Viewed from an everyday life perspective, infrastructure in the peripheries of African cities is highly uneven, with different forms of infrastructure having varying significance for residents. In this chapter the five logics of urban peripheries, namely vanguard, speculative, transitioning, auto-constructed and inherited (see the Introduction), are employed to explore their association with distinct infrastructural realities. We find clear intersections, including the extent of access to housing, water and related services. The chapter, however, avoids a simplistic conflation of infrastructural forms and experiences with any one logic, noting instead how a contextualised and complex range of practices and processes account for what are often quite contradictory stories of infrastructure from residents. These contradictions reveal that the methodological approach underpinning these insights, that of everyday/lived experiences, is critical in understanding the important complexities and contingencies associated with how places are produced.

Infrastructure is employed here as a label capturing a range of services and material structures and processes predominantly provided by the state (at multiple scales) or private individuals or companies. The argument here is mindful of important debates (see Silver, 2014) detailing the infrastructural labour and incremental contributions of residents of African cities who perform and produce infrastructure. These practices are evident across all the African cities analysed in this book, captured within but also beyond the auto-constructed peripheries logic detailed in the Introduction, but they are not the central focus here. Instead, the chapter focuses on distinguishing macro or ‘big’ infrastructure from what we here term ‘micro’ infrastructure (often state-led) but rejects a binary classification. We recognise varying scales of infrastructure along a continuum (for example, macro, meso and micro) and note the networked, interconnected nature of infrastructure, precluding analysis of ‘discrete’ infrastructure examples. The significance of micro-infrastructure (particularly from the perspective of residents) is a key finding of this chapter. We emphasise this scale of infrastructure deliberately, noting that an exploration (and recognition) of micro-infrastructure is conceptually (and in empirical and policy terms) significant. This chapter shares the concerns of Nugent (2018) who questions the return to a focus on ‘big infrastructure’ on the part of African governments, international agencies and corporate investors, particularly in terms of major port and rail projects. Nugent’s concerns relate to the potential financial, bureaucratic and political gamble associated with commitments to ‘big infrastructure’ projects and ‘downstream consequences of overreach’, arguing that ‘resources are diverted away from competing priorities, such as urban water and power generation, which may be more pressing needs’ (2018: 80).

Our wider peripheries project set out to understand some of these bigger (macro- or meso-scale) infrastructure interventions (often associated with economic logics) across our different case study areas but quickly discovered that it was often the micro-scale (often associated with the public or household realm) that captured resident attention or produced a locally experienced impact. A focus on sanitation and electricity and related ‘priority’ infrastructure is evident in wider studies (and detailed here too), but we argue in this chapter that more ordinary micro-infrastructures, such as bus shelters and paving, must also be brought into vision, particularly when elevating how the production of place interconnects with infrastructure. The neglect of the public realm in urban development is a key point raised by Dewar (2008), where attention is rather given to individual housing units, at least in the South African context and arguably applicable too to our Ethiopian cases. He argues that public spaces are key for low-income households, in particular where homes are inevitably likely to be modest. Hence, public investment planning should focus ‘on actions which benefit the collective, as opposed to the individual household. Of particular importance is the quality of the public spatial environment, for this has the potential to give dignity to entire settlements and all inhabitants’ (Dewar, 2008: 37). We use the concept ‘incubator urbanism’ or ‘incubator infrastructure’ (Charlton, 2017: 102) to crystallise the significance of infrastructure for poor households, even in peripheral contexts where locational disadvantages and economic disconnections are prevalent. Charlton, drawing on the work of Amis (2001), illustrates how improvements in basic infrastructure can have important outcomes for precarious residents, improving quality of life, health, etc. The term incubator infrastructure centres the ‘potential for people to leverage off infrastructure, to improve life and advance prospects, to offer hope, and ultimately to thrive’. Yet the notion of ‘incubator urbanism’ can also indicate how this merely sustains life, so residents keep going ‘rather than thriving’ (Charlton, 2017: 102–3).

Lemanski’s concept of ‘infrastructural citizenship’ is used here to interrogate the relationship between infrastructure and residents’ relationships with the state or perceptions of the state (as failing or delivering) and their own subjectivities in view of their infrastructural experiences. Lemanski argues that ‘citizenship is embodied in infrastructure for both citizens and the state. For citizens, the state is materially and visibly represented through everyday (in)access to public infrastructure, while the state imagines and plans for citizens through infrastructure provision and maintenance’ (2020: 115). The importance of being recognised by the state, and having the state respond to, see and acknowledge residents, is also significant (alongside material gains) (Zack and Charlton, 2003). The emphasis on the state–citizen relationship in relation to infrastructure underscores the importance of governance and regimes of governance in shaping infrastructural decisions and policies. This is especially evident in the cases of Ethiopia and South Africa, where much infrastructure delivery is associated with the state, including remedial, extension and new infrastructure interventions (see Charlton, 2017 in relation to South Africa). In Ethiopia public sources fund most infrastructural interventions, including electricity, water, roads, transport and telecommunications. Infrastructure is closely tied to Ethiopia’s poverty alleviation efforts through an integrated urban development approach, and employment creation is a core goal of urban infrastructure development. However, despite the state being the driver of infrastructure provision, the demands of peripheral locations mean standardised, networked technologies are often unsuitable, and decentralised heterogenous alternatives are implemented, including by the state, as evidenced in the provision of sanitation to mass housing estates in Addis Ababa (Cirolia et al., 2021).

