The nice cutlery — why dignity in SA should not be seasonal

We need to restore and reaffirm the dignity of the people of Africa and the developing world. We need to place the eradication of poverty at the top of world priorities. We need to know with a fresh conviction that we all share a common humanity and that our diversity in the world is the strength for our future together. — Nelson Mandela, at a banquet celebrating Africa’s 100 best books of the 20th Century, Cape Town, 27 July 2002

There is something quietly revealing about watching a city transform overnight. We have seen it happen before, in the lead-up to major summits, high-level visits, or those rare moments when South Africa stands before the world.

The rhythm shifts. Streets are suddenly cleaned. Potholes are patched. Traffic flows with a rare, coordinated precision. Police presence increases on almost every corner. For a brief moment, the city feels orderly, functional and almost hopeful.

And then, just as suddenly, the intensity recedes. The police presence thins out. The litter returns. The potholes reopen. The sense of urgency softens, and the city exhales back into its familiar unevenness.

It is not that total collapse follows, it is simply that the heightened attention was never designed to be permanent. It was borrowed, staged, and returned as soon as the guests left.

This pattern raises a difficult question for those of us who love this country: Why does efficiency feel like an event rather than a norm?

A familiar tradition

In many of our households, there is a familiar tradition. You take out the “nice cutlery” for visitors. You polish the floors and make sure the house is spotless. Hospitality matters. But there is a quieter, more painful question that lingers afterwards: What if, once the visitors leave, your own children are left to eat with unwashed hands because you didn’t even offer them water?

That is what these moments feel like for ordinary South Africans. The child walking to school on broken pavements does not live in a “summit-ready” neighbourhood. The commuter navigating unreliable transport does not experience mobility as a special event. The woman calculating her safety after dark does not experience security in seasons.

Beyond the summit venues, life in places like Alexandra or Soweto continues as it always does, not in the glare of cameras, but in the quiet, exhausting struggle of survival. A young graduate refreshes job portals with no response. A mother calculates how to stretch a small income across a long month.

These are not abstract policy issues; they are the daily conditions that shape the futures of millions. We must be honest about the fact that a child cannot eat a policy framework. A graduate cannot pay rent with a declaration. A family in crisis does not feel the impact of a communiqué.

What these contrasts expose is not a lack of skill or capacity. They expose a choice of priority. When our reputation is at stake on the global stage, the machinery of the state moves decisively. When the audience is just us, the machinery slows down.

Everyday dignity

For Nelson Mandela, democracy was never about the spectacle; it was about the practice. It was about whether dignity could be felt in the everyday, in working systems, in accountable institutions, and in a sense of safety that does not fluctuate based on who is visiting.

Ubuntu, too, asks something practical of us. It asks that care be visible. That our shared humanity shows up in working streetlights, clean neighbourhoods and clinics that actually function, not for the headlines, but for the residents.

South Africans are often told to be patient. We are told to understand the constraints. And while change takes time, patience becomes harder to justify when we are repeatedly shown that a different reality is possible, just not for us, and not for long. We aren’t longing for dramatic, overnight miracles. We are longing for reliability. We want stability over spectacle, and sustained care over temporary intensity.

Democracy should not require an audience. Service delivery should not depend on who is watching. If the state can rise to the occasion for a summit, or an election cycle, it can rise to the occasion for its citizens. DM

Bontle Mokgaotsi is a mother, writer, and Early Childhood Development (ECD) practitioner based in Gauteng. She holds a BA in media studies, majoring in journalism, communications and linguistics.