The Measure Of A Government

 One measure of the stature and character of a country is how it treats all of its citizens.

Particularly, how it treats the vulnerable.

To mouth on about "our people" is cheap talk. It means as much as a burp from a drink-champagne-on-behalf-of-the -people politician. It's what you do that tells the whole tale.

The Great Liberation Movement has put its cards on the table. Quite clearly for all to see. Those that have eyes to see. You see it in the dawn to dusk queues at government departments. You see it in the total lack of remorse at the brazen ransacking of the public purse. You witness the indifference to the burdens that  incompetence, corruption, maladministration, gross negligence and more lay on the shoulders of long-suffering citizens.  As Hamlet put it: "the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes..."

The obscene flaunting of unmerited leadership  privilege  in the midst of pain and suffering is the gross icing on this poisoned cake.

But people vote in large numbers for this caricature of a governing party. Perhaps there is a perception that this is all there is. If so, a sad, sad settling for the dregs at the bottom of human potential. Shame on a leadership that scuttles along the bottom and keeps its people from even a glimpse of how bright the world can be. Shame on you.

I was reminded of this at the monthly pilgrimage to the SASSA old age pension payouts at the local chain supermarket. This is the monthly, magical, mystery tour, incorporating agonizingly long waits, mysterious halts to the process, sore knees and the usual game of 'what is the eff  is up  this time'. 

In true festive spirit, today's jolly queue was a record one. A staff member helpfully told us that the money hadn't arrived. The rest was speculation.  Had there been a yuletide cash in transit heist?  Was some official enroute to Mauritius with bulging bags?  Oh yes, you know better than to dismiss that as a silly joke. This is South Africa, a world of possibilities, most of them nasty, bizarre, defying logic or comprehension. Four hours after the queue first formed, the first payouts began.

I don't know whether our caring government  or our caring we're-here-for -you supermarket was at fault. At any rate, our business people tend to play a milder version of the government game. It's called Torture The Customer In Every Inventive Way You Can. There is an FTE variant - eff the elderly.

That, South Africa, is what your elected government thinks of you. Many businesses, like spaniels,  follow on their heels. 

Where there is callousness, indifference, selfish greed, neither stature nor character will be found. 

Just the pervasive, lingering stench of your standard shithole country (acknowledgements to Donald).

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted Capitec Bank, South Africa 1378565477 O Tichmann +27 833970723

The So Mangled Banner

 

An alternative anthem, to the tune of The Star Spangled Banner

Oh say can you see

By Eskom's weird light

How the stations are stripped

And the sleepers are stolen

Whose  broad rails and bright trains

Through the once peaceful  land

From the roadside we watched

Were so busily steaming

Now the tracers'' red glare

Bullets flying in air

Give proof through the night

That the Zamas are here

O say, does that so mangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free

Of the free-for-all

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

The Chronicles Of Cyrus

 In the time of the Great Pestilence, Cyrus The Cautious ascended the throne. 

There was a famine in the land and Cyrus gathered his wise men together to take counsel of them. And one stood forth and cried out:

"Let every house be given, at each new moon, a piece of silver, that they may buy bread and start ice cream businesses."

And this thing was good in the sight of the king.  And it was done according to the words of the wise ones. The people rejoiced and did praise Cyrus for his wisdom. 

But in the fair land of rolling hills, the old king Jayzed remembered him of the days of his glorious reign. And his meat was as bitter herbs in his mouth, his wine as vinegar. And he cried out:

"For naught did these fellows cast me off. Did I not rule wisely and judge justly? Were not the hearts of the people knitted to mine?"

And in truth, some did lament with him, crying:

"Was ever a king so fair? Did we not sit at meat at his table and eat our fill? Who is a dancer such as he? Who singeth as sweetly?"

And many mighty men did cleave unto Jayzed. Chief among them were Asea the Magushalite and Kar El, a mighty warrior who  slew thousands in battle and spared not even his own kin. Great women, too, did minister unto Jayzed: Princess Lianda, cunning in all manner of healing herbs and salves and  Lady Endazed of the Zolites.

Now the River Ankol divided the land. On the western side dwelt the Ankolites and on the eastern side dwelt the Retites who loved Jayzed as their own son or brother.  And there were mighty men, too, who stood in the gates and by the pillars of the court of Cyrus. There was Gewad the Mantashite, Fixus the Jester and men and women of renown.

At that time, the Ankolite rulers brought charges against Jayzed. And they brought him in chains to prison. But the Retites were inflamed and they sacked the great city of Durb-An, bringing it to naught. And the Ankolites rent their clothes and some of the Ankolite officers hid them for fear. 

Then the governor of the prison, a man of great kindness, was moved with compassion for Jayzed.

"This man is stricken in years",  he said. "And he ails. I shall release him into the bosom of his family."

Then Jayzed's daughter, Dodia, prepared a great feast. And in the house was the noise of harps, timbrels and flutes. And Jayzed danced until the spirit of illness departed from him.

Then, at the time of harvest, spies came unto Jayzed and said:

"Oh, great King and mighty Dancer, knowest thou not that Cyrus hath hidden much treasure in his rooms? And he hath done so in secret, out of sight of the people and the nobles of the land."

And the Retites burned with anger. Moreover, there was no harvest in their lands, for the fields had been burned in the great uprising.

And the Retites arrayed them on the bank of the River Ankol. And they hurled stones, threats and curses at Cyrus the Cautious and his mighty men.

But Cyrus answered them not a word. He turned him and journeyed to many lands. And Charlash, king of the Anglites, Lord Machon of the Frankites, Lord Joash, son of Bidon, the Amerikite, all received him. And they showed him the treasures of their storehouse, for Cyrus did entreat them for the burden upon the land. And the darkness thereof.

But the Retites ceased not from howling with indignation. And the enmity between the Ankolites and Retites does rent in twain the Southern lands to this very day.

And the people of the land, sitting in darkness and in want, faint with weariness for the curses and the quarreling of the Retites and the Ankolites. 

And they pray for a champion, as of days of old, to quit them of the curse. But, alas, there is none.

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

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

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

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!

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

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

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

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  

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723