The chapter first considers planning, investment and the governance of the peripheries by drawing out the connections between infrastructure and the varying logics of the periphery (identified in the Introduction). It then explores the question of micro- versus large-scale infrastructural interventions, using an everyday lived experience framing through a focus on the public realm, services and key provisions and the online and electronic realm. The chapter concludes with a focus on uneven infrastructural realities. Brief mention of transport infrastructure as a key infrastructural element is made, but detailed analysis of transport is provided in Chapter 8 and not here.

Planning, investment and the governance of infrastructure in the peripheries

Our ‘logics’ of peripheries highlight some of the differences in experiences of infrastructure and place across our case studies. Several of our residential areas were developed through vanguard logics as state housing schemes in South Africa or state-supported/-initiated housing developments in Ethiopia. These were developed as formal areas with a range of services and facilities. In the South African context, these include the original part of Ekangala ‘proper’ created as a ‘model apartheid town’ in 1982 (TRAC, 1985): for instance, respondent DM (Ekangala 05 ♀ Diary) refers to Ekangala as a developed neighbourhood as they have water, electricity, roads, street lights and schools. In the post-apartheid era, so-called RDP (Reconstruction and Development Programme) housing areas developed by the state offer basic services, such as water, electricity and roads. Such service conditions differ sharply from those in informal settlements, as is evident in both our social surveys and in resident diaries and interviews. For instance, residents noted that moving into formal houses in Lufhereng brought ‘dignified living’ through access to electricity, water, a cleaner environment and a bigger space compared to the Protea South informal settlement, which they often described as a place not suitable to live in, especially with children. ‘It is so nice to live in an area with so much development’ (Lufhereng AR 11 ♀ Diary). In Lufhereng greater attention was given to the quality of the environment and to housing design: ‘Compared to other RDP housing beneficiaries in other places, we are better and should be grateful’ (Lufhereng BD 29 ♂ Diary). In Tulu Dimtu, Addis Ababa, residents observed positive changes, including how the brightness of lighting from the new bus station and street lights meant that ‘The way the street is lively has made it, unusually, look like Europe’ (Tulu Dimtu KN 59 ♂ Diary).

However, such environments do not necessarily provide a full range of social or material facilities: they may be planned but are not yet realised due to the limits of coordination and varying agendas across spheres and departments within government. They may also take several years to materialise, so resident experience is of difficulty in accessing a range of facilities. These delays in ‘critical provisions’ (discussed further below) can prove ‘injurious’ and raise questions about ‘the politics of medium to long-term disruption associated with relocation’ (Meth et al., 2022: 19–21), where disruption is often a feature of vanguard development. In Addis Ababa’s Tulu Dimtu condominium settlement, residents complained about incomplete development: ‘What the government has provided is not sufficient. The assigned green areas are full of construction waste. After the houses are assigned, there was no change made by the government. Rather, it’s the community that is pushing and working for change’ (Tulu Dimtu BY 028 ♂ Interview).

The incomplete nature of the neighbourhood was repeatedly remarked on in Lufhereng. Facilities called for in diaries and interviews included halls, schools, clinics, sports fields, a clinic and a police station. In her diary, NB (Lufhereng 03 ♀ Diary) noted among other things that Lufhereng lacks a mall, a concern shared by several residents and discussed further in Chapter 11. NM (Lufhereng 22 ♀ Diary) says that there are not enough schools, parks, sports grounds or trees in Lufhereng – ‘The government is not providing the things we always request.’ If the children wish to visit a library, they have to cross a ‘dangerous bridge’ and travel a long distance to Mndeni (Lufhereng CC 18 ♀ Diary; Lufhereng GC 21 ♀ Diary). The paucity of play areas for children, the lack of pavements and the absence of design supporting disabled and elderly people were noted by some residents in Hammonds Farm. A sports facility was being developed in more established Waterloo, and there were some play areas, but absences in this regard and a lack of maintenance were still sources of complaint for some residents there. For instance, MM’s diary (Waterloo 12 ♀) noted that a designated open space had become overgrown: ‘If the municipality cut the grass and trees, our children will have the place to play.’ Some respondents noted that children therefore play in the road, where they are likely to be hit by a car. Poor quality of services was also noted, for instance complaints about long queueing times and limited availability of staff at clinics in several areas, a lack of maintenance of services and facilities and about affordability of services and more, as detailed below.

The condominium housing programme in the peripheries of Addis has produced a particular set of unanticipated relationships between tenants and owners, often evidencing social differentiation (see Chapter 10 and Chapter 4 on governance). The vanguard approach in Addis is more than just the provision of a particular housing form; it also incorporates local-scale governance structures in the form of local committees which are responsible for organising and working locally to improve their living environment. Compulsory development fees are paid by all condominium owners (but not tenants) to fund neighbourhood projects (gardens, fencing, paving). Tenants, who may be wealthier than condo owners, are not always formally integrated into the local residence committee governance structures set up to manage the new condo blocks. Their buying power, and thus their ability to relocate, and exclusion from committees translate into tenants having weak commitment to condominium living and its communal spaces (arguably fundamental to vanguard success in particular, where alternative public spaces and facilities in surrounding neighbourhoods do not exist):

