You might earn your fortune sweating in the Gauteng money mills, but Cape Town is where you spend it. Well, maybe also elsewhere in the Cape, but certainly not in infra dig KwaZulu-Natal – ugh! The biannual invasion of the hinterland’s déclassé white trash and, all year round, so many darkies and charous – nor in the economically flat-lining Eastern Cape.
Sure, many of us yokels who subsist elsewhere might claim to be content where we are. We might say we live by choice in KZN’s verdant valleys, or the leafy suburbs of the Highveld, lashed by daily summer thunderstorms, or on the eastern coastline, with its rugged beauty and warm sea.
But Capetonians know that, in our hearts, we’d all really much rather be there. Much like Premier Helen Zille’s “educational refugees” swamping Western Cape schools, we’re all secretly looking for asylum in the well-run, corruption-free Cape of Good Hope.
Capetonians should understand that the drip-torture of their sense of superiority has left their fellow citizens with inferiority complexes and a deep-seated envy. Inevitably, along with envy comes resentment.
So, it is with mixed feelings that we have watched them muddle towards Day Zero, the unhappy distinction of being the first major city in the world where all the taps actually run dry. Sure, upcountry leaders and talking heads mouth platitudes about this being not a local but a national disaster, but behind the comforting words runs a wide streak of schadenfreude.
It’s just a little heart-warming to see that the city and provincial leadership of the Cape have feet of clay; to watch them bickering, blame-shifting and calling one another names.
However, in reality that’s a sad and deplorable state of affairs. For once, the talking heads are right. This is a national disaster. And like every national disaster, while contributory misjudgements and blunders at various levels have contributed to it occurring, the ultimate responsibility lies at the top.