The Fearsome Red Pig Attack Helicopter

Dear  Fellow South Africans

I was delighted to learn that South Africa  has been quietly building a new attack helicopter, the Rooivark (Red Pig).   

A tweet announced the joyous news:           

"PC on Defence and Military Veterans touring the locally produced Rooivark attack helicopter as part of their oversight visit to the South African Air Force base in Bloemspruit"

Clearly, between tenders for smart toilets and half-stadiums, there has been some great work. Based, I imagine, on the technology of the Rooivalk (Red Falcon) but vastly superior.

Of course right wingers, fascists, racists and stratcom agents had to spoil the moment. They tweeted huffily  that this was a shocking typing error. They then lambasted all, including a gentleman who wore a red suit, surely in salute to the pig / bird.

I had already imagined a dramatic battle scenario:

"There we were, pinned down in the swamp, surrounded by the enemy. We were ready to sell our lives dearly. Then, above the noise of battle, came the distinctive 'whump, whump, grunt, grunt' of stubby rotors. Over the tree canopy, a beautiful sight: the fearsome, rotund shapes of a squadron of 'pigs'. They were coming to save our bacon. The crackling of the radio: 'Pork One to squad leader....' I saw the fear on the faces of the enemy troops as they strained skyward. Heard the frantic yells: 'It's the red pigs. Save yourselves!'"

There was no need to be so scathing. The parliamentarians are not defence experts or career military people. It is unfair to expect them to spot fine technical issues  such as the difference between falcons and pigs. After all most civilians wouldn't be able to tell whether they had leg of falcon or leg of pork on their plates.These things are for veterans.

At least they got the 'red' part right. Not a total disaster. How mortifying if it had been typed as 'Groenvalk' (Green Falcon). We could never have lived that down. Give that typist a promotion.

Of course, it's easy to see how one might confuse falcons with pigs. Okay, one is slightly bigger, a tad slower and doesn't fly so well. Still, in a darkened room, they are virtually indistinguishable one from the other.

It may not be a bad idea to adopt the red porker as symbol / mascot for the modern SANDF. Anyone can have tigers, eagles, leopards but the fearsome, fighting pig: now there's something to strike fear into enemy hearts. It also gives new meaning to the term 'grunts'.

Yours in the struggle for a modern, mighty military.

Richard

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O Tichmann 

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Offal and Ankole: A Christmas Menu

 The festive season beckons. I once more sought out some expert advice on a jolly South African Christmas menu. 

"What is on the menus of our revered politicians?" I asked several famous chefs. "They of the discerning palates and gently rounded midsections."

"You must try our richly flavoured offal broth", said a KZN chef.  

Seeing my doubtful expression,  he explained enthusiastically.

 "Offal is hugely underrated and unjustly despised. Yet everywhere you go in KZN, offal is on the menu. Politicians and voters alike love it and gobble it up at every opportunity. You could say that KZN is full of offal."  

"Our broth",  chimed in his partner. "Is a hearty, slightly fiery marriage of finely chopped offal, shallots and KZN's finest chillies. Fire in your belly", he smiled.  "And a riot of flavours in your mouth."

 "I see you",  I replied.

 "Our fish",  said the Western Cape chef. "Is the champion. Some politicians favour the more delicate flaky flesh. Personally I find it just a little bland and uninspiring."

He paused and stabbed at a flopping fish with a stubby finger for emphasis.

"I prefer the firmer flesh that can be eaten off an intact backbone",.

 he said. 

"More flavour, more character."

"Some people",  his colleague said. "Would like us to use less white wine in the preparation." He shrugged. "It's the flavour of the Cape."

On the subject of white wine, some of the witty set have taken to calling it Cape Whine and make silly jokes about Western Cape politicians whining and dining.

 "Fillet of Ankole",  said the next chef I spoke to,  nodding emphatically. 

"Similar texture to buffalo, but infinitely richer in flavour. It's almost as expensive as Kobe beef and needs to be savoured slowly,  very slowly. 

"A sort of dining long game", I said.

He nodded. 

