Houses handed over, and a virtual vox pop

By Phakamisa Mayaba

On 19 September, Colesberg’s Umsobomvu Local Municipality handed over eight RDP houses to lucky residents, igniting an immediate backlash on social media. Launched in 2006 as a pioneering Thabo Mbeki presidential project, the Ou Boks project was aimed at relocating some beneficiaries from Ou Boks – the town’s oldest township – thereby making way for an ambitious infrastructure initiative, which has since turned into a white elephant and an indictment of local governance.

Work began on 80 houses, but the project gradually fell apart, and the partly built houses turned into gutted shells, serving as dope dens or as shelters for vagrants, teenage delinquents and truants. After much consternation and dissatisfaction among residents spanning almost a decade, it was announced that 50 new homes were being built. This while plots of land were made available to Colesberg residents at a reduced cost.

By most indications, this was meant to counter the pervasive accusations of inefficiency and alleged corruption dogging the municipality’s handling of the project, and to send the message that the powers that be were finally listening to the people. In December 2022, then Minister of Human Settlements, Mmamoloko Kubayi, visited the town, in the company of prominent local and provincial suits.

At an imbizo held in the Riemvasmaak Stadium, they fielded a barrage of questions from disgruntled residents, some of whom were still waiting for new homes. Others openly accused the municipality of underhanded dealings in managing the project. The minister promised to return to the town and see to it personally that deserving beneficiaries finally received their homes. (This never happened — in December 2024, in the latest scandal-prompted cabinet reshuffle, she was rotated to Justice and Constitutional Development, and her successor has not yet turned up.) In any event, work on the 50 new homes began soon after Kubayi’s visit.

It is against this backdrop that the municipality’s social media post about the handing over of the eight houses got tongues wagging. The municipality’s Facebook page mostly attracts likes, but this time, residents have commented in quite severe terms about the allocation.

One resident, Sizwe Tyebela, comments  that since 1997 when he first applied for a house, he has seen many of his fellow applicants receiving homes, only to resell them.

Mar Katise says he applied in 2005, and is still waiting. He goes on to claim that the ruling ANC at the municipality places a tight leash on jobs, and that he has lost all hope of getting one.

Siyolise Mtshiselwa says her husband was an anti-apartheid activist who died with the wounds of his activism all over his body. He applied for a house many years ago, but now that he’s passed on, she is told the application is no longer valid. What about her and the kids he left behind?

Mina Pieterse says that youngsters and people who already own homes in the township are notheless getting homes, with Vanyha Lutchmea adding that she feels unseen in all of this.

Although mostly displeased, there were a few words of congratulations, with Olwethu Madikane congratulating the beneficiaries and expressing hope that others will perhaps also be given homes in the future.

This piece has been inspired by the purist argument that social media has created a lazy form of journalism – in other words, that it allows reporters to merely reproduce online comment rather than going out to where the story is and talking to people.

However, what is quite clear is that with the local government elections due next year, this Karoo municipality finds itself haunted by the same issues confronting its counterparts elsewhere in the country. Demands for decent housing and equal access to good services remains at the heart of the public discourse about local government.

Moreover, there is a desire for local governments to recognise all people and deal with them on an equal basese, regardless of race or political affiliation. This may explain why the Umsobomvu Residents Association (URA) now occupies four seats in the local council, which has historically been dominated by the ANC.

Colesberg residents protesting outside the Umsobomvu Municipality in July. Image: Phakamisa Mayaba.

Or why, in July this year, the town was almost totally shut down when the local EFF branch protested against the municipality cutting off electricity supplies to residents in the mostly Coloured township of Lowryville who were failing to pay their municipal rates. They claimed that a resident had died because he couldn’t use his electric respirator. They were also demanding prepaid meter boxes from Eskom instead of those supplied by the municipality.

The unspoken accusations of preferential treatment for the African residents of Kuyasa versus their Coloured cousins in Lowryville were hard to ignore. And the numbers, mobilised by an EFF seemingly making growing inroads in the town, were large enough to frighten local businesses into closing up shop for the day.

So, is it lazy journalism to base reports on social media? Given all the unanswered emails, phone calls that end ‘with I’ll get back to you’, and what appears to be a culture of aversion to the media that I’ve encountered in various government departments, the answer is a definite no. Whether the story is about innocuous, non-political yet important social issues like fetal alcohol syndrome or education, nobody in government wants to talk, not even off the record.

Those who do seem open to it first need to call a higher-up, after which the response is that I should should talk to someone at the provincial department. From there, the process is predictable; going down the labyrinth of the switchboard operator; being put through to endlessly ringing phones; sometimes getting through to a spokesperson and getting his or her email address; sending a list of questions; and then … dead silence.

For a freelancer, this means there’s no story, and therefore no pay either – a rather common problem, I hear from colleagues at various other publications. So much so that another writer recently put up a heady, scathing thumb-lashing on her Facebook page, basically telling these bigwigs that their attitude sucks. So, when all else has failed, what else can one do except scroll through the comment sections on government entities’ social media pages?

As with Colesberg’s housing problems, people who do comment often do so under a psudeonym, because much like wearing the wrong political colours, saying too much might mean kissing your chances of ever landing a local job goodbye.

What is clear, though, is that many people no longer seem to care. After years of waiting for houses, of better services, they seem to feel they have nothing to lose. With the local government elections looming, this should worry those who ignore the voices on the streets. Or, in this case, on social media.

Featured Image: A Colesberg resident receives an RDP house. Image: Umsobomvu Local Municipality Facebook page.