatini and Mozambique.

Cooperatives have long been promoted in South African policy as democratic, entrepreneurial entities that facilitate the inclusion of women and youth. In practice, they are often fragile, state-dependent institutions that manage resource sharing in precarious circumstances.

We initially chose Isibonelo for our research due to its long-term success at growing food and supporting local families and markets. Until recently, it was successful compared to many cooperatives.

The Makhathini Irrigation Scheme was established in the 1970s by the then apartheid government. The government forcibly resettled local residents to make way for the scheme and in collaboration with chiefs, allocated newly formed 10ha plots to male farmers. Women were excluded from the process.

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A group of women organised themselves and successfully applied for a shared plot, which they subdivided into individual plots or “gardens” of 0.2 hectares each. Some of the women were local residents while others were new arrivals who had been forcibly expelled from their homes on white-owned farmland as part of a notorious process of mass evictions carried out by the apartheid regime.

The women continued to grow food into the democratic period after 1994. And its success attracted attention.

Between 2011 and 2018, my research collaborator, Khulekani Dlamini, and I conducted ethnographic research with the Isibonelo Cooperative. It was successfully producing food for families and regional markets. It operated effectively under modest conditions, providing its members with a structure for productive activity, household improvement, and local sharing of labour and resources.

But in 2018, farming activity ceased due to broken pipes. Despite repeated efforts by members to raise the issue with authorities, water supply to the gardens has not been restored.

As a result, the cooperative’s agricultural operations have halted almost entirely.

The problem is far wider than this scheme alone. In 2007, over a third of South Africa’s 317 smallholder irrigation schemes were inactive. Recent studies suggest that the revitalisation of schemes has been sporadic, and they remain inhibited by structural problems. These include market access, access to credit, physical infrastructure and governance of the schemes. Beyond Makhathini, farmers have abandoned plots due to difficulties accessing water.

Yet the absence of comprehensive recent data inhibits a clear understanding of the scale of the problem.

In some cases, a focus on expensive technology upgrades has necessitated high-yielding commercial production to ensure financial viability. In turn this has led to the unintended demise of smallholder projects. Across Makhathini and other schemes, cost recovery is low as farmers struggle to pay for operational bills in a context of intermittent and unreliable water.

Women gain ground in agri careers, but pay gaps remain

Impact on local economies and food security

The schemes are a vital part of the local economy. Before farming was interrupted, the cooperative was more than a means of survival. It enabled women to improve their homes, feed their families, engage in urban markets, and maintain some economic independence in a region with high unemployment and limited formal opportunities.

To understand what had changed, Dlamini returned to Makhathini between 2022 and 2025 to interview 11 cooperative members, their relatives and neighbouring farmers.

They reported that the collapse of farming has led to loss of income, food insecurity, household debt, mental health challenges, and a decline in local cooperation, including food sharing and stokvel (informal saving club) participation.

Rising prices have compounded these problems. One member told us:

Today we are buying everything that we used to grow for ourselves… We never bought vegetables (previously), but today we are buying from other farmers and in shops at high prices.

Home extensions initiated by farming income stood incomplete. One member had moved away from the area, troubled by poultry theft and no longer able to farm. Some found work cutting grass as part of government employment schemes or selling clothes door-to-door. Others relied on borrowing from local store owners. One member stated her challenges candidly:

I am struggling to buy enough food for my grandchildren and I am always in debt.

The group has made repeated efforts to raise the issue with relevant authorities. But water supply to the gardens has not been restored. The lack of clear accountability for infrastructure maintenance, coupled with a fragmented governance environment involving traditional leaders, municipal authorities and parastatal entities, contributes to inaction.

Today, the gardens are overgrown. The women are still waiting for water. The impact extends to future generations as opportunities to pass valuable farming knowledge and skills to younger family members dwindle.

What needs to happen next?

Political attention focuses on the speed and scale of land transfers as part of the government’s flagship land reform programme. But apartheid era irrigation schemes also deserve much greater attention. Targeted and appropriate support could enable recovery.

For this to be sustainable, the focus must extend beyond technology fixes to address deeper problems in the governance of the schemes. These must tackle how top-down management has impeded the potential of smallholders.

There is an urgent need for irrigation infrastructure to be repaired and restored on plots where smallholders have the potential to return to farming. Rainwater is unreliable and other water sources are far too limited to grow food without irrigation.

Local governance structures must be better coordinated by clarifying the role of scheme management bodies, municipal officials, traditional leaders, and provincial departments. Farmers will then better understand who is responsible for water, maintenance and dispute resolution.

The voice of farmers, especially women and cooperatives, must be strengthened through improved local liaison structures and strengthened procedures for maintenance requests.

Training and support must be developed that is tailored to both group-level and individual needs, recognising that individual production affects group-level viability and developing finance models that accommodate this uncertainty.

This article was first published by The Conversation. It was written by Elizabeth Hull, senior lecturer in social anthropology, SOAS, University of London. Khulekani T. Dlamini was a co-researcher and contributed to this article.