Wrong about e-tolling

Yesterday, I had the good fortune of having dinner with a lovely woman named Jane, who happens to know as much as anybody out there about E-tolling. I'm still not exactly sure why toll roads happen to hit a nerve that other moves towards privatization don't, though she had some insight (it feels invasive. It's in-your-face. It's visible). But, I'm happier with it being a focal point at the moment for citizen mobilisation.

People need a victory. Civil society at the moment is disillusioned and disempowered. Successes, from whatever surprising corner they may come from, are important for building momentum in other spaces. Someone else at dinner pointed out that as soon as the month long postponement was agreed on, there was an immediate spill over into wage negotiations, with workers demanding higher increases. It's pretty cool if people really are feeling a sense of power coming from this.

It is about solidarity. If one person can't drive on the road because of the user fees, that's one person too many. Nice to hear the sentiment articulated. I'd rather it be applied to water, electricity, and education....but as others pointed out, when that was happening 10 years ago, the world was a different place, and if people weren't in a place to make it happen then, maybe they are now, and that's good.

It's not just about people being gatvol with middle class taxes....it's about people being gatvol with government getting things wrong; and that's good. Frustration about corruption, no transparency, circumvented decision making processes....that's all good for the country.

One step at a time. It does seem like frustration with crummy public transport would be a better target than frustration at road tolls....but that doesn't have an opportunity, a moment, and a target.  So there's not much space for a win there. On tolling, there is. And by the way it's looking, it really will be a victory. Unused gantries will sit along the road and remind everyone that they can keep government accountable.

How public are any south african schools?

Being the neurotic planner that I am, I'm thinking about schools for Blob. I was feeling quite smug about living in Yeoville, where there are bunches of spectacular schools in walking distance. After having lunch with someone at a conference who is providing me with all sorts of baby advice, the smugness has turned to trepidation.

Boy, was I naive. Coming from small town America, I assumed public = you don't have to pay. You register the kid at registration time, the kid shows up when classes start, and twice a year you get hit up for the costs of extra music lessons or sports trips. Ha! Says The Dad. Apparently, public in South Africa means the state pays some base subsidy of the teacher's salaries. But 'good' public schools pay their teachers much more, and school fees make up this difference. Gosh, what a spectacular way to entrench inequality from the youngest possible age.

I always assumed Blob'd go to a public school (more diverse, still good education, less snooty)...but now I'm wondering. I did a cursory comparison of a good public school (king edward) and a good private school (sacred heart) both within walking distance of home, and they appear to charge comparable fees (R30,000/ year. Are they NUTS?! How can that be normal?), and from a cursory glance, they don't seem to have tremendous differences in socioeconomic makeup - if anything, the private school seems slightly more progressive. What to do...?  Seems like all other parents just suck it up and pay - maybe I should too, but it gives me the moral heeby-jeebies.

Anyway, I'm irritated at the claim that a school is public when fees are higher than lots of peoples total incomes. I feel like a fabulous constitution is being cheated. And, South Africa spends a higher portion of its national budget on education than any other country in the world....how can it be so grossly mismanaged?

I think every public servant should have to send their children to public schools, and use public transport. I bet both would improve more quickly (any time I say this in public, people look at me like I've grown a third arm. Is it really such an odd suggestion? It seems like a no brainer....).

The toll roads of Johannesburg

Everyone in Gauteng is weighing in on e-tolling - at least, everyone who uses the highways. There appear to be two camps emerging. One who thinks that middle class South Africans are already over taxed and pay far too much for everything service related and this is just another way of raiding their wallets, and one who thinks people should cough up, that it's inevitable, and that there are more important things to scream and shout about.  Both, it seems, miss the point.

It's undeniable that in general, private car ownership levels (everywhere in the world, and South Africa particularly) should be much lower. Right now, instead of people paying for the cars they drive, people feel the affects of climate change, and that's a crummy system. I'm all for making cars (and various other manifestations of the petrochemical industrial complex) unaffordable for most people. But that's not what the tolling system does. Gauteng commuters aren't going to give up their cars because they have to pay to use the freeways. They're just going to grumble a bit. Everyone will insist it's because there isn't adequate public transport, but mostly people don't know what public transport there is. As The Dad says - no middle class South African takes public transport.