Areas produced through a speculative logic of private sector property firms in South Africa such as Protea Glen were more likely to have a fuller range of services than residential areas produced through a vanguard logic. Reasons for this include the often higher levels of household income than in our state-driven housing cases, the need to make these areas marketable and their sometimes longer histories reflecting investment over time. Levels of service and satisfaction are much higher here than in Lufhereng: ‘In Protea Glen we have schools, churches, police station, malls’ (Protea Glen SM 11 ♂ Diary); ‘Everything is there maybe like accessing wi-fi internet, it’s almost in every corner; the wi-fi is … for free’ (Protea Glen GM 09 ♂ Interview). Commercial facilities such as shops and garages have been established, as well as schools and clinics. However, even these took time to establish, and new extensions lack facilities such as schools and police stations. Further, there are still gaps as private property development focuses on houses. Some complain about the lack of facilities for children (Protea Glen CC 08 ♂ Diary; Protea Glen WM 20 ♂ Diary), so children play in the street and are at risk of being hit by cars (Protea Glen GA 04 ♀ Diary). In an echo of comments made in vanguard Lufhereng, GA (Protea Glen 04 ♀ Diary) says that Protea Glen needs playing grounds, a library, tennis courts and parks in order to keep children off of the streets. In Addis Ababa the Legetafo area in the surrounding Oromia region (see Figure 9.1) just beyond the border of Addis Ababa is an example of a high-end residential area attracting ‘well-to-do residents’ (Ethiopian Consultant, 2018). A resident living in the Ropack neighbourhood who has two hired helps explained how difficult it was initially settling there (although they are very happy there now): ‘there was no social life. There was no electricity meter and there was a big water problem. The roads were not proper like now; it was not so comfortable for living. We lived in this area for five years with such conditions’ (Yeka Abado A 095 ♀ Diary). Water access was critical, with supply available once a month for two days. She goes on to explain how the design of the neighbourhood intersected with water shortages:

Figure 9.1Country Club Developers, Legetafo, Addis Ababa (source: Mark Lewis)

Informal settlements produced through an auto-constructed logic generally had very poor services and conditions, and social facilities were lacking. However, there were variations, with some facilities such as ablution blocks and toilets being provided by the local authority in Coniston and Canelands, informal settlements in eThekwini (see Figure 9.2). These were seen as providing dignity and a great improvement. Nevertheless, some argued that they were only accessible in some sub-areas: SM (Canelands 17 ♀ Diary) claims that the nearest toilets are very far away from their home – ‘One has to walk a distance before you get there’ – so streams and open spaces were still being used. A logic of auto-construction is evident in the way services and infrastructure are produced by local residents. This is particularly evident in informal settlements but also across other settlement types, overlaying and intersecting with other logics. A particular example is illegal electricity connections, evident in several areas. Coniston and Canelands informal settlements lack a legal electricity connection, and so residents have to use izinyokanyoka (illegal connections). This enables access to the service for free but involves serious risks. AM (Coniston 05 ♀ Diary) noted that three people had died so far, but residents continue to connect illegally. Residents cited cases of the electrocution of children who had been playing with the wires that lie on the ground uncovered. The supply is also unreliable, with the municipality disconnecting illegal connections. Claiming ‘infrastructural citizenship’ (Lemanski, 2020) in this way is highly contested: residents described protests against municipal disconnection, comprising roadblocks and tyre burning, which were met by the police with tear gas and rubber bullets. ZC (Canelands 07 ♀ Diary) identifies the lack of electricity as a primary challenge that makes living in Canelands difficult. However, even in areas where electricity reticulation is available, illegal connections are made for reasons of affordability. For instance, in Hammonds Farm, residents struggle with the cost of legal access, and some prioritise paying for food from their grants over electricity and so connect illegally. In Addis Ababa, informal housing dominates much of the city and is evident in the urban peripheries too. In Yeka Abado, various informal structures exist alongside the condominium structures. Infrastructural investments by the state to support the condominium housing (roads, power, communication, health services, schools, etc.) are considered to have benefited informal residents alike. However, much previously auto-constructed farmers’ housing has been removed from these areas in Addis Ababa; indeed, one key informant (AW) explained: ‘this infrastructure development, which is good on its own, has in fact facilitated the displacement of many thousand farmers who were dependent on the land’ (Ethiopian Government Official 2, 2018).

Figure 9.2State provision of ablution facilities, Canelands and Coniston, northern eThekwini (source: Mark Lewis)

The logic of a transitioning periphery is most evident in Molweni, where densification and urbanisation are occurring, and there have been improvements in infrastructure and services over time. According to DM (Molweni 09 ♂ Diary), ‘There is no big gap between us and the suburbs.’ Similarly, LS (Molweni 03 ♀ Diary) argued that ‘A lot of development has taken place in the Molweni area from the tar roads that join into Inanda Road, the petrol stations as well as the shopping centres. We are proud of the development that is still going to take place.’ Likewise, MM (Molweni 12 ♀ Diary) said:

However, others argue that such development is still not enough. Further, it is uneven, with some areas neglected and severe infrastructural and service deficits in some places. For instance, Nogxaza has a gravel road, no pavements, no taxis and people still have to collect water from the communal tap in the street (Molweni OM 19 ♂ Interview). These differences in part reflect the specific history and governance of various parts of Molweni and the current relationships between traditional authorities and councillors in the area (see Chapter 4) shaping differential experiences of service delivery.

Considering the logic of inherited peripheries and its influence on infrastructure and services requires understanding the specific histories shaping these spaces. In the Introduction we referred to ‘inherited peripheries’ as spaces of obligation, but there is also a broader sense in which histories of particular places shape infrastructure and services in the area. For instance, Canelands library in northern eThekwini is an apartheid-era intervention provided historically for Indian race groups who were predominant in that area, which is now highly significant to broader (poor black) residents’ lives in that region as it has densified. This, alongside other investments in housing and schools, have ongoing importance as consolidation occurs.

