As Thokoza residents who’d had their shacks demolished shivered in the rain, the new mayor of the area threw his second inauguration party
Thuli Nhlapo
It was raining last weekend when the Greater East Rand Metro mayor Bamvumile Vilakazi was inaugurated at a glamorous celebration at the Kopanong hotel in Benoni. In African culture, they say the rain signals blessings from happy ancestors.
Because his name is Bamvumile, (“they have agreed”), it could be assumed everybody at the council, renamed the Ekurhuleni Metropolitan Council (the Tsonga name means “the place of peace”) agreed to spend R400?000 on the party.
Traffic officers directed guests to the parking bays at the hotel. One luxury car after another pulled into the hotel, offloading mainly African National Congress officials. Ordinary residents of Ekurhuleni were bused to Barnard stadium in Kempton Park earlier in the day for their part of the celebration.
As the rain sobbed heavily down, one could not help but think of squatters in nearby Thokoza whose homes were demolished by the council just a few days earlier. In the shivering night air, the little glasses of what smelled like extremely expensive whisky being offered to guests arriving at the banquet would perhaps have warmed several fingers and toes in Thokoza.
This was no cheap suit and A-line black dress affair the room was ripe for the society pages. With so-called traditional dress de rigueur at nearly every function these days, the room was peppered liberally with modern touched-up Xhosa, Ndebele and Venda dress, and the occasional sari. The tell-tale thickened edges around the hems indicated that many a dress was hot off the dressmaker’s machine.
A diamond bracelet here and a Fendi bag there ensured that no improper connections would be made between the wearers and the less sophisticated. Female guests stood around, not too far from the lone photographer, just in case he wanted their image for a newspaper. Only one enterprising husband, sporting a shirt that matched his wife’s dress, was in any form of traditional dress; the rest were in dark suits.
Waiting for the mayor to arrive was almost like waiting at a church for a bride in a wedding ceremony. And like a bride, he did not disappoint: an entourage of eight Benoni central policing unit cars ushered the mayor and the mayoress to their celebration of themselves. The cars had to stop right before the entrance, perhaps to protect the couple from being soaked like the squatters down the road.
A short man with a pot-belly first came into the banquet hall to inspect the room before the mayor could walk in. That was the chief bodyguard. Seven more clean-shaven men in long designer jackets and square-toed shoes followed. Those were also bodyguards.
Even though the mayor of Tshwane, Father Smangaliso Mkhatshwa, former Gauteng premier Mathole Motshekga and Minister of Arts, Culture, Science and Technology Ben Ngubane were already helping themselves to starters in the banquet room with no bodyguards Vilakazi was whisked away to a special room.
He could not have been polishing his long, boring speech in the special room because waitresses came in and out with bottles of wine and plates of smoked salmon.
After what seemed like a century, the mayor emerged, still surrounded by bored bodyguards who kept themselves busy by pushing people out of the way of their charge.
Vilakazi’s speech was about “people-centred and developmental local government”, but he forgot to mention that more than 500 Thokoza Unit F residents had their shacks bulldozed and their belongings taken away by the private security company, Wozani.
His guests applauded when the mayor said he stopped inhumane and insensitive acts “like cutting electricity for our people” in the place of peace.
Because the mayor’s speech was long and predictable, and because there was plenty of free booze, a drunk man sitting at table 25 with Motshekga spoke out loudly about “them saying one thing every time”.
If the sour cream and salmon starter did not leave a bitter taste in the mouth, an altercation during the mayor’s speech would have done it. When a lone, red-faced white man, obviously drunk, began making rather disparaging remarks to himself, but loudly about the charismatically challenged speech, the bodyguards, standing at the back of the hall, moved in.
In a manoeuvre reminiscent of an American testosterone movie, in one quick swoop they surrounded the man, swivelled his chair around and yanked him out of the room.
In the reception lobby there were strong racial undertones as the man was shoved around by the bodyguards to the delight of a nearby photographer, who was happily snapping away. This agitated one of the heavies, who threatened to confiscate his film.
Eventually, the man was sent sprawling on to the marble floor, landing near the potato salad and chicken livers.
The mayor must love parties this was his second inaugural ceremony. He had a party in December, but a representative of the council said the catered affair was “a normal practice for a council meeting”.
The Democratic Alliance boycotted the party on Friday, saying Ekurhuleni’s finance committee had already proposed to borrow R100-million, of which R26-million would cover its operating deficit.
The mayor has not yet restored peace to the place of peace. Residents at the informal settlement are still waiting to get their belongings back.
While the mayor was protected from the rain, the “poor people” he kept on referring to in his speech were waiting for a good Samaritan to donate tents to them because they are still homeless.
Additional reporting by Khadija Magardie