“I was born and raised in Peddie in the Eastern Cape, 80km outside East London. I did not leave the village until I matriculated. I had politically conscious parents and from a young age I was made aware of the political culture at the time. We were very alive to the struggle in our household,” Nontando Zintle Ngamlana said. 

Now 40 years old, Ngamlana remembers her father being incarcerated for his political activities.

“Even pre-1994 I remember very well how it impacted on our household when my father was not there. His friends and colleagues were always around. The conversations around our house were of a radical political nature. 

“But this being the rural Eastern Cape, the place of a woman was also with her husband. My family was quite radical in that they said we must step out of the norms imposed on women by society. I grew up in a very conservative society, but with very liberal parents.

“But since I can recall, I had this quality that social injustice always irked me. I have to respond to it whenever it raises its head.

“After matric, I went to do a degree in mathematics. I had a gift for maths. In my village, most women were nurses or teachers. Most professionals actually were nurses or teachers. On the odd occasion, you would find an uncle who was a lawyer and that one would really be celebrated as the odd one out.

“I wasn’t sure what to study. I just knew I didn’t want it to be nursing or teaching. My grades were good. When I got to Nelson Mandela University they put me in the BSc queue. 

“I was a rural girl who never touched a computer. I didn’t know anything about zoology so I thought computer science sounded interesting. But there was a line for mathematics that did not have a lot of black students standing there. I went to stand in that line. I wanted to be the black face among the white people.”

Ngamlana graduated with a BSc degree in applied mathematics and statistics. 

“For three years there were only one or two of us in the mathematics classes. I then decided I wanted to go into engineering. I pursued an honours degree because I hadn’t yet figured out what to do with it. My degree was in statistics. I realised that I did not enjoy drawing or engineering and structures. 

“After university, I went to work for an organisation, the Urban Services Group, based in Port Elizabeth, that was a branch of the Urban Foundation. They were central in overseeing the transition of local government to a democratic municipal structure. 

“I have this inborn sense of justice. My children would say: ‘Our mother would find something to fight with someone about’,” she laughed. “I want to raise my children, they are nine and 11 now, in a socially just world where their gender would not determine their outcome,” she said.

“I worked with many politically conscious people and we worked hard to have the Section 27 rights to water, health and education realised. I think my time here launched the woman who I have become since then,” Ngamlana said.

“After university, I became a policy researcher at the Department of Science and Technology. But after four years in a government job, I realised that I had had enough. I either had to leave the job or lose my mind. 

“My father had done some work with Afesis Corplan back in the day. There wasn’t a position available to me at the time, but I packed up all my belongings and went home.”

Throughout this time she continued her studies and pursued a master’s degree and later an MBA.

Sixteen years ago she started her first volunteer job with Afesis Corplan and has risen through the ranks to the position of executive director. 

“We want to strengthen local government. In its design, it is the only sphere of government where people are central. We must build the skills and find the calibre of people necessary [to build structures] where citizens can engage with local government. 

“Local government is the most chaotic of all the spheres of government… my job grapples with all these things,” Ngamlana said.

“I have this inborn sense of justice. My children would say: ‘Our mother would find something to fight with someone about’,” she laughed. “I want to raise my children, they are nine and 11 now, in a socially just world where their gender would not determine their outcome,” she said.

“Local government should be professionalised and strengthened, even if it is through a deployment process. But the people who are deployed must be technically capable and competent people who are appointed to the right position,” she said. “The second intervention that I think would be key to fixing local government is to insulate the procurement process by making it open and transparent,” Ngamlana said.

“With Covid-19 we saw the rampant corruption and the looting of resources, but we managed to get it published in the public domain. The same openness is necessary for local government procurement. It is a way for the general public to become the ombudsman and [hold] the political parties to account. Investigating bodies and the media must be allowed to ask the right questions. That is very necessary. We are assuming that the law will lead to the establishment of a culture of good governance – but that doesn’t happen by itself.”

“If I can change one thing today, and to use government’s term, these are low-hanging fruit, it would be to provide wide access to information. I would make all information on public resources accessible and available. I would open the tap and let people use the information in creative ways to hold government accountable. 

