uBaba's Feast

In 2017, I managed to compile a festive menu from contributions  from various movers and shakers in the ANC. This makes Babette's Feast seem as ordinary as a McMeal. Probably a fitting lockdown menu to linger over as we ruminate on how far we have come.

We kick off with Bullybaise. A variation, of course on bouillabaise, this aromatic fish stew will storm your palate like a Springbok front row.  Apparently the name is a composite of 'to simmer' and 'to boil'. That perfectly describes the preparation process right here in South Africa. A perfect dish when dining with recalcitrant judges and public protectors, it's best served with thickly buttered rolls and a garnish of unrighteous indignation.

Staying with flavours fishy, there is Saxonworld shrimp cocktail to follow. What makes this dish special are some mysterious ingredients available only at a Saxonworld spice emporium. Wonderful brain food for negotiating complex deals. The Saxonworld Shebeen will serve this dish as a tasty accompaniment to your bitter ale.

Coq au cabinet will smother and capture your palate with a harmony of complex favours. It's a tender casserole of boneless, spineless chicken simmered in twenty year old scotch. Just a caution: too large a helping can leave one pleasantly drowsy. Another caution: never to be cooked in or accompanied by white wine.

Mzansi fruit compote is much favoured by various politicians and important people at assorted SOEs. Bananas (best sourced from Limpopo) are the champion in this dish, which also leaves a lingering nutty aftertaste.

President's Punch is ideal to wash down this superb meal. A heady mixture of fruity flavours, rum and Chernobyl vodka, it packs a deceptive punch and can leave one with a hangover of nuclear proportions. What the heck, we South Africans are used to living dangerously.

All dishes are best prepared using ANC Classic cookware.

Bon appetit.

Richard

The Big Picture

Dear Ms Zille

You once queried how Dr Ace gifted one of his security people a very expensive Pierneef, then called it an honest mistake when the auctioneers asked questions.

Madam, mistakes happen. I once almost gave away a Constable, mistaking it for something that my nephew had done at school. The fact that his surname, Coetzee, so closely resembles that of the painter added to the confusion. It's not outside the realms of possibility that similar confusion caused the Pierneef error. I also once drove off in a Porsche which was parked next to my People's Car. The sort of mistake anyone can make. Same country of manufacture, similar sleek lines. I was a little distracted at the time. That brings me to my next point.

Dr Ace is a philosopher with an honorary degree from a Turkish university. The Turks have excellent coffee, cigarettes and Turkish Delight. I have also briefly viewed two dubbed Turkish soapies, Doodsondes and Bittersoet. The acting, while not quite Anthony Hopkins, was passable. This gives me the confidence that their universities are of an equally high standard.  It is quite possible, nay likely, that Dr Ace was preoccupied with questions  of  a cosmic nature at the time, for example:

Which came first: the chicken, the egg, the ANC, democracy, all of the above?

If a picture falls in a gallery and no-one sees it, did it really fall?

Does art imitate life or vice-versa?

Madam, is it any wonder that something as mundane as a painting worth a few million might slip through the cosmic cracks?

Now that I have, with complete objectively, painted the big picture, I do hope that it provides some perspective.

Yours in the love of art, philosophy and all things Turkish.

Richard

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Spies, Lies And DVDs

Dear Mr Zuma

I knew that you would not disappoint us, your faithful followers, when you finally appeared at the Zondo Commission.

Some fine method acting business that would have made Brando proud - polishing your glasses, shuffling papers etc. I fully expected you to mumble in Brandoesque fashion: 'No state capture, just business.' An eloquent Italian shrug and a manly giggle accompanying that.

The last time I came across so many spies in one place was in a Ludlum collection. You named about half the country. It might have been easier simply to list those who were not spies. I trust that my own name would have been near the top, short contract spells with the CIA and KGB notwithstanding. The fact that you are still standing is testimony to your resilience or their ineptitude. I suppose one just can't find good spies nowadays. I think the bard had you in mind when he wrote: '...they come not single spies, but in batallions.'

You were a man much sinned against, according to your riveting account. Did you mention a former minister of justice as one of those who plotted against you? There's no justice in the world, is there? You also mentioned intelligence agencies. Didn't know we had so many. Didn't know there was enough intelligence to go around.

What made my blood run cold (apart from the Gauteng winter weather) was that devices were reportedly found on your plane. I assume you were referring to devices that go Kaboom in the comic books (as opposed to laptops, USB devices etc.). What cold-hearted monsters would do such a thing? That plane must have cost a fortune in tax revenue.

Well Sir, that you are still with us suggests that the devices were probably bought second-hand in Zimbabwe or at one of our many Primrose pawn shops. We so look forward to more at your next appearance (health permitting). I feared that we might be in for a dry - as- dust session but was delighted that my decision to forego an episode of Game Of Thrones was justified.

Yours in the epic struggle against spies and saboteurs.

Richard 

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White Noise

Dear Mr President 

I don't have to tell you that times are tough. Those health warnings on cigarette packs - yep, they're killing us. R120 a pack of cigarettes, probably manufactured from sweepings somewhere in Limpopo.

