Bafana 1, ANC 0

Dear Bafana

When someone  complained that you do not enjoy the same support as the Springboks and the Proteas,  I responded that it is because you play kak.

 (https://thescuffle.blogspot.com/2024/01/bafana-and-buffoonery.html )

You answered most emphatically last night, with a sparkling victory over that top Afcon team, Morocco.

I ate my words this morning, with my breakfast cereal - delicious. I was glad to admit being wrong. Something that most of our comrade politicians would never do.  Not even under threat of waterboarding  or, worse, being forced to listen to Zuma tapes played  backward. 

(Pretty much the same as Zuma tapes played forward, I've heard).

The next time that Mr Kodwa, (minister of sports, arts and culture)  comes to coach you, as he seemingly did last time, you might want to coach him instead.  Lord knows his party  has crying need of some good coaching in self-correcting (an ANC favourite).  You guys did that, cutting out the buffoonery and pointless passing of the ball back and forth, without actually going anywhere.  

They (the ANC) have forgotten what the goalposts look like - if they ever knew.  They have scored more own goals than all the goals scored in the Afcon competition to date.  I mean all Afcon competitions. 

Please give us some more to cheer about in the next encounter.  Heaven knows, we've had little enough these past thirty years or so. And less before that, with team Verwoerd, Vorster, Botha and others. 

Please don't do a Mabena ("Disappoint me again, Mabena!"). I'd like to avoid  tracting and retracting  in successive  articles. Yes I know,  'tracting' is a new word.  So many articles waiting to be written about corruption, incompetence, buffoonery. And tomfoolery, buffoonery and clowning. And....  

This is epecially so, as our next probable own-goal disaster looms at the polls this year. We will, in all likelihood, do one of those useless back passes to the ANC. Or, Lord forbid,  to the EFF or the brand new uniquely South African joke,  MK.

Sorry - pause to recover from uncontrollable gusts of laughter.

Of course, if it's the ANC, expect the usual fumbling and dropping of the ball. Followed by the usual howls, boos and protests from the very fans who voted the team in. There will be calls for changes in team management. Some will opine that things were better under the Zuma team. I suppose the word 'fan' has links to the word 'fanatic'.  A word that rhymes badly with 'common sense' and 'reason'.

Team South Africa, under the comrades, is also moving along in the world rankings. Bound for the Corruption Quarter Finals, according to an item on this morning's news. 'Flawed democracy' was a term used. A foul-mouthed friend asked if there is an 'effed democracy' category. As I abhor gratuitous vulgarity as much as the ANC abhors corruption and deceit, I told him to fu..., I mean, bugger off.

  

Your performance last night was a ray of light amid the usual ANC / Eskom gloom. Winning really means a lot when, as a nation, you've been taking a beating  for so long. Particularly, when the new management team promised so much and carried so many hopes.

Well played, Bafana.

The struggle continues, along with the scuffle.

Richard 

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Tymebank , South Africa  

51090259373

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Love of the Common People

 And you will live

In the love of the common people

John Hurley and Ronnie Wilkins: Love of the Common People

He said: Delores, I live in fear

My love for you's so overpowering 

I'm afraid that I will disappear

Simon and Garfunkel: Slip Sliding Away

This morning I read a comment by Cameron Dugmore that had me pausing in midcook. Actually it was the load shedding.

When a hero of one of the struggles and/ or revolutions speaks, one is bound to listen carefully.  Particularly when one is in the middle of experiencing one of the benefits of that heroic struggle, namely  thoughtfully rationed electricity. Trotsky spoke of a permanent Revolution and I'm not sure whether we are now in phase 6, 7, 8 or 9 of said revolution,  but the scuffle continues. 

Mr Dugmore said that the DA does not like black people.  I Immediately canceled my membership and would advise all people of other than pale or rosy pink hue to do the same. I also sent the DA a message, telling them that I don't like them, too.  It became clear to me that all of the good governance and improvements that they have made are entirely for white people. I stopped using some of the amenities here in Cape Town immediately. (Been on the Peninsula and Winelands tours already anyway). 

 I will instead only use whatever the ANC has provided out of love for the people - SASSA and Home Affairs offices, trains, the house of parliament.... The ANC's passionate love for the people has been clearly demonstrated over these many years. Need I enumerate:

The clean, healthy, safe, orderly environments in Durban and the Eastern Cape, among others.

The wonderfully long queues at government offices,  where one may engage in animated chat and exchange love with fellow South Africans. To be served, eventually, with ubuntu and love by caring civil servants.

The champagne drunk on our behalf (as once explained by an ANC person).

The redistribution of wealth to deserving persons through tenders and various initiatives.

The many,  many wonderful things that they have done to transform South Africa from a deadly dull country to the laughing stock of the world. Still deadly of course.  

The ANC's love for people has been dramatically demonstrated in the case in which they fought so hard and passionately in the International Court of Justice to ensure that people elsewhere have what we have in plentiful supply: 

electricity,

food,

water,

medicine and compassionate medical care,

protection from gratuitous and random violence,

 peace.

What more can one ask, Mr Dugmore?

Some years ago, a gentleman in Zimbabwe was charged with tearing down a campaign poster of Bishop Abel Muzorewa. He explained, that on seeing the poster, he was overcome with love for the good bishop and tried to hug it. A perfectly reasonable, plausible explanation. Happened to me several times. Mr Dugmore's useful, inspirational, purpose-filled comment  again filled me with love for the Party. I want to run out and rip..., I mean, hug some ANC posters and t-shirts. Let my love flow. 

