Just as a major police intervention was being rolled out across various parts of the country, June 30 came a day early in Colesberg. Kuyasa residents woke up to locked spazas on the 29th. The impact was immediate, and all those reasons the pro-immigration fringe have been throwing around to justify why the #Mabahambe rallying cry might not be the right way to go about ‘fixing the country’ would’ve prompted some to smell the coffee.
Except there were none of those ‘bulk-breaking’ R2 coffees that come in handy when – as the local parlance goes – the month is ‘lopsided’ and the salaries and grants are still a few days away. None of the low-priced sugar, or the R1 cigarettes – no paraffin, electricity or airtime. Sure, one could always turn to the regular grocers. But they are in town, a gruelling walk for the elderly, if easier if you know someone with a car or can fork out the R40 round-trip taxi fare.
Also, at least as far as cigarettes go, none of the cheaper brands sold in numbers at the spazas are available at the retailers. As reported previously, the Covid lockdown was exactly the breeding ground needed by underground syndicates to flood and ultimately penetrate the market with their contraband cigarettes and other goods. Years later, they have cornered a massive chunk of the market.
Closed for business … a spaza shop in Kuyasa Township on 30 June. Image: eParkeni.
Moreover, it is quite evident that the foreign-owned spazas have done the groundwork and are attuned to the specific needs of the communities in which they operate. A woman who brews a popular alcoholic concoction at her home was particularly upset about the unexpected closures. Yes, she could source the yeast that is necessary for her ‘ginger beer’ in town, but it would be small and more expensive compared to the amounts she gets at the spaza. Moreover, by comparison, the yeast at the spaza is also better suited to her unique hustle than the brands available at retailers which, she says, are mostly good for baking.
Although there had been at least one alarming incident in the course of the month, it didn’t look like it might culminate in ‘revolt’ or a purge. These problems, it seemed, were mostly a concern in far-off places. Here, in die platteland, it was business as usual, and the townsfolk were getting on with their normal lives.
Until, that is, an incident at a local primary school around 9 June. A learner allegedly discovered unusual items that looked like pills in a bag of chips she had bought at one of the local spazas. This was enough to rile the local community to the point where they asked the police to intervene and close all the spaza shops, ostensibly as a security measure. This eventually resulted in a rapidly organised community meeting, with foreign nationals invited to attend.
The trigger might have been the ‘chips incident’, but community members had long expressed their dissatisfaction about the the spaza operators’ markups on electricity and airtime, and also vented this at the meeting. In response, the foreign nationals said the prepaid machines that dispensed the vouchers had been purchased by themselves, so it was only fair that they should be allowed to recoup their capital outlays.
The meeting seemed to produce some kind of mutual understanding. But the following day, people began to complain on social media that spaza owners were suddenly claiming to be out of electricity. The pressing questions were: why now? Why had virtually all of the spazas suddenly run out? Was this a power move, as if to say: If you don’t want to pay our margins, then we’re not going to sell to you at all?
Be that as it may, on the 29th and 30th, regular retailers were way busier than usual, and local drinking joints were selling far more cigarettes.
More broadly, this chain of events seems to underline that, while relations between ordinary Kuyasa residents and foreign nationals are generally cordial, there seems to be a lack of genuine or deeper understanding between them. Their relationships are mostly constructed around the laws of economy rather than those of sociology.
The one is a producer, the other a consumer, and there is nothing wrong with that except when the former starts to cut corners in the name of making a quick buck, and latter goes along with it only because it saves him money. Selling illegal products and flouting health, hygiene and food safety regulations have downsides that could eventually catch up with everybody.
Even to the untrained eye, these seemingly minor infractions seem to indicate – at the least — the need for a higher level of compliance with local laws and regulations, and for locals to stop going along with these infractions, only to scream ‘habahambe’ when the kids start falling ill.
Featured image: Police keeping a watchful eye in Colesberg on 30 June. All images: eParkeni.
This is an edited version of an article that first appeared on Phakamisa Mayaba’s website, eParkeni. Used with permission.