“My Name Was Amanda Manentsha”
Cape Town, Western Cape July 26, 2025
I remember that evening. The sun was setting over the highway, and I was on my way home after a long day. My car had a flat tyre on the R300 near Delft, so I pulled over to wait for help. I locked my doors and stayed inside, trusting that I was safe, trusting that help would come soon.
But safety never came. Instead, I was approached by men whose faces I never saw clearly, whose intentions were filled with violence. They came to my window, and before I could understand what was happening, a gunshot tore through the glass. In that single moment, everything ended. My car became my coffin.
They didn’t take anything — not my phone, not my bag, not even my car. They took only my life. I was 41 years old, a mother of three daughters, a woman who had dreams, laughter, and love still left to give. My children waited for me to come home that night, but I never did.
When they found me, I was gone. My body was still inside the car, my blood on the seat, my story now part of the long, painful list of women murdered in South Africa. My killers have not been caught. They still walk free while my daughters cry for justice.
I was not famous, not powerful. I was just a woman trying to live, to work, to care for my family. But in my death, I became another reminder that no woman is truly safe until every woman is protected.
My name was Amanda Manentsha.
I was loved, I was needed, and I was taken too soon. Remember me.
On the evening of July 26, 2025, 41-year-old Amanda Manentsha’s car broke down on Cape Town’s R300 freeway after a tyre burst. She pulled over, parked near surveillance cameras, and locked herself inside while waiting for help from a colleague. She believed the cameras would keep her safe — but they were not working.
By the time help arrived, Amanda was found slumped in her seat, shot once in the neck. Her car was locked, and nothing had been stolen. She had called her colleague at 8:15 p.m. to say she was stranded, but within minutes, her life was taken.
Amanda was a mother of three girls, including a 17-year-old who had just celebrated her birthday. Her family believes she might still be alive if the cameras on the R300 had been functioning. They say criminals exploit the blind spots, knowing no one is watching.
Police are investigating, but no arrests have been made. Her loved ones continue to plead for justice — for the mother, the daughter, and the woman whose life ended waiting for safety that never came.
