Bollywood- Style Arrest

Dear Law Enforcement Agencies

 Some time ago, I was awarded a couple of tenders to build bridges in Limpopo. At the time I happily hummed snatches of 'Love To Tender' and 'Try A Little Tendering'. So blissfully unaware was I of the trauma and grief that can follow a successful tender.

 I now see people being arrested left, right and centre (mainly on the left). As far as I can recall, I did nothing wrong. My cousin, who heads up the Finance Department, had nothing to do with this tender beyond a routine signature. 

 My civil engineering knowledge is limited to slashing my way through thick undergrowth with a panga. But we crossed that bridge. I subcontracted to someone who in turn subcontracted to someone else, who...Anyway, you get the drift. I am not sure whether the bridges were actually built or not. At any rate, it's my opinion that Limpopo looks better without bridges. Less colonized.

 But, to the heart of the matter. Like many of my comrades, I am disgusted and affronted and also pissed off by the Hollywood- style arrests. The dominance of White Monopoly Controlled, culturally insensitive policing must end. Phansi ne WMCCIP, phansi. We are a multicultural, African country. 

Should things come to that, I would prefer to be arrested Bollywood - style. I have appropriate theme music. I can have a troupe of dancing extras in within minutes. I request that the arresting officers be colourfully clad and in fine voice. Let's do this well or not at all (my preferred option). 

 Yours in the struggle for fairness, justice, professionalism. 

 Richard

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

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The Annual SA Chutzpah Awards

The comedies have been scintillating, the dramas spellbinding, the acting intense and flawless. For the judges, agonizingly difficult choices. 

Brushing aside such tough contenders as The Illegal Immigrant Who Defrauded COJ Of Millions, three productions stand out. Spies, Lies And DVDs has all the high drama of the world of espionage with moments of sheer comic genius. And this potentially awkward marriage of genres works largely because of a command performance from method actor, Jayzed. Known to his adoring fans as Number One, his Brandoesque mumble and trademark giggle had moviegoers riveted. A solid performance from a supporting cast of judge and legal eagles. I shan' t spoil the twisting, suspense - filled plot, but expect spies, lies and nasty devices. Rumour has it that Part II is on the way. Negotiations with the star are underway. 

 Tony Y stars in the side-splitting comedy The Righteous Stuff. The plot is a little far-fetched but the straight-faced delivery from a brilliant ensemble cast make this one well worth watching. A group of politicians and concerned citizens take on a corrupt, crumbling government. Under a couple of nimbus clouds themselves, they keep the audience guessing, as the witty, ironic one-liners fly. Watch for some of the funniest letters ever featured in a movie.You may recall Tony's starring role in another comedy, And Justice For All. He played a man who rose from obscurity to become head of an integrity committee.Jessie D won best supporting actress for that one. Her comic timing was nothing short of superb.

 Aces High is the story of one man's duel with the system. A convoluted plot, as a man with a mysterious past plays a high-stakes hawk and mouse game. Will they? Won't they? It does become a tad drawn out. But stay with this one. The explosive climax makes it all worthwhile. 

 And the Chutzpah goes to....

Ashes To Ashes

Dear Mr Malema 

 I once thought that The Siege Of SONA was your finest hour. I should have known that a CIC of your calibre would gather honours like the Namaqualand wildflowers. Siege Of Clicks, Siege Of Senekal. 

Doubtless the list, like the heart in that Titanic theme song, will go on. Rommel could not have scaled such heights. But then, he was white (even if somewhat tanned by the desert sun).

 You certainly started fires (whoa, don't sue - let me finish) in the hearts of your adoring followers. A professed Ground Forces member tweeted that everything (including animals) should be burnt, so that the land can be reclaimed. I think he meant the ash. But then again, who can argue against superior logic?

 Another private or corporal gave his or her measured opinion that Afrikaans is a useless language. I'm sure that dismayed former speakers of the language are abandoning it in droves.Probably turning to Gujarati and Mandarin. Yet another went further to declare it a satanic language. One must bow to the superior wisdom and experience of those who have accumulated special knowledge in that realm. Tutored, one supposes, by the master of the realm himself. 