The new tolling system isn't going to change this. It's not going to create financing for transport (since, allegedly, most of the money involved is going to Austria). It's not going to do anything to combat the environmental and social damage that private cars cause. As far as I can tell, the real problems are:
- corruption (from lack of transparency to South Africa's wealth being shipped off to Europe)
- a development path that is increasingly privatized and exclusionary, moving the country closer to the military industrial complex and farther from social inclusion and environmental sustainability

But you find these two things in many, many moves by government these days. Why single out toll roads? We could just as well scream and shout about banking regulations, various government decisions around equating 'progressive realisation' with 'privatisation'; the list is long. The unions are being opportunistic my hitting on an issue that will get a rise out of a pretty wide swath of the middle class; but I'm afraid they're just making a point of flexing their muscles within the alliance, instead of actually working for meaningful change.

Why is Home Affairs Like a Volvo Repair Shop?

Out of morbid curiosity, I checked the progress of my most recent ID book application at the Home Affairs call center yesterday. In an experience of de ja vu, I was told that my application was sent off from Harrison street a month ago, but has never been received in Pretoria. I should go back to the Harrison street office, and figure out what happened to it (for those of you who missed it, this is the same fate my other 2 applications met with, and I was always told first to wait - and wait, and wait - and then to reapply). Apparently, they should be able to 'explain to me their system for sending things to Pretoria', and give me tracking numbers. My optimism on this front isn't high. I asked if I couldn't just re apply in Pretoria, and was warned off with stories of terror should I get issued 2 ID books.

Meanwhile, The Dad has been having problems with his Volvo. It's the second time in as many years that he's had to replace the radiator. As an oldish used car, it needs a fair amount of TLC....but you generally don't plan to keep replacing the same parts. There is also a recurring oil leak, something funky that keeps springing up with the coolant....We have lurking suspicions that some of these ongoing problems are not being helped by the skills of the Volvo repair folks. They have generally been nice about charging at-cost for parts (when they've been defective but out of warranty), reducing labour costs, etc. Which is nice, though only helpful if the underlying problems eventually get solved.

So what we're both finding that the more incompetent the service provider is, the more tied you end up being to them. I can't leave Harrison street out of fear that if I go to some more organised Home Affairs office, my application is already irredeemably screwed up (and in fact, nowhere else will accept an application from me until things are fixed at Harrison street, because documentation on all my mis-sent applications is on the central Home Affairs system). Similarly, he can't go to any other more competent service center, because he would then have to fork out a fortune to fix all the problems caused by the first incompetent repair folks...whereas now, at least he can work with them through what's going wrong. And we can compare notes of our ongoing sagas. 

Personal finance in Joburg

Preparing not to work for the next 6 months has obviously required a fair amount of time getting my financial house in order. In doing this, I read personal finance blogs from time to time. Most of them are American (is that jut where bloggers are? Or where money is? Or some combination thereof?). It seems like most personal finance blogs have, somewhere in their archives, a guiding manifesto - 10 key points to follow, a list of easy ways to save, etc. Inevitably somewhere on these lists is 'make sure you never ever pay a penny in bank charges;' it always irks me, because it's undeniably good advice - and totally not an option in Jozi. I'm sure in the big picture, American banks are no less evil than South African banks....but they're certainly far more consumer friendly (and there are lots of friendly, local cooperative alternatives - Farmers and Merchants State Bank in Wayne, I love you!).  This is one of the few times I think the entitled view of a foreigner might be helpful ;)

Choosing a bank in Joburg seems like a choice between exploitative and evil.....One of my most frequent gripes is about bank charges (which, after groceries, utilities, transport and telecommunications is usually my highest monthly expense. It's considered normal to pay a fee to deposit money in your own account, which probably pays you no interest. Really. Free deposits are a perk your high monthly fee might cover). I find something fundamentally wrong with the fact that I pay a bank R80 a month for the privilege of using and investing my money - but the worst part is that I have no choice!

