Thembisa residents protest against new electricity tariff surcharge
Several major routes in Thembisa were blocked off with stones and burning tyres.
The new electricity tariff surcharge of R126 a month was implemented from the beginning of July.
WATCH | Protestors in Tembisa block the mayor's convoy as he prepares to address them regarding increased electricity tariffs in the area.
Video: @Muchave1Muchave pic.twitter.com/4x3q25JUb1
— Sowetan LIVE (@SowetanLIVE) July 21, 2025
Mithe Mokgotadi, 55, who said he has lived in Thembisa his whole life, told Sowetan: 'In May I was billed R12,000 and this month I've been billed R3,000. That is for everything, from rates to water. And on top of that, I still need to make payment for electricity.
'Paying R250 gets you at least 64 units, but that is not enough. It can last you three days at most, and so I have to keep buying electricity.
'I live in a house where there is more than five of us and I don't have a job. I only sell apples and some vegetables from home to make do with what I have. But it's not enough, because in a month I spend at least R3,000 on electricity — and now they want to make matters worse by increasing the tariff.
'At this point they want us to turn to crime and making illegal connections because we are really struggling — but they don't see that. They are mugging us of the little we have.'
WATCH | Tembisa resident Josephina Siboni (62) says she does not understand the newly introduced tariffs and what they mean. She says when buying electricity, the units do not reflect accordingly.
Video: @Koena_xM pic.twitter.com/M4YNYRtn80
— Sowetan LIVE (@SowetanLIVE) July 21, 2025
Another resident, Enos Mohlari, 60, said he applied to fall into the indigent category in April and is baffled why he has been billed.
'Just a few days ago, I received a statement saying that I owed the municipality more than R3,000 — I am being forced to pay,' he said.
'My hands are tied because I don't have the money to pay these bills. I don't work at all, but they're billing me amounts that I don't have in my account. And now they want us to pay more for electricity. It's not fair, the units we get barely get us by.'

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The Citizen
11 hours ago
- The Citizen
Power still cut at Pretoria police stations as deputy mayor denies getting special treatment
Despite being criticised for putting residents' safety at risk, the City of Tshwane said it needs to optimise revenue collection. Many are confused about the City of Tshwane's decision to cut power to three police stations in the capital as part of its 'Tshwane ya Tima' campaign to get outstanding accounts up to date. Police spokesperson Brigadier Brenda Muridili has confirmed that the power was restored at the Moot police station on Wednesday night after the power supply was disconnected on Tuesday. 'Saps Garsfontein was switched off too, but they also have a generator. [At] Mamelodi East, they are using solar power for backup,' she added. City of Tshwane cuts power at police stations Muridili said police are working with the Department of Public Works and Administration to restore the power and resolve the matter. In June, the City of Tshwane mayor was criticised for cutting the power to the Weskoppies Psychiatric Hospital due to the Gauteng Department of Health's (GDoH) failure to settle R1.2 million in overdue electricity charges for March and April. ALSO READ: Power cut to police station sparks DA backlash over alleged favouritism DA Tshwane Caucus spokesperson Jacqui Uys said the City of Tshwane needs to implement its credit control policy to ensure the financial health and future of the city. 'However, this needs to happen fairly and without bias, following the correct intergovernmental processes. Currently, the ANC's patronage networks and the deputy mayor's own pocket are benefiting while our communities, who deserve police services, are paying the price,' she said. Deputy mayor accused of getting special treatment Uys said the power cut at the Moot police station is an indication that Deputy Mayor Eugene Modise is being treated differently from others. She also said it seems that the deputy mayor's own financial interest is more important than the safety of residents. 'The deputy executive mayor and MMC of finance, Eugene Modise, must provide a clear explanation regarding the special treatment of his company, Mzansi Resorts, who owes the city in excess of R20 million and has not had services cut, in relation to 'Tshwane Ya Tima' who on Tuesday cut power to Saps in the Moot,' she said. Modise denied the allegations and hit back at the DA. 'Mzansi is not indebted to the City of Tshwane and does not hold a municipal account with the city. If they believe otherwise, they must produce verifiable proof of any municipal account held by Mzansi with the City of Tshwane,' he said. Modise said instead of undermining the efforts of the 'Tshwane ya Tima' campaign, the DA should acknowledge the strides made in optimising revenue collection to strengthen service delivery. Power cut at Southern Sun Arcadia The city continued with the 'Tshwane ya Tima' campaign on Thursday and further disconnected Southern Sun Arcadia due to a R12 million debt. 'No pay, no power. Accountability is not optional,' he said. Modise said Shoprite also settled a R600 000 payment just as the city was about to pull the plug for more than R500 000 owed. 'Responsibility isn't a favour – it's a duty. Pay your municipal bills,' he said.