Anyway, I write to advise, not to complain. Both Messrs Zuma and Malema have hinted in recent times that most, if not all, our troubles can be traced back to the Whites. Come to think of it, Ms Mbete made similar revelations in her Al Jazeera interview. The one in which she made Einstein look slow-witted. And Trevor Noah look quite ordinary. Now, when a trio of such impartial, thoughtful intellects arrives at a similar conclusion, it must give us pause. These Whites seem to be quite a busy lot. Manipulation, monopolies, incitement of otherwise innocent politicians and others to villainy, fomenting discontent, causing depression and anger....the list goes on. I'm wondering about the unseasonal rains and bitterly cold weather. I have taken to scaring the children into obedience with: 'If you don't behave, the Whites will come and get you!'

Sir, I suggest that you focus your efforts on combatting this white noise. Success should see most of our problems disappear. There are some thorny questions to address, though. Who falls into this troublesome group? Is it purely an issue of melanin? Mr Malema has spoken of the white tendencies phenomenon. Mr Zuma warned of blacks who think like whites. Dear me, this starts to get complicated. Do we need paint shop specialists  to advise on the nice distinctions between various shades? I understand that the whole business of colours involves some subtle distinctions. Perhaps some apartheid era experts? There may be a few around. Let's do this properly.

While you wrestle with these questions of policy and philosophy, it could do no harm to take a bold step or two. Like those thought-leaders, L'Oreal. Why not ban white rice, White Christmas, A Whiter Shade of Pale and anything by Plain White, for now. That should serve as a warning shot, a preemptive strike. To speed things up, I suggest a committee or two and a commission of inquiry. 

Sir, I can spot troublesome Whites a mile off and am willing to serve.

Yours in the struggle against white noise.

Richard 

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The Untouchables

Dear Mr Cele 

I was inspired by a video in which you seemed to confiscate liquor, brazenly transported in a private car. Some misguided people scoffed. Those of us who have caught your vision as surely as Mark Boucher ever gloved a cricket ball, cheered. Who knows what vile crimes might have been inspired by that liquor, as it flowed into gullets and guts? Inflaming perhaps unnatural, gross desires to loot, murder and pillage. This may well be your finest hour. Cometh the virus, cometh the man. Like Horatio at the bridge, I am sure you will be remembered as the man who held the intersection, come what may.

I am delighted that the action was captured on video. Great addition to training films for Policing 101. 

I suggest that you remain as our man on the spot, admonishing, confiscating, filming. I feel the confidence growing that we will soon walk the streets at midnight without fear of being molested. On the other hand, I'm confident that rapists, murderers and armed robbers shook in their shoes on viewing the video. I suggest some editing, then a well-publicized release as the Saturday night movie. A few close-ups of your stern lawman's visage, some Peckinpah style slow motion in the key sequences - a Mzansi classic is born. Perhaps we could spin it out into a Mzansi version of The Untouchables. 

In the interim, you could delegate the other stuff. You must have people more suited to the boring business of strategy, tactics, relationships and communication. Trivial stuff. Surely, they could handle gang violence, drug trafficking and the assortment of villainy that we've almost become accustomed to. You can get on with the critical stuff. Who knows but even now some black-hearted villain roams our streets, bottles of Scottish Leader and cartons of Sahawi in his trunk, like deadly weapons-grade plutonium. Go get them, sir. Your country relies on you.

Yours in the savage struggle against alcohol and crime (almost the same thing).

Richard 

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The Root

Dear Fellow South Africans

“In SA there’s no police brutality”.

“What a relief”, I sighed, though through my designer mask it came out more like: “What a load of steaming bullsh..t!” Remarkable how these masks will distort sound. That probably accounts for half the Kafkaesque stuff I thought I heard from our politicians.

Our minister of police reportedly said so. I believe him. As much as I do crime statistics. I’m sure all the press reports, videos and photos showing otherwise are nothing but a monstrous fake news campaign. Mounted, of course, by enemies of Law and Order. I once saw police roughing up a suspect in downtown Joburg but that must have been mass hypnotism (are there no depths…). The honourable minister is quite rightly concerned about community brutality that may result. Towards police. Yes, that is a worrying thought.

I must congratulate the minister on his, surely, thoroughly researched, groundbreaking discovery that, not money, but liquor is the root of all evil. An epiphany. I’ve often wondered why arrested cash heist criminals, hijackers and assorted villains look pissed out of their minds on TV. Al Capone and his mates must have been downing gallons of the stuff daily.

Just a request, Mr Minister. Please look at us when you do the crime statistics thing on TV. Much as I admire your taste in hats, long shots of the top of your Fedora don’t make for good viewing. A friend said that you were literally talking out of the top of your hat. I’d be happy to provide training on presentation skills at current state tender rates.

Yours in the struggle against villainy, alcohol (except in sanitizers) and other contributors to crime and disorder.

Richard

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Chill With Zuma

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Mouthful

June 11th, 2020 by richardjmann

Dear ANC

I have just been reading about the Free State mayor with foot firmly lodged in mouth.

I see that you have temporarily suspended him for ‘racist utterances’. I think that’s unfair. There seems to be a serious disconnect between brain and mouth functions. The man is clearly in need of help. Suspension will not help at all. It is cruel to keep the man in a job which is clearly so at variance with his natural gifts and talents. Please find something more suitable for him. There is a fellow at our taxi rank who shouts out “Kouse, fyf rand” into a megaphone for hours on end. This may well be an eminently suitable career for one who enjoys using his mouth and can bypass the inconvenience of engaging brain first. Call it compassionate redeployment. One does feel for people so cruelly disabled.

