Alien (2018)

Dear Mr Gigaba 

I am sorely in need of your assistance. You seem to be quite a helpful chap in matters such as the dilemma confronting me.

I have been unable to sleep for a week, tormented by nightmares in which I was deported to Iran. You see, although my parents told me that I was born here and though I have voted several times, i now realise that establishing citizenship is rather more complex than that. I think of the poor fellow who is supposedly registered as a voter, yet the controversy around his citizenship rages on like a long drawn out medieval siege.

My concern is that I cannot say with absolute certainty that I was indeed born in the Rainbow realm. I was rather preoccupied at the time, sucking in lungfuls of air and warding off the unwelcome attentions of sinister persons in green masks and gowns. 

One hates to think that one's parents might have lied but I would equally hate to discover that I have to relocate to somewhere like Japan. The only Japanese I know is from karate classes; something like: 'Senseini, arigato bazai mashta'. Roughly translated as: 'Teacher, thank you for beating the living daylights out of me on the pretext of teaching me to defend myself'. I doubt the usefulness of that particular phrase on the Japanese metro. I am sure that you can relate to my anxiety about this matter. Ever since a teacher remarked that I think like an alien, I have been assailed by nagging doubts. 

Sir, while you chew on my request, a few lines inspired by Sting's 'Englishman In New York' (What the devil were his parents thinking when they named him?).

Don't fly economy, I fly first class

Take off from an air force base

Got connections in the highest place

Don't you dare get in my face. 

See me driving down the avenue

Tender papers in my hand

Take them everywhere I go, 

Get that deal, no matter what it takes

Get that deal, no matter what it takes. 

I'm an alien, a sort of legal alien,

I'm a tycoon in Saxonworld. 

Should you wish to have the entire song (maybe to belt out to the accompanying roar of your blue - light convoy), i can be found at the famous Saxonworld establishment.

Yours in search of citizenship.

Richard 

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

A New Religion That Will Bring You To Your Knees

Dear New Wave Pastors

As Sunday slipped by, you popped into my mind with that line from Black Velvet.

I don't know what to make of your fascinating perspective on matters of faith.

Are you perhaps filling the comedy gap that some of our departed politicians left? The kindest interpretation I can put on some of your doings is that you have slightly misread some passages. 

'Feed my lambs' did not refer to literally putting your parishioners out to grass. 

To the Crocodile Dundee of the clergy, it's 'trample serpents', not 'sample serpents'. Apparently, your congregants find the flavour to be similar to that of chocolate. Cadbury must be worried. What's your own favourite? Peppermint crisp green mamba, perhaps? In similar vein, your drinking petrol seems to go down as smoothly as Coke. I trust that you yourself set the example by consuming your daily litre. With petrol prices what they are, I hope it's true that you charge an entrance fee to your zo..., sorry, services. By the way, would you recommend 93 or 95 for a really smooth drink? 

To the gentleman who seems quite preoccupied with underwear and related issues, sir, I know of a quiet, restful place in the Eastern Cape where you can find many friends of a similar persuasion.

Then there's the chap who claims to suck things harmful and unwholesome out of women's breasts. What can one say other than: your theology sucks.

Dear alternative pastors, where on God's green earth did you find people willing to follow you down your rabbit holes? Is there a parallel universe into which you cross from time to time? Could you share with us the source of your inspiration? The Good Book is so rich and complex that one may have missed the doctrines of cleansing by insecticide, free - range grazing, being set free by BP and other mysteries. 

Yours in open - mouthed wonder.

Richard 

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Play It Again, Sam

I was reading the newspaper headlines flashing by as our minibus taxi cruised at a sedate 140 kilometres per hour. A thought struck me at the same time that our taxi struck a vehicle inconsiderately stopped at a red traffic light.

Life is quite easy for our gentlemen and ladies of the press. They could have a bunch of one - size - fits - all headlines ready to go at any time. DA At Sixes And Sevens would be a sure thing. Any day of the week would be fine for Billions Go Missing. Outrage Over Malema Statement could be a weekly staple (though he has been rather subdued lately, perhaps preoccupied with the state of the banking sector). Afriforum Sues could be followed by Afriforum Sues Again. On the international front, one cannot go wrong with Trump Stirs Up A Hornets' Nest. Heaven knows what they will use if the man should actually stumble on a hornets' nest while out walking. Bafana Woes could be a shoe-in for the sports pages. Should our soccer heroes surprise us with a win over, say, Lesotho, the same headline can be used with the Afrikaans or slang meaning of the second word.

My favourite investigative journal, The Daily Sun, must surely have Tokoloshe Terrifies Township in constant readines, along with Star Moers Neighbour and Zombie Runs Amok. On a slow day, they could probably do Tokoloshe And Zombie Run Riot. 

We've been kept well informed on Covid statistics. I suggest the same be done for the kleptopandemic ravaging the land. Perhaps a daily table along the lines of:

  Projects gone belly up             Rxxx

  Tenders from hell                     Rxxx

  Food parcels                             Rxxx

  Redeployed (see note)            Rxxx

  Legacy heists (last 10 years) Rxxx

* Note: redeployed = broad category encompassing brazen theft, fraud, mismanagement, waste etc, etc, etc.                            

While we may not flatten that curve anytime soon, it would surely be an eye-opener to trace its shape. Perhaps that of a rainbow (sans pot of gold).

Bifokol

Dear Fellow South Africans 

Here we go again. No water, no power, no leadership. Deja vu. 