We do know that the EFF overflows with love for all people in Africa. That is, except those who had the bad judgment and malice to be born Indian, Coloured or White. We know from experience, scientific research and wise judgement that such accidents of birth determine whether a person turns out to be a credit to the human race or a blood and oxygen sucking leech on the country's backside. 

Mr Malema wisely associates only with those white people who have demonstrated remorse over past oppression and are determined to make reparations. Mr Mazzotti is a prime example. A simlar symbiosis, I think, exists between Mr Zuma and Mr Liebenberg, that avowed lover of folk of colour. Yes, there is a very small group of white people who are thankfully free of ghastly white tendencies. The record of the two gentlemen mentioned speaks for itself. 

Mr Dugmore, thank you again for that inspirational message. Having just resumed my loadshedding-interrupted cooking, I now float on a cloud of optimism and onion aroma. I shall avoid the DA like the plague, or the latest Covid variant, while making use of the facilities that, in their wickedness, they provided here in the Western Cape.  Had I read your piece earlier, I would have canceled the visit without hesitation. Too late now. Well let's not throw out the baby with the bath water  (though why anyone would do something so careless is beyond me). I shall take full advantage of the clean, safe environment with all its citizen- friendly amenities, while cursing the racist, neo-colonialist wretches in my heart. 

Lots of love, affection and fondest wishes to all the caring, thoughtful comrades in the ANC, EFF, Mkhonto and other struggling (in the good sense of the word) revolutionary  movements.

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The Air Up Here

 I went camping this weekend. 

It's wonderful to escape the noisy, crowded suburbs to a noisy, crowded resort and campsite. Seriously I'd highly recommend this venue- if I were being paid. As I'm not, it shall remain nameless.

People at the campsite enjoyed themselves with family and friends. There was not a politician in sight to tell them why they shouldn't. Or to point out that the neighbours had a larger tent and more wors.

I am not an experienced camper. My camping family erected the complicated tents and gazebos with a speed and efficiency that would have sent your average tenderpreneur into a dead swoon.

 "Eish! And they're not even being paid. Something is not right." 

I met a West Indian couple once, while out of the country. On hearing that I was from South Africa, they exclaimed:

"Ah, the friendly country!"

I thought that we had gone about decolonising that particular notion over the past decade or two. Aided by our snarling, finger-wagging, fist-waving, nation-building politicians. 

Not so. People tossed out friendly greetings at campsite, pool and even the communal bathrooms. Many called me 'sir' and I wondered whether it was my knightly bearing or the gown and mortarboard from my teaching days. (I like casual, comfortable camping gear).

I wondered whether it was just the Western Cape. But I remember an elderly gentleman in a Johannesburg minibus taxi complaining that passengers didn't greet anymore. I've found that they often do. I recall growing tired, in a Northern Cape town, of returning waves from passing motorists, while sitting out in the  cool evening air. In Durban, you can strike up a conversation even in a lift - provided it's in English or isiZulu. It seems to me that we have not yet sufficiently heeded the inspirational calls ftom our Great Leaders to behave like savage packs of hyenas. Not for want of example from that Honourable lot. 

The exception was a gentleman at the campsite, who chose the late hours to expound loudly and at length on what he planned to do to someone who had clearly upset him. Shades of the State of the Nation address. His superior logic and linguistic ability reminded me of a party whose name escapes me now. His skilful use of the f verb in every sentence was a thing to marvel at. People said that he was inconsiderate. I disagree. It was thoughtful of him to outline the detailed plan. A terrible thing to get f...d up without the benefit of a thorough briefing first. I recall Mr Malema extending similar courtesies to a gentleman at a pap (Pan African Parliament) meeting. He explained to the gentleman that he would f...k him up and kill him outside. Location is important. As is the precise sequence of events.

As is the case with the party mentioned earlier, (still can't get to the name), nothing actually happened, following the yelling, the hot air, the verbal flatulence.

Fortunately, unlike the great party, the man did shut up after an hour or two. How splendid it would be if they, too, would run out of steam in 2024. It is impossible to run a modern country, hungry for peace and progress, on steam alone.

As with all things South African, Big Brother would not be ignored and made his clumsy presence felt with a contribution of two sessions of loadshedding. Even that did not dampen the spirits of the campers. In the dark, a group sang with gusto, Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika (God Bless Affica). 

Of course, I was delighted that this camping trip took my mind off the absurdities of South African politics entirely.

I salute the campers and the folks who run the wonderful campsites of our country.

Yes it is OUR country, comrades. Move forward, not backward.

Again, quoting Mr Khayyam, with minor tinkering and apologies:

The moving finger writes

And having writ, moves on

Nor all thy thuggery nor sh..t

Shall lure it back to cancel half a line

Nor all thy threats wash out a word of it.

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The Big Lie

The nouveau racists and professional victims in our country would have us believe the following.There is a chasm fixed in our country between people of various hues. So it is and so it has always been. Good resides in one group and evil in the other. It's the kind of arrant nonsense that no adult with a gram of common sense would entertain. Unless they wanted to - for reasons unrelated to truth or reality.

This is no different from the Verwoedian drivel that we endured for so long. With tragic, disastrous consequences. Some of our current social engineers, professional and amateur, even indulge in the same fine distinctions and categorisation as did their Nationalist  role models.

Many people that I and others know, paid the price for seeking justice and equity during the apartheid years. Some paid the ultimate price. And the yahoos spit on their graves. Unlike some of the comrades, I don't see the need to dwell on the details of their struggle (a term now so devalued). Those that lived, moved on with their lives, memories and lessons learned. 

Being black, green or puce of skin does not absolve one from the duties of being truthful, fair and reasonable. Nor is one released from the obligations that go with being a human being worthy of the name. We all know what those are.

