The Eastern Cape resembles a festering sore on the South African landscape, a lonely and abandoned province soaked in despair. As the republic faces an economic freefall, corruption runs rampant, a voracious monster devouring any shred of hope for improved public services. The people of the Eastern Cape are left to watch their dreams of a better life dissolve like a mirage, choked by the suffocating grip of corruption that drains the vitality from essential services.
By Themba Khumalo
The fight against corruption resembles a ludicrous charade devoid of genuine commitment or vigour. The so-called measures to deal effectively with this blight are nothing more than flimsy band-aids slapped on a gaping wound, while the country continues to swim in a toxic pool of poverty.
Even as a cacophony of flashy anti-corruption initiatives is thrown into the air like sparkling confetti at a dreary procession, the nation is trapped in a swamp of treachery and cunning. Stories of dubious dealings emerge with the relentless vigour of weeds in an abandoned garden, choking out any trace of integrity that dares to push through the suffocating soil of corruption.
Take a fleeting look at the Eastern Cape, a bleak expanse of the country where corruption and incompetence engage in a sinister tango, mercilessly snuffing out the last glimmers of hope for a better life. A few days ago, groundup.org.za published a story with the headline R70-million spent on four projects left unfinished in the Eastern Cape.
The Mhlontlo Local Municipality, a through-and-through black hole of accountability, has managed to squander R70 million on projects that now languish in a state of incompletion. The municipality’s refusal to provide a coherent explanation for this debacle is as infuriating as it is predictable.
Among the casualties of this administrative malaise are a vehicle testing centre and three sports fields, which have become mere figments of what could have been.
The Tsolo sports field project, which kicked off in October 2018 with a budget of R27 million, has been left in limbo since 2020, a shimmering example of how dreams and ambition can be stifled by incompetence.
Mamela Mangcotywa, the spokesperson for the municipality, told GroundUp that the contract was terminated in March 2021, a decision made with all the poise of a drunken elephant on roller skates.
Fast forward to November 2023, and a new contractor was appointed, with a revised completion date of December 2024 and a budget of R16 million. One can only wonder if this figure is merely a cherry on top of the already outrageous R27 million that has already been squandered.
Meanwhile, the project is stuck in a web of bureaucratic ambiguity as the municipality embarks on yet another internal investigation, because what could possibly be more effective than a good old-fashioned bureaucratic delay?
In Qumbu, a grandiose R18-million sports field project kicked off in 2020, only to be snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane by October 2021, thanks to a parade of blunders that would make even the most incompetent circus clowns blush. GroundUp‘s reportage reveals a graveyard of uncompleted facilities: toilets that are figments of a delirious imagination, a hall that stands as a monument to apathy, and changing rooms that are a cruel joke upon the community.
As if that weren’t enough, the ceilings in some buildings are collapsing, as if they are bowing under the weight of this ludicrous farce.
Raise your glasses high for the R22-million sports field initiative in Mvumelwano village, which kicked off in August 2017! The villagers, bless their hearts, are left to grapple with a patchy assortment of facilities: the grandstand, netball, and basketball courts are all there, yet the synthetic running track is another mere figment of imagination, and the soccer field is a dismal reminder of dreams deferred. A true testament to the art of modern-day blundering!
Tucked away near the N2, just a hair’s breadth from the Tsolo turnoff stands a vehicle testing centre that appears to be wandering aimlessly through the wilderness of neglect. Since its grand unveiling in March 2022, it has become a monument to unfinished dreams, cloaked in a jungle of unruly foliage. Mangcotywa insisted that the first phase is wrapped up tighter than a drum, but all GroundUp could find was a forlorn fence, a patch of paving, and an overwhelming expanse of wild grass, mocking the very notion of progress.
Amid this grotesque spectacle of financial mismanagement, where millions of rands are squandered with the grace of a drunken clown at a funeral, the idea of punishment is as elusive as a mirage in the desert. The empty rhetoric surrounding investigations is nothing but a cynical ploy, a public relations gimmick that slaps the poor with a toxic dose of disdain.
What a splendid ritual we have here!
When state money is flung around like confetti at a parade, the only thing that faces the music is the very notion of justice. Any punishment that dares to rear its head is nothing more than a thinly veiled reward, a cruel joke played on the unsuspecting public. I’d stake my putrid, ragged cap that the law won’t rain down like a hailstorm of fury on these bumbling, thieving fools; they’ll continue their reckless escapades, basking in the glow of their unearned immunity.
In a setting where the consequences for transgressions are as muted as a whisper in a storm, corruption and fraud breed like cockroaches in a filthy crevice. The citizens of this country can no longer simply stand by as the lifeblood meant for its populace is ruthlessly drained by the avaricious and corrupt.
Let’s not deceive ourselves; corruption in the public sector is a vile act of thievery against the most vulnerable.
Funds that should be invested in dismantling poverty, addressing inequality, and fostering community growth are instead being hoarded by the corrupt elite. To make matters even more grotesque, these miscreants flaunt their plundered wealth like trophies, showing a shocking lack of empathy for the struggles of those they’ve left in the dust.