The question does spring to mind as to where and how you find these chaps. You do seem to have a ready supply, if the news is anything to go by. By ‘these chaps’ I mean the large number of ‘leaders’ who couldn’t lead a one-man scout troop. I’m sure there are lots of competent people available (else we’d be in even worse shape than we are). Please let us know if you need some assistance with selection.

As for the DA, if the allegations about your eloquent Swartland mayor are true, does your inaction mean consent? Asking for a friend.

Yours in the struggle to find competent, thoughtful leaders.

Richard

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A Time To Remember

A Time To Remember

Thursday, November 16th, 2017

Dear Medical Fraternity

I hate to say I told you so (actually, it’s a rather nice, smug, feeling of self-righteousness).

Mr Martins’s memory banks have been cleaned out, looted, liposucked by ATGA. Where there was a memory of a meeting with the Guptas is now only dark night or white space.  I warned you, dear medical fraternity, of the dangers of atypical, transient, global amnesia. Making the black plague look a bout of hay fever, this pandemic has scythed through  the ranks of politicians, movers, shakers and kingmakers. Now, Mr Martins joins Messrs Koko, Zwane, Jayzed and a host of the fallen. Even more alarming is that the entire security detail seems to have been similarly afflicted, if my reading is correct. All at one fell swoop. One is reminded of the carnage in Hamlet:

‘What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot
So bloodily hast struck?’

Dear clinicians, even those of us with no medical training can tell that the common factor in most of these tragic cases is the presence of the Saxonworld family. Surely they must be quarantined immediately. Isn’t Robben Island available? One imagines that they would be comfortable in the cells. surrounded by so much history. Some therapy would have to be provided. There must surely be enough rocks on the island to keep them happy, entertained and healthy. This could also add some spice to the island tours.

The Saxonworld shebeen will have to be burnt to the ground and the whole area disinfected. I’d also suggest the Mugabe cure for the most seriously affected - confinement to their homes or some other, suitable environment. We must act decisively, after lunch.

Clinicians, the eyes of the nation are upon you.
Yours in the struggle for national health.

Richard

The Scuffle Continues 2

The Scuffle Continues 2

June 3rd, 2020 by richardjmann

‘The Scuffle Continues’ is available from Kindle and Amazon at 4 dollars (special Black Monday to Sunday price)
Here’s an excerpt:
A Hole In The Head
Saturday, January 20th, 2018
Dear Mr Trump
A friend said that it takes an a..hole to recognise a sh..hole. That was crude but he says that you started it. Also that we bow to your superior wisdom and experience in matters lavatorial. You are clearly full of it - wisdom, that is. From ‘Yes, we can!’ straight to the can. How you Americans have moved on.
With our own wisecracking president rather subdued, we do appreciate your efforts to keep global, political comedy alive. Maybe some work on the quality of the shtick? You made such a great comic duo, with our Jayzed working the dark continent (Eskom’s contribution) and you doubling up the rest of the globe with uncontrollable mirth….

The Long Goodbye

The Long Goodbye

Tuesday, November 21st, 2017

Dear Uncle Bob

I was deeply moved at the sight of those large crowds rejoicing at your long awaited shuffle into peaceful retirement. A newspaper headline very rudely blurted ‘Voertsek’. Gratuitous vulgarity. I wish journalists would not stoop to using gutter language. ‘Sod Off!’ would have been far more acceptable.

Time and chance, the Good Book says, comes to all. You certainly had your chance and it seems your time is up, not so? One of your great achievements has been the clever way in which you encouraged the spreading of Zimbabwean skills to all corners of the earth. Inevitably, many may want to now return to be near you in your time of retirement. The affection and esteem in which you are held has surely grown with each unique leadership intervention. I particularly like your cows for cash initiative. Still struggling to picture how the bank queues worked but you certainly put the stock back into stock markets. There is no question that you transformed Zimbabwe. Whenever I think of you, Great Zimbabwe comes to mind - called the Zimbabwe Ruins by ignorant colonialists.

It’s a pity that Grace won’t get to ascend the podium. With her skills with the power cable, no-one could doubt her ability to wield power. And your (former?) party would have had no need of a chief whip. It does seem you will have to settle for games of monopoly and DVD evenings. Game Of Thrones might be right up your alley. Yes Minister and Yes Prime Minister will never grow old. But then again, the humour is quintessentially British. Sorry, perhaps a bad idea.

Understandably, you are reluctant to retire as there is still so much to plunde…, sorry, achieve. When you retire to our country, as so many interesting people do, I hope to discuss your unusual perspective on leadership and transformation over some coffee (and perhaps a pipe of good Zimbabwean tobacco - do you still grow it?). As our own leadership seem to have taken their cue from you, it would be educational to hear from the maestro himself.

I look forward to seeing you in Sandton (just a cable length away).

Yours in the long shuffle to retirement.

Richard

They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

They Shoot Horses, Don’t They

Sunday, November 26th, 2017

Dear Mr President

Lines from Toto’s ‘Africa’ come to mind whenever I think of you (which is far more often than any man should be thinking of another man).

