The Sun Also Rises

 Dear Daily Sun

The time has come, as the walrus famously declared, to acknowledge your contribution to the work of the free press in South Africa. 

While other publications focus on the tangible and the obvious, you have crawled into the dark, bubbling underbelly of life in the beloved country. You have experienced and faithfully recorded each foul eruption as it burps forth successive tales, each stranger than the one before.  Truly, Bill, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. Tokoloshes, zombies and others one dare not mention in polite company (yours, dear reader).

Anyone can report on corruption and the like. It takes nerves of steel and the instincts of a champion bloodhound to stay on the track of the terrifying creatures that go eish in the night. We salute you. Were it not for you, we would be blissfully unaware and unprepared. As it is, my bed stands on extra-large bricks. I have an armoury filled with garlic, salt and other weapons of ghoul destruction. Unlike the ANC and the so -sudden tsunami of corruption, I  will not be caught unprepared.

Where I once faithfully read The Star and The Sunday Times for news, I now refer to them only for the TV guide. For real news, 'Die son sien alles'. En nog wat. After all, what could be more of a 'clear and present danger' than the spectre of  the undead roaming the land, seeking unsuspecting prey? Aided and abetted, no doubt, by the vertically challenged ones. 

Where are the Hawks when we need them? And our intelligence agencies? Surely they could mount an undercover operation. Some of them should have no problems posing as zombies. With their skills and training, I mean.

Thank you for the fresh perspective on what really matters in South Africa.

One must also commend you on your muscular use of language. "Kwaito Star Moers Neighbour' has an earthy eloquence. Beats the hell out of "Musician Assaults Neighbour". You go for the cro..., er, jugular. Rock on

Yours in the pursuit of great stories (ANC has the franchise on good stories).

Richard 

Practical Magic

Dear Doctors, Prophets, Professors and Other Practitioners of the Mystical Arts and Sciences 

We are in the direst of straits. But you know that. You probably saw it coming a long way back. 

I've been scanning your fascinating advertisements with more than just idle curiosity. The pastor of the petrol - chugging church and I have both been buffeted by rising fuel prices. VAT has taken on its Afrikaans meaning. I fear that the man in the street will soon be quite literally the man in the street.

Even my dog is in debt and spends his days moping around the yard, instead of administering strategically-placed bites to the deserving. On that note dear burglars, thieves and assorted villains, you are wasting your precious time in our suburb. We have already been looted by those far more skilled than you. I would look to other compass points.

 What do the politicians offer? Little beyond the accustomed platitudes, implied threats to, in the immortal phrasing of the Daily Sun, 'moer' some party or the other. And also quite creditable impersonations of a canine street encounter.

But you, dear practitioners of the magic arts ,offer hope and dreams. You offer a bewildering array of services at reasonable prices. Mirrors to see what one's enemies are up to (SARS beware), charms for every conceivable situation or game of chance, Frodo's ring of power  - the list meanders on. It occurs to me that I need a package deal, cash on delivery of more cash, naturally. I invite you all to submit tenders for the following package (we South Africans do, in the words of Elvis, Love To Tender):

The casino-crushing charm - turbo version. I aim to hit all East Rand casinos, spazas included, in one week.

The lotto - looting charm. Please include plus 1 and plus 2.

The SARS - sedating charm. Self - explanatory. 

I will pass on the short-boys-and-rats package. Home deliveries are outdated and labour-intensive. Besides, cash-in-transit heists are an ever present menace in the East.

With your supernatural radar at work, I suspect that your sealed tenders are ready for submission. I look forward to doing business with the winner. 

Onward with radical economic transformation.

Richard

The Return Of The Magnificent Four

The rider bent low over the black stallion's mane as they sped through waving grasslands. He dismounted in a shady grove and let the stallion graze. Taking  a sip from his canteen of Perrier water, he flexed his fingers. The draw was a blur. Three SMSs sped out as one. 

"Got a long way to go Home Affairs", he murmered to the stallion as he remounted. 

Mo sat on his porch in the lotus position he'd learned during his passage to India. He seemed hardly to move as the knife thudded into the soil between the rider's boots. "Haven't lost your touch", the rider chuckled. Mo grunted: "We ride?"

"We ride",  he answered.

Not even a wisp of smoke rose from Faith's cabin among the woods. They leaned back in their saddles in the easy Mzansi rider's posture. "You can come down from the tree", the rider called. Rifle in the crook of her arm, she sailed down gracefully. "Only the three of us?" she asked. "We ride to Mokonyane's", he replied, lighting up a cheroot. "Grab a bite to eat. She's  got two lambs on the spit". 

"Just like old times", she chuckled, tightening the cinch on her saddle.

The sun was beginning to sink as they sped through grasslands, waded through creeks and ate the dust of old trails. They rode silently, each  with memories of battles fought and thoughts of  battles to come. The Saxonworld shootout, gunfight at the SONA Corral, gunsmoke drifting on the plain of Parliament.... They rode through villages, silent save for the rhythmic drumming of their horses' hooves. The villagers watched. Some crossed themselves. Even the children were subdued,  sensing that something momentous was afoot.

The last rays of the setting sun gleamed on leather and steel. Then the darkness swallowed them. . 

The Magnificent Four were back.

The Bone Collectors

Dear Covidpreneurs and Tenderpreneurs

At our recent meeting (on Zoom, of course), I was tasked with the unpleasant, unpalatable duty of conveying to you our extreme displeasure.

Sirs and madams, we of the Theft And  Burglary Association (TABA), take enormous pride in our professional, even artistic approach to our discipline. You, on the other hand, tear into the business like a barbaric guest at an elegant dinner gathering. The ghastly picture in my mind is of a diner brandishing in one hand a whole lamb shank  and tearing at it, while gulping down an enormous jug of beer, held in the other hand. I am unable to face my breakfast. To quote the troubled Danish prince, my gorge rises at it.

