How SA’s leaders fail people
Leading up to the elections, political parties will come bearing T-shirts as usual and a plastic bag with about four items and they call it a parcel – guaranteed.
In the era of digital information, our political landscape is no longer confined to town halls and televised debates. The digital revolution has steered in a new era of campaigning, in this landscape, tweets carry as much influence as stump speeches and viral videos have the power to shape electoral outcomes.
Social media, once a tool used for sharing memes and holiday snapshots, has now become a force in influencing political decisions. It has altered how candidates connect with voters on the ground and manage their campaign.
In less than 50 days, South Africans will stand in queues to cast their votes with hopes that the party they vote for will heed their silent whispers longing for change.
As I prepare to stand in that queue, I can’t help but notice the absence of our supposed leaders in Orange Farm, my hometown.
The first thing that welcomes you when you enter the township apart from the welcome board is a road full of potholes and water.
For the past four to five years, many extensions in Orange Farm, including mine (Extension 3), have been without electricity due to a transformer explosion in 2020.
The lack of basic amenities like electricity has forced families to adapt their lifestyles. Gas stoves, paraffin and coal have become necessities, while only a privileged few can afford solar energy.
The unemployment rate further aggravates the challenges faced by our community.
I am going to be realistic; there are people who can’t afford to buy a litre of paraffin. They depend on social grants and, for heaven’s sake, they can’t even watch television to see a glimpse of their leaders blowing hot air as usual.
They aren’t affected by load shedding because the dark has become a norm – a pandemic.
Candles tend to run out of stock because that’s how bad things have been.
Moreover, these challenges are merely the tip of the iceberg.
Most people in Orange Farm don’t have social media; our parents don’t have social media to see their leaders campaigning or, rather, see them living their best life on holidays, which creates a barrier between politicians and the people they serve.
I can guarantee you that in Orange Farm, leading up to the elections, political parties will come bearing T-shirts as usual and a plastic bag with about four items and they call it a parcel.
As they hand over those parcels, they will take our grandmothers’ pictures and videos for their Instagram and X, stripping them off their last shreds of dignity.
Oh, and they will do their signature move of holding their fist high and screaming “the time is now fellow South Africans”.
They will pretend to be humble while they listen to our people’s daily struggles and nod their head in agreement as if they truly empathise.
All that is just an act for their thousands of followers and the like button.
But what they truly hide when they post those pictures and videos are the disappointed faces.
They don’t show those potholes and sewage on the streets.
They don’t show those dry taps and they won’t even include there’s no electricity as they write those long captions.
They will get into their fancy cars and, as they drive off, they will begin to select pictures to post and debate on which video to post.
They leave behind people who go back to their dark homes – to a reality which questions if this is really the country they envisioned 30 years into democracy.