In the South African context, Winterveld and Ekangala are cases that most closely reflect areas created under apartheid through processes of forced removals and homeland development (see Chapter 6 on housing) which might be seen as places of obligation for the state as a consequence of this history and which are poorly located in relation to economic development and/or have experienced economic decline (see Chapter 1 on visions and Chapter 2 on investment). However, they are also areas with quite different dynamics and histories which continue to shape current conditions. Hence, Ekangala ‘proper’ was the product of a vanguardist apartheid government, as noted above, its prototype nature resulting in a relatively more complete set of facilities and better infrastructure and services than many other areas at the time. Later developments in Greater Ekangala within the apartheid era were less complete, reflected in resident comments on, for instance, Dark City (the name reflecting the lack of electricity at the time), created in 1991. In this area there have since been some improvements in the residential infrastructure through post-apartheid state investment, although it remains relatively poorly serviced compared to others in Ekangala. From the perspective of economic infrastructure, the creation of Ekandustria as an industrial decentralisation point, its rise and decline and new forms of investment are discussed in the Introduction and Chapters 1, 2 and 3. There are clear impacts for local residents, as noted in Chapter 3, although infrastructural and service conditions in residential areas are to some extent delinked from these processes.

Winterveld is quite a different case where the histories of forced removals and landownership (see Chapter 6 on housing in South Africa) resulted in a very poorly serviced area, complicated also by the presence of ‘big men’ landowners in some areas such as Madibeng Hills (see Chapter 4). The area benefited from a post-apartheid Presidential Project to improve service delivery in the mid-1990s, and as noted in Chapter 1, there has been substantial investment in service delivery despite it not being a priority area for the municipality. Nevertheless, resident perceptions of services and infrastructure in the area are overwhelmingly negative, although there is acknowledgement by some residents that improvement has occurred. For instance, ‘No street lights … full toilets, no bins, less electricity, pick it up (Papa-dopa), no roads – we use gravel roads – no water meters and proper bridges, bridge is incomplete, no RDPs and street names’ (Winterveld MT 20 ♀ Diary). With regard to Madibeng Hills, SC (Winterveld 29 ♂ Interview) said ‘This place doesn’t meet all our needs; we haven’t received proper service delivery; we’re just doing things on our own’, paralleling practices in auto-constructed peripheries.

Respondents report very variable access to water and electricity, though some who do have access are getting it ‘for free’. Water supply is a particular issue in Madibeng Hills, with some people still having to walk some distance to fetch water, despite in some cases having paid the local strongman for access, R750 in the case of MM (Winterveld 22 ♀ Interview). There is a similar frustration around how electricity access, payments and disconnections are controlled by ‘the founder’/ strongman in Madibeng Hills, while other problems include having to pay households to illegally connect via them and periods of outages, sometimes for two weeks. Some respondents use wood from trees in the area for cooking as an alternative to other energy sources, and many people are still using pit toilets and complain of the lack of decent sanitation, especially in Madibeng Hills. There are problems with waste removal and dumping in Winterveld more generally. Some of our Madibeng Hills respondents report that residents fear making any complaints as there is retaliation such as threats, eviction or destruction of their shelters. Governance dynamics overlay these histories of ‘inherited spaces’ as tensions surface between party officials and local strongmen.

While there is a sense among many respondents of little delivery or responsiveness by local councillors, some government interventions were mentioned, including some bus transportation and three clinics. Overall, there is a sense that services are very stretched and hospitals are far away. Other initiatives include the RDP houses that were built in Extension 3, the paving of the road at Mboneni and the ongoing construction of a small complex with a South African Social Security Agency (SASSA), Home Affairs and a library (Winterveld SG 31 ♂ Diary).

Hence, our constructs referred to by the logics of peripheries help to capture and highlight overall realities and differences within areas, but there are variations on or within each theme, and they can play out in various ways in different contexts. Further, as we argue in the Introduction, logics overlap and intersect within areas. In addition there is unevenness and difference within areas of our case studies. Close scrutiny is needed of particular areas, their histories, trajectories and current dynamics to surface these often multifaceted characteristics, but the framing provided by the logics and their conceptual elaborations offer some of the tools to do this. At the same time there can be commonalities: maintenance is a concern across all areas, especially in the South African context, although there are differences in the nature and extent of the problem.

Big infrastructure versus micro-infrastructure: the dominance of micro in terms of residents’ experiences

A key finding across most of the seven case study areas was the significance of micro-infrastructure for residents living in these spaces. As noted above, these varying forms of infrastructure are often quite ordinary, less spectacular and in some cases less significant for garnering votes or external funding (see Nugent, 2018, who in contrast notes how big infrastructure often aims to achieve these). This finding stands in contrast to the lesser significance accorded by residents (in relative terms) to the presence and role of big infrastructure in all case study areas. On the whole, residents were aware of the presence or arrival of the ‘bigger’ infrastructures, and some noted benefits tied to employment or transport access (e.g. to the city centre), but generally residents dismissed these interventions as less significant for their everyday lives or their significance was partial.