 Sir, one doesn't want to hammer on about your philosophical blurring of the distinction between killing and dying for a person or cause. Nevertheless, can we expect a song about dying for the boer? Nah, perish the thought.

 Yours in whichever struggle comes next. 

 Richard

Crime In Black And White

Dear Mr Masina

 Are these really your words or has your account been hacked by a raving lunatic? Or someone on Durban Poison?

 "Blacks people must unite, these arrests are targeting abt black professionals and black business. We need to stand up and be counted. Some Whites have been stealing with impunity and they not arrested. It’s now or never." 

 When I had finished laughing, I succumbed to the irresistible urge to pen this letter to you. A friend had his first SASSA payout stolen before he could draw it. He too, saw the side-splitting humour in this tweet. Sir, what I understand is: 

 1. We should support suspects because they are black 

 2. There ought to be proportional representation of white suspects, a sort of BEE approach (more like WEE).

 I am sure that my friend will bear his misfortune with greater fortitude if it turns out that the fraudsters were, in the main, black. Of course, if there is appropriate white representation as well, I should think he will be giddy with joy.

 How do you suggest we show our support? I am quite willing to carry any number of those convicted shoulder high to the prison of choice. One doesn't want to quarrel with custom and tradition. Of course, weight limits need to be taken into account.

 Sir, I plan also to be mugged only by white muggers. I am planning my work and shopping routes accordingly. Over and above these patriotic efforts, I'm happy to forward your list (soon forthcoming, I'm sure) of white suspects to the relevant authorities. That, with a request that they be detained by black officers. I hope that helps.

 It's now or never, says the message. The latter seems more likely but we live in hope.

 Not only are you active in the struggle for proportional suspect representation but I see that you are planning to showcase service delivery. As any good City Of Ekhuruleni mayor should. Please include the magical, mystery bus service. We had such fun guessing and betting on whether buses would show up towards the end of last year. It kept us entertained for weeks. 

 Yours in the struggle for proportional representation.

 Richard

The Zuma Odyssey: 2018

Dear Mr President 

 Our friendly correspondence draws to a close. The long day wanes. The slow moon climbs and all that. 

You will recognize that fragment from Tennyson's Ulysses, whose epic voyage rather resembles yours. Except that yours seems to have been written by Homer Simpson, rather than the Greek poet whose name he bears. It may not be the deep that moans round with many voices but certainly the whole country has been moaning for a long, long time. Mourning too. Perhaps the sirens' song had deafened you. 

 The line from Tennyson's poem that is most apt for you: Push off and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows.... Just the first two words. You were getting so close to the truly greats: Uncle Bob, Mbasogo of Equatorial Guinea, Al-Bashir and the rest. A few more years and you could have totally gutt....I mean...transformed the country. 

 According to the 'novels' that you recently referred to, you could have taught Ulysses a thing or two about Trojan horses. SARS, the NPA, Treasury, the security cluster, fell faster than Troy, we are told, as your men poured out of their wooden horses like a cockr...sorry... commando invasion. You got by Scylla and Charybdis. Or was it Zille and Charybdis? Your cyclops could have been those steely-eyed judges. Just as Ulysses did, you tried to get by them, shielded by a sheep. It almost worked until they declared that The Sheep Stops Here.

 It would be remiss of us not to mention the men and women who rowed so lustily at your command. Oblivious to the ever-present peril of imminent shipwreck. 'I number them too in the song'. 

 Now you have returned from your wanderings to find the house full of suitors. Sadly, there is no great bow to bend. You broke it and this one ends differently. It has been a long wearisome voyage. Still, as Tennyson put it: 

 Though much is taken much abides and tho We are not now that strength which in old days

 Moved Earth and heaven,

 that which we are we are; 

 One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate,

 but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 Yours in the quest for a safe harbour.

 Richard

(Slow) Death And Taxes 2017

Dear SARS People

 I used to partner with a network marketing business that offered brilliant travel deals. 

 The state programme has them licked, though. Travel in comfort, enjoy the finest accommodation and receive a daily allowance greater than the monthly salary of many South Africans. That's travelling in style. 

 I wish to sign up without delay. I meet the requirements. I am related to several Cabinet ministers through the Adam and Eve connection. I support and promote South African business, as vendors of magwinyas and other fine local cuisine will attest. 