‘Gonna take a lot to drive me away from you
There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do'

I suppose you could add:

‘I bless my reign down in Africa’

Being concerned for your health and welfare, I wondered whether you might be feeling a little draught from the door left ajar after Uncle Bob’s departure. One would hate for you to be indisposed. After all, when you sneeze, or giggle, the whole country catches a cold. Incidentally, a language practitioner (I assume this is someone who speaks a human language), pointed out to me that the great one’s name is Rob, not Bob. I could not call him rob; that’s getting personal, isn’t it? Besides, the expression, ‘Bob’s your uncle’ was affectionately coined for him.

Mr President, surely you have achieved all that is on your bucket list? Castle, largeish family, friends in high and low places, hordes of adoring admirers of your fresh comedy routines - the list goes on. Is it not time for you also to fade ‘far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife’?

You see Mr President, as much as we delight in your wonderfully inventive routines with numbers, and new words, your revolving cabinets, cop rotation, headline - making surprises and every other squirming rabbit that you pull out of your cavernous. bottomless hat, we are in serious danger of circuit overload. We are living the ‘thousand (un) natural shocks that flesh is heir to’ in too short a time. You need to slow down so that we can at least catch up to last week’s scand… , er, story.

Wouldn’t it be nice to cast off the cares of state and swap transformation stories with Uncle Bob over tea, while Princess Grace does her cable knitting?
Mr President, unkind folk may want to quote Cromwell to you,: ‘For all the good that you have done here…… In the name of God, go.Seeing as you love music and dance, I prefer to quote you some fragments of another song that comes to mind: They Shoot Horses, Don’t They.

Here we go
Round and round the floor
It’s making no sense
But we’ll stay here till the end
It seems so long
Just like a marathon

Couldn’t we just stop now?

Yours in the brisk walk to retirement.

Richard

Silliest Of Seasons

Wednesday, December 4th, 2019

Dear Fellow South Africans

We’ve had silly season for the past eight or nine years. Perhaps the difference at this time of year is the rash of traditional armed robberies. Who would have thought that villains are sentimental about Christmas?
My neighbour was in the shop at the local garage last night. She placed her order with a fellow who was emptying the till contents into a bag. Perhaps preoccupied with the gathering storm outside, she assumed that he was a member of the management. She asked him to ’shesha’, as the rain was on its way. He laughed and replied that he was ’shesharing’ as much as he could. My neighbour did wonder briefly why one of the other staff members was fixing her with an unblinking stare. The management member exited with his bag and a cheery farewell. Only then, horses departed, did the shop alarms let loose a futile cacophony. My neighbour did have a vague sense, during the spring cleaning of the till that something was out of kilter. This was simply because no-one ever works so fast or enthusiastically in that particular shop. That includes the ATM, which is our of order about three days in every week and on monthends. I doubt whether the robbers had a great haul in that Primrose garage. Perhaps just practice for bigger things. That is, unless our own magnificent Sweeney tracks them down, determined bloodhounds that they are. My neighbour was a little shaken, but having been through four similar episodes this year, recovered quite quickly.

Elsewhere the silliness continues. One of our politicians claimed that attempts had been made to poison, first his mind, then his body. My advice to him is: get a food taster (for a small retainer and handsome danger allowance, I am available). Also, walk softly and carry a. big stick. I have several intricately carved and decorated sticks at Black Friday prices for just such a time.

To you the same advice and offer, fellow South Africans, during this silliest of seasons. Joburg drivers, please remember that rain is a natural phenomenon and won’t harm you if you ease off on the accelerator.
Yours in the struggle against extreme silliness and the love of traditional Christmases.

Richard

What We Learned

What We Learned

June 7th, 2020 by richardjmann

It’s been said before. We learn most from the difficult times. We’ve certainly learned from this crisis what really matters in life - cigarettes and booze. Like one of our famous sons of the soil, some of us were probably ready to kill (or is it die?) for the cause. We learned, instead, to wheel and deal like hardened Black Market School of Business graduates.

Then there were those tireless, focused people, for whom no task was too menial - the food parcel thieves. Consistent to the end. The challenge for them may be what to steal next, as they limbo their way to new depths.

I thought our president started out well and decisively with the lockdown. It just wouldn’t be us though, if the irresistible call of comedy wasn’t answered by some of our leaders. I’m sure many smokers gasped with merriment at the ‘gotcha’ game one of our ministers played. The subsequent torturing of argument, reason and logic (some cynics said truth, too) must surely have provided much sorely needed comic relief.

The torturing of South Africans didnt. Some policemen and soldiers showed us what they’re really good at. It has nothing to do with their actual jobs and plenty to do with the sort of stuff that keeps psychiatrists busy. Maybe a revisiting of recruitment and basic training, dear ministers? Especially for the officers. I am open to putting in a tender. Like some comrades, Love To Tender ranks among my favourite Elvis hits.

I do hope that the honourable members learned that far more is at at stake than scoring points of order. The future can bite one’s backside quite fiercely when one trifles with the allowance called the present.

We learned too, that, many South Africans are made of finer stuff. Even the grubby food parcel kleptos can’t diminish that. There’s hope.

On The Buses

On The Buses

Wednesday, December 18th, 2019

Dear Ekhuruleni Municipality

Our popular bus driver has apparently gone on leave. I am sure that he needs it and thoroughly deserves it. It must be exhausting navigating the chaotic streets of this world class African city, with minibus taxi drivers and others making up the rules as they speed along.