Our cases evidence various instances of ‘big infrastructure’ with key examples including the King Shaka International Airport and associated Dube TradePort (DTP) and the Gateway/Umhlanga economic node in the northern eThekwini case, Ekandustria in the Ekangala case (see Chapter 2 for further analysis), the Addis Light Rail in the Yeka Abado case and the Industrial Park at Dukem south of the Addis border along the Addis–Adama Expressway in the case of Tulu Dimtu. While some residents in areas surrounding the King Shaka airport did make reference to jobs available there, others argued that such work was mainly accessible to people outside the area or they did not mention it at all (see Chapter 3; Todes and Houghton, 2021). Similar observations can be made about the industrial parks close to Tulu Dimtu (see Chapter 3). Overall, the impact of the airport in terms of employment was far less than might be expected. Often, references to the airport focused on the excitement of watching aeroplanes take off and land (Hammonds Farm LS 07 ♀ Diary) or its role as a spatial reference: ‘I love Waterloo because it is in between the city of Durban, international King Shaka airport’ (Waterloo MM 12 ♀ Diary). Other smaller but key infrastructural interventions are the Rea Vaya bus extension to Protea Glen, the Protea Glen shopping mall, the Watercrest Mall between Crestholme and Molweni, the Spar supermarket complex between Hammonds Farm and Waterloo and the Mabopane Station near Winterveld. As noted above, residents’ dismissal of ‘big infrastructure’ was by no means blanket, and shopping malls and supermarkets proved to be highly significant to their lives, as is discussed in detail in Chapter 11.

In contrast to the examples of big interventions identified here, when asked about key infrastructure, the majority of residents identified micro-infrastructure changes or challenges which were deemed to have great significance for their lives. The discussion moves now to explore varying forms of micro-infrastructure alongside meso-scale infrastructure. It is divided into three sections, namely infrastructure commonly tied to the public realm, key services and infrastructure and those related to the online realm.

Public realm infrastructures

Linked to various policies and schemes often at the local scale or driven by city administrations, there is significant evidence of concurrent investment in a wide range of public realm infrastructures working to (partially) transform the material basis of urban peripheries. As noted above, the explanation for these investments is commonly tied to wider governance and investment processes typical of particular peripheral logics. What is evident in material terms is the spatial transformation of place, not always wholesale but certainly showing urban change. These changes shape how residents perceive their area: ‘this area now looks like a township instead of a rural area’ (Molweni NS 04 ♀ Diary). In Yeka Abado and Tulu Dimtu, investment in pavements, surfacing of condominium and retail frontages, and road paving was evident in places (see Figure 8.5), shifting the look and finish of the block, contrasting with the often unfinished nature of other parts of the development.

The introduction of street lights to urban peripheral locations is celebrated in various cases, its significance tied to the potential to reduce or alleviate crime (Ekangala Dark City RN 03 ♂ Interview) but also simply to reduce the reality of darkness and improve the quality of place. The introduction of street lights (Lufhereng TM 27 ♂ Interview) is a core part of why the area is ‘so nice … unlike where we came from’ (Lufhereng AR 11 ♀ Diary), which was an informal settlement. In Dark City, Ekangala, residents note that the introduction of street lights in around 2014 means that it is effectively no longer dark (Ekangala Dark City ST 01 ♀ Interview). In Winterveld street lights were implemented near a local school following electrification in 2008.

Bus shelters (see Figure 9.3) and taxi ranks were positively noted in Waterloo and also Molweni for protecting residents from inclement weather (Molweni OM 19 ♂ Interview; Molweni DM 9 ♂ Interview). In Molweni they replaced previously insufficient community-constructed shelters (Molweni HM 10 ♀ Diary). Residents’ views were positive despite the minimal nature of the shelters which lacked seating. A Waterloo resident noted how new taxi shelters were cleverly designed to prevent criminals hiding behind them compared to old-style shelters (Waterloo MM 12 ♀ Interview). The construction of pavements was also noted by Molweni and Hammonds Farm residents as improving pedestrian access and enhancing safety (Molweni ZS 30 ♀ Interview; Molweni OM 19 OM ♂ Interview), prompting one resident to explain: ‘We are happy because our area is improving’ (Hammonds Farm ZN 11 ♀ Diary). In Molweni the formalisation of passageways has improved residents’ access to their housing and enhanced their ability to carry groceries (Molweni NS 05 ♀ Diary).

Figure 9.3Bus shelter in Molweni (source: Mark Lewis)

Minor improvements (including street names and speed bumps) and major engineering works on road networks (including the construction of a new bridge in Molweni) are widely cited across cases as significant. Postal boxes were noted by residents in Waterloo as being introduced in 2012 (Waterloo MM 12 ♀ Diary). In Molweni residents claim that improvements in road quality mean that local taxis are willing to drop passengers closer to their properties (Molweni MC 02 ♀ Interview) and that street-naming facilitates deliveries (Molweni TG 26 ♀ Diary). Residents cite significant reductions in travel times, including walking, where in Molweni they previously crossed ‘mountains’ to access urban centres but now used direct roads (Molweni HM 11 ♀ Diary). Tarred roads are noted by former residents of informal settlements as a significant gain, for example in Lufhereng (PR 13 ♂ Interview), with one resident explaining: ‘it was a very bad road but now it’s a hundred per cent’ (Lufhereng PD 01 ♀ Interview). Similarly, in Rethabiseng one resident contrasts the new tarred road with what was previously ‘just dust’ (Rethabiseng MB 11 ♀ Interview). The muddy nature of previous gravel roads is commonly cited across cases. DM in Ekangala uses the introduction of roads as evidence of living in a ‘developed neighbourhood’ and that they are ‘recognised by the government’ (Ekangala DM 05 ♀ Diary), echoing Zack and Charlton’s framing (2003). Road development occurred alongside storm water improvements reducing blockages along roads (Hammonds Farm ZN 11 ♀ Diary). Similarly, in Tulu Dimtu, Addis, road improvements were noted, as the condo area of Eritrea is seen to benefit from its proximity to the expressway and the asphalt road linking Goru to the region (Tulu Dimtu KT 026 ♂ Interview).