 Recent riveting reports of one such state (read taxpayer) sponsored shop...sorry... diplomatic excursion reminded me of our hate - hate relationship dear SARS people. With respect. Nothing personal, as my mentor, the Don used to say - just business. After all, you do hoover up a significant portion of my desperately hard earned remuneration. I labour for a substantial portion of the year just for you (must add that to my CV).

 When I reluctantly signed up for your programme, I was ever so slightly mollified by the notion that my tax money would go to some worthy causes. I count among them housing, relief for the poor and elderly, hospitals etc. I was glad to see that some progress was indeed made on housing, notably that quaint dwelling place among the green hills of my own home province. The one with a ritzy swimming pool and provision for domestic animals.

 I already do a great deal of travelling and would like to discuss a suitable daily allowance. Those daily trips from Germiston to Fourways and back do take a toll on the well-worn wallet. I look forward to similar relief. 

My own needs are quite modest. Aforementioned magwinyas, chips the odd JMPD special (streetwise two). My daily allowance would amount to a fraction of that allocated to some shopp...sorry... business emissaries. 

 Some of my fellow South Africans are less patient and one occasionally hears talk of a tax revolt. I am dead against the notion. Staves, pikestaffs and the guillotine have no place in our gentler, kinder democracy. Even if one of you volunteers for the 'it is a far far better thing that I do' role. We are reasonable, civilized people, to quote Don Vito, and I, for one, would welcome a discussion over a cup of rooibos. I am keen to see what you can put on (and I can take off) the proverbial table. Should you not respond in good faith, I shall demand that you point me to the unsubscribe link on your website. I shall withdraw from the programme with dignity. No hard feelings (or hard cash). 

 I look forward to a prompt, business-like response. 

 Yours in the no - taxation - without - meaningful - representation movement. 

 Richard

Lord Of The Dance 2018

Dear Mr Malema 

 Despite my relief at the changing of the guard in high places, I was somewhat concerned that we would be starved of our accustomed servings of entertainment. 

 Our singing, dancing former president, like that other great entertainer, has left the building. The Force is no longer with our tweeting former minister of police. Ms Muthambi, silver-tongued presenter of budget speeches, is perhaps even now talking to the trees. The time of the entertainers, like that of the elves, seemed to have passed.

 Thank goodness for you. You have the moves like Jagger. Who can forget your professed readiness to kill and then later to die for the Dancing One? Later, you expressed regret for your role in seating him on the throne. Now, with a deft tango - like swivel, you have moved on again. If reports are true, you have magnanimously stowed away the Marikana stick with which you loved to beat Mr Ramaphosa. It appears from the same report that you are ready to dump your occasional dance partner, the DA. Perhaps to move into the embrace of the ANC? Those of a cynical disposition may see this as opportunistic maneuvering for a plum position. I am simply reminded of the old song, Mister Bojangles:  

He jumped so high, jumped so high. And then he lightly touched down Mr Bojangles, Lord that man could dance... 

 So can you sir; so can you.

 Yours in the love of the dance.

 Richard

The Impossible Dream

Dear Mr Malema

 I slept the untroubled sleep of the just last night, knowing that you are on your way to Senekal. 

What a noble mission: to protect property, democracy, the constitution and anything else that needs protection Your sterling record speaks for itself. Who can forget your crusade against the purveyors of racist hair products? Who can forget Mr Shivambu, like a kindly uncle, lecturing that journalist on (I assume) democracy and dialectical materialism. I am still moved by the image of his hand gently resting on the man's neck. "You feel me?" were probably his concluding words. 

 The words from that Man Of La Mancha theme song come to mind. 'To fight for the right, without question or pause'. Except that you are fighting for the left, I think. Certainly, without question or pause. Or thought, said a friend. Sir, unlike the philosophers like Hamlet and Dr Ace, you are first and foremost a man of action. Rambo, Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin - they shoot from the hip - or the lip. So, I think, do you. Guadalcanal, Gallipoli and other names will forever echo in the spacious halls of history. Likewise, Clicks, Parliament, Senekal..... 