She said that the legislative framework governing local government was too complex, making it easy to not comply with it.

“We must push for greater access to information on tenders. We are talking about public funds here. This information should be in the public domain,” Ngamlana added. 

“I think thirdly we should strengthen oversight at a local government level.

“There are very simple things that we can do. We want inclusive planning. When people are able to influence decisions they feel they are part of the machinery. We need to rethink ways to make local government really inclusive. Technology allows us to do this in a very creative way.

“Communities feel that they are not being seen. I find that most communication departments at local government level have been reduced to event planners. The communication from local governments is very poor and feedback is even worse. If the mayor comes to a public gathering, people will share their frustrations. Then the mayor goes away, promising to do something, but never returns,” said Ngamlana.

“People are left to their own devices. Sometimes frustration brings our communities to a boiling point. Protesting has become a culture. People must understand that protests are not the first prize for a community. It takes a lot of energy and if it doesn’t work the credibility of leaders suffer. If a community engages in a protest it means that they have exhausted all other avenues. We need to make people feel seen and heard.

“Sadly, local government does not have these mechanisms. I wrote a paper in 2018 looking at the skills necessary for local government to communicate properly. 

“Some municipalities have websites that are so technical and complex. You would expect them to package information in a simple way, to make an integrated development plan simpler to understand and package it in infographics. That for me would be the function of the communication department. To communicate in a way to empower,” Ngamlana said.

“I share the heartbreak of communities in crisis. These issues we deal with are intensely personal. I grew up in a rural village. I know that life. I know about fetching water. When we talk about men and women… I know what it means for a girl to grow up in that context and what they are missing out on. I bring all of me into my work. I have learnt along the way how to destress – when I get home – I am still a mother. Because of its nature, my work is emotionally very draining. It is hard work. I cannot bring it home all the time. I have learned to compartmentalise my work. When I pull up in the driveway I step into my mommy box and I am fully present for my family. It helps me cope. 

“I surround myself with critical thinkers and reflectors. I find those conversations fruitful. On those odd days that I see the glass half empty, they help me see that it is actually half full. My network helps me to find all sides of a matter,” Ngamlana said. 

“We still are observing what happens in the local government space. As much as people are angry and frustrated and don’t have water, they will again go and vote the same party into power and hope for a different result. The reality is that there are fears that they will lose social benefits and the child support grant if they do not.

“We are on a journey of trying to understand this at a psychological level. [The ANC] is a liberating party and they are hanging on to that. People vote for hope, not for a party. They believe that the party will respond to their hopes. Hope has a lot to do with it, as does our own journey as individuals and families,” she said.

Referring to the violence inflicted on protesters by the police in the Eastern Cape over the past few months, Ngamlana said the police had been confronted with something they never thought they would have to deal with.

“We are still learning. I don’t think we ever thought that we would have to work in the police space. But we are confronted with an ill-capacitated SAPS who respond with violence even in non-violent protests. There is something in the psyche of the police that we must come to understand.

She said they had even had engagements with the South African National Defence Force during lockdown.

“It was as if we were engaging a vigilante group. I never thought we would have to engage about the behaviour of the defence force,” Ngamlana said.

“I don’t think we will see changes in local government because of internal processes. I think it will be an external process and we are going to see the rise of social movements. We are seeing the shift in keeping government accountable. People were organising during lockdown. They are connecting electronically and doing things in the social media space. It would be interesting to see government’s response, if there is going to be a clampdown in the technology and media space in how people can mobilise and connect.

“If I can change one thing today, and to use government’s term, these are low-hanging fruit, it would be to provide wide access to information. I would make all information on public resources accessible and available. I would open the tap and let people use the information in creative ways to hold government accountable. 

“The veil of secrecy is a breeding ground for corruption, nefarious activities and a lack of oversight. It is something that seems so obvious, but we don’t get it right,” Ngamlana said.

Most of all she wants to fight for the quiet people in the province’s communities.

“Just today we went out where gogos were digging trenches to deal with a sewage leak. They know how to deal with it. What they want is for people to see them and hear what they have to say.

“I am contributing to something bigger than I am – it has morphed into a calling,” Ngamlana said. MC