Generating scandal
The town that Eskom built
DRUG dealing and prostitution were not part of the quiet bushveld town of Lephalale. Then, along came Eskom. Throw in allegations of corruption and it completes the picture of a place 12km from what is to be the world’s fourth-largest coalfired power station.
The daytime sprawl of fast-food franchises, new chain stores and semi-completed main roads takes on a new persona at night.
At one of several well-attended bars, a new acquaintance orders a gram of cat — the illegal recreational drug methcathinone — which is delivered 20 minutes later. Cocaine is also available, he tells me, but the quality is not great.
Later in the evening, we drive down one of the town’s darker roads. It is lined with trucks and among them are several prostitutes. It is not just at night, he says, and it is not just truck drivers. Construction company managers are some of the biggest customers and it has become so commonplace that few bother to conceal it.
The rate of HIV/Aids has soared, he tells me. It is an observation repeated by several other residents. There is not a lot of entertainment other than getting drunk and having sex. The spate of strikes has amplified the boredom. Movie houses have not arrived yet; restaurants are of the fast-food variety and few of the newcomers have family with them. The construction workers, mostly men, make up an artificial society with none of the rhythms of home.
Workers at different levels of the hierarchy claim at different times that kickbacks, bribery and fraud are standard procedures among contractors and subcontractors. They tell stories of unskilled workers being hired while contractors are Five years into the project, the road is still under construction.
Although safety is a theme running through the Medupi site, getting around a urine test for drugs or alcohol is as easy as handing over a
The construction workers, mostly men, make up an artificial society with none of the rhythms of home
charged rates for skilled artisans.
Nonexistent checks and controls mean subcontractors can charge contracting companies for work carried out by nonexistent artisans.
Workers also say that millions of rands have been spent fixing trucks damaged by the pot-holed road heading to the power station site. R50 note. One man said it had worked for him and a group of men who call in to order the drugs they will need for the next few days while they are off duty.
In theory, access to Medupi is tightly controlled. In practice, anyone can sneak into the site — even journalists seeking to find out what is going on inside a project worth R20billion.
But official entry is bedevilled by delays, glitches — and unforeseen trouble.
As we drive around the monumental half-built structures of Medupi, a field radio belonging to one of the staff picks up conversations between safety officers around the site.
National Union of Metalworkers members who gathered in the mess hall for a meeting are starting to come out — and they are looking angry.
Over the radio, myriad accents — Afrikaans, Pedi, British and European, possibly German — give regular updates on what they are seeing on their side of the site.
The frequency increases as the gathered workers begin to look more militant and angry.
Riot police with batons and Perspex shields appear as if from nowhere, taking up position at strategic points.
When the call comes to evacuate, rivers of uniformed workers begin running past our bakkie, heading for the designated exit points, where they will be picked up and transported to town.
The tension is palpable in the vehicle and the driver heads for the nearest gate to whisk us back to the relative safety of town.
The official word from Eskom is that Medupi’s construction is going smoothly. But the reality on the ground — of strikes, a discontented workforce and workers trading favours — tells another story.