Daily Maverick
a day ago
- Daily Maverick
How Vodacom and Maziv convinced everyone they had changed
All the details from the Vodacom/Maziv merger Competition Appeals Court hearing where R12bn in promises nearly caused a fender-bender. When senior counsel representing the Competition Commission, advocate Daniel Berger, said, 'My lord, as an officer of the court, I am duty bound to commit this statement to the public record,' I nearly drove my car off the road in shock. I was on my way from collecting my kids from school to drop my son off at his football practice, and things were getting spicy in the post-lunch session of Competition Appeals Court (CAC) proceedings. But how did we get here? The devil in the details Earlier this month, I reported on the Competition Commission's dramatic about-turn on the Vodacom/Maziv merger – how they went from fierce opposition to sudden support after the parties agreed to 'revised conditions'. Now, sitting in back-to-school traffic with a Teams call crackling through my car speakers, I got the full story of exactly what those conditions entail. And frankly, it's either the most comprehensive set of telecoms concessions in South African history, or the most elaborate corporate sleight of hand. The headline number that had everyone's attention was always going to be the money. Maziv has committed to a cumulative capital expenditure (capex) of 'at least R12-billion' over five years for network expansion and maintenance. That's 'two more (billions) than it was before,' as one counsel helpfully clarified for those of us trying to do math while navigating parking lot chaos. But here's where it gets interesting – and where my daughter, sitting in the passenger seat doing homework, started asking why I was shouting at my laptop again: of that R12-billion, R9-billion will be spent specifically on new fibre projects, with the commitment period restarted from April 2025. They've effectively put the 'clock back to zero' on their investment timeline. The kicker? The capex will be 'primarily but not exclusively spent on roll-out of infrastructure in low-income areas.' This isn't just about passing homes – it's about actually connecting them. The million homes promise Maziv has undertaken to pass at least one million homes in lower-income areas over five years, with at least 350,000 homes in what they're calling 'key areas' (think Alexandra Township), what counsel is calling the 'lowest of low-income homes'. My daughter is now asking what I mean when I keep muttering about 'homes passed'. How do you explain to a 14-year-old that a telecoms company just promised to wire up the townships? But the really fundamental concession – the one that had legal eagles in the virtual courtroom practically purring, is this: Maziv must provide 'sufficient capex to ensure that every home passed in terms of the commitments that wishes to be connected on the prevailing terms and conditions for connection is connected' for five years. What this means They can't just run fibre past your house in Alex and then charge you R2,000 to actually connect. They have to budget for actual connections, not just the theatrical gesture of running cables down your street.. Boardroom chess The shareholding arrangements have been tweaked in ways that would make any corporate governance lawyer proud. Vodacom still gets its initial 30% co-controlling equity interest, but the path to 40% just became significantly more complicated. Under the revised conditions, which now meet muster for Compcom sign-off, 'Vodacom can't increase its shareholding beyond 34.9% without the consent of the Commission.' And if it wants to move to more direct forms of control, it'll need fresh merger approval entirely. I gaze directly into the sun, trying to follow the technical submissions about board composition. All parties are now trying to explain, much to the chagrin of the merging parties, to Judge President Norman Manoim that the 'extra four percent' shareholding isn't the nothingburger he keeps making it out to be. You see, the composition of the board has been restructured since the Competition Tribunal blocked the deal: seven Maziv directors, seven Vodacom directors, and now four independent directors (up from three), plus CEO/CFO. Crucially, 'Vodacom will not be entitled to veto their appointment' of independent directors. It's corporate governance with training wheels, designed to address exactly the control concerns that got this deal prohibited in the first place. Clearing the blockade The legal arguments against the Competition Tribunal's original prohibition are where this hearing gets properly spicy. Advocate Jerome Wilson, representing the merging parties, spent considerable time arguing that the tribunal had 'misdirected itself' through what he called 'internal mistrust' and 'cynicism or bias'. The tribunal, Wilson argued, relied on 'extraordinary allegations' about alleged past collusion between Vodacom and MTN from media reports dating back to 1994 – allegations that were never properly tested in proceedings. This context, he said, apparently 'infected the Tribunal's entire reasoning process'. Wilson's most damning