The 5.20 bus did not turn up on the first day of his leave. Has he taken it along? This would also explain why the 5.50 bus goes missing in action whenever the driver is off. One then waits in fearful anticipation to see whether the last bus will turn up or not. By a combination of the laws of Sod and Murphy, this drearily inevitable event usually takes place on a cold, dark Friday evening, the Jozi streets in their most sombre evening wear. Miss that last bus and you’re in for a long walk down ’streets that follow like a tedious argument of insidious intent’.
I understand the notion that drivers should take care of their vehicles. Isn’t it taking it too far, though, to expect them to take the buses along when they go on leave? On the Friday before Reconciliation Day, three buses did not turn up. I assume that three more drivers went on leave. The communication was consistent - none.

I foolishly thought that buses run to a schedule. Of course, it wouldn’t be Johannesburg, South Africa if you didn’t throw some delightful twists and surprises into that lot. It’s been instructive and interesting riding on the Ekhuruleni buses. You had about four strikes during the year. How on earth did you manage to find four major issues to dispute in one year? Shouldn’t you consider counselling?

Yours in the struggle to get from A to B without touring the entire alphabet.

Richard

Power Rangers

Power Rangers

Wednesday, November 29th, 2017

Dear Ms Brown

You certainly shot the lights out, that is, when they were not already out for some Eskom reason.

You have probably had the most interesting team of senior managers ever assembled in one organisation, in that remarkable power utility. Of course that excludes certain organisations of Sicilian and Colombian origin.Was this perchance the brilliant headhunting work of that legendary Saxonworld recruitment agency?

Brian, Mr Koko, the delightfully named Mr Tsotsi, your deputy, Mr Martins et al. My, how that agency must have worked to earn its fee. What a cast, what a story. I see Southern Lights (working title) as a weighty soapy keeping South Africans riveted and electrified week in, week out, barring load shedding. The ingenious deals in which some of these power pioneers were involved make the Wolf of Wall Street look like lamb on the spit by comparison. Deals that defied known business principles, logic, and for all I know, the law of gravity. But then again, who am I to argue against men of such brilliance that it merited payments seemingly equivalent to the budget of a small municipality?

I do look forward to your establishing a chair of Eskonomics at our leading universities. (We do have some left, don’t we?)

Guiding and leading this team of adventurous, paradigm-shifting leaders was you, the duchess of delegation. Disappointingly, amid this ferment of innovation, Eskom did resort to the oldest, lowest, most boring trick in the business book: pass the cost of spilled passes to the consumer. The technical term is bugger the consumer with an F.

The cut and thrust of the current inquiry will be delicious viewing when this drama sears our screens. Great dialogue. “He’s lying about my lying.” (Somewhat unfortunate turn of phrase, open to several interpretations). The ideal rejoinder would have been: ‘She’s lying about my lying about her lying.’ Stuff of Shakespearean drama. We are transfixed.

Yours in the quest for deals and drama.

Richard

Jungle

Jungle
Wednesday, December 18th, 2019

Dear Pickpocket

First, congratulations on your sublime skills. I didn’t feel a thing when you lifted my cellphone on that busy Jozi street.

It was one of the cheaper Mobicell models but I’m sure that, with your abilities, you will graduate to bigger things (Samsung, Huawei etc). The Good Book proclaims that one’s talent will bring one before kings. I hope yours brings you before a judge. Soon.

The phone doesn’t have much storage space, so i suggest that you lift a storage disk as well. The touchscreen feature often becomes a thumpscreen feature. Of course, it’s the information that’s a real loss. Google add to my woes by insisting on sending codes to the stolen phone. I suppose in their wonderful world, no-one ever changes devices. They should visit Johannesburg.

As I’m now unable to access my blog’s administration area, perhaps you could guest blog until I can. Something on the joy and fulfillment that your line of work brings might be a good start. Perhaps you could become an online Fagan, with hints, tips and instructions in the ignoble art. Some of us may need to join the profession, what with our economic woes and Eskom’s sterling contribution.

To anyone else reading this letter, if you happen to know me (Joburg being such a small village), please send vour contacts. I’m rebuilding my directory with some pain. Contact details for Halle Berry, Angelina Jolie and Pearl Thusi would be a promising beginning. I would hate them to misinterpret my silence as a lack of caring.

Dear Pickpocket, I suggest that you target some of our elected officials in future. Some seem to accept jungle law and ethics as normal in our beloved country. It shouldn’t bother them, then, as much as it bothers some of us.

Yours in shared ownership.

Richard

Swansong

Swansong
November 1st, 2017 by richardjmann

Dear Mr President

Kak dyela? (Russian for ‘How are you?’}. Now that we are about to be suffoc..sorry, enfolded in a warm embrace by the Russian bear, I’ve brushed up on useful phrases. Has some resonance for us, doesn’t it?

Now that you are about to stroll down the buttercup bordered path to retirement, I’ve racked my deficient brain for an appropriate farewell tribute. To misquote the Troubled Prince, beggar that I am, I am poor even in praise, but here goes. I am reminded of Joe Gargery’s words to Pip in Great Expectations: “Such times we had, eh, Pip, such times” If I’ve mangled the quote, pardon. Atypical, transient, global amnesia has wreaked havoc with my…er, yes, memory. that’s what it’s called. (An insidious ailment that you and your team brought into the light of day - bravo). Talking of expectations, what great expectations we had of you, sir. And you fulfilled them. Storyteller supreme, entertainer, illusionist, magician and escape artist extraordinary. Who cares about the insignificant stuff: leadership, vision…pah.

