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