This Christmas, the sound of children’s laughter and the bustle of festive shopping will be too much for Nosipho Dabane to bear.
Instead of wrapping presents or planning family trips, the 41-year-old flood survivor will spend the season navigating grief, silence and unanswered questions, mourning a husband and a child she buried and clinging to hope that one day she will also lay her youngest son to rest.
The devastating floods that tore through Mthatha in June robbed Dabane of almost everything she held dear. Her husband and one of her children were swept away and later found dead. Her 15-year-old son, Lusanele, remains missing.
Six months later, the festive season has reopened wounds that have barely begun to heal. “Even going into town hurts,” Dabane says quietly. “Seeing parents buying Christmas clothes for their children reminds me of everything I have lost.”
Dabane is among the survivors of the Mthatha floods, which claimed 102 lives and left scores of families homeless and grieving.
Memories that refuse to fade
TimesLIVE met Dabane in a small one-room house she now shares with her sister, just hours before she left for work, a workplace her late husband once shared with her. As she scrolls through her phone, videos of a happier time play on repeat: family outings, smiling children, matching outfits.
“They loved wearing the same clothes,” she says, her voice breaking. “We were a happy family.
“In life, you don’t know what will happen the next second. I had everything, and in the blink of an eye it was all gone.
“This time of the year is the hardest. We would be preparing to go to Barkly East, cooking and celebrating together. Now I avoid town because it hurts too much.”
The night the water came
For the first time, Dabane speaks in detail about the night her life changed forever.
“We were woken up by the children saying there was water in the house,” she recalls. “It was early morning, time to get ready for school. I told them to put on clothes so we could look for shelter.”

Wearing only a gown, she felt the water pulling her down as they tried to step outside. It was already everywhere.
“We went back inside. I went to the kitchen while my husband and the children went to the bedroom,” she says. “Then we heard a loud bang, and part of the house collapsed. I heard them shout ‘Yhooo’ … and then I was swept away.”
The house, one she and her husband had built in 2015 and moved into in 2017, disappeared behind her as raging water carried her downstream.
“I kept swimming until I hit a tree and held on, but the water was too strong. It pushed me away and fractured my arm. I fell into a whirlpool, water spinning in one place. I just kept praying, saying: ‘Not today, God.’”
Eventually her feet touched mud.
Survival, then loss
Disorientated and injured, Dabane found refuge at a house with lights still on in Joe Slovo township, far from her home.
“I didn’t even know where I was,” she says.
She later collapsed at the local chief’s place and was taken to the hospital, where she was treated and discharged the same day. When she returned to the area where her home once stood, there was nothing left.
“I thought my family had been taken to the hospital. The next day at the mortuary, I saw my niece, still wearing her school uniform,” she says between tears.
I still believe that one day I will bury my son properly. Until then I am just surviving
— Nosipho Dabane
It took a week to find her 12-year-old son. He was discovered buried beneath zinc sheets and mud by community members searching for their own loved ones. Her husband’s body was found the following day.
Lusanele has never been found.
“I strongly believe that if the search continues in that area, we will find my other son.”
Broken promises and temporary homes
After the floods, the Eastern Cape government announced the allocation of 672 temporary residential units (TRUs) for displaced families. Dabane received one, but says she struggles to stay there.
“I get too emotional seeing my son’s peers playing outside. It feels like I might see him,” she says. “There’s also no electricity.”
In August the provincial government, together with the OR Tambo district municipality and partners including the South African Social Security Agency (Sassa), announced the relocation of families to TRUs at Mayden Farm. Dabane was moved there in September.
As she stepped into the structure for the first time, she posted a TikTok video captioned: “Starting a new life without my husband and kids."
The government also pledged R2,700 relocation vouchers per affected household to ease the transition.
“The premier said a lot, but it ended there,” she says. “It was just empty promises ... We received food parcels but I don’t know what happened to the vouchers.”
Holding on to hope
This Christmas Dabane will return to Barkly East, not for celebration but comfort. “I don’t want my mother to feel like her grandchildren are no more,” she says.
Despite everything, hope remains: “I still believe that one day I will bury my son properly. Until then I am just surviving.”
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