The last waterless spell we went through had me thinking: a metaphor for our national life. Many are dirt poor, some are filthy rich and many are just plain dirty. Thank God we don't have to rely on an Airkom for oxygen.

Of course, of hot air there is no shortage. At the time, a debate of great national importance was taking place in parliament. It was about the meaning of the word 'fokol'. I am sure that most South Africans are delighted that our legislators spend time and tax rands on what really matters - fokol.

Most South Africans could quite easily explain what the word means. We've had it for many years. We'd love to share it with you, dear MPs and ministers. Shakespeare summed it up in King Lear: 'from fokol, fokol comes'. The last eight or nine years have taught us that. That is all that you need to know and can we now move on from fokol? Or can you move on?

Yours in the struggle for something, anything, more substantial than fokol.

Richard

Contagion

Dear Mr President

I have felt the  cold touch, the slimy tentacles of that bloated octopus called corruption. Just this morning, a sinister message slithered onto the screen of my cellphone: 'SanDisk Corrupted'. So it's come this far. I have tried to keep myself as pure as the Volk did in days of old but corruption now stares me impudently in the face.

In the shower, while humming a half-remembered folk song about a machine gun and briefly contemplating the meaning of life, I  wrestled with the problem.

Sir, this is now in the nature of a second pandemic. The guys in white hats are overwhelmed. The corrupt rampage like an army of orcs. Even Al Capone starts to look like a cherubic choir boy by comparison. Lately, I have been checking the household trash daily for fear that it might be stolen. I don't know if we have sufficient room to quarantine the carriers of this contagion.

Your response has to be proportionate if we hope to have a country left. I suggest a team composed of real detectives, auditors (excluding KPMG - their name is too complicated), SARS experts and reformed racketeers (set a food parcel thief to catch a food parcel thief). Clerical work and research can be done by the many people now unemployed. I'm sure that the unit would pay for itself in recoveries. Everybody leaves a paper trail, don't they? Sir, for a small consideration, I would be happy to act as a consultant. Having read lots of best-sellers on crime and espionage, you might say I've been in training for such a time as this. As the FF Plus pointed out in one of their election posters, the time has come to 'slaan terug'. After all, it's not as if these villains are the Einsteins of crime.

Yours in the struggle against suffocating corruption.

Richard

Fresh Meandos (In Support Of Mr Zuma)

Recalling Mr Zuma's contribution to language

Dear Mr Zuma

You used, indeed coined, the word 'meandos' during a parliamentary debate and endured some scandalous mockery.

Sir, this is so unfair. People clamour for leaders to be creative. You were wonderfully creative with numbers. Now you have moved on to words; a natural, logical progression. Besides, meandos is a fine word, vowels and consonants all in the right places. Most importantly, the word does exist.

In the dim recesses of the history section of the Germiston library (where I suspect that things other than  reading are done), I found an account by the explorer Gonzales, of his journey through the Amazon. I quote:

"We sat cross-legged on the  floor of a native hut and partook of the repast which they generously provided. It consisted of a not unpalatable game stew and a fruit hitherto unknown to us. Leathery of skin, with an insubstantial, pulpy mass within, the natives called the fruit meandos. It is found at the very top of the giant meandos tree and served on high ceremonial occasions. I am resolved to present this strange fruit to Her Majesty, as well as the green leaves which the natives set on fire and inhale. Indeed, on following the native custom, I was filled with unaccustomed mirth at the sight of Sergeant Nunez's bulbous nose. Doubtless, Her Majesty will be much amused...."

There you are, Mr President. Should anyone again fling meandos at you, you can hurl them back with gay abandon.

Yours in the quest for fresh meandos.

Richard 

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Nightmare On Fir Avenue, Germiston

Dear Mr Mboweni

We have something in common. I read that you have fiscal nightmares. I, too, have fiscal nightmares.

Just last night I dreamt that I was facing a firing squad of mashonisas and bank managers. Their AK47s had full clips. I waited desperately for a last minute reprieve in the form of a call from VBS. A call came. It was Bill Clinton, wanting to know if my last request included a good cigar. He had a Cohiba left over from a staff meeting of long ago. I woke with the thunderous crashing of gunfire echoing in my head. To my consternation, it continued. It turned out to be my neighbour, practising for the weekend. No problem there, after a change of clothes.

Sir, you once said that we are standing at a crossroads.  That's because we've run out of fuel. But all is not lost, sir. There's plenty of fat of the land for your beleaguered treasury. Just follow the paper trail to the black marketers who now owe a fortune in taxes. May I refer you to the movie 'The Untouchables' for some guidelines. I'm sure that our politicians and assorted civil sevants also stand ready to make sacrifices in these terrible, difficult times. How much fat lies hidden in those perks that make no sense when the land lies waste. I would suggest slashing those tons of blubber with a really good flensing knife. KFC will survive.

I did suggest a national stokvel some time ago. You ignored my suggestion and, no doubt, now regret it. I am still willing to contribute an extra R10 per month to my already burdensome taxes. I should think that economies of scale and compound interest would make the thing workable. I leave the details to you, sir. I expect to be among the first paid out (my idea).

Mr Mboweni, without swift action, your last resort may be those alternative economists who advertise the services of short boys and rats. Who knows? They may well have the answers, unorthodox as their financial instruments and practices are. After all, we cannot unmake this mess with the same thinking that got us into it, can we?

Yours in the struggle for fiscal fluidity.

Richard

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723