A-changing times in a Karoo town

A farmer in a thrift shop checkered shirt and kortbroek is standing at a cant at a petrol pump next to an overall-clad shopfloor worker.

Says one: ‘Malema is the best.’

‘Ag,’ scoffs the other, ‘that guy comes into power and this [pointing at the R36/litre fuel indicator] will be R100 by Christmas.’

‘Nee, no, that man will change things,’ says the other, placing a great deal of emphasis on the word.

And so goes the exchange. Each sticking closely to his guns and unwilling to back down especially now that there’s an audience (which, to be fair, might have left the agricultural man feeling a tad outnumbered) of people in cars listening in. Tank full, farmer hops onto the bakkie, asserts his last doctrinaires and off he goes whilst the worker returns to manning his post.

In most places, it’s probably nothing much, but here in the Karoo – where the caricature of the farmer was often of a gruff, bulky Boer whose politics were hardline conservative, segregationist and the kind that didn’t take kindly to anyone who saw things differently. Now, here such a man stood on a balmy afternoon having a cordial discussion with somebody of a different ideological persuasion and each man freely expressed his mind.

In nearby Kuyasa Township the sands are also clearly shifting. Once an ANC stronghold through and through, the poles from which councillor candidates are hung, point to something that has been taking hold for a while. There are ANC candidates, obviously. But there is also a strong EFF presence that has been taking root in recent years and, quite surprisingly, previously obscure parties like ActionSA have also turned up to put up a few posters. For the establishment, this is an irritation. For the community, it speaks to several realities.

For the longest time, the ANC down here went about virtually unchallenged in black African communities. Not only did they run the show but they were also seen to be the custodians to economic prosperity as well. If you wanted employment, you ingratiated yourself with the bigwigs. You attended the gatherings, posted favourably on social media and made sure you ran in the opposite direction of any disgruntled individuals who spoke ill of the organisation and its leadership.

Even menial employment – traditionally determined by randomly picking shuffled identity documents from a box – started showing signs of a political agenda. ‘Lists’ and ‘databases’ of people supposedly most deserving of RDP housing or jobs started creeping up. The same names started being recycled to jobs or benefiting from public initiatives. The community noticed the unfairness, started complaining and when it seemed their dissatisfaction not being taken seriously, they took to the streets and began burning things.

Lowryville residents during a protest at Colesberg’s Umsobomvu Municipality. Image: eparkeni.

Funds also started materialising towards the establishment of at least one residents’ association that would not only go on to challenge ANC hegemony at the polls but bagged a few seats in Council while they were at it. In many ways this was a critical point in the small town’s politics: it was a wake-up call to the powers that be and also quite considerably reaffirmed to the community that there is indeed power in numbers. Within the ANC, dissent arose, with community members sometimes voting for their own council candidates and outrightly rejecting those who’d been suggested by the organisation. This was by no means an indication of the party’s downfall, but it did signify the beginning of something that the ANC simply could no longer control.

In the townships of Riemvasmaak and Lowryville, both the ANC and DA have discovered stiff competition in the Patriotic Alliance. Posters of Gayton Mckenzie’s outfit feature prominently here, with several candidates contesting several wards. His schtik of being the voice of Coloured people – who were not white enough during apartheid and not black enough in democracy – appears to have found resonance in this community that has itself been at the forefront of several protests in recent years.

In town, the DA’s Johan Matthee has been seen posting videos of sewage spills and leading his party’s campaign. Despite his best efforts, however, the party is struggling to establish a meaningful foothold outside of the traditional ‘town.’ This could be attributed to old tropes and way of life that just refuse to go away. Leaving the ANC for, let’s say, the EFF is one thing. But going the way of either the IFP or DA might see you reminded of the political violence of the early 90’s in Kwa-Zulu Natal or snide references of being a baasboy.

The brothers Bhuka embody the different political loyalties even amongst family. Image: eparkeni.

But if there’s one thing that aptly describes the current situation in Colesberg it’s that there is no such thing as permanent enemies – and by definition, friends – in politics. We have seen prominent local faces changing party colours or reuniting with erstwhile comrades. Here, like elsewhere I suppose, politics has unashamedly become a game of thrones. No permanent loyalties but a perpetual desire to rise above the ranks so as to pay the bills and get close to those who are calling the shots.

Ideology and principles are dead and in their place stands good old human survival. It is disheartening to watch especially because of the spirit of selflessness that once prevailed with the anti-apartheid youth of the 80’s which culminated in the death of at least four of them. Whatever they once stood for is hard to pick up in the manner in which things are happening now.

For the ordinary resident, it’s all just a matter of voting for the party that will allow equal opportunity to all. The general sentiment is that the gatekeeping that has become synonymous with the ANC must be dismantled, hence the gradual emergence of alternative affiliation. Talk to the grassroots and they will go on about how the long wait for economic improvement in their lives has just been too long. They speak of dreams deferred and a leadership that is simply deaf to cries of the common man. On 4 October, Colesberg will be voting for pretty much the same things as voters anywhere else: service delivery, housing, jobs but perhaps most importantly, they will be voting for change. In their lives and those of their children.

Featured image: A voting awareness campaign by the KZN Government. Source: KZN Online

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