Cape Town is being pushed into debt without the consent or understanding of its residents. Under the polished language of infrastructure investment, mayor Geordin Hill-Lewis has committed the city to a R39.5bn financial burden that ordinary ratepayers will be forced to carry for decades to come.
The mayor calls it a future-focused plan, but the reality for thousands of Capetonians living in places like Bonteheuwel, Khayelitsha and Tafelsig is already one of survival. For them, the future means choosing between electricity and food. Now they are being asked to pay for a debt they did not create and were never consulted on.
A large part of this debt comes from foreign lenders, $150m (R2.7bn) from the International Finance Corporation and €100m (R2bn) from the French Development Agency. These loans carry currency risk. As the rand weakens, the cost of repayment rises dramatically, and that shortfall will be passed directly on to the people in the form of higher water, electricity and rates bills.
And still, there has been no clear explanation. No full disclosure. No consultation with the very residents expected to pay the bill.
Where are the contracts? Who brokered the deals? What are the repayment terms? What conditions were attached to these loans? Who decides how this money is spent, and why has that power been taken out of the hands of the people?
Will this money uplift neglected communities or simply fund another cycle of inflated tenders and politically connected consultants?
It is important to also look ahead. This mayor and the current crop of councillors will not be here when the worst of the debt comes due. They will move on while the burden falls on future budgets, future councils and generations of ratepayers who had no voice in the decision.
We need infrastructure, yes, but not like this. Not through secretive foreign debt deals. Not without transparency. Not while our people are battling just to survive.
Mayor, the time for press releases and staged interviews is over. This is your moment of truth. Come forward and explain. Show us the fine print. Respect the people who will be paying the price long after your term ends.
Cape Town is a city of taxpayers, communities, workers and families. We are not signing your blank cheque.
— Grant Pascoe, Cape Town
Boere lost in translation
The Constitutional Court made a blunder by declaring “kill the farmer” as protected free speech because of its history in the anti-apartheid struggle. It was never used in any of the struggle songs.
There is no doubt that the chant can only be interpreted as having a genocidal intent, if we believe that language can still convey meaning. And yet the original struggle songs had nothing about genocide. How do you square that circle?
“Boer”, upper case means Afrikaner, while “boer”, lower case, means farmer.
The original struggle song (in Zulu) was “bulala wona lamabhunu”, which meant “kill them, the Boer apartheid regime”, and had no intent to target farmers. Even today, most Zulus use amabhunu to mean Afrikaner, umlimi to mean farmer. Former ANC Youth League leader Peter Mokaba, with his limited understanding of Afrikaans, in 1993 mistranslated that as “kill the farmer”.
He didn’t know Boer could also mean an ethnic group, and that amabhunu could also mean the government of the day (together with the police, the army and the courts ... during the bad old days, we would flee from the cops shouting “here come the Boere”). Thus, he created a genocidal chant against white farmers, (unintentionally, one assumes), where the original struggle song had no such intent.
Please, Julius Malema, change your English version to “kill them, the Boer apartheid regime”, and drop all references to farmers. Or even better, “kill the Boer, the jailer”.
The lesson from history is don’t let Pedi speakers such as Mokhaba and Malema loose on doing Afrikaans to English translations.
But also put a black mark against the Constitutional Court, which you would have thought would research the real history, and should have protected the chant but demanded the “kill the farmer” be removed.
— Ronald B Carlin, Randburg
Fix our electoral system
Barney Mthombothi makes the observation that we will not get rid of the crooks in the government until we vote the ANC out (“How can a crooked government keep us on the straight and narrow?", June 8).
This is very difficult under the current proportional representation electoral system. This system was intended to be temporary but after a new system was recommended by a commission of inquiry the suggestions were sidelined by an ANC that realised it would be weakened.
We should all support any political party that makes electoral reform part of its manifesto. A 400-seat parliament with 200 seats by proportional representation and 200 seats elected by constituencies would be one possibility. The 200 constituency seats could also be adjusted by a pro rata proportional system. Election reform requires a more prominent public platform. — Stephen Flesch, Cape Town
Real housewives of the White House
What happens when the world’s most powerful democracy becomes a playground for billionaire tantrums? We are finding out in real time as Donald Trump and Elon Musk tear each other apart on social media like feuding teenagers.
Their spectacular implosion is not just entertainment, it is a masterclass in how not to lead. Here are the president of the US and the world’s richest man airing their grievances on X and Truth Social, trading accusations about Jeffrey Epstein files and election wins while the rest of the world watches in bewilderment.
What does this circus say about American leadership? When your government’s fiscal policy is being debated through Twitter feuds and veiled threats about government contracts, you have crossed from politics into performance art. Musk’s ominous reminder that he will “be around for 40+ years” while Trump has “3.5 years left” reads less like political strategy and more like a mob boss making his terms clear.
The international implications are staggering. Our allies are watching two titans weaponise their platforms against each other while serious governance gets sidelined.
The real tragedy is not that these two powerful men are fighting, it is that they are doing it so publicly, so recklessly, and with such apparent disregard for the damage to democratic norms. When your leaders conduct themselves like reality TV stars, don’t be surprised when the world starts treating your country like a soap opera.
— Pikolomzi Qaba, e-mail
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