Late last month I attended a portfolio committee meeting on land reform and rural development at Parliament, and to say I am disappointed would be an understatement. What I witnessed shook me — not because I expected better, but because I had hoped that somewhere within these halls, there would be a sense of urgency, of groundedness, of compassion. But instead, I saw ministers wearing R20,000 watches and tailored Italian suits, completely disoriented from the daily struggles that the majority of South Africans face.
Being in a space like Parliament, where decisions affecting millions are made, and seeing that disconnect up close — ministers decked out in luxury while speaking on rural poverty, landlessness, and food insecurity — it’s not just frustrating, it’s soul-crushing. Especially when you care deeply and work to fight for justice and equity on the ground with the people affected. It’s like watching the people with power perform concern while being insulated from the lived reality of the people they’re meant to serve.
There was a proposition made to address unemployment that baffled me. The aim was to create 2,000 jobs in the rural sector in the next 5 years. With the billions allocated to the national budget, this figure is not only laughable — it’s insulting. It exposes just how little the everyday citizen is prioritised. Privatisation is prioritised. Political careers are prioritised. Generational wealth is being built right in front of us — by the same people who claim to represent the poor. In a country built off of the blood, sweat, and tears of its people, this is the outcome?
This country is in crisis. Land reform remains slow, bureaucratic, and performative. The policies sound good on paper, but the implementation is met with inefficiency, political interference, and outright disregard for the most vulnerable. Rural communities are not just statistics — they are real people facing dispossession, climate collapse, gender-based violence, and food insecurity,
often all at once. And yet, those entrusted to make transformative decisions sit in air-conditioned rooms far removed from the soil, from the pain, from the hunger.
I left the meeting with a heavy heart. Not because I’m surprised — but because I’m defeated. Because I still believe we can do better. That the people of this country deserve better. But what I saw today reminded me that until our leaders are accountable to the communities they claim to serve, and until they are willing to feel the weight of rural suffering in their own bones, real change will remain a dream.