Apart from small scale, informal stockvels, there aren't formal cooperative savings banks. Nobody, it seems, apart from the big, nasty corporations, has access to the financial infrastructure of the country. I've heard analyses on why from various people who should know, and it always seems to boil down to a very unsatisfactory amalgamation of the highly regulated industry, history, barriers to entry, old boys club, tight connections with mining, neoliberal development paths, etc....all true, I'm sure, but that doesn't make it any less lousy, or any less fixable. Making financial services pro-poor seems like a no-brainer if  you're trying to boost equity.  As things are, banks are hugely exclusionary.  Before I got a grown-up job, I stuffed cash under my mattress; it was a better deal than a student bank account (though, completely impractical)! I don't quite understand why nobody else is outraged.

If The Dad and I open a joint bank account for tiny blob, maybe I'll try and disinvest, and just do all my banking from the  US...

A Day At the Office

I just spent half a day at an office. A real office! It was the first time in years (honestly, 5 of them), and I found it exceptionally enjoyable. Doubly enjoyable, because I could be there, and not share in their stress. Everyone is preparing for a big conference, and tensions were running high. People were running up and down, there were last minute meetings with raised voices as the details of everything were being finalised. The telephone switchboard quit working mid-morning, and Telkom had to be called in. There were only 25 people in the office, but from the buzz, you'd swear it was twice as many.

Through it all, I got to sit in a quiet little corner, and plug along at the piece of work I had to do, offering occasional sympathetic head nods as people ran by upset and tense.  It made me realise how much organisational bandwidth gets consumed feeding the organisation. I felt that in my previous job - like I only spent half my time actually doing things and the other half being consumed by vague organisational imperatives (circular email conversations in which everyone and their dog is cc:ed. Trying to schedule a teleconferece, in which a minimum of 2 attendees are travelling at any given time. Trying to figure out who has the mandate to make a decision about whatever) I don't have a solution to this - when organisations grow, they need switchboards (which sometimes break, and cause havoc), cooperation (which takes time) and systems (which are sometimes slow). I was just happy to be around it, and not part of it for the day, and hope to continue sitting smuggly and productively in a corner. 

Waddling to Work

I thought the next 2 months would be the perfect time to sneak in some short term work projects; to make sure the bank account doesn't deplete too rapidly before the arrival of Blob, and to savour the last few days of professional focus, before my life becomes a blur of diapers and sleep deprivation.

I am very thankful that I've managed to find a piece of work to fill some time. What I didn't count on is how un-charming a time in my life this is to be meeting new people and doing new things. I huff and puff up two flights of stairs. I can't be more than 100 metres from a bathroom at any given time. 8 months in, and garlic still makes me nauseous. Everyone is admiring my 'healthy glow', which I do definitely have. To everyone else, it seems to be a cheerful reminder of some sort of shared humanity. That's great, but to me it's mostly constricted capillaries (read: constant sniffling - imagine a 9 month cold, and spontaneous nosebleeds).

I'm always amazed at how many people gush over their pregnancies - that it was the most amazing 10 months of their lives, how they cherished every second....and with a bit of prompting, will also remember the nausea and heartburn, confess they didn't sleep for months, or were emotional wrecks, or had weeks of bedrest.

Philosophically, I'm having a fabulous pregnancy, and I understand what everyone gushes about retrospectively - it really has been grounding, made me feel centered and focussed on what's important, much more in touch with my body, and so on. But on a day to day level - it's relatively irritating to have to leave a workshop 3 times a morning because of some bodily function. It seems like every time I'm introduced to someone I'm ridiculously out of breath, and it's a good thing I'm not inclined towards passionate speeches, because I start panting after 3 consecutive sentences. I start squirming after 20 minutes in the same chair. Things itch, and twitch, and ache. For the first time since returning to South Africa, I see the appeal to kicking back and putting my feet up. I guess the lesson is that I should be careful about what I wish for; and a reminder to be thankful for what I get! 

