From his office window Cape Town, city manager Wallace Mgoqi sees the garage, a former parking lot, where he worked as a youth. And he still recalls the names of places like the White House Hotel in Cape Town where he worked as a “scullery boy”.
Today Mgoqi (53), a poet, an advocate, and a former land claims commissioner, is in charge of a budget of more than R9-billion in a city that claims the title “best tourism destination”. It also battles myriad problems such as gangsterism on the Cape Flats, sprawling informal settlements prone to flooding during winter and serious health concerns.
“The city must begin to open itself to all of its citizens,” he told the Mail & Guardian. “So that those who have been made to live, like myself, on the periphery of city life can begin to find space at the centre of city life and be nurtured by the prospects that the city offers.”
Mgoqi is from that other side, far from the white, sun-soaked beaches of Camps Bay and Clifton for which the city is internationally known.
In 1955 his family was forcibly removed from Goodwood to Nyanga-F17. They later lived in Guguletu while he attended school in Langa, one of Cape Town’s oldest townships. His wife of 33 years, Dolly, walked a similar path: she was born in District Six but her family was removed to Guguletu.
Better known for his work at the Land Claims Commission — where he became chief commissioner in 1999 and has been widely credited with substantially speeding up settlements — Mgoqi came looking for new challenges in Cape Town.
He was chosen from 86 applicants for the top city job. It changed hands three times in less than three years amid party political upheavals that saw the council change from the African National Congress to the Democratic Alliance in December 2000, only to return to an ANC-New National Party cooperative administration in December 2002 after the municipal defections.
Mgoqi is a team player and motivator, having carefully negotiated often-frustrating land restitutions.
“Wallace is not a person that people can be angry with,” said one.
While people say he is not politically street-hardened, he is politically aware. Among his strong points, says a former close associate, is that he does not become involved in cliques or feel threatened by professional competency.
Mgoqi has no qualms about doing battle, with his usual diplomacy, with those who are not enamoured with Cape Town’s new pro-poor direction.
“I know it’s not going to be a comfortable path to tread, especially on the part of powerful forces in the city who do not appreciate that there is something called enlightened self-interest. That enlightened self-interest says that in order to preserve yourself in the long term, be prepared to sacrifice something for others, so that they too do not pose a threat.”
His challenges as city manager are huge. The city battles with a services debt of R2,5-billion, of which just R300-million is owed by owners of houses valued below R100 000.
Housing, employment and crime, including gangsterism, were identified as the top three concerns — from the working class Kuils River and Lavender Hill to Imizamo Yethu settlement close to the millionaire’s mile of Hout Bay — during mayor NomaIndia Mfeketo’s recent listening campaign.
Of about 3,1-million residents in Cape Town, just 1,4-million are employed or looking for jobs, according to council statistics. A third of families regularly struggle to put food on the table. Hundreds of families still use the bucket system to remove sewage. In some areas refuse has not been collected for two years.
There is an estimated housing backlog of around a 250 000 homes. Discontent is brewing as people are moved from flood-prone areas and new low-cost housing projects spark community rivalry over who should be allowed to move in.
“The poor will not accept their condition indefinitely”, warns Mgoqi, insisting he wants to lay the foundation for a thriving city that accords dignity to all its residents, not merely run a series of publicity stunts.
By the end of the month the city will have a budget that establishes a R145-million indigent fund to help supply basic services to the poor and restructures rates and tariffs to give greater relief to those who consume little water and electricity.
For the first time the urban renewal areas of Mitchells Plain and Khayelitsha will receive funding priority. Although they were identified in 2001 as presidential projects, they were left unattended, according to city documentation presented at a local government workshop earlier this year.
These are typical of the challenges that have marked Mgoqi’s life, in addition to opportunities like overseas study, awards and various directorships. They have ranged from playing truant in standard six to work in a Kalk Bay quarry, to delaying his ambition to become a lawyer — inspired by the likes of Nelson Mandela and Oliver Thambo — because the only available bursary was for social science.
Having refused to return to Fort Hare to complete his degree after being expelled with others a month before final examinations, he completed the degree by correspondence over three years before applying for permission needed by a black person to study law at the University of Cape Town.
Much has changed in Cape Town. The iKapa administration for townships no longer exists, though Mgoqi Drive, named after him, still does. So does Wallacedene, an informal settlement on the Cape Flats.
The man who, as local government MEC, appointed Mgoqi to the iKapa administration in 1994, Peter Marais, has been removed as mayor and premier.
Much has changed in South Africa, too. Now and again Mgoqi puts his hopes into a poem: “Our ultimate security lies/ in creating social and economic conditions/ which will enhance the human dignity of all our people./ So that each person shall grow, to reach their full human stature./ This is the promise of our Constitution./ Justice delayed, is justice denied.”