I previously published excerpts from the song that I wrote in your honour. I had planned to record it for YouTube and for posterity but couldn’t find an under R50 studio, not even in Germiston. then I present the entire song to you. I hope that you will have a string quartet or full orchestra perform it at your farewell.

Rap portion of song:

Me and my friend Mandla
We went down to Nkandla
Hoping to chill with Zuma
But all he said was ‘Phuma’

Said we want to hang with the Guptas
Won’t you introduce ‘em to us
We know you are the prime number
But all he said was ‘Hamba’

We said we want to build a palace
And you’re the man to tell us
We know the folks are jealous
You’ve got the inside track
But all he said was ‘Voetsek’

We said we know you like dancing
Almost as much as romancing
We’ve got the moves like Juluka
But all he said was ‘Suka’

We said we know you are a master
At dodging disaster
We want to take you on a world tour
They’ll all be yelling ‘encore’
You’ve got more skills than Houdini
He just said ‘Bring my mshini’

You’ve got the gift of divination
You know the Book of Revelation
Numbers - ayakwehlula
But you can count the moola
He just said ‘Niyagula,’

This part sung to the tune of ‘Guitar Man’ by Bread

Who draws the crowd and sings so loud
Baby, it’s the Nkandla Man
Who’s going to steal the show, you gotta listen to the Nkandla Man
He has made us laugh and he’s made us cry
We selected him and we don’t know why
Something keeps him giggling
Each and every day
Always has a game to play

Night after night. who shines so bright
Baby, it’s the Nkandla Man
On TV and radio, you gotta listen to the Nkandla Man
When he comes to town, everyone gets down
Cause he’s much more fun than a circus clown
Something keeps him giggling, each and every day
Always has a game to play

Eskom’s lights begin to flicker
And the future’s looking dim
The rand is getting weaker
The economy is grim
But he doesn’t seem to notice, he’s just got to find another game to play
Laugh away, Nkandla Man
Have you day, Nkandla Man

Mr President, I hope that your entire team will be in fine, full voice at your farewell.

Yours in the love of musical tributes

Richard

Not The Nine O'clock News

Not The Nine O’clock News

Friday, January 3rd, 2020

Dear Mr Former President

What a ridiculous fuss in the WMC press about your visit to a Capitec branch.  I have been to various banks many times and have never experienced anything like it. I once even invited journalists to accompany me to witness first hand the cold,grasping behaviour of our banking people as they refuse once more to lend me a trifling couple of million for basic necessities. To keep body and soul and other bits together. A saga worthy of a Dickens novel, but do you think our fearless reporters had the gonads to tackle it? Obese chance.

It’s not as if you were cradling your famous ‘mshini’ or something. A friend of mine once had a similar fuss made when he visited his local bank. It might have had to do with the Uzzi in his bag. His intentions were of the purest kind. He merely wanted to use it as collateral for a loan. The inordinately cynical prosecutor failed to grasp this simple, logical explanation.

 I tell this story to illustrate how the most normal, everyday actions can become the subject of spurious and mischievous speculation. The aforementioned WMC press are particularly at fault here. This is probably because they are bankrupt of real news. To them I say: Go to the Daily Sun, thou sluggard, and be wise. There are enough tokoloshes, zombies; witches and other interesting persons swarming across the beloved land to keep any reporter worth his or her natural sea salt in business daily.

Unfortunately, the Stellenbosch - manipulated fourth estate seems obsessed with such mundane matters as state capture. This while we are in mortal danger of being overrun by things that go ‘eish’ in the night. Have they not seen the zombie series on DSTV? I am  certain that it is loosely based on actual events in the Land Of The Free. One only has to look at their choice of leader to believe that anything is possible there. We, of course, being rational South Africans, would never make such peculiar choices.

Anyway, sir, I hope that your visit to, say, Burger King, is not accompanied by ludicrous speculation as to why you chose Pepsi over Mountain Dew. Or why you did not visit McDonalds instead. People should leave you alone to enjoy a peaceful retirement and visit whichever bank strikes your fancy.

Incidentally, please do let me know when you will be visiting a Germiston branch. I would dearly love to have a photo with you as a momento of our warm, longstanding friendship (of which you may not be fully aware, as I suspect that misguided aides have been keeping my many friendly letters away from you).

Yours in the struggle against gossip passing for news.

Richard

Oddfellas

Oddfellas

Tuesday, October 31st, 2017

Dear Mr President

You’ve done it again. We would  be insane not to grab this moment and start filming Oddfellas immediately. What a story, what a cast of characters! The headiest mix of the best of Goodfellas, The Godfather and All The President’s Men. I see you blowing Marlon Brando away as a sauve don with a trademark giggle that many actors will imitate for years to come.

Great picture on the front page of The Sunday Times. It would make the perfect movie poster. Nice touch there - the hand on heart, the suit and the shades. All the enigma and cool of a Sicilian movie-don. Don Zuma has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?

You seem intent on going out, not just with a bang but with a spectacular fireworks display. To call you a man of surprises would be like calling Ali a middling boxer. The bard could have said of you: ‘Age has not withered him nor custom staled his infinite variety.’ You are truly deserving of the title ‘Msholozi, Man Of Mystery’. All that you need is a superhero cape..oh, sorry, the DA has the cape.