He steadfastly refused to disclose the ingredients that are used in the mystery marinade. "Some things should remain secret",  he said with an enigmatic smile. "Ideally,  he added.  "One should enjoy this dish with eyes closed, so as not to be distracted from the many subtle flavours. Eskom load-shedding provides the perfect ambience."

Chefs from the smaller and newer parties had great difficulty explaining cooking methods and ingredients. They seemed to to be experimenting with a South African variation on gumbo. I tried a few spoonfuls. For my taste, a very awkward, sometimes unhappy courtship   of flavours. One hopes that they hit on the right formula in time for Christmas. 

Mzanzi mess a variation on Eton mess (Limpopo bananas substituted for strawberries) is a popular dessert with some populist politicians. They will often invite friends from across the border to enjoy the mess with them. Diners have been known to break into spontaneous dancing and singing after a mouthful of mess.

As as for drinks, bloody Marys for some of our energetic populists, Russian Bear for other comrades. The DA people will probably stick with the Cape whine.

 Lass es schmecken!

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Ansie's Report Card

Final Examination 2022

Subject          Score

 

Dance                       A+

Drama                      A+

Vision                       F-

Planning                  F-

Nation Building     F-

Communication     F-

Projects                   Scores below F- not 

                                   recorded

General Remarks

Ansie is a skilled dancer and has a natural gift for drama. His performance in the remaining subjects is deeply disappointing for one who showed promise at the outset.

The reasons will become clear in the next sections of this final report.

Effort and Application 

Ansie has major problems with concentration and cannot seem to follow things through to conclusion. Much of his time is spent quarreling with classmates and arguing at length with teachers. He was referred for counselling but walked out after calling the counsellor a right wing, racist, colonial clerk.

Initiative and Project Work 

Ansie has some grandiose ideas but seldom completes projects to plan. He once wasted an entire consignment of balsa wood, supposedly building a model smart city. By the time the wood ran out, he had done one shabby model toilet. He seemed absurdly pleased with his creation. I am concerned about his grasp of standards and reality. 

Innovation and Creativity 

Ansie's sole contribution was a proposal that the school build a gigantic monument to the class of 2022. On hearing that such an extravagance was beyond the school's meagre budget, he wept bitterly for an hour.

Social Skills

Ansie loves the company of bigger, older boys. He also loves to eat from their lunchboxes, yet often speaks scathingly of them. Peculiar behaviour. Some students have nicknamed him 'scafthini' - whatever that may mean.

A matter of grave concern is Ansie's attachment to (almost adoration of) a local youth called Rassie. Not a student of the school, he has assaulted several students on school premises. He is reputed to be a gang leader and one fears for Ansie's safety.

Integrity 

For a boy from a family of struggle (his own words), Ansie does flaunt some expensive jewellery and electronic gadgets. He is also fond of the most expensive chocolates on offer at the tuckshop. The counsellor suspects that he may be redeploying family funds but there is no proof. I asked the counsellor to step aside for now.

He made an impressive speech about integrity, humility and service when he campaigned for election as class president. One hopes to actually see these modelled some day.

Sport

Ansie's performance in sport is a bright spot in this report. His baseball coach describes him as 'a wizard at stealing bases'. I am unfamiliar with baseball terms but know that this is a good thing. In view of his poor academic performance, one hopes that the 'stealing' skills will stand him in good stead.

Conclusion 

Clearly, a lack of maturity for one his age severely hampers Ansie's progress. Even the acquisition of basic skills has been retarded. Much remedial work lies ahead. If we can get Ansie to stop calling the counsellor a coconut and house negro, there may be hope.

Ms Sata Frican

Class Teacher

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Phala Phala Toe

 Dear Mr President

The Phala Phala saga keeps raising its long-horned head.

I am sure that you are familiar with the line of a well-known song: 'skop hom na die pale toe' (kick him / it to the posts).

Sir it is time that we skop this Phala Phala matter to the posts. Amid all the accusations flying like distressed hadedas, what is needed is a clear-headed, dispassionate, objective, unbiased, impartial approach. 