 I am at this moment so inspired that I must borrow from Blake's Jerusalem, lightly cannibalized (not the other one everyone is dancing to): 

 Bring me my bow of burning gold Bring me my arrows of desire

 Bring me my spear, o clouds unfold! 

Bring me my chariot of fire. 

I will not cease from mental fight, nor physical 

 Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In Mzansi's green and pleasant land. 

 Sir, I am overcome with nau...sorry...emotion. 

 Yours in the quest for the impossible dream. 

 Richard

Don't Call Us - Ever

Dear South African Editors 

 Granted, Jayzed, Dr Ace and friends keep you very busy. We freelancers would really appreciate the odd response to our submissions though. A courteous 'b***** off' would suffice. I know it's even harder for the thinking man or thinking woman's newspaper, The Daily Sun. Tracking down zombies, short boys and witches must be devilishly hard work. My only gripe is that vampires are not getting fair coverage. 

 I propose a simple procedure for dealing with those irksome submissions from freelancing peasants. Below is a list of standard responses which could be delegated to a secretary, who could then do a 'my mother said I should pick this one' selection. She could then mail the responses and Bob's your ex - president. Feel free to use these in combination. 

 Why didn't you take your mother's advice and become a teacher?

 Voertsek. 

 Does your mother know you write this stuff?  

Do you have a mother? 

 What harm have we ever done you? (Apologies to Peanuts) 

 Have you considered an alternative career - mass murderer or something? 

 We suggest you hurry back to the mother ship. 

 Whoever told you you could write will burn for eternity.

 Don't call us ever. 

 How did you get our address in your jungle dwelling? 

 May we recommend a good psychiatrist? 

 Burn your matric certificate and, if it were legal, your English teacher.

 In the words of our former president: 'heh, heh, heh'. 

 We have never used the word 'execrable' as a compliment, until now. 

 I trust this will help and I am sure freelancers will be glad of a response. You may remember the siege of an editor's house some time ago. I am not saying that I was behind it.

 I look forward to one of these encouraging, nurturing responses in the future. 

 Yours in the struggle for (some) communication.

 Richard

The Book Of Taxi

Dear SANTACO and other taxi associations

 I have tumbled onto your secret. My informants, who are as numerous as EFF ground forces, have revealed the following. 

 In a catacomb - like vault, in a remote location, lies The Book Of Taxi. Upon this book are sworn blood oaths, while the Laws Of Taxi are recited. Some of the principal laws are: 

 You shall yield to no man or woman upon road or highway. 

When pedestrians scurry across the road, you shall bear down upon them to within an inch. The purpose is twofold:

 1. To confirm who the kings of the road are. 

2. To hone your skills to the razor sharpness demanded of the brotherhood of Taxi. 

 Passengers are the scum of the earth. You shall tolerate them but never accommodate them. You shall respond to questions with grunts and monosyllabic utterances. Any driver transgressing this sacred law shall be banished to Uber and forever shunned by The Brotherhood Of Taxi. 

 You shall, however, communicate freely with other drivers on the roads. The traditional greetings 'fuseki' and 'msu...we...a' may be liberally used. This is in alignment with our brand as 'the courteous ones'. 

 You shall never reveal the location of the secret bank where all change is deposited at midnight. Rebellious passengers must be taught to tender the exact fare. 

 All Taxis are 4 by 4 vehicles and may boldly go where none has been before. That includes Captain Kirk.

 Hooters are a means of communication and are to be vigorously used at every conceivable opportunity. Traffic gridlock qualifies as a prime opportunity. 

 Despite anything that Toyota may say to the contrary, the purpose of brakes is to squeeze the last ounce of resistance (and other substances) out of stubborn passengers. These shall be used at every opportunity. Should no opportunity present itself, you shall create one. 

 I trust that my reliable informants will unearth more nuggets in due course. 

 Yours in the struggle for mastery of the highways.

 Richard

Betrayed

People in the Tsantsabane municipality in Postmasburg, Northern Cape, sit in misery and darkness for the third day this week. 

 They buy prepaid electricity but the municipality seems to have overlooked the small matter of passing payment on to Eskom. Eskom punishes the municipality. The municipality punishes paying residents. No power means no water. Parents struggle to feed their babies. Grant recipients cannot have their grants processed. Businesses operate in darkness or shut down. This comes on the heels of the recent loadshedding. Misery upon misery. 