You have friends in high, low and subterranean places. You introduced mixed martial arts and cage fighting into the house. Your rugby - style cabinet substitutions will probably become standard practice in all democracies. Now you unveil a cast of friends straight out of Goodfellas. Like David Miller of the Proteas, you have hit a succession of sixes. What’s next on your bucket list?

Incidentally, there was an allegation that the other Zuma received support from purveyors of dirty cigarettes. I did buy a pack once that had gravy stains on it. I hope they were gravy stains. Mr President, some of my best friends also inhabit a parallel universe, where the law is concerned. They are not as philanthropic as yours are said to be. Best I did was the odd beer at the Saxonworld Shebeen. If the claims are true, you could buy the shebeen many times over with the friendship gifts to you and yours. You could teach networkers about networking.

Enough of this small talk, Mr P.   Let’s draw up that movie deal for Oddfellas and buff up our Oscar acceptance speeches.

Yours in the quest for great South African films.

Richard

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How The West Won

Sunday, October 29th, 2017

Dear Mr President

You lost an opportunity to dent the confidence of the DA yesterday when the Sharks lost by the narrowest of margins (about 11 trifling points). I notice that some newspapers still call the other team Western Province, which proves my point that the DA have an Invictus - type project going to unite those wine farmers behind them. Though I am a good sport, I will be drinking only Namaqualand wines from now on.

I suppose we should congratulate that other team on achieving the narrowest of victories. I wish them a wonderful victory parade in driving rain. Feels good to be gracious in defeat.

Mr President, I still think that a commission of inquiry is called for, just to ensure that all was above board. As you well know, in sport, as in politics, things may not always be as they seem. For example, we thought for a long time that you were a real president, only to discover that your genius lies in the realm of mass entertainment. I suggest the following questions for all match officials and groundsmen:

Do you have relatives, friends or distant acquaintances in the Western Cape?
Have you been up Table Mountain and who paid?
Have you ever mistreated a banana?

I have several other penetrating questions and will mail them soon. One cannot be too careful. Talking of penetration, the other team did attack very well indeed with ball in hand. (Thought I’d use that phrase beloved of sportscasters, though I don’t see where else the ball would be - it’s not soccer). You might consider that Carr chap for your Christmas cabinet reshuffle. He twisted and turned his way past the excellent Sharks defence with the adroitness of a seasoned politician. No- one would ever be able to, for example, pin Saxonworld associations on him.

Well, Mr President, after a good final, it’s back to the boring business of dodg.., sorry, critical nuclear deals, inquiries and fending off the unwelcome attentions of the likes of Mmusi (now flushed with victory) and the irrepressible Julius.

I wish you interesting times.

Yours in the love of sport and sportsmanship.

Richard

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Out Of Africa. Being the diary of one Herbert Nosworthy, explorer, discovered by Richard J Mann while exploring hitherto undiscovered regions of the Germiston library

Saturday, October 21st, 2017

To my Noble Patron

Your Grace, we set forth from the Ruins of Zimbabwe, ruled with a cable of iron by one called Unclebob. Our journey through this part of the dark continent was fraught with perils. Chief among them the Zimbabwean border post, where the tiresome filling of documents brought strong men to their knees. Only our duty to His Majesty (long may he reign) and our beloved England sustained us, as did the desire to show faithful service to your gracious person.

At last we set foot upon the soil of that mysterious land South Africa, or Mzansi, as it is called in the native tongue. Colonel Bottomley was most desirous of meeting military men of the warlike Zooloo tribe, for their fame, as Your Grace well knows, has spread beyond their borders. It seemed fitting to me that our own gallant forces should not be ignorant of the stratagems and tactics of military men of foreign lands. We repaired with as much speed as the primitive terrain allowed to the land of the Zooloos.

There fortune smiled upon us, for our arrival coincided with a visit by that great chieftain, Umshowlozy. We mingled with the crowds at an address given by this august personage. The colonel remarked several men in warrior dress. Impressive in bearing and no doubt men of courage and skill, the colonel remarked that their primitive weapons would make them no match for His Majesty’s gallant troops. Of course, he added, such a military encounter was extremely unlikely. The address of the chieftain was interspersed with much giggling. He was clearly a man of genial disposition. To our not inconsiderable surprise, he suddenly burst forth into song, gyrating vigorously in what appeared to be a war dance. When the crowd joined in, the colonel began to fumble for his pistol but I assured him that the natives were in festive, not restless mood. He muttered that he could not conceive of young William Pitt cavorting in the Commons to the tune of Greensleeves.

We departed for the fabled City of Gold, where many warriors had gone to seek their fortunes digging for the precious metal or racing chariots for men of wealth. By day, beaten by the fierce African sun and by night our ears assailed by the roaring of wild beasts and the throbbing of tribal drums to a primitive music called quaito, we pressed on. Of gold there was little to see, but great mounds of rubbish filled the streets. The only gold that we espied was in the teeth of a most unprepossessing fellow who furtively attempted to sell to us, first timepieces, then his cousin. Many persons tried to press upon us meats cooked on open fires and other victuals. The colonel did purchase a quarter loaf of bread, hollowed out and stuffed with diverse meats, for he pronounced himself famished.

