In a country supposedly ruled by mafias you might think there’s no room for another one, but you’d be wrong. So, take a bow, the so-called “mkhukhu mafia”, the newest organised mob designed to fill another service-delivery gap left by our moribund state.
The mkhukhu mafia was introduced to us recently by Gauteng’s bathrobed ruler, Panyaza Lesufi, in his state of the province address. His aptly named Sopa was no doubt composed while he was neck-high in Radox in a hotel suite as Joburg endured yet another entirely man-made water crisis. (For which we’ll be urged to implore a higher power for a solution.)
Lesufi didn’t give much away about the mkhukhu mafia, save to suggest it is responsible for “an abnormal rise in the number of informal settlements”.
“We cannot allow our beautiful province (yes, that’s Gauteng) to be reduced to a shanty town,” he said. You’d be forgiven for thinking these words were uttered by my old golf mate, Nick, while nursing a G&T on his verandah in Bryanston. But no, this is the head of an ANC government, kept in office by the EFF, whose leaders have a different view of land and who owns it.
I imagine the mkhukhu racket runs along the same lines as all the other areas of illicit enrichment tapped by other mafia-minded folk. The recipe is as follows: 1. Identify an area of public service in which the ANC government has promised everything and delivered little because of corruption and incompetence; 2. Find any number of “public servants” to break the rules for financial benefit; 3. Prey upon a desperate public whose members have often already jumped through the official hoops without success, and 4. Call your local Lamborghini outlet and pre-order at least two. Soon you’ll be a regular on the ANC schmoozing circuit and a subscriber to the government’s tender bulletin.
It’s bloody annoying for Lesufi to throw open the window of his spacious, steamy hotel bathroom, expecting a luxury view of our world-class African city, and all he sees before him are mkhukhus
I see a lot of potential, in strictly criminal terms, for the mkhukhu mafia, whose speciality is providing stolen land for people to build shacks on. The hallowed local “sphere of government” spends ever more on salaries and perks for councillors and council bigwigs, so the share going to building houses will not increase dramatically.
For now, though, I can’t imagine the mkhukhu mafia bosses can comport themselves with much gravity when they mingle in the cigar bars of the newly rich. When you’re up against criminal veterans like the water-tanker mafia, the construction mafia, the Eskom mafia, the gold mafia, the hospital mafia, the taxi mafia, the kidnapping mafia and the police mafia, you surely know as a boss in the upstart mkhukhu mob to show deference to thugs greater than yourself.
In recognition of ours being a nation run by mafias there’s been earnest academic talk about whether we qualify yet to be declared a “mafia state”. And apparently we do. Such a state is characterised, according to AI, as one in which “national interest is subservient to criminal syndicates”, which sounds familiar.
As the Madlanga commission of inquiry into the state of the mafia of police generals, criminals and ANC politicians was starting, Prof André Duvenhage of North West University said: “The classic differentiation between a normal state and a mafia state is where you cannot clearly differentiate between the political and criminal elite.”
He concluded, sadly: “There is now clear evidence that South Africa qualifies to be regarded as a mafia state according to traditional and established criteria.”
Whether that’s worse than being a “failed state”, I’m not sure, and quite possibly they amount to the same thing. But what about the ANC’s “developmental state” we’re all meant to be so excited about?
If only, somehow, we could harness the energy and efficiency of the mafia sector of our society and infuse our torpid public sector with that enthusiasm. Then we might have a state that does actually develop something instead of sponging off taxpayers and blowing our hard-earned money on overpaid bureaucrats who spend their days redrawing organograms and squeezing perks out of their employer.
Anyway, all strength to Lesufi in his battle against the mkhukhu mafia. He’ll need it. I wonder what his allies in his provincial government, the EFF, make of him taking a strong line against people living the EFF dream of taking someone else’s property.
Whatever the politics, though, it’s bloody annoying for Lesufi to throw open the window of his spacious, steamy hotel bathroom, expecting a luxury view of our world-class African city, and all he sees before him are mkhukhus. A shack attack to offend the sensibilities.
As a first step in his war, Lesufi has chosen an easy target and intends to demolish Plastic City in Ekurhuleni. Shouldn’t we at least rename this homage to synthetic polymers to something more indigenous and uplifting before building a better future for all by destroying it entirely?
Where’s the town-renaming mafia when you really need them?
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.