The 29th of May was the date the national and provincial elections took place in South Africa. However, for me, elections started after the 2021 local or municipal elections. I am the constituency head for a township and live in the adjacent suburb. I happened to be visiting relatives and was explaining the trials and joys of campaigning in my constituency – to me this was normal, but they seemed horrified about what I have to go through to garner votes for my organisation.
In the township, most of our activists are unemployed and grateful for the meal that we provide at the end of campaign activity; in a suburban constituency, most activists don’t want the refreshments.
Usually, I have my political campaign on a Saturday morning. Before leaving home, I have to prepare thoroughly so that I have all the things I need to get through the event.
As a standard, I have toilet paper in my car if I need to use a toilet, but access to toilet facilities is very limited. I also keep tissues because I struggle with a runny nose. After Covid-19, one has had to find ways to survive. While interacting with residents, a person must shake hands; otherwise, it is considered very rude. I keep wet wipes because there are parts of my constituency where it is difficult to find a tap to wash my hands. I usually take R100 and my driver’s licence – the crime is high and I cannot afford to have my full handbag mugged.
My smartphone is an essential tool of trade, so I travel with it because we take pictures as a group when we are working as part of our portfolio of evidence. I must ensure that my phone is properly charged. I’m sure one wonders whether my smartphone is safe from crime – no, it is not – some of the councillors that I work with have been mugged before. My safety is in working with many activists on the ground.
The motto that I have with our activists is: “If they are not safe, then I can’t be safe.” This township has two police stations, one ranked for high murder rates; the other for high rape rates, human trafficking and assault. One just has to be vigilant and make the best of the conditions in which we operate.
When having an information table, I usually work with about 10 activists – in summer, this means preparing a 5-litre bottle of water and another bottle of some concentrated juice in the fridge and my cups (which I have already purchased). We usually serve a basic meal with a drink at the end of the activity, but I cannot expect people to work in the hot sun without offering them a glass of water – bottled water is way too expensive and when we do provide it, we ask people to return with their bottles and re-use them.
Being a political head, I am also a commissioner of oaths. In some areas, the police stations are very far, so I travel with copies of my stamp and blank affidavit forms to assist my community.
In my constituency where I am deployed, my vehicle is the transport for all the activists – dropping people off at their homes after an event. During the election campaign, my team of councillors and I had many activities including cleaning campaigns, marches, pickets and other political activities. Once these were done, activists too would be physically tired and I would assist in transporting people to their homes.
It is very hard to work with people who are committed to the organisation’s cause but are not employed – and sadly look to you for a small contribution for them to buy some bread for their families. As difficult as this is, working with 10 people every Saturday and each one needing help is not financially viable – R100 for each of the 10 people every week. Closer to elections, we had an activity six days a week. In trying to assist, I would live above my means and simply had to turn everyone down, grateful at least that my organisation gave them a meal afterwards.
That is why the economy needs to grow, so that people can work or start a business and earn an income.
I usually keep my political activities to about three to four hours (10am–2pm) for the following reasons: in the township, especially the informal settlement, I don’t have real access to a toilet; some of the activists I work with live in informal settlements where 20 families share one toilet (these are usually very dirty bucket toilets). When times are tough, I go to the local fast-food outlet to buy ice cream just so I can access the toilets.
When travelling to other constituencies far from home and spending a couple of days, I have developed a medical kit for when a person has a runny tummy, constipation, infection, headache, flu or generally feeling like throwing up. Being on the campaign trail can be truly gruelling.
From time to time, we also travel to other constituencies or regions to assist in fighting by-elections. These days usually start at 6am and can end quite late, around 9pm. My philosophy is to take activists to these so they get to see the broader organisation and know they are part of a big team. In some instances, I have stayed behind for the count after voting closes – staying with one or two activists. Upon completion of the count, I take them home – drop them off at home and only drive off once they have opened the door to their homes.
On many occasions, I have seen other political parties leave women as counters and after the count, no transport is made available to take them home. Being a woman myself and knowing how vulnerable we can be in the dark to rape, assault and other crimes, I have taken them home. At that moment, I don’t see political parties but fellow human beings who are vulnerable.
Working throughout South Africa has taught me to develop survival techniques to get through the challenges that I encounter. In driving, I have had to be truly vigilant – knowing that anything is possible, comforted only by the shell of my vehicle, which offers me a small sense of safety or security, and my “street smarts”.
On a lighter note, a retailer had a sale on adult nappies – they usually retail for about R150 but, this time, they were selling for R20. A thought crossed my mind and I bought the packet: if I have a nappy in my car and I desperately need to use the toilet and there isn’t one available close to where I am – I can use a nappy and put it in a plastic bag in my car until I get to my home where I can dispose of it.
After I told my relatives this part, they went pale in shock. They told me that they had always imagined politics to be very glamorous – opening sessions with red carpet walks and designer fashion – seeing members of Parliament attending various sittings and portfolio committee meetings and debating. They never imagined that there was also an unglamorous side to this calling. They also wondered if all politicians had the same lived experience as mine. DM
This article is more than a year old
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