There is a haunting reality on Sabah’s roads. They’re not just littered with potholes; they’re lined with stories of neglect, frustration, and, tragically, death.
The recent fatal accident of a motorcyclist in Lido has reignited public outrage over something that has festered for years—our crumbling infrastructure.
Potholes have long been a problem in Sabah. From urban hubs like Kepayan and Penampang to stretches like Jalan Sandakan-Lahad Datu, these gaping holes are more than just nuisances—they’re deadly hazards.
Yet, for years, they’ve been treated as minor inconveniences or worse, something we should simply learn to live with.
But this time, the loss of a life has shaken people into action. Social media activist Kratos Ragnarok has taken it upon himself to spray white paint around potholes, marking them as warnings for motorists. His viral post was both a cry of grief and a demand for accountability:
“Recently, a tragic incident occurred that claimed the life of an innocent person. May his soul Rest In Peace! Since the district and municipal councillors from GRS and Pakatan Harapan in Sabah are not doing their job and are failing to pressure the Public Works Department (JKR), the white-marked potholes are meant to help drivers and motorcyclists avoid them until the authorities repair all potholes.”
For some, this act of defiance is heroic, a public service born out of desperation. For others, it’s an act of vandalism. But in truth, it is neither. It is a symptom of a state that has consistently failed to prioritize its people.
Where is the accountability?
Sabah’s Budget 2025 boasts an allocation of RM424.53 million for the construction and upgrading of roads in urban and rural areas, as well as small towns.
This sounds significant until you consider the scale of the problem. Just last year, Datuk Shahelmey Yahya, the Deputy Chief Minister and Public Works Minister, admitted that Sabah needs RM1.8 billion for road repairs and maintenance. The allocated RM424.53 million, while better than nothing, feels like a drop in a bucket with no bottom.
And what about the concessionaires responsible for maintaining our roads? These private entities are paid to ensure our roads are safe, yet they’ve largely escaped scrutiny. How are they held accountable? Or are they simply allowed to let roads deteriorate while collecting their fees?
Imagine all of these questions come amid an ongoing corruption scandal that has hit the ruling political groups in Sabah which further questions the credibility of those in power, particularly when it comes to matter like this.
Why the silence until now?
Perhaps the most troubling question is this: why did it take a death for people to speak up? Sabah’s rural communities have long voiced their frustrations—resorting to protests like planting banana trees in potholes on Jalan Sandakan-Lahad Datu. Yet urban Sabahans seemed quieter, as though bad roads were just part of the background noise of daily life.
This tragedy has broken that silence, but it should never have come to this. Tire blowouts, damaged suspensions, and near-misses should have been enough to demand action. The fact that they weren’t speaks volumes about how we’ve normalized neglect.
A wake-up call, but will it be heard?
The death of a motorcyclist in Lido on February 3 is not just an accident; it’s a warning. Sabah’s potholes are a visible reminder of a deeper issue—one of complacency, mismanagement, and a lack of political will.
As white paint circles potholes across the state, they don’t just mark hazards for drivers; they underline a demand for change. But will this moment of reckoning lead to action, or will it fade into another chapter of unmet promises?
If we can’t even trust our roads to be safe, what does that say about everything else? It’s time for Sabah’s leaders to answer that question—and for Sabahans to hold them accountable if they don’t. – February 4, 2025.