This is not a plea for reason. There are those who prefer to dwell in the dark alleys and dingy places where the lust for hatred, revenge and the dubious pleasures of victimhood live, mingle, copulate and breed detestable offspring. Best to forget them there, in the hell of their creation. 

This is merely a comment on the Big Lie that marches through South Africa to various populist tunes. 

I leave the last word to well-known South Africans, quoted in Helen Joseph's book, 'If This Be Treason':

 'The amount of support we received when news of our arrests became public was quite astonishing, certainly far beyond our wildest expectations. 

What is more, that support came from every quarter; black and white worker and businessman,  local and International.....

A fund was set up immediately to raise bail for the accused and one of the great liberal church men of the time Bishop Ambrose  Reese,  then Bishop of Johannesburg, headed the fund. A treason trial committee was set up in Johannesburg to provide legal aid and welfare assistance and its efforts extended around the country.

 Under Canon Collins of St Paul's Cathedral a similar fund was started in Great Britain and was to become known as the Defense and Aid Fund....

I should add that among those who stood bail for us was the late Doctor Ellen Hellman,  a distinguished anthropologist, who was later to become the president of the Institute of Race Relations and the late Walter Pollack,  QC,  a leading member of the bar and a great lawyer. 

Walter M Sisulu

'The trial has been an  inestimable blessing, because it forged together diverse men and women of goodwill of all races, who rallied  to the support of the treason trial fund and to keep up the morale of the accused. 

What would have been the plight of the accused without our Bishop Reeves, Allan Paton, Dr Hellman, Canon Collins,   Alex Hepple,  Christian Action,  Archbishop de Blank,  Archbishop Hurley and all the other loyal men and women without whose help and cooperation chaos would have prevailed in our ranks?

 ... I should like to say on behalf of all the accused that our future course of conduct will justify your help, for in all things we shall be motivated by the noble urge of human unity rather than division and separativeness'.

Chief Albert Luthuli

There is truth.

And then, there is the Big Lie.

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Just the Job, Mr President

'President Cyril Ramaphosa has called on businesses in the country to remove prior work experience requirements for job positions, in a bid to boost the employability of South Africa’s job-seeking youth.' - from a news website 

Dear Mr Ramaphosa 

I really like your proposal. I'd like to take you up on it. Consider this as taking one for the country.

I am realistic about having to start at the bottom. The Sports Ministry would suit me fine, as I am an ardent Sharks supporter. Ditto for the Springboks and the Proteas. I even watch Bafana on the rare occasions that they go beyond the first round of any competition.

Second prize would be Arts and Culture. I am a bit of a culture vulture and I like the KZN approach, which apparently once involved downing R6000 worth of booze at a function  - very artistic, very cultured. Hard work but someone has to do it. 'If it is to be, then it is up to me'. (William Johnsen).

Your own job would be safe for now. (Or until Mr Zuma or Mr Malema  or Hlaudi could well mould your seat of power to their powerful bottoms).

I cannot claim to qualify as a youth. In a parliament filled with persons glowing with youthfulness, that could be a challenge. I am sure we can get around that, as we get around corruption, criminality and everything that stands in the way of the Revolution. And progress.

At any rate, I can sleep with the best of them (in the purest sense of the word). I also have a talent for bulls..., I mean, bold public speaking. 

I am not entirely without experience, having worked in a creche and a circus in my long, undistinguished career.

To be mentored by the ANC's intellectual giants would be marvellous. There's Fikile Mbalula who fu..., sorry, fixed up so many ailing departments (damn these almost identical English vowels).  I would love to sit at the feet of the minister who landed in Geneva, bypassing Switzerland. (I'm trying to bypass Zimbabwe, on the way to Harare). Only in the ANC is such wisdom and experience to be found. Where else could one learn of carrying medicine in the head, smallanyana skeletons, crime detection by tattoos, firepools?

Mr Ramaphosa, why not build on your idea? We could cut out work altogether and just pay. I know that that approach has already been pioneered in parliament. Let's push the brown envelope further. Granted, it would be unfair to say that all politicians don't work at all. There's arduous, demanding stuff to be done:  strenuous dinnners, gruelling business class flights, unveiling of taps, foreign shopping, reading off speeches and complex numbers.... Lord, I feel weary just listing some of these.  If you think this a joke,  you try shopping for products with labels in a foreign language.

I need to mention, sir, that I have extensive experience in modern banking practice, combined with knowledge of the very latest in furniture fashions. I'm not sure how, but that may be useful down the track.

Yours in the struggle for shortcuts to the top.

Richard 

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Transparent Corruption

We all know that Africa was a  corruption - free, peaceful, thriving continent until the colonialists arrived. Okay, so there was the odd war, but these were fought in friendly, amicable fashion. (In fact, the term 'friendly fire' originated here, after a chieftain set his neighbour's house on fire, during a friendly cattle raid).

I acknowledge the research of Twitter historians and several reliable, unbiased ANC and EFF politicians for the above historical background. We now know that colonialists brought syphilis, Covid, corruption, gender-based violence and much more to our tranquil shores. Having introduced us to corruption and its succulent fruits, said colonialists then tried to snatch it away by introducing unjust anti-corruption laws and a deceptive judeo-christian moral code. Also patriarchy and other bad stuff.

Nonetheless, we took to corruption as a duck takes to water or ecoli to the Durban coastline. Perhaps Ms Zille was right in saying (reportedly) that colonialism had its benefits (or something equally profound).

I was very glad this morning when someone suggested that companies build in budget to accommodate the, no-doubt, righteous and reasonable, requirements of the construction mafia.  It's time we were pragmatic, realistic and transparent about our most successful business model and business activity. Doesn't government already do that (build in capacity) for various projects? With great success?

