GREY MUTTER: If informal miners are not prevented from decimating our town’s topsoil, then we are headed for a disaster because the preservation of topsoil is vital in supporting plant and animal life, writes Lance Fredericks.
I AM sure you know that when cheapskates get cold they all huddle around a candle, but do you know what they do when they get really, really cold?
Apparently they light up the candle.
Laugh if you must, but I have to admit that I am somewhat of a cheapskate myself … not as extreme as a candle-huddling cheapskate, but cheap enough for it to be noticed.
Or let me rephrase that; I am not so much ‘cheap’ as I am reluctant to part with my cash if I feel that either I am not getting my money’s worth, or I am being wrung out too vigorously.
For example, one day, upon my return from Barkly West, travelling on the stretch of Barkly Road that links the R31 with Homevale, I noticed some young men filling some pretty nasty potholes in the national road.
As I approached the informal roadworks, one of the men attempted to wave me down, shaking a tin. He was asking for a reward, payment, recompense for providing the service that some other people – people earning generous salaries despite not doing their job – should have provided.
I was happy that I didn’t have to rumble through yet another gigantic pothole with my car, so I asked my passengers if they had something for the young man.
Yes, I had to ask my passengers for cash; not because I am cheap – I will explain why later.
Anyway, having deposited a green banknote into his tin, and with the sounds of his appreciation still ringing in my ears, I continued on my journey … for about 500 metres, and there I came across some more young men filling some pretty nasty potholes in the very same national road.
Again I was flagged down by a young man practically pleading for me to reward him for the service he and his team were providing.
I found it strange that all my passengers had fallen asleep already, and I had to explain to the poor young lad that I had no cash on me. He looked suspicious, probably wondering how someone in such an expensive-looking car, so well fed, wearing decent clothes could not have any cash; I suspect that it’s more than likely that he thought I was a barefaced, selfish liar.
I drove away feeling guilty, and when I came to the third set of road repairs, I pretended to be asleep and didn’t even slow down.
Honestly, I wondered … if I felt that guilty for being unable to provide a small donation, how guilty do the people feel whose responsibility it has been for the past 30 years to keep our roads in good knick?
Other times when I run into this guilt overload is when I visit the city or the malls to get some items for the home. Sometimes all I need is a loaf of bread, that’s around R10-R30, depending on the bread you enjoy. The point is, when you return to your car, lo and behold, your approach to the vehicle is often shadowed by a car custodian.
I cannot imagine how awkward it must be for them to wait and see if vehicle owners are willing to tip them with a few coins. They have to stand around, close enough to be seen, but far away enough so that they don’t give the impression that they are hovering. And then add to the equation the fact that some vehicle owners can be a bit dismissive or rude … or temporarily blind.
As for me … once again, I NEVER have cash on me – neither coins nor notes; mainly due to the fact that I never draw cash at ATMs or in supermarkets. And by the way, it’s not a pride-thing or a conscious decision on my part. I just never get around to getting cash. It’s just not on my radar, hasn’t been for years.
Time and time again I have to apologise to the car custodians. Time and time again I feel guilty. And to be honest, at my age I am pretty tired of feeling guilty for not really doing anything wrong.
Just the other day it occurred to me – yes, being a pothole patcher or a car custodian is an honest way of making money. But if the election promises of the past six elections had been honoured, the crime rate would have been lower – negating the need for car guards, and our roads would have been in good knick making informal pothole patching unnecessary.
I shouldn’t feel guilty; the people who by neglect, indifference or just plain dishonesty have created these alternative ‘career paths’ should.
And if it seems that I am being too harsh in my criticism, then allow me to highlight a problem that has already grown out of hand, but that is threatening to completely obliterate our city as we know it.
Informal miners.
Mark my words (though I hope that I am wrong); if nothing is done to curb, legislate or contain the ‘informal’ mining activities by these artisanal miners and if certain areas are not declared to be off-limits, then they will gradually learn that they can mine, even on our city’s sidewalks, neighbourhood parks or public open spaces.
Additionally, if they are not prevented from decimating our town’s topsoil, then we are headed for another disaster scenario. We have to consider that preserving the integrity of the topsoil is essential for maintaining the health and balance of any ecosystem. Any excessive excavation should consider the preservation of topsoil and its vital role in supporting plant and animal life.
But do informal miners take this into account? I doubt it. Do they have a rehabilitation policy? I don’t think so either.
One day, down the line, when Kimberley looks like the Moon surface, rehabilitation efforts may be needed to restore the ecosystem if topsoil damage has occurred. And that, I fear, may have to be done by young men, shaking their tins.