Improvements in traffic lights were evident in both Lufhereng and Hammonds Farm but in both cases tied to residents’ pleas for their provision. In Lufhereng, ‘robots’ were installed following the death of a child: ‘This is when community members raised their voices to say we have had enough of this. Fortunately, after so much struggle, our voices were heard … Many lives are being spared now because of these robots’ (Lufhereng AR 011 ♀ Diary). Between Hammonds Farm and Waterloo, traffic wardens from ‘Safer City’ were introduced in the mornings to assist children crossing the road to access schools in adjacent Waterloo, necessary despite the introduction of traffic lights (Waterloo FB 24 ♀ Diary).

The introduction of parks, community gardens and sporting and leisure facilities was observed by numerous residents across all cases. A new park, which included a gym (Ekangala Dark City LS 16 ♀ Interview) was noted as evidence of improvements in the area (Ekangala Dark City ST 01 ♀ Diary), and in Ekangala the introduction of play parks by the municipality for children was celebrated (Ekangala Q 08 ♀ Diary): ‘They built parks for children with outdoor games like merry-go-around etc.; the toddlers have a safe place to play now instead of the streets where they were subjected to car accidents’ (Ekangala Q 08 ♀ Diary). The same resident noted the construction of a football stadium too in Ekangala, key for young people in particular. For residents living in informal Coniston in northern eThekwini, their relative proximity to Verulam, with its sports facilities, was an appealing feature of their location (Coniston LM 03 ♂ Diary). In nearby Waterloo the construction by the municipality of a new sports centre was celebrated by numerous residents. They cite how this development reduces the need to exercise in unsafe spaces such as on the road (Waterloo PZH 05 ♂ Interview) and how it will encourage younger residents to engage in sports (Waterloo NGS 17 ♀ Diary) and assist in diverting youths from involvement in drugs and alcohol (Waterloo NN 03 ♀ Interview; Waterloo PZH 05 ♂ Interview; Waterloo ZD 09 ♂ Interview). In contrast, in Tulu Dimtu and Yeka Abado in Addis Ababa, parks and playgrounds were absent; however, condominium residents worked in community groups to transform semi-public spaces between buildings into gardens: ‘Even though it’s tiresome, I feel like I have to work towards the common good … We’re working on creating playgrounds for children, constructing fences, planting seedlings and the like to create a better living environment’ (Tulu Dimtu KT 026 ♂ Interview).

Key services and infrastructure

In addition to numerous micro-infrastructures identified above, multiple residents detailed the introduction of other key infrastructures, including electricity and sanitation, alongside the arrival of key services and associated buildings/vehicles and staffing, such as clinics, schools, refuse removal and school bus services. Many of these are priority interventions and can be understood as ‘incubator infrastructure’ (Charlton, 2017), fundamentally impacting residents’ lives, transforming the liveability of a location and illustrating the changing nature of urban peripheries.

In Yeka Abado, Addis, the arrival of key services followed the condominium construction, with one resident noting: ‘If I would compare it to the area I used to live in, here you find everything. Actually it’s more than I expected it’ (Yeka Abado SHT 003 ♀ Interview). However, as is discussed below, with many of these services, lags in provision proved very problematic, particularly for early migrants to these areas:

The introduction of priority infrastructure and services was evident also in the relatively informal villages adjacent to the condominium housing areas:

As noted above, much of the infrastructural investment followed the construction of the condominiums.

Within Dark City a wide range of services are identified as having improved in the area, including a new school building, shops, parks, free education, weekly dustbin collection and new toilets (Ekangala SM 12 ♂ Diary). Similarly, in Molweni, a transitioning periphery, the introduction of a clinic, school buses, along with electricity were experienced as highly significant by residents. Being able to warm up water, rely on street lights, prepare food and avoid having to collect wood made a remarkable difference to residents’ lives (Molweni FM 2 ♂ Diary; Molweni LS 4 ♀ Diary; Molweni VN 28 ♂ Interview; Molweni ZN 34 ♀ Diary; Molweni MS 35 ♀ Diary; Molweni DM 10 ♂ Interview; Molweni NN 37 ♀ Interview; Molweni OM 19 ♀ Interview; Molweni VN 29 ♂ Diary).

For many residents moving from informal housing to state housing (such as AN from Hammonds Farm, AN 10 ♀ Diary), the provision of water, electricity and toilets was noted as a key relative gain. As noted above, the installation of ablution blocks in informal areas in northern eThekwini by the state shaped residents’ sense of dignity (see Figure 9.2). These toilets and better access to clean water are commonly identified as the most significant change in the community in Coniston and Hilltop.

The online and electronic realm

Across the South African cases in particular, changes to the online realm are evident, although often quite limited in scope and range. Provision is a mix of state and private sectors. In both Addis cases there was less evidence of a significant, well-bedded online realm, although some partial ICT interventions are evident. Residents living in Protea Glen explicitly contrast their enhanced internet cafes and wi-fi accessibility with their previous informal settlements: ‘everything is there maybe like accessing wi-fi … if you are a student is very beneficial to have access to the internet for free to do their research assignments’ (Protea Glen GM 09 ♂ Interview). This resident claims that Protea Glen was the first place in Soweto to be given wi-fi. CT (Protea Glen 14 ♀ Diary) explains that the internet cafes also enable residents to compare service prices and decide which providers to use. This, however, has ultimately done very little to alleviate the reality that some residents cannot afford to pay the basic rates for water and electricity (Protea Glen TN 01 ♂ Diary).