critique focused on the tribunal's 'counterfactual analysis', basically, what would happen without the merger. The tribunal assumed Vodacom would become a very significant fibre player in low-income areas and that other players would fill any investment gap. The evidence? A Dark Fibre Africa representative testimony saying it would take 'at least three years for me to find an investor and I cannot guarantee you that I would find one', and that 'nobody else has come up since 2015' other than Vodacom. The tribunal's reliance on speculation rather than what Wilson calls 'real world outcomes' was deemed a fundamental error. But this does not erase the other issues. The maths starts math-thing While lawyers argued legal theory, the market realities are crazy. Pre-merger, Maziv (through Vumatel) commanded 32% of the fibre-to-the-home (FTTH) market with 2,050,000 homes passed. Vodacom's standalone fibre network? A measly 2.5% with 158,000 homes. Post-merger, the combined entity will control 34.5% of homes passed (2,208,000) and 34.4% of homes connected (885,000). That makes them significantly larger than Telkom's Openserve at 20.9% of homes passed. I explain to my now fully engaged teenager that this deal is essentially creating a duopoly in South Africa's wholesale fibre market: Vodacom-Maziv versus Openserve, with everyone else scrambling for scraps. Which was the original Compcom opposition point, until the merging parties sweetened the deal to get government buy-in – the DTIC and communications minister both supported the appeal. Honeypot dealmaking These post-tribunal public interest commitments read like a policymaking wet dream. Free gigabit per second fibre connections for all public schools, libraries, and clinics passed by the FTTH network roll-out. More police stations getting Fixed Wireless Access (FWA) products. Enhanced employee share ownership plans. Vodacom has also committed to achieving 90% 5G population coverage within five years, with obligations to connect additional FWA users that will require them to 'price their FWA competitively'. For pricing protection, FTTH can't increase prices for the lowest-price options for two years, and there can be 'no forced upgrades' for five years – protecting lower-income consumers from being pushed on to more expensive packages. You see, the tribunal's concern was that Vodacom's veto rights could allow it to force Maziv to act against its profit-maximising interests – essentially, to favour Vodacom over other wholesale customers. The merging parties argued this was a 'fundamental conceptual error'. Vodacom would account for 'less than 20% of Maziv's revenues', so any theoretical side payments or compensation for non-profit-maximising behaviour simply wouldn't make economic sense. The burden of debt What's often lost in the regulatory theatre is why Maziv needed this deal in the first place. CIVH, Maziv's parent company (owned by Remgro), was carrying R19.5-billion in debt by mid-2024. This merger provides the capital injection needed to fund the next phase of fibre expansion, particularly into areas where the business case is marginal. The 'lessening of competition' identified by the tribunal primarily affected 'certain wealthier households' – about 2,000 to 7,500 homes, according to the merging parties. They argued this was insignificant when weighed against connecting a million low-income homes. One genuinely innovative aspect of the revised conditions is an enhanced 'fast-track interim relief process' for foreclosure concerns. This allows an expert to make binding determinations while formal investigations are under way, 'taking the load off the commission' for complex, time-sensitive issues. It's regulatory innovation born from regulatory failure. A recognition that the traditional competition processes aren't nimble enough for rapidly evolving telecoms markets. Concession is a town in Zimbabwe As I finally switch off the Teams call, the bigger picture comes into focus. Compcom's about-turn isn't just about accepting better conditions, it's about accepting that South Africa's digital infrastructure reality requires uncomfortable compromises. The revised deal creates what's being called a 'fibre powerhouse with unparalleled market scale' while theoretically addressing competition and public interest concerns. Whether those theoretical protections work in practice remains to be seen. But here's the uncomfortable truth that emerged from the proceedings: the same companies we don't trust to compete fairly are the only ones with deep enough pockets to bridge our digital divide. In a country where millions still lack basic connectivity, that might be a trade-off we're willing to make. DM

IOL News
2 days ago
- IOL News
Why South Africa's R700 million National Dialogue won't solve youth unemployment
