Decent Jobs

Dear South African Recruiters 

The ANC once spoke of decent jobs for South Africans. I think I have identified where such jobs may be found. According to a news report, about R17 million has been paid to suspended government officials, while they relax at home. It doesn't get much more decent than that. 

I am well qualified as I have extensive experience of relaxing at home. Or any other place that I might be required to relax. Some of our heroes have apparently been in this suspended state for more than sixty days. While that's a tough proposition, I am nothing if not persistent and can even kick out for the shores of 365 days. Lockdown has merely enhanced my skills in this discipline. I am willing to relocate anywhere except the Eastern Cape. Apparently the lingering effects of apartheid are most keenly felt there. I have had my unfair share of that particular experiment.

Incidentally, I have no objection to indecent jobs also, provided they pay well and involve fun activities.

I also read once of some city employees who worked twice a week. Something to do with problems with the building. I assume that the building was okay on, say, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. No telling with modern architecture. That sort of job would come in a close second for me. I'm all for work / life balance. The five day work week is vastly overrated anyway.

Should you find a suitable position for me, I plan to apply for paid suspension within the first month. No point in procrastinating. Of course, I trust that the suspension budget is still chubby and healthy.

My CV is attached. Please do not keep me in suspense.

Yours in the struggle for an honest wage.

Richard

Shining Moments

Dear Fellow South Africans 

It seems to be the done thing to publicize one's achievements on social media. Being the shy, retiring type, I've refrained so far. But I believe the hour has now come (I've been queuing for an hour at a cig..., sorry, at Shoprite). 

Just last week I experienced one of my proudest moments. The East Rand Mashonisas Association (ERMA) presented me with the Borrower Of The Year award. This took the  form of an artistically framed IOU certificate. Talk about moving...

I also acquired a PHD certificate. It was a difficult journey. There was sacrifice, hardship and other stuff. I did not shrink from paying the high price this endeavour demanded. Eventually I found the academic  shop I sought in a Germiston side - street. R500 later, I'm humbled and proud to be in the company of such worthies as Dr Ace (honorary PHD in philosophy).

I was also granted an interview by the Primrose Post, a fine community newspaper. My views on the role of social media as a tool of the Enemy Of Mankind were hotly debated in Joe's Bar, a popular gathering place for East Rand intellectuals. 

There was the Neighbour Of The Year Award from Lawrence and Koos on either side of me. Also the Writer Of The Week award from a friend whose keen intellect I value and respect. He is writing the definitive book on Elvis sightings in the Northern Cape. 

Yours in the quest for shining moments.

Richard 

That's Apartheid

To the tune of That's Amore - apologies to Dean Martin

When the stuff hits the fan

Guess who carries the can

It's apartheid 

When a project goes bust 

Budgets crumble to dust 

That's apartheid 

Racists sing ting a ling a ling it's your thing

And you'll sing non colpevole

They will say hell to pay, hell to pay, like some old acapella

Bayadelela

When you're caught with the swag

And the tongues start to wag

That's apartheid 

When you're caught in a lie 

Need a good alibi 

You're in luck

When you're living the dream

But your critics keep grumbling and scheming

Scusami but you see, back in old Mzansi that's apartheid 

Yes apartheid 

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Wasted

Dear Fellow South Africans

We are in sh..t.

Walking through our leafy, upmarket East Rand suburb recently, with its upmarket pubs and spaza casinos, watching the alternative chemists at their business, I was reminded of T S Eliot's 'The Waste Land'. Here is a Joburg spin on some of his verses:

Unreal city
This sewage crept by me upon the pavement
And along the road, up old Pretoria Street
Oh City, city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a gambling place in Rietfontein
The ceaseless whining from a TV tune
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where the desperate play at noon

Unreal city
Dodging the brown stuff on a winter dawn
A crowd flowed over Rietfontein, so many
I had not thought life had undone so many
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet
(How else to navigate the filthy street?)

I thought then that this river of waste was an apt metaphor for our town. Actually, it's an apt metaphor for our country right now. I read that we have spent billions trying to eradicate the bucket system. We are still up to our necks in the stuff. Small wonder that it seems to permeate our lives. Mad Magazine once jested that South Africa has eleven official languages but can't speak sense in any of them. Well, we certainly can speak cr..p in all of them. Whence comes this epidemic of verbal diarrhoea? Lately we've had people, politicians not backward, calling other people dogs, baboons and other names. A politician was alleged to have encouraged people to commit murder. I hope that's fake news. What enema will rid us of this mine dump of turgid waste? What have we, the nation, been feeding on that we seem to belch forth the foulest waste at every opportunity? We can be so politically correct about pollution of the atmosphere, yet...

