Opinion

Sol Plaatje’s crisis of competence laid bare

OPINION

Opinion|Published

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Image: Sandi Kwon Hoo / File picture

By Monty Quill

YOU COULD almost hear the collective sigh from the South African Human Rights Commission (SAHRC) as they listened to Sol Plaatje Municipality officials explaining, yet again, why Kimberley’s residents are living in sewage and sipping on promises. If it weren’t for the smell of failure wafting through the chambers, the inquiry might have passed for a comedy show — complete with punchlines, plot twists, and a cast of characters convinced that “acting” is a management strategy.

The commissioners, to their credit, did not laugh. They sat through the performance like weary parents at a school play that’s gone on far too long. One commissioner delivered his lines with the precision of a man who has run out of patience and adjectives. “Good grief,” he exclaimed, in a tone that suggested he’d stumbled into an episode of Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Excuses. “Nothing is being done while people are living like animals. This is an absolute embarrassment.”

It was less a hearing than a public dressing-down — a verbal high-pressure wash aimed at layers of grime that have built up over years of neglect. The Sol Plaatje Municipality, once again, stood accused of doing what it does best: explaining, deflecting, and replacing managers as though leadership were a revolving door at a department store.

The temporary acting municipal manager — standing in for the acting municipal manager — gamely “stepped in” to explain the situation. It was the administrative equivalent of a substitute teacher deputising for another substitute teacher while the principal is away on a course about accountability. By the time the chain of command was explained, the audience wasn’t sure whether to applaud the commitment to continuity or weep at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Meanwhile, Kimberley’s pipes — those faithful veterans of municipal inaction — are collapsing under the strain of decades of disinterest. The executive director of Infrastructure, with commendable calm, admitted that the city’s asbestos network is falling apart. But fear not, dear residents: there’s a plan! A plan to apply for funds to commission a study to possibly plan another plan — one that may eventually lead to replacing something, somewhere, someday.

At this point, a commissioner leaned forward and asked a question that should be framed and hung in the council chamber: “Would you allow your family members to live like the residents of Platfontein and White City?” The silence that followed spoke louder than any broken water pump ever has. It was the kind of silence you get when people suddenly remember they have job titles but no actual answers.

And still, the show went on. There were earnest nods, solemn commitments, and promises to submit “a written report” — the bureaucrat’s version of a rain dance. Deadlines were set. October 10 for sewage, October 17 for excuses. Somewhere, a printer is already whirring.

Of course, none of this is new. Kimberley residents could have written this script years ago. They’ve lived through the monologues about “budget constraints”, the encore of “vandalism and theft”, and the ever-popular finale: “We are doing our best.” What makes this production special is the SAHRC’s willingness to call it what it is — a tragic farce where human rights are reduced to punchlines.

If there’s any comfort to be found, it’s in the commission’s bluntness. For once, someone in authority said what every resident has muttered under their breath while listening to taps cough up air: this is nonsense, and it’s unacceptable. One commissioner even suggested dissolving the council entirely — a radical idea in theory, but one that might finally clear the stage for something resembling competence.

Until then, the city remains caught in a loop of dysfunction — a comedy of errors that’s long stopped being funny. Water trucks roam the city like nomads, the sewage overflows have become familiar neighbours, and residents carry buckets with the resigned grace of people who know that “temporary” solutions tend to outlive mayors.

Kimberley, the City of Firsts, now risks being remembered for something else entirely: the city that turned failure into performance art. And while the SAHRC may not hand out trophies, if there were medals for creative failure, Sol Plaatje would sweep the podium.

But the truth, as always, isn’t funny. Behind the sarcasm and the soundbites lie streets soaked in neglect and communities stripped of dignity. There’s nothing comedic about a child wading through sewage or a pensioner waiting for water that never comes. And that’s the cruellest irony of all — that we must laugh to keep from crying, because the alternative is despair.

So yes, commissioners, good grief indeed. Kimberley deserves more than theatre. It deserves service delivery that doesn’t need an inquiry to remind officials of their humanity. Until that day comes, the city will keep applauding itself for collecting last week’s garbage — and the rest of us will keep holding our noses.

ALSO READ: Human Rights Commission blasts Sol Plaatje over service delivery 'collapse'

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