SA’s poor, disenfranchised and marginalised communities are dying to be heard and seen. The public hearings on land expropriation have exposed the frustration, anger and pain endured for decades by these groups of mostly black and unemployed people living in squalor.
At the Limpopo hearings two weeks ago, old and young people rose to share their views not only on the proposed legislation change but also on the general lack of empathy by politicians and government officials to their plight. They expressed gratitude to the joint parliamentary constitutional review committee’s efforts to include their submissions.
But at the core of the appreciation was the fact that other than during electioneering, not a single official had bothered to engage them on their state of being.
Some blasted local government authorities for not consulting them on key issues such as lack of water, lack of proper sanitation facilities and lack of access to empowerment opportunities. Some wondered how their municipalities even formulated integrated development plans when they had never consulted citizens.
Traditional leaders and officials from the Department of Mineral Resources had little regard for them when agreeing on mining licences
The people came from mostly rural communities in one of the country’s poorest provinces. Despite the thriving mining and agricultural sectors in the Sekhukhune and Waterberg regions, the residents had no good stories to tell about how these activities had affected their lives.
Instead, they spoke of the horrors of being forcefully removed from their ancestral lands, leaving behind graves and other monuments central to their cultural observances.
Traditional leaders and officials from the Department of Mineral Resources had little regard for them when agreeing on mining licences, they lamented. The high-level panel led by former president Kgalema Motlanthe had already recorded this reality, stating that mining has led to land dispossession and loss of livelihoods, with no real benefits for mine-hosting communities.
The report further said: "Hundreds of millions of rand paid over to traditional councils by mining houses have not been accounted for."
Far from the big city lights, where most of their leaders — including chiefs — hide out in opulence, the residents explained that being at the bottom rung guarantees their exploitation and "disappearance".
"We only hear of rights, everyone keeps talking about our rights, but from where we sit, we are the forgotten ones," explained an elderly woman at Marble Hall.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she told members of the committee that her life was stuck due to the arrest of her mother and the deaths of her relatives, who had put up a formidable fight against mining developments. Community marches to local offices and to the Union Buildings had brought no solutions, because "no one cares about you when you are poor", she said in Sepedi.
While it was expected that the land issue would rouse deep and painful emotions, the platform offered more for those whose voices rarely ever count in the public discourse.
It was emphasised that land reform intersected with service delivery failures and unabated racism at the hands of white farmers, who employed most of the unskilled and uneducated masses in Limpopo.
On the provinces’ farms, black people said they were subjected to ruthless working conditions, with physical abuse and racial slurs the norm — experiences they hoped to someday wipe from their consciousness.
Activists have long warned of a ticking time bomb waiting to explode as a result of the abnormal inequality in the country.
If the sentiments of the poor, disenfranchised and marginalised are anything to go by, the bomb exploded long ago and there was no one present to hear and see its effects.
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