It's time that we brought corruption out of the shadows and Eskom-inspired darkness. And gave it its rightful place in our national life. We do it well. What's to be ashamed of? Some of my best friends are rotten, thieving bastards.

We need to get corruption into the school curriculum. I know that we already have it in other spheres in education. I can't recall any recent scandals, though. I'll check with Dr Blade.

I see such challenging, thought provoking modules in the syllabus as:

Ethical considerations in conducting corrupt business 

Creative accounting and the alternative balance sheet

A history of successful corruption through the ages

Einstein's theory of relativity applied to corrupt activity 

The corruption theme in Shakespeare's works

I feel a rising excitement. We could become world leaders in the transparent corruption 'space'. 

Oh, hang on, aren't we already....

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Venom

After David Teeger was removed as captain of the under-19 South African cricket team,  one of our many, bright Twitter philosophers made the scintillating  observation that:

 "The child of a snake is a snake",

First sir,  we bow to your superior first- hand knowledge and experience of the ways of snakes. You are clearly steeped in such mysteries. One might respond that the child of a brainless buffoon is a brainless buffoon. It is quite likely, though,  that your own parents are sensible,  courteous people. They are probably grieved at the what you have become. They probably know that being a Mensch means treating people the way that you would like to be treated. It also means being sensible about commenting on people or matters that you know little or nothing about. Therein lie the seeds of the racism and discrimination that so offend your sensitive soul.

   

Of course if you are of the self- flagellating  self - hating order, that does present difficulties with following the golden rule. How kak must your life and lack of self- respect be to spend your days vomiting bile on social media?  Lately X has been teeming with your fellow snake poison philosophers and commentators. What on earth are you guys eating, drinking or smoking that you should be so miserable? Come on man, you're going to do yourself an injury. There's more to life than lying in the grass like a fat puff adder, waiting to inject your venom into the first pale foot that dares tread nearby.

Of course, you might fling the 'kak life' accusation back at me. I just thoroughly enjoy pointing out the rich talent in the room, which might otherwise  go unnoticed or unchallenged. What the heck, let's celebrate your valiant, uniquely South African struggles against the ghosts of van Riebeeck, Apartheid and other real threats to the revolution.

If you are really so concerned about justice and equity, do something more useful than spewing whatever you're feeding on into the twittersphere. Go help someone. Lots of people in South Africa do just that. Or you could write something (seeing as you are a person of letters) vaguely useful. But please to engage brain before speeding off. Used brains are more in demand in South Africa than the no-mileage models.

Ah, but of course, this is all racist, colonialist nonsense that trivializes the lived experience of the black child. Right? What shade of child thinks and writes this is immaterial. White tendencies, bloody agents, Uncle Toms, house negroes, sellouts - these are at the root of your unbearable misery. I feel for you, snake expert. The sensible thing is to ignore your flatulence and that of your ghoul club. But hell, you are as repulsively fascinating as a nest of fat, hissing reptiles (sorry, Durban snake chap).

Some members of your sad Whatsapp group have been complaining about lack of 'white support' for the national football team. They bitterly contrast it with support for the Springboks. And they, of course, have the latest stats on support by shades of paleness or tan? That sounds so ludricrous, doesn't it? Just enjoy your soccer and your Castle Lite man. Leave people alone. Let's cut to the chase: they play kak. Most of the time. I, for one, don't see the passion and determination of a Kholisi, Etzebeth, Miller or every other Springbok and Protea player. I don't see it in our soccer players. It truly seems to be a case of separating the men from the bafanas. Perhaps I'm as biased as you are when it comes to Bafana.. Or perhaps you snake experts should just grow up.

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No Use Crying Over Spilled Beans, Comrades

In Durban, rampant crime continues, with a CIT - Chow in Transit - heist. 

This from a tweet:

"Tonight a delivery driver in Durban was robbed of his pizza at gun point...." 

The president and I are shocked. Incidentally, Mr President,  thanks to you, I understand at last Hamlet's reference to the 'thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to'. You've had them all, haven't you sir? If only Miss Gray, my old English teacher, were still around.

Mr Cele is apparently preoccupied with a different food challenge. He has invited Mr Zuma to go ahead and spill the beans he has been hugging to his bosom these many years. And threatens to spill at intervals. He is not the only comrade who has threatened to scatter the beans abroad.

You comrades do realize that this makes you accessories after the fart..., sorry, fact, don't you? Even Mr Ramaphosa reportedly  spoke of sooner falling on his mkhonto than revealing the dark deeds of various patriots. The smallanyana skeletons may not be so smallanyana after all.  Fine example, gentlemen and ladies. It may explain in part why we have become such a lawless people that even a thin crust in transit is not safe. 

One can imagine the poor delivery guy trying to hand over his cellphone, only to be nudged in the ribs with a gun barrel.

"We want the pizza, now".

Were these the most unsuccessful villains in the country, to sink so low as to steal a pizza at gunpoint? Was it the topping that tempted them beyond endurance? 

A great advertising opportunity for the smart pizza person:

"Pizza to die for!"

After downing my R6000 booze allowance at a KZN Arts and Culture function, last year, I wrote this:

'Two South African businessmen walk gingerly down a steaming, hot Durban sidewalk in their Calvin Klein undies.

"They got you too, Mark", says one, briefcase arm dangling uselessly'.....

(https://thescuffle.blogspot.com/2023/02/the-clothes-off-our-backs.html)

When I'd, er, rested, I cringed at how silly and fanciful it was. Well, not so silly or fanciful after all. 

