Dudula means to remove something by force in the Zulu language.
On a cool, spring Thursday morning, Sicelokuhle Moyo, dressed in a blue-and-beige skirt, thick windbreaker, and a black headwrap, set out early for the clinic.
The Zimbabwean, who has lived in South Africa since 2006, was going there, as she often did, to collect her medication for a chronic condition. But this time, when she reached the gate, things were different.
I said that I had a passport. They said, they don't take passports. They want IDs only, Ms Moyo said, hiding her frustration behind a polite smile.
Anyone unable to produce a South African ID book was turned away.
Slowly walking from the entrance, Ms Moyo joined a group of women by the roadside, young children tied to their backs, waiting with uncertainty for what would happen next.
Tendai Musvava, a woman in her 40s, faced the same fate. I was standing in the queue and then they said, they [only] need some people with IDs. Me, I don't have an ID. I have a passport, I am from Mozambique. So, I can't get my medication because I don't have an ID, she said.
Ms Musvava, dressed in a bright orange winter jumper and a white hat, appeared despondent.
I just feel like they do what they want because it's their country. I don't have a say. For now I have to follow whatever they say. I don't have a choice.
South Africa is home to about 2.4 million migrants, just less than 4% of the population. Xenophobia has long been an issue, and the anti-migrant sentiment has become a key political talking point.
Ms Musvava is now looking for alternatives. Despite her meager resources, she is considering going to the private sector for care.