Despicable me: Termites Edition

Have you watched ‘Despicable Me’?

Those little yellow minions work for a criminal mastermind, survive ridiculous conditions and somehow remain loyal. I used to think that was a children’s comedy. Then I read reports on housing challenges.

At least Gru gives his minions somewhere to sleep. In Eswatini, government gives its employees houses that even criminals might reject.

Termites. Mould. Exposed wiring. Bat droppings. Ladies and gentlemen, we have discovered the real minions. They are on government payroll. And unlike the yellow ones, ours cannot simply walk off the film set. They have children to feed, loans to repay and termites to accommodate. The termites, meanwhile, are thriving. Free accommodation. No application forms. No housing committee. No salary deductions. They simply arrive, eat the walls and start families.

Meanwhile, the policeman whose house they occupy is waiting for government to approve repairs. Welcome to ‘Despicable Me: Termites Edition’. According to government’s July to September 2026 reports, almost half of police residences are unfit for human occupation. Almost half! Imagine being a policeman. You spend 12 hours protecting the public, arrest criminals, maintain order, then return home to find termites eating your bedroom. You cannot arrest them. They are government tenants. And the bats? They occupy the ceiling without signing leases. Nobody evicts them. Nobody deducts rent from their salaries. Meanwhile, the officer waits for permission to repair his toilet. Government allocated E15.75 million for police building rehabilitation. Beautiful! Except some projects await Tender Board approval. Here, a roof cannot be repaired until somebody approves the committee that recommends the committee that considers approving the roof. By then, the rain has retired.

And the termites have grandchildren. At Hlane, a 48-room dormitory is ready, but the canteen is unfinished. You may sleep, officer. Eating is subject to budget availability. In the movie, the minions cause chaos. In Eswatini, ours wear uniforms, salute their superiors and submit maintenance requests. Same loyalty. Different exploitation. At least Gru occasionally listens when his minions scream. And Correctional Services? Three projects. E24.702 million allocated. Amount spent? Zero. Not E200. Not E50 for nails. Zero! E16 million for prison rehabilitation. E7.827 million for facilities. E875 000 for radio communication. All unreleased. Government has imprisoned the money. No bail. No trial. No parole. Unlike the prisoners, that money is serving an indefinite sentence. Correctional Services operates 14 centres, accommodating an average of 4 315 inmates and employing 2 798 officers.

Maintenance

Its buildings are deteriorating. Maintenance funding has dwindled for 10 years.

Meanwhile, leaking pipes increase water bills. Government cannot afford to repair the leak, so it pays for the leak every month. That is not financial management. That is subscribing to a disaster. Now, government administers 2 693 housing units against an establishment of 45 351 public officers. During one quarter, 2 100 people applied for accommodation. Twenty received houses. Twenty! Even Gru would struggle to explain that to his minions. And this is a man who tried to steal the moon. At least he had a plan. Your chances of getting government accommodation are so slim, you might as well apply to become a termite. At least termites know somebody who lives there. In Mozambique, termites damaged two newly completed government houses before anybody occupied them.

Brand-new houses! The termites conducted the handover ceremony themselves. They arrived, inspected the workmanship and immediately started eating the investment. No waiting list. No application. No Tender Board. Just teeth and ambition. In London, two diplomatic properties require E23.72 million in repairs. The ambassador’s residence is unoccupied following water damage. Imagine representing your country at Buckingham Palace while your government residence has been defeated by plumbing. In Brussels, another ambassadorial residence needs E9.55 million. Geneva needs heating and maintenance. I would spend more time at the office. After all, it’s a First World country. And the Housing Board? Ninety-nine per cent occupancy. Ninety-seven per cent rent collection. Yet 496 maintenance requests remained outstanding. Government collects rent efficiently from buildings it struggles to maintain.

The most functional part of the housing system?

The cash register. So here is our national housing policy. Allocate money. Withhold money. Inspect damage. Write report. Repeat.

The roof collapses. Another committee arrives. The termites eat the report. Somebody announces that the situation is receiving urgent attention.

You know what disturbs me? In ‘Despicable Me’, Gru is the villain. A criminal mastermind. A man who tried to steal the moon. Yet somewhere along the way, even that bastard learnt to care for his minions. Our government does not have to steal the moon. Just release the money to repair the roof; but apparently, that requires greater criminal genius. And here is the tragedy. When a policeman retires, government can replace him. When a house deteriorates, government can commission another report.

But when termites destroy a government building, somebody will finally demand urgent action; not because a family was living inside.

Because government property has been damaged. So perhaps we misunderstood ‘Despicable Me’ all along. Gru was never the real villain. He was the only person who understood that even minions need somewhere safe to sleep. In Eswatini, the termites get the houses. The minions get the hazards. And government gets the rent.

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