In nearby Lufhereng, school pupils have access to the internet via school computers, but broader free access or the presence of internet cafes isn’t evident in the area, although one resident notes: ‘The first thing that catches my attention is the poles for wi-fi’, suggesting a forthcoming or partial investment (Lufhereng NB 03 ♀ Diary and Interview). Wi-fi and its connection with jobseeking is emphasised by residents in Hammonds Farm and Waterloo who state that there is an internet cafe in the settlement, supporting the drafting of CVs locally, precluding travel to nearby Verulam for this service. Residents also liked the ability to browse for jobs online and teach children to use computers (Hammonds Farm MS 14 ♂ Diary; Waterloo MJ 11 ♂ Diary). Internet cafes are mentioned in several areas, including in Molweni: ‘We also have an internet cafe, which means that we are developing since we did not have such things in our area’ (Molweni TH 24 ♀ Diary). In Ekangala, internet cafes are considered very popular with young people and perceived as having a positive influence on people’s lives (Ekangala Q 08 ♀ Interview).

Internet access was also provided by the local state. Libraries played a key role in providing free wi-fi to residents, including those living informally in Coniston (Coniston LM 03 ♂ Diary), and in Molweni, again the library near the Water Crest mall was noted for its free wi-fi (Molweni VN 28 ♂ Diary). In Winterveld, free wi-fi was installed and provided at schools (Winterveld SG 31 ♂ Diary) but was insufficient for small businesses in terms of strength and spatial reach, and they had to rely on their own arrangements (Khumalo, 2018). In Dark City, Ekangala, several residents noted the provision of wi-fi in a local park (Ekangala Dark City EK 07 ♀ Interview), and this location encouraged mixing sport and internet access, although safety problems precluded use at night (Ekangala Dark City FM 13 ♂ Interview).

In Yeka Abado the absence of wi-fi was notable: ‘Yeka Abado has a huge problem when it comes to telecommunications’ (Yeka Abado EH 063 ♂ Diary), with residents explaining they travel to other areas to make use of it (Yeka Abado BA 072 ♂ Diary) or that introducing wi-fi may prove a viable business opportunity: ‘To date there are different businesses in this area. However, activities such as internet shops, mobile repair shops and electronics shops are not widely common, and so we’re thinking such businesses might be profitable’ (Yeka Abado SHT 003 ♀ Diary). Similarly, in Tulu Dimtu very little discussion of wi-fi access was evident, although one resident noted some improvements: ‘There weren’t supermarkets, and now they’re opening up. We now have commercial places, shops, bakery, there is one internet shop with secretarial service, and these things are developing’ (Tulu Dimtu H 008 ♂ Interview).

The introduction of ATMs was noted, particularly in the eThekwini cases, as significant. In Molweni, ATMs removed the requirement to travel to urban centres to access and send money (Molweni SG 21 ♂ Diary; Molweni DM 09 ♂ Interview), and the provision of an ATM in Waterloo was noted as one of ‘the best improvement[s]‌ yet’ (Waterloo ZD 09 ♂ Diary). In Dark City, residents note that tablets and smart boards have been introduced into classrooms in local schools (Ekangala Dark City NS 06 ♀ Interview).

Uneven and inadequate infrastructural realities

The chapter has thus far outlined the ways in which the varied peripheral logics have shaped infrastructure provision and experience, but it has also demonstrated that relationships between infrastructure provision and peripheral logics are not simple or straightforward; for example, a vanguard development may come with some services, but reliable or equitable supply is not guaranteed, or may take many years to be implemented, and may still decline in the future through lack of maintenance. The chapter has also considered the significance of micro-infrastructures and ICT interventions for residents across the many cases. It has argued that there is evidence of change, of infrastructural investment on the part of the state, the private sector and changes driven by individuals or community groups. Nonetheless, the overwhelming evidence across all seven cases revealed that infrastructure (its absence or its quality, where present) was a fundamental challenge for nearly all residents living in the urban peripheries, no matter their housing situation, although there were clearly inequalities within and across areas too. The dominant challenges are discussed below.

The absence of water and/or electricity and/or sanitation was a common feature of informal settlements, with negligible state intervention, although in other informal contexts (such as Caneland and Consiton), temporary provisions were evident, but these suffered from serious failings such as blockages. In Phumekaya the lack of access to individual water stand pipes and clean water via taps was a serious difficulty, with residents having to wake at 4 a.m. to secure access from communal taps (Phumekaya Ekangala JS 05 ♀ Diary), a situation compounded by high rates of crime. The absence of legal electricity forces the use of unsafe and expensive alternatives, including paraffin, firewood, candlelight and illegal connections, with all the challenges that go along with these. The impact on children’s safety and ability to study is strongly noted: children using candlelight must be supervised at all times: ‘I can’t go to the bathroom or to the bedroom’ (Phumekaya Ekangala Focus Group 3).

In areas where electricity is provided, inconsistent and unreliable connections are a serious concern, noted in numerous case study areas. In Tulu Dimtu a resident notes: ‘Power and water cut off is what I worry about, especially electricity. I always thought it is going to get better, but it never did. … Sometimes I feel like I live in a rural area’ (Tulu Dimtu KF 012 ♂ Interview). In Waterloo, eThekwini, despite being a relatively consolidated settlement, inconsistent electricity supply was widespread as a problem, with impacts on food wastage a particular issue (Waterloo TN 20 ♀ Diary; Waterloo NG 02 ♀ Diary).

