“Where is the R22 Billion? A Conversation We Must Have”

Not long ago, I penned a piece highlighting the scandal of R22 billion in unspent conditional grants returned to Treasury. It was not just a lament; it was an indictment, a warning that we are not short on money, but on imagination, leadership, and the institutional courage to execute.

In response, I received a note from a young economist, Sanele, recently graduated and navigating the difficult terrain of unemployment. Her words struck at the very nerve of the matter, cutting through the policy speak and technical language with a simple, unnerving question: “Do we really believe that money still exists?”

She wrote: “I agree, the issue is not a lack of funding, but a deep failure in leadership, planning, and delivery. Your emphasis on the need for strategic project origination and a shift from compliance to implementation is spot on. However, I struggle to fully believe these unspent funds remain untouched, as Minister Godongwana claims, especially given the widespread corruption we continue to witness in government. Transparency and accountability must be part of the reform agenda too. I am eager to see when and how the funds will be used, but I find it hard to believe they still even exist.” Her doubt is not misplaced.

We are told that the funds were “returned,” but to where? Are they sitting in a designated, interest-bearing account? Are they traceable? Can the Treasury point to a vault, figurative or literal, where that money awaits redeployment?

Or is it merely an accounting exercise, a line item in a report that bears no relation to actual cash reserves? In a country where audit outcomes often resemble fiction, and where budgets are announced with great fanfare yet fail to materialize in classrooms, clinics, or roads, the burden of proof must lie with the state, not with the skeptical citizen.

Sanele’s voice reminded me why this conversation matters. She is part of the very demographic these grants were meant to serve. When money meant for service delivery goes unused, the cost is not abstract, it is lived. It is in the delay of employment programmes, in the decay of public infrastructure, and in the daily humiliation of qualified young people knocking on doors that never open.

We must move from the convenience of compliance to the duty of implementation. But beyond that, we must demand evidence. If R22 billion was returned, where is it? What bank account? What date? What plan exists to ensure it is redirected with urgency and oversight?

These are not rhetorical questions. They are constitutional ones.The state owes us not just answers, but proof.

Sanele, like many in her generation, has no patience for platitudes. She wants leadership that can account not only for what it promises, but for what it does not deliver. And in that spirit, I echo her challenge:

Show us the money.

Not for the sake of drama, but for the sake of trust. Because a nation cannot invest in its future when it is unsure if its present is real.