The Kimberley Clay Target Club, the second oldest Clay Target Club in the country, has fired it's final shot as the doors close on a lifetime full of memories.
Image: Danie van der Lith
The echoes of shotgun fire, the laughter of children, and the camaraderie of a cold beer shared around a fire – once the heartbeat of the Kimberley Clay Target Club – have fallen silent.
This time for good.
For generations, the Kimberley Clay Target Club stood as a testament to skill, tradition, and community; a place where enthusiasts gathered to celebrate the discipline and art of clay target shooting. However, the relentless encroachment of artisanal miners, known as ‘Zama Zamas', has driven the club to a devastating end.
Yes, a historic sporting institution, the second oldest clay target club in South Africa, has closed its doors, leaving behind a legacy marred by loss and frustration. All thanks to dedication on the part of the vandals and thieves and what appears to be indifference or lack of ability by those tasked with preventing such crime.
Once a club where weekends were filled with practice and children running around, has now become a weed-invested veld with damaged property and empty buildings.
Image: Danie van der Lith
Peter Bergh, the club’s vice chairman, spoke with a heavy heart about the closure. “It’s with a heavy heart that I have to say that the hallowed grounds of our club will now be closed," Bergh told the DFA. "Our beloved club, which has stood as a testament to dedication and sportsmanship, was under siege for so long, and now it has come to this.”
The siege Bergh refers to is not metaphorical.
Over time, the once-pristine grounds have been reduced to chaos, overrun by illegal miners who stripped the property of its infrastructure. The club, operating on limited resources, was unable to withstand the systematic looting that eventually left its facilities unrecognisable.
“Water pipes, vital to our operations for gardening, toilets, and daily operations, have been dug up, cut with grinders, and pilfered for scrap metal. Our electrical boxes have been stripped, and cables have been ripped out of the walls.
"We can only take so much,” Bergh lamented.
All the electrical boxes have been stripped to get to the copper in the wires.
Image: Danie van der Lith
The fencing that once protected the club has disappeared, stolen section by section, while copper-laden cables were frequently cut and sold to scrap dealers.
The damage forced the club to convert all their machines to battery power just to keep the sport alive. Even their lighting system was rendered useless, allowing criminals to operate under the cover of darkness.
Bergh did not mince words about those who fund the destruction.
“Those who buy the copper knowing it was stolen are no better than the thieves who steal,” he said, suggesting a supply chain of crime that goes beyond the Zama Zamas themselves.
Cables were ripped from the ground to get to the copper.
Image: Danie van der Lith
Meanwhile, the devastation has been comprehensive.
Storage containers were pillaged, valuable equipment was stolen, and even the ablution facilities were torn apart to extract copper pipes. The financial strain of repairing the damage was simply insurmountable.
“Our meagre resources are no match for the astronomical costs of repairs,” Bergh admitted.
Storage rooms were broken into and looted.
Image: Danie van der Lith
Desperate for help, the club turned to local authorities and law enforcement, only to find themselves met with indifference.
“It’s as if the artisanal miners hold dominion over this land, and our pleas for help fall on deaf ears. When we ask for assistance, shoulders are raised as if to say, ‘What must we do?’” Bergh said in frustration.
He recalled an incident where they apprehended one of three individuals breaking into the club. “He confessed to us while we recorded him. He also told us who they sell the copper and steel to. We took him to the SAPS. We waited for hours just for the SAPS to come out and say that we cannot prove that he was there to steal.
"He was let go that same night.”
Bergh added that countless case dockets had gone missing, leaving him with no faith in law enforcement.
“How can we have any trust in the SAPS if they cannot assist us in any way?” he asked.
However, amid the despair, Bergh took a moment to acknowledge the one group that never failed them – Top Security Systems. “I want to give a big thank you to Top Security Systems. Every time my phone rings to tell me the alarm went off at the club, they were there first when I arrived. Their torches are shining around the building and in the veld.
"They gave me a sense of security every time I arrived at the club in the dead of night. No matter the time, they were there. We relied on them for so many years, and I cannot praise them enough for what they did for us.”
Alarmingly, the battle with the Zama Zamas seemed not only about theft, but it also appears to have been retaliatory in nature.
Whenever the club or law enforcement attempted to intervene, the consequences were swift and brutal. “When we go to speak to the artisanal miners to reason with them or get the police involved, all hell breaks loose.
"The veld surrounding the club will be set alight, and the infrastructure will be damaged to a point where it will cost a fortune to repair,” Bergh revealed.
A caravan where the club's supplies were kept was cut open and thieves gained entry.
Image: Danie van der Lith
Windows were broken to gain access to the building.
Image: Danie van der Lith
With its closure, the Kimberley Clay Target Club does not simply vanish as a sporting facility – it erases a part of the city’s history. The once-thriving community that gathered to test their skill and enjoy a shared passion now finds itself displaced, uncertain of where to go next.
Yet, Bergh holds onto a glimmer of hope. “We are looking for a piece of land where we can continue with our beloved sport, but so far it has been difficult to find the right place.”
For now, the grounds where so many memories were made stand desolate, another victim of unchecked crime and neglect. The history remains, but the sounds of the sport – the sharp crack of a shotgun, the laughter of friends, the cheers around a fire – are now just echoes of a past that can never be reclaimed.
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