This is not a good place for a pregnant woman, says Ayisha Husseni, a Burundian national living at the Youngsfield refugee camp in Wynberg. Five months pregnant, she is finding it difficult to manage daily life there.
Living conditions for displaced immigrants remain a concern across the Western Cape, but pregnant women and those with newborn babies are even more vulnerable than others.
Insufficient nutrition, delayed ambulance services, cold weather, lack of beds, and exposure to illness continue to plague the lives of many women who were forced to flee their homes after the xenophobia attacks in May.
"I do worry about still living here when I go into labour," says the 24-year-old Husseni.
"Right now, the child is playing nicely in my tummy, but if something went wrong, there would be nobody to help me."
She dreams of staying in South Africa and longs to have her own room, but for now her life is one lived in limbo. Returning to Burundi is not an option. She has no family left there.
"My parents, both Hutus, were killed in the war there, and everybody else fled," she says, a hand over her belly, "so I must stay here. But my husband and I both have no work. So what is going to happen when our baby is born?"
Rwandan Mariyamu Sauda, 21, faced the reality Ayisha still worries about. Her baby was ready to make her entry into the world. But when an ambulance failed to arrive at Youngsfield, Mariyamu delivered her own baby.
"My little girl was born here in the camp," she says, holding her in a roll of blankets with two eyes peeping out, "and I would have liked some help but in the end only God was here to help me deliver her."
After 90 minutes of active labour and no sign of an ambulance, she had no choice but to push her baby out in her tent.
Nifasha Richard, a Burundian national who represents the foreign nationals at Youngsfield, says another woman at the camp also recently waited hours for an ambulance to arrive after contractions began.
Although her baby was safely delivered, they face a new set of challenges once the baby is no longer in utero.
At night, the thin mattresses and cheap blankets provide little protection from the cold. Although the tents are made of plastic, they are not waterproof as rain seeps in through the ground and the flaps of the tents, and the showers - only half of which are working - are for men and women, so there is little privacy.
But, says Mariyamu, the hardest part has been providing nutrition for her newborn.
"I haven't had enough breast milk for my baby," she says, "and there is no supplement or formula available for her. At night she cries."
Fatuma Ally, a 21-year-old Somalian who is five months pregnant and also has other children to feed, says food has been a major source of anxiety for her.
"The same food is given every single day at the same time, but now I myself am like a small baby here. I must wait for things to be given to me. I can't ask."
Sometimes, she manages to cook extra food for herself and her children using a small two-plate stove which she plugs into the electricity supply.
She says she knows this isn't allowed but she can't bear to let her children go hungry.
Despite fleeing the catastrophic problems of her native land, she says she would go back in a heartbeat now if only she could.
"I stayed in Khayelitsha before the attacks," she explains, "and I used to run a little informal shop. My children were being educated. When the attacks came, they stole everything I owned so now I am someone who has nothing, and my children aren't being educated anymore.
Being back in that community would be useless for me. Being in this refugee camp is also not a way for me to live.
There is fighting in Somalia, but it is my home and if I had the money I would go back there tomorrow."
She says everything here is a challenge - from changing out of your clothes in privacy, to falling asleep at night, to getting medical attention.
So far she has had no check-ups for herself or the unborn child.
"Of course, I also worry about catching illness and disease here, but I have no choice. I have nowhere else to go," she says.
And, when she thinks ahead to four months time, she is filled with despair.
"I will still be living here, and my baby will arrive, and I will still have no choices for my own life," she says.
But all she can do is try deal with today, so she twirls some spaghetti around a fork and calls her children to come and eat.