Again, Mr Eliot said it:

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish?

But then again, I suppose one ought to lighten up. Politicians, like demolition experts, cannot really be relied upon to build anything lasting. We, who whine about the politicians, have been known to wreak as much havoc with a single poisonous tweet.

Wipe your hand across your mouth and laugh, said Eliot. Bring on the twenty year old scotch.

Yours in the struggle for a cure for national diarrhoea.

Richard

Full Disclosure

Dear Fellow South Africans 

I have never met the Guptas. With worms and skeletons tumbling out of woodwork and closets, I wish this to be placed on record.

I strongly recommend that a register be made available in every town and village in South Africa for all citizens, legal and illegal aliens and others to declare any Gupta-related interests. Parents and guardians could declare on behalf of minors. Awaking from a troubled dream this morning, in which Halle Berry and Angelina Jolie fought a deadly duel for my affections, I heeded its hidden message to come clean. I now make a full, frank and fearless declaration.

I did see the Guptas once on SABC news but quickly switched to the BBC.

I once rode past an air force runway but did not stop.

I spent only two nights in Dubai and bumped into only one minister- a Methodist, I think.

I have never been to India, as far as I can remember. The Taj Mahal, yes - but that's a Durban restaurant.

Despite several requests, I was never invited to a Gupta function.

I did partake of several refreshing libations at an establishment in the Saxonworld environs, but it was coincidental that I was in the area, my minibus taxi having broken down.

I did once apply for a vacant ministerial post with a recruitment agency, coincidentally also in Saxonworld. I have not heard from the agency and plan to approach the CCMA.

While I am on a roll, let me also declare that I have never frolicked with a political intern, with or without cigars (instructive though that may have been). I have never eaten sushi off anything but a plate. I did once have a puff of an unusual brand of cigarette at a party but did not inhale. (They were playing my favourite song: Waiting To Exhale).

There, having declared all, my only remaining moral dilemma is whether to back Halle or Angelina tonight. 

Yours in the struggle for truth in our time.

Richard 

I Spy

Dear Dr NDZ

Thank you for a marvellous opportunity during this difficult time. I have long wanted to get into the spy game. I am delighted that you have rightly pointed out that it's my responsibility to report people drinking alcohol. Just this morning, I caught my neighbour guzzling a pineapple concoction. Like any conscientious investigator, I had to ensure that my observations were valid. Six glasses later, I had confirmation. I was unable to effect a citzen's arrest at the time, as I was overcome by a strange lethargy. 

I have extensive experience. At school, moved by ethical and moral impulse, I used to shop my smoking fellow students. I would confiscate the evidence and, er, dispose of it. I am happy to conduct tests on any suspicious beverages found in the course of my investigations. Also to ensure that the offending substances are properly disposed of. 

I am negotiating with the Saxonworld Shebeen for office space. Operating from there, my team will be fully equipped to investigate and report on:

Secret imbibers

Secret smokers 

Anyone making negative comments about lockdown regulations 

Curfew breakers 

Other subversive elements 

We are bound to see a dramatic decrease in the serious criminal activity that so bedevils our otherwise happy land. We are driven by patriotism. Can we discuss expense accounts and commissions please.

Yours in the struggle for liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Richard 

Groundhog Day

Dear Mr Mnangagwa

I am sure that you have heard the story of the man who watched his favourite western several times. In the movie, the hero met an untimely end when his horse plunged over a cliff. Our man watched it again anyway because he hoped it would end differently the next time.

It's been a bit like that for us with Zimbabwe. We were hoping to see something newly scripted. It seems we have the same grainy, old black and white reel. Why would you trudge in the muddy footsteps of the departed one? You know full well where they led.

Sir, no-one ever died from working with other parties to repair the wreckage. Except, perhaps in some banana republics. No-one could accuse Zimbabwe of that. You've got to at least have bananas. Are we perhaps all blind and misled? Perhaps your country is actually a paradise from which so many cross into South Africa because they cannot help but spread the joy and the love.

Hearts with one purpose alone, wrote Yeats,

Through summer and winter 

Seem enchanted to a stone 

To trouble the living stream..

Do you really want to be remembered as yet another millstone around the necks of a weary, weary people? Do we really have to have groundhog day every day in this part of the world?

We are utterly weary of being the ones who lost the bet on the game and then again on the replay. Wouldn't it be inspirational to have out of Africa (south) something new?

Yours in constant hope of being surprised. 

Richard