The natives, rushing to and fro with perplexing haste, were not unfriendly. Many hailed us in their own tongue with what sounded like ‘Howzit’ and ‘Aweh”. We did indeed remark many Zooloo charioteers. They hurtled through the streets, hurling their conveyances into the traffic as one imagines they once hurled themselves upon the foe in battle. They uttered fearsome oaths at any that dared hinder them. Indeed, a sight as fearful to behold as the clashing of cavalry in battle.

Surely many trials await us still as we explore this strange, savage land. We have heard tales of the Free State province, where giants roam the land. They are much given to a sport which resembles the  chaos and carnage of infantry charges  - all in pursuit of an oval ball, which once gathered, is then kicked away. This peculiar sporting event is consummated with the consumption of mounds of roasted flesh and gallons of ale. One never ceases to be surprised at the outlandish customs of the natives here. Out of Africa, always something new as Pliny or Aristotle or one of those Greek fellows opined.

I shall be diligent to write to you, Your Grace, of the next part of our journey in this savage, yet intriguing land.

Until then, I remain,
Your humble servant,
Herbert Nosworthy

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The Party Rock Anthem.

Wednesday, October 18th, 2017

Dear Mr President

I was so concerned about your recent silence that I contemplated sending a bucket of our traditional dish, KFC, to cheer you up.

It was most gratifying to see you come out of your corner swinging like Ali on steroids. You knocked us all out with another of those delightful surprises that keep the nation on its toes. We had no idea that you were quietly sharpening the blade (and in one instance, blunting The Blade). I cannot help but picture you as a jolly, Woody Allenesque version of the grim reaper, chuckling away with each swing of your scythe. Are you perchance planning a December shuffle also, as a Christmas gift to the country?

The Party Rock Anthem is probably best remembered for the line: “Every day I’m shuffling,” May I suggest that you add this song to your album? Why not lead a daily (toe the) line dance with your cabinet, to that cheery tune? Apart from the welcome change from that other song, it will remind ministers that their tenure depends on complete obedien…,er, performance. (Incidentally, did anyone ever actually bring you your machine gun?)

I read that some of your new ministers did not quite cover themselves with glory in previous roles. Also that some have been severely criticized for questionable links, actions or just for inaction (see Home Affairs, State Security and Communications, for instance). Was this a criterion for selection? Well done in applying it quite consistently. Cynics may say that you have motives other than performance and delivery. I, of course, believe that you are determined to keep the nation entertained at any cost. For that, I salute you. I see the Mzansified new Party Rock Anthem and the Zuma shuffle taking dance floors by storm. You continue to enrich our culture - among others.

Has Donald congratulated you yet on the stinging klap that you administered to the communists? This should bring you closer together, what with your shared interest in standup and ortho - oral gymnastics.

One dictionary definition of shuffling is ‘dragging one’s feel without lifting them’. Unkind souls would seize upon this to describe what you are doing. Staunch supporter that I am of your unique approach to government and entertainment, I simply say: ‘Shuffle on!’

Yours in the long shuffle to freedom.

Richard

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The Empire Strikes Back

Wednesday, October 4th, 2017

Dear Mr Mantashe
Just five minutes ago a hysterical headline screamed out that the ANC may be in a civil war. Please confirm whether this is merely what Donald termed fake news or whether we should start raiding Shoprite for canned goods. Can we expect a South African version of North versus South, with the clatter of chairs replacing the thunder of cannons? On that note, may I suggest the use of plastic or bolted - down chairs for future meetings. Perhaps we should extend that to plastic crockery and cutlery as a safety precaution.
Personally, I believe that this is a typical exaggeration by the white monopoly capital - controlled media. It’s when people start throwing tables that one ought to be concerned. Mr Mantashe, I believe that various elements have hatched a nefarious plot to discredit your organisation. Oh, knavery! Let us not forget that KZN was the last outpost of the British Empire and our British friends have a sentimental attachment to former colonies. I would therefore look for the involvement of MI5, MI6 and any other alphanumeric combinations those cunning islanders may have dreamed up. Our intelligence services have a superb track record of unearthing similar plots. I would put them to work immediately, or at least after lunch. To those who cry ‘paranoid ramblings’, two words: Bell Pottinger. Did not their Italian -made loafers walk on England’s green and pleasant land? I am not suggesting that they are behind the skullduggery but merely pointing out what tangled webs may be woven by that ‘nation of shopkeepers’. Lest I be accused of being xenophobic, let me point out that some of my best friends are British. Tony can confirm that. I also agree with the poet Ogden Nash that the British are sweet and always land on their own or someone else’s feet.
As for the Eastern Cape, we know how easily they are influenced. Political correctness and sensitivity constrain me from elaborating further than to allude to a historical incident involving large numbers of livestock.
Mr Mantashe, the pattern is clear.  KZN to Eastern Cape…The Western Cape is next and with its easygoing, wine - sipping approach to life, will be easy prey for those manipulative scoundrels. I suggest a pre-emptive expedition to that fair province. I am willing to join you, as I have insights to contribute. Any humble five star hotel will do as a base of operations. I read a news article which made reference to creative use of a large intelligence fund. My modest expenses should not pose a problem, as I am sure that one more million will not be sorely missed.
Mr Mantashe, one other nagging concern is that your party is beginning to resemble both the EFF and the DA with their exuberant approach to the conduct of meetings and their use of litigation. This will not do. We need diversity. Please do let me have an itinerary soon as I will need to arrange for leave from my day job.
Yours in the struggle against recycled colonialism.
Richard