For the Maphanga family of KaMagugu, the nightmare arrived via a WhatsApp message. “Your house is trending on Facebook,” a friend alerted Faith Maphanga last Monday. What she found online was a digital target placed on their home: a screenshot of an aerial map, with arrows pointing directly to their house on Bhabuli Street, accompanied by a dangerous lie.
“Who knows this house?… Most stolen iPhones in Nelspruit end up at this location,” read the post by a user named Andrew Mthethwa. The allegation was specific, public, and terrifying. Shared further by another user, Kamogelo Bonny Mashego, the post transformed their private residence into a public beacon for vigilante anger or criminal retaliation.
“Our Lives Are in Danger”
“We can be attacked, and we don’t know where else to go if the police cannot assist us,” said a distressed Mamello Grace Maphanga, Faith’s mother. Their immediate attempt to seek protection hit a dispiriting wall. Upon reporting the matter at the Nelspruit Police Station, officers were reportedly uncertain how to classify the incident, merely logging it in an occurrence book instead of opening a formal case.
The family’s profound fear was met with bureaucratic confusion, leaving them feeling exposed and abandoned. They turned to the media, sharing their story with Lowvelder Express out of sheer desperation.
A Legal Lifeline: The POPIA Angle
The media inquiry prompted action. Provincial police spokesperson Brigadier Donald Mdhluli engaged with station management, clarifying that the complaint should have been properly registered from the outset.
He pointed to a crucial legal tool: the Protection of Personal Information Act (POPIA). “The circulation of a photograph, especially without the owner’s consent, raises serious concerns that warrant careful consideration in line with this Act,” Mdhluli explained. This reframed the incident not just as online slander, but as a potential violation of the family’s right to privacy and safety.
Following this intervention, Mbombela police called the family back to take detailed statements, launching a formal investigation.
The Chilling “Share” Culture
When confronted, the user who shared the post, Kamogelo Bonny Mashego (who also goes by Kedebone), displayed a blasé attitude emblematic of the problem. “I did nothing wrong. I shared what had already been posted by someone else,” she said. This disregard for the real-world consequences of amplifying an unverified, dangerous accusation lies at the heart of the family’s peril.
The original poster, Andrew Mthethwa, claimed he was “unsure of what he had posted” before deactivating his account, leaving a trail of damage without accountability.
For the Maphangas, the trauma lingers. Their home no longer feels like a sanctuary. Each passing car or unfamiliar face outside carries a new weight of suspicion and fear. Their case is a stark lesson in the age of social media: a single post can physically threaten a family’s safety, and justice depends on navigating a fragile line between police procedure, digital law, and the basic human need to feel secure within one’s own walls.
