In search of El Dorado

My expedition to find competence and intelligent life in government was sparked when a couple of people told me the new minister of public service and administration was an unusually competent man for a government official.

So, with this in mind, I readily agreed to meet with the man when summoned by his office earlier this week. I was told that Richard Baloyi, who took over the portfolio from Geraldine Fraser-Moleketi, would like to set the record straight about the State IT Agency (SITA), following a series of articles on ITWeb.

As you will recall, SITA has become best known for the unceremonious departure of its CEO, Llewellyn Jones, amid a rift between him and government CIO Michelle Williams. Most recently, ITWeb had run a series of articles about the Auditor-General's report into Jones's resignation and the actions of Williams.

In addition, it had also come to light that the minister - described as a man of action - had set up a task team to monitor and advise SITA in its future endeavours. While our information had been reliable about all of this, I could not get official comment from Action Man's office, until one of his underlings ordered me to appear at a meeting with the minister.

While this excited me, I was also somewhat cautious, as the previous series of SITA articles also earned me an audience with the (previous) minister, Fraser-Moleketi, last year. This turned out not be so fruitful, as Fraser-Moleketi refused to entertain any questions regarding the actual issue and the meeting - attended by at least 10 other high-level government officials (for intimidation purposes, no doubt) - quickly turned into a general uitkak about the big, bad media and trash we peddle.

But, nonetheless, I was assured that minister Baloyi was a different calibre of man, who did things bigger, better and faster than his predecessor, who - I got the distinct impression - was now being blamed for many of the world's evils.

So, with new hope in my heart and a spring in my step, I corralled one of our photographers and we prepared for our journey. We packed the wagon with supplies (or rather, we piled a whole bunch of the photographer's bags, carry-cases and other odds and ends into my car) and set off for the capital.

The journey was arduous, as anyone crazy enough to travel the N1 between Johannesburg and Pretoria can attest to. Apart from the usual heavy traffic, the trip was made even more perilous by long stretches of highway construction and a couple of traffic department collection points that saw motorists performing emergency braking manoeuvres to avoid having expensive photographs taken.

But I told myself that I was being silly - I mean, the minister summoned me and, since I was already here, he will have to see me eventually.

Martin Czernowalow, ITWeb news editor

But we persevered and finally arrived at our destination - Batho Pele House, in Pretoria Central. Upon being cleared by security, we were ushered into a waiting room and told - by lackey No 1 - that the minister was running slightly late. Fine, I thought, this was to be expected.

Time passed. Slowly. Between being forced to page through The Citizen (a copy was lying on the table and I was desperate) and watching some political progamme on one of the SABC channels on the TV set that spewed forth some Barack Obama hype, I started to worry.

But I told myself that I was being silly - I mean, the minister summoned me and, since I was already here, he will have to see me eventually. Right? Well...

After sitting around for an hour, with our proverbial thumbs up our backsides, lackey No 2 appeared - joined by a perplexed-looking lackey No 1 - and started explaining that the minister is in a government lekotla and that he had hoped to sneak out and see me during lunch, but that it turned out he was busier than expected and... and... and...

Ok, so the meeting was not going to happen. While I was still trying to process this bit of information, lackey No 2 was trying to placate me by saying: “All we can do is apologise.” Fine, whatever.

But then he continued: “We tried to accommodate you during this busy time, but - as you can see - unfortunately, it did not work out.” Hey buddy, you called me, remember?

At this point, I reflected on the fact that it had been a while since anyone has had the decency to apologise unreservedly, without excuses - a simple “Hey, I screwed up and I'm sorry” would do. But it was not to be. Lackey No 2 - who seemed to be the main lackey - offered more excuses than apologies and it struck me then that an unconditional apology would have been a break with the official ANC party line. After all, taking responsibility is not a concept the ruling party readily embraces.

Then came the clincher - the minister, I was told, is new at this and simply had no idea how time-consuming a government lekotla could be. Really? I find that hard to swallow, as Baloyi was previously the chairman of the National Assembly portfolio committee on public service and administration. Surely, he should have been familiar with meetings, lekotlas and other such important government business.

To add insult to injury, I was told that I'm welcome to return on Thursday, when the minister would likely be able to see me. Yes, I could do that... but, no... I think I'll pass.

Instead, let me extend an invitation to the minister. Mr Baloyi, my door is open. Please don't hesitate to come see me if there is anything you wish to discuss.

There are two main reasons for this - one, I have no faith that the minister's underlings are competent enough to organise their way out of a paper bag. Two, since the minister is new to this, I'm sure he would gladly take up the opportunity to be whisked along the highway, at 200km/h, while his hired goons push unsuspecting motorists out of the way. This is one of the perks of the job, I believe.

So, I must sadly say, our expedition to find competence and intelligent life in government failed.