Mr Cele, Mr Ramaphosa and comrades: while you squabble over beans and which came first, the ANC or the Mkhonto, brazen criminals are snatching the takeaways out of our mouths. 

How shithole does a country have to be to have food in transit heists carried out by armed villains?

Gentlemen, please pack for polling season.

You have outlived your uselessness for far too long.

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Parties of Substance

Dear Fellow South Africans 

I appeal to you to make rational, sensible voting choices, as I do.

I'm currently in Cape Town and can't wait to get back to decolonised Hillbrow. I miss evening walks, redolent with the mingled fragrances of marijuana, blocked drains and gently maturing garbage. I yearn for the musical  sound of young voices cursing, screaming, laughing drunkenly.

What has the governing party done here besides provide a safe, clean, functioning city? Nothing, I tell you. The colonized city surrounds dissuaded me from taking a hit from the nip bottle in my jacket. I had a miserable time, those do-gooder, Lesufi-type public safety people watching everything. 

I attended a DA meeting. Nothing to see there. There were  boring speeches about plans to grow employment and the like. The dancing was atrocious. Not one decent insult or imaginative threat to fan the fire in one's blood.

In pleasant contrast was the meeting  where the CIC's growls, yells, threats and insults raised the gooseflesh on my arms. So moved and excited was I, that when I woke from a brief power nap, I yelled out 'Sieg Heil!' Got it all a bit confused with a documentary I'd been watching on YouTube, while listening to the speech. I quickly lowered my right arm when people turned to stare. Now that's campaigning, compatriots! The campaign promises were the stuff of sweet, shining dreams.  No half measures there.  I can't wait to get my hands on one of those wine estates. 

It was hard to choose between that meeting and the MK one that I also attended. I like to keep my options open and, in some parts, having several party cards could save one from the odd bollocking. Mr Zuma's voice soared gloriously, as he sang the poignant, timeless classic about military ordinance. I'm not sure what MK is about apart from sorting out Abelungu and the ANC. Who cares? Damned good singing and dancing. If that isn't good electioneering, then I don't know what is.

So, you see, for me it's all about competence and integrity. Can the candidate make a goosebump-raising speech? Can he / she / they hold a tune? Is the dancing faithful to tune and rhythm? Are the slogans memorable, the promises big, bold and brassy? 

Colourful T-shirts, nutritious Streetwise Two packs, braai aroma wafting on the breeze - now that's the sort of political party that gives me confidence in the future.

It's a no-brainer.

Yours in the struggle for sensible voting choices.

Richard 

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Just Limericks

An SG named Mbalula 

Talked firepools and a past ruler

Some thought him most cool

Others dubbed him 'damned fool'

And his comrades wished he would thula

You can't keep a good man down

Some say it's the same for a clown

He was thought to be dying

But for glory he's vying

With MK, he's stickin' aroun'

You could lose your grants says Cyril

So vote someone else at your peril

That's dodgy as hell

But of course it'll sell

Just the same as the usual hog swill

On X you can lose your sanity

It seems the dregs of humanity

Here gather like flies

Not much edifies

Just curses, threats and inanity 

Like vultures to a grim feast

From the north, the south and the east

Politicians descend 

Perhaps it's the end

As they chow up what's left of the beast

A philosopher named Dr Ace

Left the ANC in disgrace

He formed his own party

Intellectual and arty

Now with MK he's up for the race

Malema's been called a flip-flopper

But in some things he is very proper 

In insulting consistent

In marching persistent

Said to be a discerning shopper 

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Bafana and Buffoonery

Watching Bafana last night amble their way listlessly to the accustomed thrashing,  this came to mind. Bafana are a truly South African soccer team. 

They represent so much of what makes us such an interesting country. Has coach Hugo Broos explained to the team that soccer, at its most fundamental,  is about scoring goals? And keeping them out at your end?

We expect the same of our government. A layman's take on some of those goals: to build a safe country where people can hope, dream, do. Do their best and give of their best  for their communities,  their country,  their continent  and ultimately  their world. 

In winning countries, people build, contribute, create (the tangible and the intangible). In losing countries, people destroy, burn and break. Three guesses as to which team category we fall into. Bafana failed us last night. Our government fails us dismally daily.

Bafana fiddled in the middle and often seemed at a loss as to what to do differently. Sound familiar? Our government and our politicians also fiddle, like Nero, passing around insults threats,  and hopelessly improbable promises. The goal posts stand desolate,  a long way off. 

A commentator praised our diski skills, so often on display in the PSL (before Bafana started to implode). That is the problem. We need to play football not diski. This is not the Premier League. This is the African Cup of Nations. Dear politicians, you too, in your limited imaginations, are stuck in a little league. Flashes of diski in the international arena and on other stages do not score goals. It's a much bigger competition that we are playing in.  There's much more at stake.  Think survival  think national security in its broadest sense,  think generations to come. 

The ball skills of our players are, at least, a joy to behold. Your diski, political people, is the most unattractive, useless thing to behold. 

The name Bafana is a most unfortunate one. Perhaps a dreary, self-fulfilling prophecy. Our team is indeed like a bunch of boys who have wandered into the big pitch where adults play. Ditto for our government.

Our contribution to Africa and the world should be much, much more  than dining out on the glories of struggles past. "The moving finger writes, and having writ, moves on..." (Omar Khayyàm). Bafana lack urgency, passion and ideas. So too, do our government and politicians. Mr Broos,  please teach the team that they need  to do things differently when pushing the ball around the middle, the back and back to the goalkeeper is not working. It's too late to teach our government that. Pushing the clichès, slogans, insults and blame around is all that they have done their entire, inconsequential political lives.  We need a new team now.  

