It can happen anywhere. In the middle of a classroom, a child suddenly freezes, then collapses to the floor, their body convulsing uncontrollably. On a busy minibus taxi, a passenger’s eyes roll back, prompting screams and panic as the driver pulls over. In the quiet of a family home, a parent finds their teenager on the bedroom floor, having suffered a seizure in their sleep.
These are the hidden moments of epilepsy—a neurological condition that affects hundreds of thousands of South Africans, yet remains shrouded in stigma, misunderstanding, and fear. Now, new figures from Gauteng’s health department have pulled back the curtain on just how pervasive and dangerous the condition can be.
In the past 12 months, emergency services across the province responded to more than 11,000 epilepsy-related emergencies. That is an average of 30 calls every single day—a relentless tide of seizures, injuries, and life-threatening complications that keeps paramedics, hospital staff, and families on constant alert.
The figure, released by health officials in a bid to raise awareness, paints a stark picture of a condition that is often invisible until it suddenly, terrifyingly, isn’t. For every one of those 11,000 emergencies, there is a story: a mother watching her child turn blue, a colleague fumbling for a phone to call an ambulance, a teacher trying to remember the first aid training they received years ago.
“Epilepsy is far more common than people realise,” explained Dr Nthabiseng Moloi, a neurologist at Charlotte Maxeke Johannesburg Academic Hospital. “We estimate that around 1 in 100 people in South Africa live with epilepsy. That means in Gauteng alone, there are potentially hundreds of thousands of people affected. But because seizures can be controlled with medication, many people manage their condition quietly, without drawing attention to themselves. The emergencies we see are often the result of undiagnosed cases, poorly managed medication, or triggers that lead to breakthrough seizures.”
The 11,000 figure represents only the most severe cases—those where someone called for help. It does not include the countless seizures managed at home by families, or the minor episodes that pass without medical intervention. But it is a powerful indicator of the burden epilepsy places on the healthcare system and on ordinary families.
For paramedics, epilepsy calls are among the most stressful. A grand mal seizure, with its violent convulsions and loss of consciousness, is a terrifying sight for bystanders. The priority for emergency responders is to ensure the person is safe, that they do not injure themselves on surrounding objects, and that their airway remains open. In some cases, seizures do not stop—a condition called status epilepticus, which is a medical emergency requiring immediate hospital intervention.
“We attend to multiple seizure calls every shift,” said a Johannesburg-based paramedic who asked not to be named. “Sometimes it’s a child, sometimes it’s an elderly person. The families are always terrified. They think their loved one is dying. Our job is to manage the seizure, reassure the family, and get the patient to hospital if needed. It’s intense, but it’s part of the job.”
Behind the statistics are real people like Thabo Mokoena, a 16-year-old from Soweto who was diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of 7. His mother, Nomvula, has lost count of the number of times she has rushed him to hospital. “Every seizure feels like the first one,” she said, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “You never get used to it. You never stop being afraid. You watch your child’s body shake and you pray it stops. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t.”
Thabo’s epilepsy is managed with daily medication, but breakthrough seizures still occur, often triggered by stress, lack of sleep, or forgetting to take his pills. The family lives with a constant awareness of the condition—the need to ensure someone is always nearby, the careful monitoring of his activities, the fear of him swimming alone or climbing stairs during a seizure.
The release of the 11,000 figure has prompted renewed calls for greater public education about epilepsy. Many South Africans still believe myths about the condition—that it is contagious, that it is a form of madness, that people having a seizure can swallow their tongue (they cannot). This misinformation leads to stigma, discrimination, and sometimes dangerous first aid.
Health officials are urging the public to learn basic seizure first aid: protect the person from injury, time the seizure, do not put anything in their mouth, and roll them onto their side once the convulsions stop. If a seizure lasts longer than five minutes, or if another seizure starts immediately after, call for an ambulance.
For the thousands of families living with epilepsy in Gauteng, the 11,000 emergencies are a reminder of the fragility of normalcy. But they are also a call to action. With better access to medication, more neurologists in the public sector, and a public that understands the condition, many of those emergencies could be prevented.
As Nomvula Mokoena put it, stroking her son’s hair as he dozed after a seizure: “I don’t want people to be scared of epilepsy. I want them to understand it. My son is not his seizures. He is a boy who loves soccer and maths and watching movies. He just needs a little help sometimes. We all do.”
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