I wish to assist and support you as I have done (unasked) for Mr Zuma, Doctor Ace, Mr Malema and many of our other heroes. Far be  it from me to play  the hard-done-by  martyr,   but  I must comment  that nary a word of thanks  have I received. Even KFC, wretched ingrates, have failed to supply the meanest of shrivelled drumsticks in gratitude for the many mentions. I trust that things will be different  with you. 

I want to couch this respectfully. If you did indeed store dollars in the recesses of a La-Z-Boy recliner, that was a serious error of judgement. At boarding school we would place our long pants under the mattress for a good, if unconventional, ironing. Everyone knows that mattresses are far better suited to this sort of thing. Those benjamins would have emerged crisp and neatly ironed. No one could then accuse you of being involved in funny money business. And while this is money ironing it is certainly not money laundering. 

I  believe that the lack of clarity around this business is fuelling the rumour-mongering, speculation and flinging about of conspiracy theories. Let us take an example from the former national police commissioner who laid out this beautifully succinct explanation for his alleged unavailability during the July unrest:

"It may not be wrong, but it is not true."

He went on to explain that people may have been looking him in places where he was not. Had they looked for him in places where he was, they would have found him.

Wonderfully clear and simple, yet with a zen-like, mystical layer of hidden meaning.

Sir, I suggest that we issue a similarly clear, crisp message in order to put a stop to the confusion. My first draft:

1 My people sold some Ankole cattle, which, as you know, are sought-after worldwide for their superior milk,  meat and hides. 

2. They were en route to the banking halls, (the people, not the cattle), to deposit the money,  when the VBS catastrophe came to mind. (Some members of the EFF may be happy to expand further on that unhappy episode). 

3. My people wisely turned back and used the alternative, tried and trusted sofa banking approach.

4. I admit  that it was a lapse of judgement to have used a sofa instead of a mattress. For that I apologize to the nation as well as to illegal immigrants.

There you are sir. Clear logical, chronological. Many of our heroes of the revolution and the liberation struggle are champing at the bit as they wait for their own interesting adventures and ventures to be investigated or analysed or tried in a court of law. (Please note, not 'chomping', as is often said, though some may well be chomping at other stuff with gusto). Those waiting may include Mr Zuma,  Doctor Ace, Ms Sisulu and many others who fought valiantly for justice, equity and truth. 

Sir you have been holding up the queue. However, now that we have set out the sequence of events in transparent, 

logical order, we can move on. Would it be Mr Zuma's turn next, perhaps?

Yours in the struggle for clarity, transparency and a nice, medium-rare Ankole fillet.

Richard  

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Ghost Workers In PRASA

 To the  tune of Ghost Riders In The Sky

An auditor was checking stats

One bright and sunny day

Upon a file he lingered 

And his face turned ashen grey

Cause all at once a mighty pile

Of ghostly names he saw

Chowing up the wages bill

On each page there were more

A thousand names went rolling by

They were piled up to the sky

And when he came to Mickey Mouse 

He felt that he might die 

His heart was seized with panic

There were spots before his eye

For he saw the numbers coming hard

And he gave a mournful cry

Mayebabo

Yoh, Yoh, Yoh, Yoh

Ghost workers in PRASA

The numbers haunt that auditor

Right up until today

He's trying to forget them 

But they just won't go away

If you walk by his office

Or perhaps go driving by

Above the noise of traffic

You'll hear his mournful cry

The minister was unfazed

He sent a cheerful tweet

'We've saved the country millions

And everything is sweet'

To swallow that weird logic

You must be pretty dense

The auditor keeps crying out

As if he's lost his sense

Mayebabo

Yoh, Yoh, Yoh, Yoh

Ghost workers in PRASA

Ghost workers in PRASA
Ghost workers in PRASA

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Another Day In The Beloved Country

Dear Fellow South Africans 

The internet was down for the fourth time in about as many weeks. The technicians had tried all day but had failed to resolve the issue. So said the ever-helpful library staff.

I once foolishly thought that technical problems were relatively straightforward to resolve (I'm not saying 'easy'). As  opposed to, say, the riddle of the sphinx, the mystery of the meaning of life and questions on the  origin of man. (The problem lies with valve A, transmitter B or widget C). Clearly, I was mistaken. 