Our defense in both games is caught napping often.  One can mention last night's game, the 2021 unrest, chaos at the borders and much more. To quote someone, 'we never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity'. We also never miss an opportunity to stuff it up. Last night's missed penalty and almost 30 years of squandered opportunity attest. We are starved of goals.  At least where Bafana are concerned they are able to show off some sparkling ball skills.  With each attempt at showing off their diski skills, our politicians sink deeper into a morass of incompetence, corruption and buffoonery. 

We the people of South Africa are choked with  disappointment, frustration and the anger that follows betrayal . We don't need substitutions. We need a team that understands the game and can actually play. One of our PSL teams is fondly nicknamed Abafana bes'Thende (very loosely, 'boys of the heel'), in praise of their skills. Should we not fondly nickname you politicians Abafana beSisu (boys of the stomach), in praise of your skills?

Many, many of you politicians do not belong on the pitch. Time to hang up your muddy boots. 

I've seen calls on social media for you all to f..k off. So rude. I'd suggest that you all quietly piss off, instead.

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Tymebank , South Africa  

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O Tichmann 

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South Africa's Brightest and Best

Fellow South Africans, we are spoiled for choice. 

In the red corner, a fiery orator who makes the Austrian guy look like a speaker at one of those  women's temperance meetings of old. 

In the yellow, a man who allegedly showed his contempt for America's bullying ways by parking his backside on the almighty dollar.

In the far corner, back from reluctant retirement, the man who claimed to know "nothing, nothing, nothing" and is setting out to prove that yet again.

Difficult choices. Some of their major achievements to date:

Mr Zuma would have transformed South Africa into a Nando's-chicken-in-every-pot country. Nine years of valiant struggle against the forces of WMC, Abelungu, the CIA, George Soros, van Riebeeck, Apartheid and others even more wicked, took a toll on his delicate health. Betrayed by spies and treacherous comrades (Et tu Cyril?), he remains Lord of the Dance.

Mr Zuma apparently cannot stand for a third term, says our constitution. A small obstacle for a man who is said to have already voided his bladder on said constitution. One who, some say, is demonstrating that the law can be an assho..., sorry, ass.

It may be that Mr Zuma is there to support two other candidates.

 One is Dr Ace Magashule, philosopher (honorary doctorate in philosophy from Turkish university, which obviously saw in him what we all missed). Dr Ace fought the good fight to free the Free State from the twin scourges of corruption and asbestos. I have no idea how much success he had with asbestos. The 'Acebestos' nickname is probably in recognition of his efforts.

This speech, to rival anything from William or Dr Martin Luther King, should reassure doubters that Dr Ace earned that PhD:

. "I met with Zuma but I did not intend on meeting with Zuma as a meeting is not necessarily a meeting to meet individuals but rather a meeting intended to meet with him in a capacity that we had already met."

The clarity, the homespun wisdom, the alliteration: this man is presidential material.

When a former chief justice,  with years of Solomonic judgements behind him, decides that MK represents the best and brightest in South African politics, who am I to argue? My membership form is signed and ready to go via Pep's courier service. Mr Mogoeng would apparently lose pension and benefits if he stood. So what? Mr Zuma and others have ably demonstrated that the South African presidency offers many opportunities to....contribute.

I admire Mr Malema most for backing the first South African bank to take the bold step of distributing product samples to selected customers. Mr Malema's flexibility and open-mindedness are often characterized by the ignorant as flip-flopping. One must keep an open mind, even if it means not allowing brain matter to obstruct the passage of whatever passes through. With great taste in branded clothing, a thirst for peace, joy and brotherly love across open borders and a sure grasp of scrotal politics, this is your renaissance man.

Mr Ramaphosa painted a bright picture of a Wakanda with smart cities and bullet trains. He's had mixed reults. Cities are smarting from years of municipal buffoonery. Bullets fly in trains, taxis and your friendly neighborhood dens for thugs, zamas and izinkabi. Give the man a chance. Frogs are not boiled in a day.

Donald, we in Africa are as ready and intellectually equipped as you are, to grasp the scrotum of a future, complex, challenging and dangerous.

Who is a sh..hole country now?

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The Sound and the Fury

Dear Mr Malema 

I am sorely disappointed in your latest, rather pedestrian speech in support of Hamas.

As the Churchill of revolutionary, populist oratory,  one had hoped that your inspirational speeches would grow in fiery luminosity over time. 

Your latest effort was no different from what you have done in the past. Where was the gloriously gory stuff about disembowelment, severing heads and the other truly violent stuff that one expects from a revolutionary such as yourself?  I think that your Hamas comrades would have been disappointed.  As would your idol,  Chè Guevara,  had he lived to witness  this dismal performance.

Is it not time that you joined the older folk from umKhonto weSisu?  (I hope I got that right). I think that is more your speed. Perhaps it is time to hand over to the younger,  more practical revolutionaries like Floyd. He, at least is a man of action. Who can forget the classic chokehold that he put on that impertinent  journalist some time ago?

You mentioned that you will support Hamas with arms when you ascend the presidential podium. As that will probably be 30 years from now, you need to consider whether it might be somewhat late. I vaguely remember that you also promised to supply Russia With arms when you become president. Of course this will be quite possible, as the economy is bound to flourish under your capable leadership.  One remembers your support  for the brilliant VBS initiative. My,  how that took off! I so wish that the WMC banks would have learned from that glorious experiment.

I see our deserts bloom under your leadership  (guided, of course, by the tenets of dialectical materialism). I cannot wait to see you take the economy by the scrotum, as you once took our parliamentarians (by your own account).

