When governance becomes a guessing game

AS ORDINARY residents of Kimberley, we do not sit in council chambers, legal offices or boardrooms. We experience Sol Plaatje Municipality not through official letters or legal arguments, but through dry taps, sewage in the streets, power interruptions and the daily frustration of trying to get basic services to work. That is why the unfolding situation around the suspension and attempted return of the municipal manager is deeply unsettling – not because of personalities or politics, but because of the confusion it creates for the people who live here.

At the heart of this issue is a simple question that many residents are asking: Who is actually in charge, and on what legal basis? Unfortunately, that question has not been clearly or convincingly answered.

For months, the municipality has operated under a cloud of uncertainty. A municipal manager was placed on precautionary suspension. Allegations were mentioned, but details were scarce. A criminal case was reportedly registered. Yet, months later, there appears to be no visible progress, no publicly communicated timelines, and no clear explanation of where the process stands. To the ordinary citizen, this looks less like due process and more like paralysis.

When the suspended municipal manager reported for duty again this week – only to find himself locked out of his office – the situation tipped from concerning into outright bewildering. Was the suspension over, or was it not? Had it lawfully lapsed, or had it been extended? Who authorised the lock change? Who instructed that he should leave the premises on Monday? Who has the authority to make these calls? These are not technical legal curiosities; they go to the core of whether this municipality is being governed in an orderly, lawful and transparent manner.

The presence of police vehicles at the municipal offices only deepens public unease. Municipal buildings should not resemble sites of confrontation. When SAPS vehicles are deployed at a place meant to manage public services, it signals dysfunction – and citizens notice.

For residents, the most troubling aspect is not which legal argument is stronger or which political faction feels aggrieved. It is the sense that governance has become opaque and reactive, rather than deliberate and accountable. When processes are unclear, trust erodes. When trust erodes, legitimacy suffers.

Equally worrying is the silence. Civil society organisations have written letters asking for clarity. Residents talk, speculate and worry. Yet official communication remains slow, vague or entirely absent. In the absence of facts, rumours flourish – and that is never healthy for a community already strained by service delivery failures.

Ordinary people do not expect perfection from local government. We also understand that investigations take time and that legal processes must be followed. But we do expect honesty, consistency and transparency. If allegations are serious enough to warrant suspension, then they are serious enough to be concluded without endless delay. If there is no case, then that too should be stated clearly and backed by evidence. What cannot be justified is a prolonged state of limbo.

There is also genuine concern about continuity. Kimberley faces serious infrastructure challenges. Water supply remains fragile. Sewage spillages affect health and dignity. Major infrastructure projects involve vast sums of public money. When leadership is unstable or contested, projects stall, oversight weakens, and the risk of mismanagement grows. Residents cannot afford a leadership vacuum while billions of rand are at stake.

The debate around acting appointments and extended contracts further complicates matters. To the public, it appears that decisions are being made without proper explanation or visible council resolutions. Whether this perception is accurate or not, it persists because information is not being proactively shared. Transparency is not just about legality; it is about perception and confidence.

Most citizens are not lawyers. We do not parse legislation late at night or argue procedural nuance. What we see is chaos where there should be order. What we feel is uncertainty where there should be assurance. And what we fear is that while leaders argue, ordinary people will once again pay the price.

This situation has become a mirror reflecting deeper problems within local governance: weak communication, blurred accountability, and a failure to treat the public as stakeholders deserving of clarity. It is not enough to promise a response “in due course”. The time for due course has passed.

What Kimberley needs now is not spin, blame-shifting or silence. It needs a clear, factual account of what has happened, what is happening, and what will happen next – with dates, processes and responsibilities laid out plainly. It needs leadership that understands that governance is not an internal game, but a public trust.

Until that happens, residents will continue to ask the same uneasy question: if those entrusted to run the city cannot even agree on who may enter an office, how can they be trusted to run a municipality?

And that, more than any individual dispute, is what should concern us all.