Jumping hoops

This afternoon on the spur of the moment, and in a semi-comatose state after our essay hand-in, Guy, Kasia and I excused ourselves from history seminars in order to join Hannah at the next round meeting with the council. It felt really freeing to be leaving the environment of the university and driving to KwaThema. The meeting was held in the gloomy council chamber of the civic centre. The thin audience seemed unimpressed if nevertheless longsuffering when we got there, with Hannah, who had apparently arrived late, having difficulty setting up the projector, and the ward councilor, Mr Kwelamtini (probably the most important person to have presented to) absent. The projection screen, a tall narrow brown felt board, was inadequate. After Hannah’s presentation, which ended with a request for help to cut through the council’s red tape, it turned out that most of the audience had in fact been at the previous meeting, and that the crucial people – engineers and representatives of solid waste – had not made it. Question time deteriorated into a squabble over the correct procedures, consultations and channels for the project to gain approval. One grumpy man from parks, who seemed to have missed every nuance of what Hannah had said, lambasted us for not following the rules. Ultimately it seemed to be concluded that Mr Rambau would take it to his director who would take it to the arts and culture portfolio committee and then on to the mayoral committee – and that the housing man chairing the meeting would help to clear the way for this. One elderly gentleman had a fine time discussing apartheid planning with Hannah with no clear purpose; after he’d asked his fair share of questions, he simply got up and left. I wondered how anything was ever achieved with this morass of bureaucracy holding things up and the prerequisite meetings, meetings and more meetings eliminating any possibility of spontaneity. One participant warned us – with trepidation - to ensure that we had youth involvement; the legacy of 1976 certainly lingers: if the youth are not on your side, you are in trouble. Finally Mr Kwelamtini arrived, but sat in the back row and did little other than make a few hollow but politic statements about involving the whole community and following protocol. After the meeting was adjourned, Kwelamtini, distracted by the queue of people waiting to see him, lost interest in being briefed, and I went home feeling less than hopeful. This evening, though, I’ve been cheered up by an spirited sms from Nathi asking how the meeting went and whether we had got permission!