 In a crisis, leaders communicate. Ah, but this is South Africa. The land that empathy and compassion forgot. This sorry mess begs many questions. No doubt the servants of the people have many interesting answers. But the rest is silence. We have become used to abuse and betrayal. Unhealthy. 

In the same town, a friend went through fingerprinting and all the security precautions required to get his SASSA card. Before he could draw his first payment, the card was stopped and a new one issued to a thief. He is still waiting for the investigation to be concluded. It boggles the mind. Elaborate security precautions, paper and electronic trails - what the hell happened? 

Something we have become strangely used to. Corrupt officials colluded with the vilest of the vile. 

Where are you ANC, EFF, and the rest? Oh, you have roads to rename and insults to avenge. 

 We are betrayed. 

 I and the public know, wrote Auden, 

What all school children learn: Those to whom evil is done, Do evil in return.

 But to do evil to the people who placed their trust in you. Who pay the taxes that pay your unmerited salaries: that is wickedness beyond comprehension.

Truth, Media, Mr Malema

Dear Mr Malema 

 Good on you for banning those meddlesome, captured media people from your events. I can see them squirming in anguish as they miss out on the revolutionary pearls of wisdom.

 Just today, someone on Twitter suggested that Mr Shivambu should sue Pauli van Wyk for 'deformation' of character. Initially, I thought that was an understandable spelling error. Then the chilling truth struck me like a strategically placed shoe in a parliamentary scuffle. What demonic powers do these journalists wield? 

No wonder you took that wise decision. I have cancelled her invitations to all of my press briefings. Sir, I trust only The Daily Sun for objective reporting. A tokoloshe, after all, is a tokoloshe, is a tokoloshe. No margin for fake news and bias there. Besides, any reporter courageous enough to chase a zombie down has my full confidence. I would give them an open door to all media events. 

 You were reported as saying that Mr Gordhan actually writes their questions (the suspect media people, not The Daily Sun). My, he is a busy man. I have long suspected his possible involvement in global warming, the American election and magwinya price - fixing. 

Sir, I am willing to follow that story, if you could see your way clear to covering some daily expenses. My needs, while on the murky trail, are simple. A hired Range Rover (so as to be inconspicuous in the relevant circles). Free passes to several...er...artistic dance clubs, where my informants are not afraid to bare all. I can assure you that I will write my own, penetrating questions.

 Yours in search of the naked truth.

 Richard

In Search Of Excellence 2017

Written back in the halcyon days of the Zuma era. 

 Dear Gupta Family 

 I apologize for not being able to greet you by first names. I am sure that that will change as we become, first, firm Facebook friends, then graduate to sharing stories and fine brandies before the fireplace.

 I am moved to congratulate you on your innovative approach to the recruitment business. If reports are to be believed, you have gone big. Of course I need to check the ever - reliable Daily Sun for confirmation. While other agencies dabble in such lowly appointments as brain surgeons and nuclear physicists, you focus on the creme de la creme. Cabinet ministers and the like, no less. At the standard 15% recruitment fee, that should translate to some tasty 'splodges of wonga' (to quote a great British entrepreneur). 

 The recent cabinet cleans....sorry...reshuffle must be an additional boon. That brings me to the purpose of my letter. I, too, wish to make a pil..er...contribution. As an avid Sharks supporter, I am a shoe-in for a role in the Sports Ministry. I am willing to endure the gruelling routine of attending rugby matches and the ordeal of five-star hotel accommodation. Throw me into the deep end, I say. 

 The security cluster is another natural home, as I've devoured spy novels all my life. Discretion and high ethical standards are my trademarks. I would never disclose official secrets, such as payments of facilitation fees, not even under waterboarding. (Which I've learned to handle from said novels, anyway). I used to spy on smoking schoolmates, so that ticks the experience box. 

 Roving African ambassador would also suit. I have worked in Botswana and Sierra Leone and flown over several other countries. I am an excellent communicator, adept at translating 'show me the money' into several languages. 

 I am flexible about remuneration and no amount is too large. 

 Yours in the struggle for excellence in recruitment. 

