Feels Like Summer – Public Pools and Their Politics

Johannesburgers are fond of telling anyone who will listen that the city is a great place to spend December. The weather is glorious, there is no traffic, and you can enjoy the city’s many amenities without the usual crowds.

One of these is the network of roughly 60 public swimming pools scattered across its neighbourhoods. These pools provide important, safe spaces for people to relax, for youngsters to learn how to swim and for the health conscious to stay in shape without committing to a gym contract. They are also, quite simply, beautiful.

This is why one of the most depressing sights in a Johannesburg summer is the troupes of teenagers, sometimes packed into taxis and sometimes on foot, trekking long distances through the hostile urban landscape in search of fresh water and a cooling dip. The reason is obvious.

Many areas, particularly poorer ones, are severely underserved. Some pools open late and others do not open at all during the season. Young people are left with little choice but to make the long and sometimes dangerous journey to suburban pools. They may then discover, if unlucky, that those facilities have slipped into the same state of decay as their township counterparts and are also unfit for use.

Anyone who has ever met a successful private pool owner knows it takes a very particular sort of personality to keep a pool in the sparkling blue condition seen in chlorine adverts. Maintaining a pool is somewhere between an art and a science. Small mistakes in chemical balancing or leaf clearing can turn the water green almost overnight. A single mechanical failure can leave it unswimmable for weeks. Someone has to pay attention, often a resolute husband or, failing that, the Hollywood archetype of the lithe pool maintenance professional.

A municipal pool is all of this but on a far larger scale. It involves more complex infrastructure, bigger crowds, millions more litres of water, and far larger quantities of chemicals. A public swimming pool is a finely tuned and delicate symbol of a city’s ability to deliver a public service. Even more than cutting grass or fixing potholes, pools can go wrong quickly and then stay wrong for a very long time.

Close to a pool

Some 40 years ago my parents moved into a house partly because it was close to a municipal swimming pool. In their first summer a pump component broke, closing the pool for the entire season while a replacement was sourced. It was repaired in winter only for another part to fail the next year, shutting the pool again. This cycle repeated itself for more than half a decade, effectively meaning the pool remained closed summer after summer until eventually every problem was resolved.

Given the chaos that defines Johannesburg’s city administration, it should surprise no one that less than half of the city’s pools opened on time this year, with more than ten percent not opening at all. As a result, some parts of the city, particularly in the north and east, have no access to public pools.

Those that do open often have broken infrastructure, including damaged diving boards and heating systems that no longer function. Even when pools are operational, councillors warn they may close again because supplies of chemicals run low, allegedly due to supply chain interference driven by corruption.

The city’s pricing structure does not help. This year the city inexplicably scrapped the season ticket system, which previously cost about R470 upfront, and replaced it with a monthly R80 fee.

This is more of burden administratively and means the municipality loses revenue if a regular swimmer is away, say, in December and simply does not pay that month. A normal ticket is R21.00 with half that for pensioners and children.

Political symbol

With elections season coming soon, a clean and well maintained public pool has become a potent political symbol, especially in underprivileged areas. The City of Cape Town seems to understand this and has allocated R41 million to pool maintenance. This doubled the number of pools opening at the start of the season to around 60%, with all but one open by mid-December.

Cape Town’s mayor, Geordin Hill Lewis, made a very visible splash at the reopening of a pool in Gugulethu after five years, while the Minister of Arts and Culture ensured he was present at the reopening of a pool in Gqeberha that had been closed for nearly a decade.

Despite Johannesburg’s many challenges, the city still boasts several excellent public pools, and more than 400 000 residents use them each season. There have also been cases where local residents stepped in, working with the city or directly with the pool manager, to keep facilities operational when they might otherwise have closed.

Given the sheer number of private pools in Johannesburg, it is also somewhat surprising that no enterprising businessperson has yet figured out how to monetise the existing infrastructure.

So, if you find yourself in Johannesburg this December, take a trip to your community pool. You may discover with a local gem that you do not need the beach after all.