But sir,  you really need to turn up the fire and the fury if you are to keep and hold the attention and interest  of this generation of followers. Remember that you face serious opposition in the form of MK,  whose leader  not only has a track record of  brilliant statesmanship  but also the kind of comic performance that has audiences in stitches.  It seems the best that you can do in the humour  department is to talk of kissing the enemy. Sir, that is not funny but rather vaguely creepy. 

A friend suggested that there is a different path you could follow, if you really want to build a worthwhile  legacy in the life of South Africa. He rambled on about wisdom and humility, instead of the frenzied ravings of a hormonally imbalanced teenager. I was aghast when he opined that humility is essential in healthy leadership. It is impossible, he said, to cultivate understanding and a spirit of real service without humility. How Uncle Tommish, white tendencied and counterrevolutionary! After all, you yourself quoted the piece of wisdom that a revolutionary is a walking, killing machine. Quite so. After laughing long and hard, I rebuked him soundly. 

Why on earth would a world famous CIC want to do anything so absurd?

Yours in the struggle to fan the flames of revolution with the fiery breath of flaming oratory.

Richard 

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Sly Way

Enough of depressing politics. Some music.

To the tune of My Way

And now the time is here 

We've got your vote and that's for certain 

My friends we'll light the braais,and you can eat until you're hurtin'

We've filled your ears with bulI, took you down each and every byway

And more, much more than this,  we took the sly way

Regrets, well just a few

But then again too few to mention 

We did what we could do, took what we could, without exemption

 We planned each charted course

 Each blue light dash along the highway

 And more, much more than this

 We took the sly way 

You've moaned, protested, cried

But haven't had your fill of losing 

You'll never turn the tide

It's so bizarre and so amusing

To think we did all that

And may we say, not in a shy way

Oh no, not ANC, we took the sly way.

 Yes, there were times I'm sure you knew

 When we got into deep doodoo

 But through it all, when there was doubt we made stuff  up and spat it out 

You ate it up, some took the fall

We took the sly way

 For what is this land, what has it got? 

We've looted some, there's still a lot

To tempt the heart of one who steals

 And at the trough of gravy kneels

 No record shows

 Away it blows

We took the sly way 

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Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Ice Cream Businesses

 Dear Mr Ramaphosa 

My comrades, (real comrades), and I took careful note of your threat.. pardon, warning, about the possible disappearance of NSFAS and social grants, should the ANC receive a deserved bollocking at the polls 

We love it when campaigning politicians lay out bold, inspirational plans and visions for the future: life, liberty and the pursuit of ice cream businesses. We got to thinking about what else could disappear if you and the comrades rode off into the sunset, fat pensions tucked into your saddle bags. 

We would probably miss the gobbledygook and the balderdash that is poured out daily. I recently learned a new word while playing the Balderdash board game.  Bumbilation refers to buzzing and humming noises.  We would, of course, miss your unceasing bumbilation and your admirably consistent bumbling. 

I suppose that we would have to rely more on the EFF, MK and assorted splinter parties and proxies for our daily ration of humour. 

Would corruption disappear? I don't know. It seems to be so embedded in our South African Souls. We have been accustomed to having it with our breakfast cereal,  morning tea and every meal thereafter. A friend once said that she actually feels dirty driving through South Africa. Perhaps a bit extreme but graphic enough.  That is the thing about wading through horse manure and the ordure of bulls daily. 

As a child, I and my other real comrades had the rare treat of attending a circus for the first time in our rural area. The circus was a complete fraud,  as we discovered later when the fire eater,   equestrian, tightrope walker and others turned out to be the same multitasking  man  in various disguises.  What's more he was a local fellow who swore in fluent  isiZulu when a hammer was dropped on his toe, while he went through his 'Mustapha, The Amazing Egyptian Magician' act.  Angry folk trashed the big top and even the lone horse and a few goats took flight. The next morning there was not even the slightest trace to tell that the circus had come to town. One hopes most sincerely that the disappearance of your circus will be as complete and final.

We too,  are weary  of the sloppy performances. The ring master who drones on but never says anything of consequence. Whose promises inevitably fall as flat  as the tightrope walker who made his tentative, timid walk on a disappointingly low wire. The equestrian who might as well have been flogging a long dead horse. The magician whose best contribution was the string of curses that he uttered when hammer met toe. 

We are utterly weary of being defrauded in this inept,  sham circus show.  We have had far more patience than the angry citizens who chased the ring master and multitasking performer into the night. We too want a refund on our exorbitantly expensive tickets. 

If you think this harsh, it's not as harsh as the reality that after almost thirty years of freedom and democracy, we ruminate and regurgitate, like slow oxen, the same cliches, slogans and elusive promises as at the beginning. We sit in the same real darkness of Eskom and the almost equally palpable darkness of a society compassed about by anger, hatred,horrific crime, hopelessness and corruption. There must be something deeply wrong with freedom and democracy,  then. Oh wait. Does it perhaps have anything to do with the people that we naively trusted to lead us fearlessly into the New Dawn of freedom and democracy? 

Comrades, you could redeem yourselves  by performing one really  good circus trick  - disappearing completely.

Yours in the struggle for life, liberty, the pursuit of ice cream businesses  and the removal of bumbilating politicians.

Richard 

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How to Win Voters and Influence People

Dear ANC

You never disappoint. I've been concerned that you may not be able to top 'smallanyana skeletons', ruling till Jesus returns and other unforgettable, immortal quotes.

But you have again reminded us never to underestimate your genius for the truly bizarre. Apartheid runs amok through the land, burning buildings, stuffing up everything that can be stuffed up.  And even some things that, in a normal world,  cannot be stuffed up with the best will. 