Hurry up and wait

As an aspiring consultant still with my NGO employer part time, it's very interesting to see both sides of under-capacity at the same time. In the last two weeks, I've had two phone calls from organisations saying they *urgently* need something to be done this week, and am I available *immediately*? Happily, the only thing work interrupts at the moment is gazing at my expanding navel, so I sign up without hesitation. The problem is, my agreement is inevitably followed up with silence.

I know that silence; I'm responsible for it on the other side of the fence. It's the silence of a last minute reconsideration of the work plan; of an unexpected disagreement in the board; of a hangup on finances; of the crucial project designer catching flu. When I'm on the NGO side of the fence, this silence gives me some breathing space to catch up on the backlog of 100 other things that need to get done. When I'm on the consultant side of the fence, it gives me the chance to sit on the balcony with a spoonful of nutella and try and sort out realistic expectations for Life After Baby.  At some other point, it might make me anxious and irritable - it's very hard to plan your workload! But for now, it's a good lesson in zen.

SWEDOW - baby edition

The aid blogosphere is rife with posts on SWEDOW - Stuff We Don't Want (the latest here). While I'm surrounded by professionals who will rail against the West donating its economy-distorting, supply-chain-damaging unwanted goods to Africa, I'd like to gently nudge them to think closer to home....

So now, the expectant mother, expat version of SWEDOW:
- Anything loud. I'm pretty sure bringing my sister's sons vuvuzelas during the world cup has ruined my karma on this one for life. Even so, I do not want kazoos, trumpets, or drums. Even if my unborn blob won't have the coordination to operate them for 3 years, the 5 year old next door has already done some serious eardrum damage. Yeoville's already loud enough from the outside, contributing more noise is really not necessary.
- Anything to climb on. I live in a flat. I do not have space for this plastic slide. There is a park next door.
- Your SUV-for-babies pram. I'm sure it has dutifully served many mothers and babies. Probably mothers and babies who have a different routine than I do - one that involves more storage space, better maintained pavement and less public transport.
- Your stories about medical child birth disasters. I understand that everyone knows someone who was in labour for a bazillion years, had things that weren't meant to tear ripped to shreds, fluids that are supposed to stay put leak....I'm perfectly capable of creating my own anxiety, thankyouverymuch.
- Your running commentary about my body. I do realise little blob has pretty much made this public domain....but would you go up to your non-pregnant neighbor and start making remarks about their acne, cellulite, or cleavage?
- Baby shoes. A gazillion points for cuteness - but, babies can't walk.
- Plastic things with buttons and speakers. They seem to come in more reincarnations than Buddha, but all have in common their uncanny ability to take up space, make noise in spite of broken speakers, and play the same thing over and over and over.

Lest I become too much of a curmudgeon, I'll balance it off with stuff I DO want!
- Hand me downs! I'm pretty sure there are enough infant blankets, towels, and clothes out there to swaddle the world, without me needing to buy much more of it.
- Friends! You all are fabulous with loads of sage advice and support and I don't know what I'd do without you. Your company and help maintaining my identity and sanity is wonderful.

Earth Hour

I didn't observe Earth Hour this year; I was at a birthday party with a contingent of the city's political left. It involved more car bling outside the gate than the economy of some small countries (is that a Johannesburg thing? Doesn't anyone find it embarrassing to talk about inequality while driving cars worth more than the lifetime income of half the country?  I'm sure I have my fair share of hypocrisy as well...but...Eish). The music was fabulous. I was surprised nobody cut the lights; but it probably wouldn't have changed anything if they had. 

So, I figure I marked Earth Hour a day early, with the residents of flats 4, 6, and 7….Due to the continued siphoning of electricity across the street, we were out of power for 12 hours. I need to get my load shedding rhythm back; last winter, I had a whole routine of things I almost looked forward to when the lights went out - lighting candles, tuning up my viola, taking a warm rosemary bath....It was an excuse to log off, shut down, and unwind. Maybe I'm having a mental block because I don't want to admit that winter's coming.