 Richard

FLOG Salutes Ms Ndabeni-Abrahams

Dear Ms Ndabeni-Abrahams

 We, of FLOG, the Front For The Liberation Of Geneva, salute you. Your bold declaration that Geneva is not part of Switzerland is just the sort of shot in the butt that our cause needed. 

We have long languished under the yoke of occupation, our struggle ignored by the international community. You have become for us a modern Che Guevara of international diplomacy. Your own country's history of valiant struggle against tyranny commends you as a sort of Wilhelmina Tell. As you can tell, we have done our Google research.We were a little puzzled by references to the liberation and redeployment of billions in taxpayer dollars in your country. Perhaps you can explain that on your next, much anticipated, visit.

 You are the very first visitor to see beyond the facade of the contented, chocolate - munching, gluhwein - sipping citizen. You have heard the discordant note in our yodels. Please do let us know when next you plan to visit (with your esteemed spouse, of course). We wish to bestow upon you the freedom of the city-state. It goes without saying that we also intend to present you with our highest award, the Wilhelm Tell Award (a bronzed bow with arrow-pierced apple).

 Yours in the grim struggle for self - determination. 

 Klaus Kornfeld 

 Secretary General of FLOG

Fat Of The Land

Written some years ago, before my blog host pulled a vanishing food parcel act (iblog.co.za, in case you're also looking for them). 

 It does seem that, in South Africa, the more things change, the more they stay the same. One - sized trough fits all pigs.

 Dear Lepelle Nkupi Councillors

 Bravo. The citizen describes your municipality as financially crippled yet still having the chutzpah to spend more than half a million on expensive wines, whiskeys and catering at the state of the municipality address.

 Interestingly, a similar sum was mentioned in connection with those entertainment areas for some deserving MP's. (Read my lips. not braai areas). Is there a some mystique about the half-a-million Rand mark? 'Half A Million Blown' does make slightly better reading than 'Millions Wasted'. Good thinking. 

Clearly, you have also mastered the financial approach that works so well for some SOEs, various state entities and assorted municipalities. Simply stated: spend your way out of the financial toilet, or, might as well be hung for a whole flock as for a lamb. Also known as the Marie Antoinette school of Economics: let them drink whiskey.

 Your bold 'can -spend' approach raises some interesting questions and points. First, many South Africans whose finances are in a similar, parlous state would love to know how you do it. We too would love to turn our deficits into the stuff of feasting and drinking. Please do share once your digestive systems have settled. Second it's a mystery to us as to why you needed 6 hours, heaps of grub and gallons of booze to convey the simplest and most obvious of messages: our municipality is stuffed. 

Of course, we South Africans will party at the drop of a makaraba. Who am I to question culture and tradition? Budgets and corporate governance are so last decade. Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow there's the taxpayer. 

 Typically, the spoilsport DA carped about your catering costs. People, they say, are wallowing in poverty. They don't have access to such basic services as water. Lighten up D A people. Who needs water when there's fine whiskey and wine? I am glad to see that you responded that the money is a drop in the ocean. Please lead us to that abundant ocean. Many of us could do with a drop of that dimension. 

 Yours in the quest for memorable state of the municipality addresses.

 Richard

Lords Of The Bling

In the shires lived the people of Middleground. 

Not always happily, for there were divisions among those who wore white, those who wore black and those whose preferences ran to multi-hued garments.

 Little did they know that misery untold was yet to come. For the lords of Moredough had discovered the Bling. A magical ring that made the wearer's deeds invisible, many in Middleground sought the Bling. Some for good, some for evil. But the Bling made many a person mad with greed and the lust for power. And so it came to pass that the thick smoke of corruption and greed rose daily from the towers of Moredough. And from its gates, the Okes, half - man, half beast, poured out to rob and to plunder. Fear and anger reigned in Middleground.

 But the Bling began to lose it's power from excessive use. The eyes of the people were opened. They saw the devastation wreaked by the brutish Okes. Smelled the stench of the thick smoke rising daily from Moredough. And they said: "Enough". Middleground rose up.

 Only the dwarves, gaily dressed in scarlet said: "We will not join in your battle. We have other fish to fry." And they danced off gaily down the streets, as was their custom.