Bricks and rocks litter a street in Themb'elihle near Lenasia.
A Somali family was doing a steady trade in bread, cold drinks and unregistered cellphone SIM cards this week – with just an edge of worry.
"You must be nice to us. We sell for you cheap," shopkeeper Mohammed cajoled a customer who had grown angry at a lack of available airtime. "You need us here, so other people don't charge you lots."
Despite the joking tone, Mohammed says spreading that message is important, and he takes pains to do so. "If other people are saying things about us, we must tell the truth about what we do."
Not that the family has seen any sign of trouble, or are taking any precautions. If their shop should become a target, they said, they would abandon their stock to looters and retreat into a section of the premises fortified against robbery.
And then they would wait for the dust to settle and start again, with the help of fellow Somalis, in the same way they plan to help their Diepsloot compatriots to re-establish their businesses.
The attitude is one born of experience. Mohammed was not in the country when several areas, including Alexandra, meted out vicious violence against foreigners in 2008. But before leaving Mogadishu he saw brutality that makes South Africans look like amateurs, he said. Then he went to Kenya, just in time for the post-election violence that killed more than a thousand people.
Real threat
About 40km away, in the Themb'elihle township near Lenasia, the nationalities were different, but the situation was the same: calm, with just the usual reasons for tension; burglaries and robberies are a more real threat than mob violence, and easier to prepare for.
"This gate is good," said a Bangladeshi shopkeeper, thumping a metal door, "but if they come with tools and they make noise, you can't stop them coming in. If they are not afraid, if the police can't come here, they'll take everything."
Shops in the area were looted the last time the community took to the streets to protest service delivery, but nationality had little to do with it. Local black-owned businesses suffered too, and expect they will again in future. It is the price of doing business.
"Today, it is OK," said another Bangladeshi shopkeeper, who is employed by a black owner, "tomorrow maybe not. If they come we will run away, then we come back again."
Conditions for looting may come around sooner rather than later. A crisis committee for the township, which has had a long-running battle with local and provincial authorities over housing, plans to take to the streets again on Monday, and is anticipating clashes with police.
"We decided we are going to go there and invade those houses that are supposed to be allocated to the people of Themb'elihle," said community organiser Bhayiza Miya of a recent set of community meetings. "We know they will come here with rubber bullets and make arrests. The way to avoid that is for them to respond to our grievances."
The central grievance is the allocation of government-built houses some 3km away, and a dispute about whether underlying dolomite rock (and the risk that sinkholes may develop) makes Themb'elihle so unsafe that all residents should be moved away.
In the past that issue has seen protests that eventually escalate into clashes between police and groups of residents, making it nearly impossible to police the settlement at night. Then, under cover of darkness, shops are looted and occasionally set on fire.
"Criminal elements" may again take advantage of the chaos of a protest to steal, Miya said, but that would be crimes of opportunity, not xenophobia. "Foreign nationals are part of our meetings, they are part of our committee. When we don't have funds [to organise community action] we go to these shops and they help us. With us here, the foreigners help the community by selling cheap. Me, I'm running a tuckshop myself, and I want them to teach me where they buy their stuff and how they run their businesses, because they are good for the community."