One thing that is not a mystery: if we cannot  run a small, local library efficiently, how can we be expected to run trains, power stations or a national broadcaster? 

In South Africa,  heavily armed zama-zamas frolic gleefully along with armed villains of every description. Corruption plumbs new depths. Hardly a level or department of government or SOE's remains unsoiled.  We are truly sons of the soil. Mysteries, allegations, accusations rain down like the biblical  locust plague. Our national broadcaster, in their wisdom and great mercy spare us the pain of such news. 

We were treated to a briefing by Eskom. I was delighted at the  lingering coverage of the fire drill. I now know to take a left, a right and exit (walk, don't run) into the car park. Should I be magically transported from my (dollar-free) couch to the briefing venue, I will be fine.

A long, somewhat technical report followed. Those lazy buggers at CNN, the BBC and other inferior news services would have summarized the main issues. Who knows when the intimate knowledge of generation stats, valves and other dinguses may well save my life in a dangerous South Africa ? SABC, my, you do inform, entertain and educate. I was transfixed  - between snores. 

More education, entertainment and information followed, as a gentleman explained the intricacies of his company's complex dealings in supporting minibus taxis and other forms of transport. I dozed off and missed anything he might have said on the important subject of donkey carts.

A markets segment followed. The erudite speaker probably passed his B.Com. cum laude but failed English dismally, catastrophically.  Once more, I was rivetted during the first five seconds All of these spellbinding segments lasted far, far longer than the boring catalogue of murder, corruption, looting, buffoonery and incompetence that make up the bulk of our less important news.

I feel so informed, educated and entertained that I need to take a nap.

Yours in the struggle for actual news.

Richard 

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The Oddfathers

 Dear Fellow South Africans 

Do not miss a single episode of The Oddfathers.

This enthralling series is reminiscent of The Godfather, yet with a strong local flavour.  It follows the fortunes of the once powerful Ancetti family, struggling, and mostly failing, to prop up ailing, crumbling family businesses.  The rival Effigiano and Danatto families are an ever-present  threat.  

The real drama, though, comes from the brutal, bloody battles within, tearing the once close family apart. 

Character development gives this series a gritty, realistic feel. No-one is left unmarked by the savage, soul-destroying wars within the family. The old Don, Big Jake, becomes a mumbling (a la Brando), bumbling, plotting shadow, deserted by allies and friends. Dodo, his devoted daughter, fights fiercely for him, but has not appeared in the last few episodes. Has she been written out of the series?

'Two Ton' Tony, the debonair capo, once known as Mr Integrity, is looking increasingly bloated, dissipated and embittered.  'On The Money' Manny, former consiglieri, whines, whinges and bleats in ever-decreasing volume. 

Then there's 'Princess' Linda, who left to make her fortune on stage and screen. Once a dazzling beauty, now a somewhat faded star,  she returns to take a more significant role in the family business. Plunged into the midst of the savage battle for control of the family, she supplies some gripping, if shrill drama.

Ace (nickname from wartime flying days) Magolini, a once powerful capo, fond of stylish shades and  a mover and shaker in the lucrative agricultural and construction  businesses, shrinks to a shadow of his former self.  The star of newly appointed consiglieri, Ronaldo Lamolini, in contrast, is on the rise.

The older, retired dons, crirical of the new ways, make surprising, dramatic cameo appearances.

Of course, the series really revolves around the enigmatic Don Cyrus. In the latest episode, he survives an assassination attempt at a family meeting. But the knives are still out.

The action-packed series has subtle, darkly humourous moments. In one such, family members gang up on the Don, accusing him of moving in on the thriving furniture business behind the family's back. The rich irony is that most, if not all of his accusers, have cupboards full of smallanyana and biganyana skeletons (in the parlance of the family).

Will Don Cyrus survive? Will the family slide into oblivion, as they dance on like doomed, overfed Titanic passengers?

Does anyone give a damn?

Don't miss the next episode. You can catch snippets on the national broadcaster's special slot dedicated to the series. Rumour has it that a version dubbed into isiZulu will be titled 'imiGodoyi'.

Yours in the struggle to support local drama.

Richard 

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Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723