You have topped all of that. Not even swart gevaar of days gone by could set people on a tremble like the prospect of losing student grants and social grants. Bravo! Perhaps we learned this brilliant electioneering tactic from our maste..., pardon, friends in Moscow. Or are we at the exalted place where we could teach them a thing or two? In addition, that is, to training them in the use of the nighttime fokol that we loaded onto their ship.

I believe that you need to turn up the volume on threats, sorry, warnings of this kind. For always at my back I hear, the polling day approaching near. Apologies to T S Eliot. 

You really need to work this apartheid thing. You've got to get it to the sinister, scary heights of the White Walkers legend in Game of Thrones. I don't want to be rude, but given your, er, dismal, comical performance in government, what else can you take to the voters?

A friend called it dirty, dishonest, fear-mongering electioneering. (So serious, my 'clever black' and 'colonial clerk' friends).  I would not go that far. It's pit toilet grade stuff but there are those who would drink sulphuric acid if the Great Leaders called it kool aid. This is as brilliant as anything vomit..., sorry, churned out by great strategists like Stalin and the North Korean bloke with the Afrikaans name - Jong something.

Viva ANC. Viva!

Yours in the struggle to renew the great Liberation Movement.

Richard 

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Confessions of a Colonial Clerk

Dear Aunt Betty 

 

 I am in desperate need of your advice.  I have endured such scorn and abuse as is usually reserved for those who suggest that Mr Zuma so much as glanced sideways at dirty money.

The thing is: I don't know why. You see, I penned a perfectly harmless tweet and signed it 'Colonial Clerk'. I am indeed a clerk in an Eastern Cape municipality. As some of us still call the Eastern Cape 'eKoloni' (the Colony), I thought this a mildly witty effort. An avalanche of vitriol descended on me from supporters of the ANC, EFF and a dozen other abbreviated organisations. I had no idea that clerical work was so despised. Some accused me of being in league with the Oppressors. 

So depressed was I by the negativity and naked hatred that I began seeing a psychiatrist. We have been dating now for six months. That is going well except for when she frequently asks: "How does that make you feel?" The other problem still remains. I still get angry and sarcastic questions about Johan Rupert

(whom I have never met), the CIA and my 'handlers'. I thought that being in the company of such well-known people as Redi Tlabi, Thuli Madonsela and Phumlani Majozi might help, but despair weighs me down like a smallanyana, but weighty, skeleton in the cupboard.

Should I resign my position or request a name change to my job title? That seems to have worked very well for various cities and streets on South Africa. Many of them are still impoverished and filthy but there's something about a new name. Like wearing one's new Christmas clothes for a day, before getting back into one's grubby shorts and party t-shirt.

Perhaps I should join the new Mkhonto party. It seems to have given Mr Zuma a new lease on life. I am already a card-carrying EFF member (aside from my Pick 'n Pay and Shoprite cards). I feel that it is time for change, as my psychiatrist friend keeps reminding me. Perhaps being in a party that scores above ten percent in by-elections will revive my flagging spirits. Don't get me wrong. I thoroughly enjoy singing jolly songs about killing people, while marching on an assortment of despicable organisations. I just have a hunch that this new party may well represent the noblest, purest aspirations of our people.

Aunt Betty, I treasure your advice as Mr Ramaphosa treasures ANC unity, love and peace. And the preservation of their good name and reputation for competence and integrity. I hope to hear from you soon. I'll listen on the radio, loadshedding permitting.

Yours in the struggle for restored respectability.

Richard 

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Delusions and Hallucinations

The input that I get from assorted learned people on X gives me great hope for South Africa. 

The sparkling repartee, the cool,  thoughtful comment -  I grow with each encounter.  A gentleman once suggested that I f&%k myself.  Intriguing though the proposal was from a perspective of scientific enquiry, I declined. My counter-proposal was that he perform the action on himself, as he was unlikely to experience any other intimacy, given his quaint attitude  and limited communication skills.

Someone kindly advised me that I was delusional, after I quoted some of Mr Zuma's more interesting utterances. I carefully noted that for discussion with my analyst at our next session. Now I could have sworn that Mr Zuma did indeed make those utterances. But I suppose that's the nature of delusion. Who knows where it may lead? 

Admittedly, some.. sorry, many,  of the utterances and delightful shenanigans of Mr Zuma and  comrades are so bizarre that they may well be the product of severe delusion. 

More recently I was advised that I am hallucinating. This followed some comment on some of Malema's  intriguing statements and actions. Now to go from delusion to hallucination has to be a serious matter. I suppose that I ought to be concerned.

I noted that input as well and brought forward my meeting with my analyst Dr von Schollenhofen von Eltern unter den Tannenbàmen. We will have, I imagine, much to discuss and I am grateful to the aforementioned Twitterati  for their concern for my mental and emotional health. And for their diagnoses. It's difficult in South Africa and one can use all the help one gets. They have also  saved me a few thousand rands in psychoanalysis.  Like Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire,  I have come to rely on the kindness of strangers. 

Of course, these exchanges do lead one down a rabbit warren of Alice-like proportions (she of Wonderland). Could it be that these exchanges on X were themselves but the offspring of delusion and hallucination. If I responded with 'gaan krap in die mielies', would the phantoms of my fevered imagination respond? How would I know where reality ends and fantasy begins? Or vice-versa? 

What if Mr Zuma and Mr Malema are themselves but the stuff of delusion and hallucination joined in unholy matrimony?  Their surreal adventures suggest such a possibility. A book on their exploits would be rejected out of hand by any publisher worthy of the name. Also by readers. Even if nestled between Star Trek and the Harry Potter books. What would destroy suspension of disbelief would be the notion that people in South Africa actually took them seriously.

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O Tichmann 

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