I’m currently sitting in the public works office of the council, trying to get some work done despite the loud music playing on the radio, making it hard for anyone to focus. Two guys are browsing Facebook, with one casually perched on the other’s desk, while two ladies decided to escape the heat by relaxing on the balcony overlooking the lake.
I’ve been here for an hour, but I’m prepared to stay all day if I have to. I brought my laptop, internet modem, and charger, all set up. What am I waiting for? A single letter that I was told would be ready ten days ago.
Ten days ago, I took the director of works to my 90-acre development to show him around. I had to pick him up and drop him back because apparently, the council doesn’t often lend out cars. I presented him with two options: One, we give the village land for a football field, access to our shortcut roads, water from our well, and space for a school or health center, which the council will maintain. Or two, we manage everything ourselves, charge our residents a service fee, and restrict access via an entrance gate.
Visiting the land, the director seemed to sweat a bit too much. I needed his approval to go ahead with the development and split my land into 250 plots and get deeds for each. He needed to estimate the cost to the village and the potential property tax benefits. Fair enough. I asked if I could get the green light for a private development if it didn’t cost the village anything. He agreed. Back at his office, he had me type my application on his computer.
He assured me he would draft a letter for the cadaster to accompany my application by that afternoon. A week later, at the cadaster office, there was no letter. The council director claimed he had sent it. When I pressed him for details and the names of the recipients, he was unconvincingly vague. I asked if he could resend it and email me a copy. He promised he’d do it that afternoon.
I left but returned two days later, realizing nothing had been done. The office was a hub of gossip, laughter, and Facebook scrolling. Despite paying taxes to support these workers, I had no letter. The director probably didn’t appreciate my straightforwardness about not paying bribes, but that shouldn’t have hindered progress.
I get it – he’s in a secure job because of connections. But if something is going to take two weeks, just tell me that upfront. Don’t promise it’ll be done today and then lie about it. This whole process is frustrating, especially knowing that increased property taxes from my development would benefit the village.
A friend involved in government projects once faced a similar issue when trying to provide earthquake relief. Despite NGOs offering tools and materials, letters of request from councils were rare and usually only asked for money. It’s another level of dysfunction.
Back in the office, after two hours, I learned the boss wouldn’t be in until the next day. I managed to call him, despite initially being given a wrong number. He finally set up a meeting for the next day, including the cadaster guy to confirm the necessary signatures. Although the boss initially tried to dodge responsibility, blaming the internet outage while his colleagues were on Facebook, he eventually signed the letter after some persistence from me.
Later, my architect informed me that the letter would also need the mayor’s signature. Just another hurdle in this bureaucratic maze.
The struggle continues, but at least that’s one small step forward in this exhausting process.