Betting on jobs, girls and bandwidth at the casino

KwaZulu-Natal always leads the pack. With the economic recession, the province has the dubious distinction of playing host to not only the most job losses in the country, the most non-functioning traffic lights, the most street name changes and in a bid to not to be outdone, we also applied to play host to the most cases of swine flu in country. So it was hardly a surprise for most, when the KZN Department of Economic Development (DED) decided to host the first “Economic Recovery and Job Summit”, in Durban at the end of last week.

About 119 000 jobs were lost in KwaZulu-Natal (I didn’t even know so many people had jobs in the province) in the first three months of 2009, and so high-flying businessmen, bureaucrats and labour were summoned to the Sibaya Casino in an attempt to create a roadmap for a more sustainable economic turn-around (ie keeping the poor people occupied by creating work, halting our gini coefficient’s blast-off into orbit and creating more bandwidth).

Considering that KZN is really the backwater province, where mostly pansies remain to have a slower, more relaxed life compared to the rat race of Jozi or where people’s Afrikaans is really too kak to justify a shift to the more alluring Kaapstad.

So for us rural Durban people, such a road-show type meeting is really quite a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and that KZN is responding to the economic crisis is really something for us to celebrate, considering that little ever gets done here; what with all the sunshine, seaside and Schabir Shaik still taking up most of the province’s attention.

The DED selected a fabulous venue for the summit. Away from the manic city centre, away from the farmers’ market disputes, cluttered informal traders, dirty sidewalks, street children, drug peddlers and other undesirable vagabonds. A casino is really quite suitable.

The organisers didn’t have a choice, since the International Convention Centre in the Durban CBD was booked out already. Besides, where else would you have rather held it?

At the Warwick market where people are struggling to survive, while dodging rubber bullets, Michael Sutcliffe’s Marxist credentials or the City Mayor’s penchant to exhort to the usage of tear gas?

Would you rather have the summit about reviving the clothing sector in one of those not-so-secret factories downtown where workers are so desperate, bringing up the CCMA is really a very crude swearword?

And of course it wouldn’t have made sense to have it at the King Edward Hospital — where people have been queuing up since 2008 to see a specialist (of course there always isn’t one). Patients were not on the agenda.

So the Sibaya Casino was selected; about 30km from Durban on the North Coast, propped up elegantly on a hill facing the vast Indian Ocean, the casino is the fancy holidaymakers’ dream. The walls with the castle facade, pretending to be the lost cardboard palace of the Zulu Empire make it “the ideal getaway for those seeking all the thrills and spills, laughs and luxury KwaZulu-Natal has to offer. With every convenience from state-of-the-art conference facilities to placid ocean views, Sibaya is nothing short of being home away from home”. The advert is really no exaggeration.

Dignitaries arrived sporting expensive suits and driving fancy cars, while the not-so-important people were more than thrilled to be told to stand up when the VIPs walked on stage. I guess that’s what church would feel like, should I decide to convert. SAfm is obviously quite a serious news station, well that is what my mother says, and even they came to camp outside the casino. I think I even saw some famous journalists running around, making Jim Carrey-type faces with the premier, the new economic development minister and other famous faces as they lapped up exclusive interviews with the VIPs. I can’t be sure. I am not very good with faces.

The delegates were really impressive. They walked straight past the coin machines, poker tables and the early morning gamblers (people gamble, have breakfast and go to work) and straight to the conference centre. Good to see politicians draw the line between gambling with our lives and their money.

Despite starting late (which is always acceptable), the summit was well-organised. It was so thorough that even pretty girls were arranged to escort delegates from the entrance of the ballroom foyer to the registration tables (about 5 metres), making everyone feel extremely comfortable as they prepared themselves to discuss robustly how to save the new set of unemployed poor people from rioting and making a nuisance of themselves. I am told the organizers went to the local university the day before and specifically asked for the prettiest students. I particularly enjoyed the eye candy; after all I am a guy and this being pretty women’s month and all that.

Economic Development Minister Ebrahim Patel spoke eloquently about his 6-pack plan in the casino’s ballroom, quite a clever response to the crisis. I battled to take him seriously though as the ambience frequently forced Patel to break into a waltz with Economic Development and Tourism MEC Michael Mabuyakhulu. This was a ballroom after all and I do have ADD.

Thankfully, Patel was not distracted by imagination and maintained his composure.

Likewise, over the next day and a half, stakeholders from the many sectors maintained their composure when they met separately in various locations inside the casino. The tourism sector met under a crystal ball inside the Krakatoa nightclub. I understand that they battled to stand still.

Some of the discussions and points raised were poignant. The clothing and textile industry reportedly had some fierce discussion. Apparently labour actually pitched up to that session with a real agenda. But at the agricultural meeting, the farmers were upset once again that no one cared about their cows until there was no milk on the shelves. I have never thought about it like that before. The tourism sector resolved, among other resolutions, to support local craftmakers. The old women on the Durban beachfront beading away, crafting away, tearing their hair away, often making their first sale at 3pm on a Friday afternoon will be very excited since they have only heard this commitment for the past 10 years. The IT professionals at the nerd half of the summit, drummed home the need for increasing bandwidth and investing in Business Process Outsourcing or call centres as we know it. I think this was fruitful and that the sector’s insistence on developing call centres is really a positive one. We definitely need a generation of educated, smart, middle-class youngsters living underground, talking in foreign accents to an irate customer in New York (to ensure that we make a real contribution to globalisation — I mean you should say something to complete the idea). Apparently research indicates that Durban’s weather will keep them relaxed and stress-free and in a good mood since they will get paid 10% to 18% less than their counterparts in Jozi or Cape Town. This way about 25 000 zombies could be created without breaking a sweat.

But what impressed me most was how superficially real the whole vibe was. Cocktail parties, lavish suppers and even free dancing girls. Delegates walked out of the conference room in the evening, meandering between tourists, Zulu dancers and some Dolly Parton wannabe dancing and singing around the casino and the lobby area. I realized that after a hard day’s work, this was just reward.

I walked around briefly and smiled to myself thinking we were definitely on the right path; these lavish summits/conferences made absolute sense, especially when rich, established people took time off from their busy schedules to discuss the path forward, the type of tenders possibly in the pipeline and of course, how they could “create some jobs”, give the poor reason to feel good about themselves. I decided to ask a friend what she thought of my conclusions.

Am I being unfair? I ask her.

Yes, you are! Don’t you realize that they really think they are doing something great, she replies.

But this is what I am saying … am I not?