Waterval-Boven, or Emgwenya, “the place of the crocodile,” is one of those South African towns you could miss in the blink of an eye. Driving the N4 from Gauteng to Nelspruit, it takes no more than three distracted minutes to pass it by. But take the turnoff just before the old NZASM tunnel and you’ll find yourself in a place where the past and present sit uneasily together. On the one hand it is a run-down dorpie of potholes and occasional muddy tap water; on the other, it is still a place humming with small-town life, where spaza shops and old butchers sit alongside a lone petrol station and hardware store, the scent of coffee and homemade jams drifting out of Tams Pantry & Coffee Shop.
The rusty-roofed railway houses line the streets like ghosts of a busier, more prosperous age, while in the surrounding hills lie the ancient Bokoni stone circles, remnants of a vanished civilisation.
The story of Waterval-Boven is, in many ways, the story of South Africa’s small towns. Local municipalities, bogged down in lethargy and corruption, stumble at the most basic tasks. Roads disintegrate, water becomes undrinkable, and waste piles up on the verges. Citizens complain, then adapt, then resign themselves. Businesses close their doors, and young people leave for the cities. The decay is slow, but relentless.
And yet, despite this, there are sparks of resistance. Willard Batteries, through its Corporate Social Investment efforts, has stepped into the gap. By providing financial support to local businessman Gary Venseq, the company has enabled him to employ three full-time cleaners whose daily task is to pick up litter and restore some dignity to the town’s streets. Willard-branded dustbins now scattered around town serve as a visible reminder of that commitment.
It is a small thing in the face of systemic collapse, but small things matter. Their work ensures that visitors are not met solely with neglect and that locals can take some pride in the spaces they call home. In a place where municipal inaction has left a vacuum, this partnership between company and community has become a lifeline.
Set against the deeper history of the hills around Waterval-Boven, the contrast becomes clear. The Bokoni people once carved out a thriving agro-pastoral society here between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. They built stone-walled homesteads, terraces to manage their fields, and networks of paths that linked communities together. The Blaauboschkraal ruins, located not far from the town, are part of this legacy: great circular stone enclosures that once housed livestock and families. The Bokoni built with ingenuity and discipline, and their settlements endured for centuries before conflict and upheaval led to their decline.
Today, those stone circles sit quietly in the veld, half-forgotten, eroded by weather and neglect. They are reminders that civilisations rise and fall, that societies are measured not only by their monuments but by how they maintain them. Waterval-Boven itself is a place caught between heritage and erosion, between resilience and ruin. The town may be battered and its services broken, but its people remain warm, its history profound, and its dignity defended by small acts of care. With the backing of Willard Batteries, Gary Venseq has been able to employ a crew of cleaners who keep the streets from slipping further into neglect. Together, their efforts show how much can be achieved when individual resolve is matched with corporate support, proof that decline is not the only story worth telling.