Similarly, water provision in areas where water infrastructure is present but inadequate or uneven poses substantial problems for residents, enforcing frugal usage, sourcing alternative water or using purifiers (Tulu Dimtu ME 011 ♀ Diary), along with sanitation difficulties. Tulu Dimtu is a particular case in point here, with water supplies appearing once a week or less (Tulu Dimtu BG 010 ♀ Diary). Residents fill containers to store water for the week, and water quality is compromised (Tulu Dimtu ME 011 ♀ Diary). People therefore have to purchase bottled water and water purifiers (Tulu Dimtu 011 ♀ Diary), and sewage lines are constantly breaking (Tulu Dimtu HK 008 ♂ Interview). Residents living on upper floors in condominium buildings are particularly disadvantaged as weak water pressure results in low or no water. In Yeka Abado an uneven supply of water afflicts some residents but not others: ‘Some are benefiting from water while others are suffering from water provision. The government should know that we buy eight plastic containers of water each day [see Figure 3.1 showing an informal water seller in Yeka Abado]. I ask the government to reach out to us’ (Yeka Abado AGT 037 ♂ Diary). In the Ekangala region, inconsistent access was an ongoing concern: ‘we are always facing a problem of electricity and water in our community’ (Rethabiseng AC 06 ♂ Diary).

Uneven and limited attention to the public realm (see Dewar, 2008) was widely evident, in particular the absence of high-quality public space and play spaces for children – a persistent concern in every case study location. Arising out of a lack of state investment in, as well as poor maintenance of, parks, squares, playgrounds and walkways, many of the locations have an incomplete appearance (see Figure 9.4) or fail to provide safe and comfortable social and leisure spaces. Given the generic small internal dimensions of most of the state-provided and informal housing (in both country contexts), external living environments were key for wellbeing (as argued by Dewar, 2008) and nearly always fell short: ‘due to the lack of sufficient recreational spaces such as proper playing fields for younger people, they are forced to play football on the vehicle roads which might bring harm to them. There are no playing spaces for little children even within the compounds’ (Yeka Abado KA 069 ♂ Interview).

Figure 9.4Incomplete public space in Tulu Dimtu (source: Mark Lewis)

At a broader spatial scale and partly a function of the geographic nature of peripheral urban spaces, the location of services can prove very challenging for residents, particularly where transport options are limited (see Chapter 8) or services are overstretched or poor in quality. In Lufhereng, health services require costly journeys to neighbouring areas, and in Hammonds Farm, easy access to a clinic is not present. This directly affects the elderly and women more specifically as their health needs and childbearing and childcare often require more consistent healthcare access. Nearby Waterloo has access to a clinic, but the quality of service is poor, with insufficient staffing, long queues, poor management and small size.

A further issue experienced by residents is that of excessively long waiting times for the provision of infrastructure alongside broken promises on the part of politicians or service delivery providers, discussed above in relation to Meth et al. (2022) as often producing injurious impacts. Much state-subsidised housing in both countries is relatively recently built, often with an associated delay in the provision of wider services in the area, especially social services. This is often a function of how state housing is planned and budgetary constraints shaping delivery of infrastructure beyond bulk services and housing. This delay can be conceptualised as a temporal feature of state housing, which indeed in some cases may never be resolved. Alternatively, local services may not have been planned if the area was deemed to be sufficiently serviced by surrounding areas. In Tulu Dimtu, for example, residents compare the speed of change occurring in the city in contrast to the slow pace of change in their area: ‘We spend the day in the city and we can see fast changes. The changes here, even if they do exist, are slow’ (Tulu Dimtu BA 030 ♂ Interview; Tulu Dimtu TZ 031 ♀ Interview). In Molweni the elderly were particularly concerned about the delay in the delivery of RDP houses, given that they had been waiting so many years for them (Molweni HM 10 ♀ Diary). In Dark City, residents metaphorically describe waiting a very long time for basic improvements such as road upgrading, noting they have to ‘pray and fast before they do it’ (Ekangala Dark City BM 05 ♀ Interview). Villagers in areas surrounding the condominium housing in Yeka Abado perceive slower development compared to the condo projects: ‘Our needs are not met. Even the toilet we’re using is overflowing because services are not provided by the kebele. The roads just started getting paved. The government only gives focus to the condominiums and not to the villages like this’ (Yeka Abado AA 046 ♂ Interview).

Across particular cases, particularly in South Africa, residents’ frustrations with different issues (poor-quality services, political disagreements, failures to deliver on promises, perceptions of corruption, etc.) led to violent protests and riots within which infrastructure was commonly implicated and impacted. These expressions of ‘infrastructural citizenship’ (Lemanski, 2020) are fairly commonplace in the South African context and illustrate one dimension of how infrastructure and governance are entangled. In Chapter 4 we explore in more detail residents’ relationships with the state in South Africa and Ethiopia, but here the key point is the targeting of infrastructure during acts of protest (through destruction, burning, boycotting) and subsequent impacts, and the strength of feeling evoked by poor-quality infrastructure.

Conclusion

The uneven interconnections between our five peripheral logics and infrastructure were the focus of this chapter. Where relevant, the chapter has identified the intersections between particular peripheral logics and related infrastructural realities but has argued that a neat relationship cannot be identified between these. Instead, the chapter recognised how infrastructure is continually evolving (sometimes improving, sometimes collapsing) and transforming at the hands of residents, various private entrepreneurs and the state. Exploring key gains for residents living peripherally as a result of varying governance logics, the chapter traced the significance of micro-infrastructural interventions from an everyday life perspective. In many cases urgent ‘incubator infrastructures’ transform the liveability of remote locations for residents, and the chapter traced these also in relation to the public and online realms. For many, however, the self-provisioning of infrastructure, which is partially captured by the term auto-construction, is obligatory when state provision is lacking. The chapter argued that the absence of infrastructure and long waiting times, costs, poor quality and variability of service dominate much of the African urban periphery, and that this produces ‘infrastructural citizenship’ that is sometimes characterised by protest and often by frustration.