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A wave of horror swept through Polokwane, Limpopo, on September 15, 2024, as a chilling emergency call alerted authorities to a devastating scene. Parents rushed their children to hospitals, their faces etched with panic.
Within hours, the unthinkable unfolded: young lives were slipping away, one after another. The cause? Snacks bought from a local spaza shop, now at the heart of a tragedy that has left a community reeling. What did the shop owner say that has stunned everyone?
The crisis began in Seshego’s Zone 1, a bustling township where children often pool their coins for treats. On a sunny Sunday afternoon, a group of 15 children, aged five to ten, bought packets of “puff chips” from a corner spaza shop. By evening, they were convulsing, vomiting, and fighting for breath. Frantic parents flooded Polokwane Provincial Hospital, but for most, it was too late. What poison could claim so many lives so quickly?
Limpopo police, alerted at 6:32 PM, descended on the shop, sealing it off as an angry crowd gathered. The children, all pupils at nearby primary schools, had shared the snacks after a day of play. “They were laughing, then screaming,” a neighbor told SAPS, her voice breaking. Paramedics worked desperately, but 15 young lives were lost by midnight. The speed of the tragedy shocked even seasoned officers. What was in those chips?
The shop, a tin-roofed stall on Mamphela Street, became a focal point of rage. Residents looted it before police could secure evidence, scattering packets across the pavement. Limpopo Police Commissioner Lieutenant-General Thembi Hadebe confirmed samples were sent for forensic testing. “We’re investigating a possible mass poisoning,” she said, urging calm. Early tests pointed to a lethal pesticide, but no definitive link emerged. How did such a toxin end up in children’s snacks?
Social media exploded with grief and anger. “Not our kids again!” posted @LimpopoHeart on X, referencing a 2023 incident in Lebowakgomo where three children died from tainted biscuits. The tweet, shared 12,000 times, captured a province’s despair.
“Who’s poisoning our babies?” asked @Mothers4Justice, fueling speculation. The community, still scarred by past tragedies, demanded answers. Why does this keep happening?
Health officials, led by Limpopo MEC Dr. Phophi Ramathuba, launched an urgent probe. “We suspect an illegal chemical,” she told reporters on September 16, 2024, outside the hospital. Inspectors seized goods from 42 spaza shops in Seshego, finding traces of aldicarb, a banned pesticide known as “two-step” for its deadly speed. Yet, the shop’s remaining stock tested clean, deepening the mystery. Could the poison have come from elsewhere?
The hospital’s ICU became a place of heartbreak. One mother, Grace Makhafola, lost her eight-year-old daughter, Lesedi. “She was fine, then gone,” she told SowetanLIVE, tears streaming. Another parent, Joseph Malatji, described his son Thabo’s final moments: “He said the chips tasted bitter.” The children’s symptoms—nausea, seizures, organ failure—pointed to a potent toxin. What could act so ruthlessly?
A shocking revelation came from a surviving child, 11-year-old Kabelo, who spat out the chips. “The uncle at the shop said, ‘Eat quick, it’s special, sent by someone big,’” he told police, his words chilling. The shop owner, a 34-year-old man, vanished hours after the deaths, leaving behind his cryptic claim. “Someone big sent them,” he reportedly told neighbors, hinting at external pressure. Who was this “big” figure, and what did they want? It’s believed its the governement because they want to take over the Spaza business since its s highly profitable.
Police are hunting the owner, now a key suspect. “We’re following leads,” said Colonel Malesela Ledwaba, noting the man’s abandoned bakkie was found near Mokopane. The claim of a “big” orchestrator sparked wild theories—organized crime, a rival trader, or even a political motive.
Limpopo’s grief echoes a national crisis. In 2024, South Africa recorded 312 food poisoning cases tied to spaza shops, 47 fatal, per the Department of Health. Budget cuts have slashed inspectors, with Polokwane’s 18 wards served by just nine. “Our system is failing,” said EFF councillor Sarah Mabilu, as 23 Seshego shops were shut. The community, holding vigils with candles lining Mamphela Street, seeks justice. Can it be delivered?
Parents like Grace, now planning Lesedi’s funeral, cling to fading hope. “Who sent this poison?” she asked, voice hollow. The children—Lesedi, Thabo, Kgomotso, and 12 others—were buried on September 20, 2024, at Seshego Community Hall, mourners weeping under a gray sky.
As police chase leads and test results loom, the shop owner’s words haunt Mzansi. On that tragic Sunday, 15 children died after eating tainted snacks from a spaza shop, their deaths linked to a mysterious “someone big”—a claim that demands answers as a province mourns.
