How to Steal a City: The Battle for Nelson Mandela Bay: An Inside Account by Crispian Olver (Jonathan Ball Publishers, October 2017)
To start with, a brief “declaration of interests” or caveat emptor. I don’t know Chippy Olver very well, but I do indeed know him. He was one of my wife’s closest childhood friends, and they remain close. But I haven’t seen or spoken to Chippy for, I guess, four years or more. Additionally, I have been living temporarily in France since mid-September, so I know nothing about how this book was “presented” at its launch (launches?) by Olver or how it was received by the media or the chattering classes.
I mention my ignorance about the book’s “presentation” and reception, because until I reached the end I didn’t know what the book was essentially about – or rather what exactly it is supposed to be. Which reminds me: if you want to “get” this book, you need to read it all, from the start to end.
Was this book, I wondered, as suggested by its title, (1) a story of corruption and state capture, one lifting the lid on ANC malfeasance, naming names, pointing fingers, one that would end therefore … in what? … (2) Chippy, who is, or was, a card-carrying ANC member and inter alia a former director-general of Environmental Affairs and Tourism (1999-2005), renouncing his ANC membership and declaring that the National Democratic Revolution (NDR) was a mistake?
Or, having read further, I wondered whether the book was (3) essentially a cry from the heart, about what had happened to him in Nelson Mandela Bay – a kind of journal of anguish, discovery, and hopefully revivification. Or, having read even further, I wondered (4) whether the book was a kind of mea culpa, an explanation and apology, for “his role” in the ANC losing the 2016 municipal elections in Nelson Mandela Bay.
Or, having read a whole lot further, it suddenly struck me: was the book perhaps (5) an exercise in post-facto covering his own tuchis? “It wasn’t me who done it; it was some other boys; let me explain.” (The last musing, (5), was not likely to please Chippy, or my wife for that matter. What can a fellow say? Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas; “Plato is my friend, but truth is a better friend” – or so Aristotle is understood to have said. But Aristotle didn’t have to face my wife.)