There are moments in life when silence becomes too loud to ignore. When the weight of injustice crushes your spirit until you feel invisible. Today, I speak not just for myself, but for every South African resident caught in the web of erroneous municipal billing, suffocated by a system that demands payment for what was never consumed.

I live modestly, I consume modestly, yet I am staring at a city council bill nearing R300,000. Let that sink in ….. yes R300,000.

That’s not just a number. That’s the price of a house. More than an annual salary for many. That’s a lifeline gone. That’s a silent execution, an invisible rope around my neck, tightening with each reminder notice, each disconnection threat, each ignored plea for help.

You knock on every door.
You write to the Billing Department.

You write to the authorities
You appeal to the Executive Mayor’s Office.
You reach out to City Power’s Executives.
And yet… silence! Disconnection! Despair!

I have no issue with paying for what I have genuinely consumed.
But I cannot, in good conscience, pay for something I did not use.
This is neither fair nor ethical. And yet the burden is mine to bear.

In the quiet of my house, dark and powerless, I find myself longing for something more. A mediator, a solution, a breakthrough.

It reminds me of the ancient cry of Job, who in Job 9:33, cried out for someone to stand between him and God, someone to mediate, to explain, to bring clarity to his suffering. Job was a man of integrity who lost everything, still trying to make sense of a punishment he didn’t deserve.

“If only there were someone to mediate between us…” he cried.

Unlike Job, we now have a Mediator in Jesus Christ, who stands for truth and mercy. And in this battle against a bill I never deserved, I cry for a different kind of mediator, one between the powerless and the powerful. One between truth and bureaucracy.

My longing has temporarily found relief in a company called Wetility, a provider of prepaid solar energy, a flicker of hope in my dark space. They offer a model where they install the equipment and residents pay monthly for access to solar power. It’s a good start. It lifts the noose a little.

But true freedom, real empowerment, would come if Wetility allowed us to pay toward owning the equipment. Imagine that: energy independence from the sun, not on lease, but owned by the people who use it. That’s not just electricity, that’s liberation.

But I also confess, I am torn.

I think of the thousands of workers whose livelihoods depend on City Power and Eskom. If we all walked away, if we all unplugged, those jobs would vanish. Families would suffer. I am a Christian, I do not wish for this future. I do not wish for harm to come to anyone.

And yet… what of me?

What of the residents whose savings are being bled dry to pay for crimes they didn’t commit?

What of those who no longer eat properly just to try and keep the lights on?

Must our suffering be the cost of sustaining a broken system?

This is my cry. Not of rebellion, but of exhaustion. A yearning for justice, not revenge. For fairness, not escape. For a power solution that restores dignity, not just electricity.

So I say: if Wetility or others are listening, give us freedom with dignity. Let us own our power, literally and figuratively.

And to City Power: I am still here, at the very place I started. Begging. Pleading. Not for pity, but for what is right.

Cancel all outrageously high and unjust bills for all your clients.

End this cycle of punishment.
Let fairness have the final word.

Have a blessed day,
– A Hurting but Hopeful Resident

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