Several of our members have 'gone straight' in disgust. Must we teach you the basics? Like our patron saint, Robin of Locksley (widely known as Robin Hood), we rob only from the rich and distribute to the poor (ourselves). 

Ladies and gentlemen, there is a certain savoir-faire in redeploying selected contents of a mansion. Or relocating a wealthy person's wallet. Clearly, you nouveau criminals are sadly lacking in basic education. And indeed, manners. You tarnish the image of our profession.

One could word this protest in much stronger terms but that would entail sinking to the abysmal level that you occupy.

We intend to lobby strenuously for a reclassification of your activities. I am afraid that the term 'criminal' is far too genteel. Something porcine might fit the bill.

Peter Pompies

Secretary General TABA

Love Story

A year or two ago

Dear Supra

'The people love me.'

So glad you cleared up that little misunderstanding. We were under the (clearly false) impression that the people of the northwest were slightly g..vol with you - burning, looting, rioting.

We are talking of the same Northwest aren't we? In South Africa? Not North Korea or Nepal? I read 'The Five Love Languages' but missed the  chapter on rioting, looting and burning. Must go back and have another look.

Then again love has been known to drive people to distraction. This is clearly the variety sung of in old songs such as Burning Love and Ring of Fire. Your statement confused me initially and I was more inclined to Foreigner's I Want to Know What Love Is.

There is one secret that you must share with us, please. It could be most helpful to harassed administrators in the land. A newspaper article averred that your administration has been characterized by incompetence, corruption, failure to deliver services, among others. For which of these do the people love you most?

I do hope that the outpouring of love remains confined to your area. Already there are reports of some demonstrations of affection in KZN. Should the tide of passion sweep the whole country, I am afraid that our emergency services may really struggle to quench the fires of love.

Yours in the eternal quest for true love.

Richard

The Chronicles: Time Of Plagues

When the reign of  King Jayzed was ended, there came forth another out of the tribe of the Ancites.

Ram Pozaar sat but a few days upon the throne when a plague spread throughout the whole earth.  The king tarried not but gathered his ministers and counsellors about him. And a decree went through the land that every man, woman and child should hasten to their abodes, shut the doors and there abide for a season. The people were well pleased and did hasten to obey. And many praised the king for his wisdom.

At that time, B'eki, son of Chella, the king's minister, rose up to speak. 

"There is a curse upon the  Beloved Land", said he. "Because of those who go to drink wine from morning till evening. Behold their violence   reaches to the heavens. Let us stop every wine vat and shut up the doors of the wine merchants".

And so it was done according to his word. But some  of the people did mutter and grumble, saying:

"Does not wine gladden the heart? Shall there be no more laughter upon our lips? Indeed, the times are dark and full of sorrow".

Then there arose also a  minister called Endeezed and she proclaimed in a loud voice:

"Those who burn strange incense do bring sickness upon the land. Away with them and the smoke of their abominable sacrifices". And the burners of incense and the merchants were commanded to refrain from all that they did. And again there arose in the land the sound of mourning and murmering. But the son of Chella, filled with indignation, sought out the rebellious ones, to bind them and cast them into prison.

And the king and his ministers stored up grain for there was hunger in the land. And they sent for grain from foreign lands until the storehouses were filled. But lo, there came forth a plague of vermin and they devoured the grain to the last morsel. Then there went up in the land a great cry as of mourning and anger. And some stood forth and cried out:

"Behold the Ancites have brought upon us a sore plague. It is from their own houses and sewers that the vermin spring forth. Make clean your own houses ere you would command us in ours". 

And one among the Ancites proclaimed:

"Judge us not for is not this the curse of the Natites, the rulers of old? Upon their heads be it". But the people stopped their ears and gnashed their teeth.

 For their anger burned as a fiery furnace.

Here end the chronicles for the future is not written in the hand of scribes.

Reach For The Skies

Dear ANC Cabinet

Here is the solution to SAA's woes.

Don't throw any more money at this chronically ailing cash crocodile.

Who flies faster and lower across the country than the minibus taxi people? Who delivers millions of people to destinations across the land? Whose wrecks litter ..., oops,sorry, that slipped in. Flying is already in the blood of our taxi drivers. It's just a matter of learning to take off and land. My twelve year old nephew does that daily on his flight simulation game. 

Let the minibus taxi industry reach for the skies. Advantages are numerous. 

Some taxis resemble veterans of world war two tank battles. Anyone who can keep those on the road will have no trouble with aircraft maintenance. Do away with expensive airport infrastructure and staff. A couple of queue marshalls will whip everybody into line (literally, if necessary).

Unencumbered by the JMPD and other traffic police, our pilots are bound to make record times. Away with cumbersome booking and payment systems. Take a leaf out of the Book Of Taxi. Passengers line up on the runways and give the appropriate signals. A thumbs up for Durban, two for Cape Town. Two fingers up for the Eastern Cape. A limp-wristed thumbs down for Limpopo etc. The passenger in the front seat collects and counts the money - efficient and egalitarian. Passengers will thrill to the genuine South African travel experience. 

Flight plans - who needs them? Everyone knows where Durban is.  Joe's magwinyas and skop (sheep's head) alongside Ocean Basket will provide the ultimate South African dining experience in the terminal. There is a hotel providing 'a township experience' at more than R1000 a night. So, don't think that this is a bizarre notion. On the contrary, it will serve to unite the two South Africas. 

There we are: a simple South African solution, based on a working model. 

Yours in the struggle for efficiency.

Richard