DESPITE clear challenges facing South Africa like rampant youth unemployment, deepening inequality, crime, and a failing economy, the government still insists on a multimillion rand national dialogue. Image: Henk Kruger/Independent Newspapers As an activist who works directly with young people, I've seen firsthand the heartbreak and frustration that unemployment causes. Every day, I listen to young graduates with no job prospects, informal traders struggling to scale, and young minds with brilliant ideas but limited access to funding. So when I hear that R700 million is being allocated to a National Dialogue, I can't help but ask: is this really what South Africa needs right now? There are more than 8 million unemployed young people in this country. That number isn't just a statistic—it's a sign of deep social failure. We are sitting on a ticking time bomb, and the government's answer is to talk? Dialogue in principle is not a bad thing. In a society still scarred by division and inequality, talking to each other is necessary. But dialogue alone does not change the material conditions of people's lives. Talking doesn't put food on the table. It doesn't create jobs. It doesn't fix broken infrastructure or fund small businesses. Next Stay Close ✕ And it certainly doesn't justify spending nearly three-quarters of a billion rand in a country where young people are starving for opportunity. The R700 million cost is not small change. It could fund 70,000 learnerships at R10,000 each - giving young people valuable skills, experience, and a chance to enter the formal economy. It could provide R20,000 micro-grants to over 35,000 youth-led startups, spurring township economies and cutting youth dependency on social grants. That money could be used to scale digital skills programs, agricultural projects, artisan training, or green energy initiatives - all sectors with the potential to absorb youth and create sustainable employment. But instead, that money is being poured into venues, catering, travel, consultancy fees, and bureaucratic processes. All for a conversation. Young people are tired of being told their voices matter, while no one listens to their cries for jobs and dignity. We've attended the youth summits. We've sat in roundtable discussions. We've made submissions to policy documents that no one reads. And nothing changes. We don't need another conference. We need commitment. Action. Budgets that reflect our reality, not political posturing. Let me be clear: we are not asking for handouts. We are asking for investment. We are asking to be equipped to drive our development. Every day, young people are launching businesses, running coding workshops, setting up farming cooperatives, creating art, and building apps. But without support, these efforts burn out. What we need is access - access to funding, markets, tools, and mentorship. The real tragedy is not that we lack ideas; it is that we fail to implement them. It's that the government doesn't trust us enough to invest in them. If R700 million were placed in a youth innovation fund, administered by young people for young people, we'd see immediate results. Imagine community centres turned into business hubs. Empty municipal buildings repurposed into training facilities. Peer-led mentorship programs in every township and rural district. This is not a fantasy. It is a possibility, if priorities are set right. The gap between government and the youth is not just economic, it's moral. It's about trust, dignity, and respect. When money is constantly spent on events and bureaucracy while students sleep in libraries and informal workers get harassed by police, it tells us exactly where we stand: nowhere near the top. A national dialogue, in theory, sounds noble. But in a country facing a youth unemployment crisis of over 60%, any initiative not directly creating jobs or building pathways into employment must be questioned. Talking is not the problem. The problem is inaction. The problem is misplaced spending. The problem is a government that is more comfortable performing empathy than practising it. R700 million could change lives. It could light up rural communities with business activity. It could turn informal traders into formal employers. It could make learnerships more accessible to millions who are currently excluded from the system. Instead, it's being funnelled into a process that has no guarantee of tangible outcomes. At this point, young people don't want to be included in dialogues-they wish to be included in budgets. To empower youth, fund their futures. Don't invite them to another table where the agenda has already been written. Don't ask them to speak while you've already decided what you're going to do. We are not anti-dialogue. We are anti-waste. We are anti-symbolism without substance. If this National Dialogue cannot lead to immediate, job-creating action, then it is not worth the cost. If you genuinely want to change lives, stop hosting summits and start funding solutions. The youth of South Africa have waited long enough. We are not lazy. We are not entitled. We are ready. But we are also tired, tired of empty promises dressed up as progress. This is not a call for more words. It's a call for choices that put people first. And that begins by asking a simple question: if you had R700 million and 8 million unemployed young people, would you talk, or would you act? *Mayalo is an independent writer and the views expressed here are not necessarily those of IOL and Independent Media