New Dawn

 A new dawn. 

AK47 fire announces the start of a new day. In Durban, not Ukraine. Drug wars, they say. But two innocent bystanders are among the five people killed in the last month or so.

Mr Cele did not fly in. I don't know if the killings made the mainstream news or not. Probably not. None of the victims were celebrities, just people living ordinary lives in the south of Durban. 

Perhaps these killings didn't meet the criteria for pious displays of righteous indignation at media conferences.

In other news, a nurse attacks an  ' ambulance with a panga during a health workers' strike. Strikers attempt to pull a child on life support out of the ambulance. A striker is quoted:

"We don't care if patients die."

Let us be clear that none of these people belong within a mile of healthcare. Nor in society. In a normal society, they would reap the just consequences for savagery. Here, they will surely go on and God help those who fall into their tender mercies in hospitals and clinics.

Upon the heads of union leaders and our government is the blood and the suffering. Callous, criminal behaviour did not start yesterday. When there are no consequences for thuggery, the thugs need no further encouragement. That is where it began. 

You may member the New York Police Department's approach: fix the broken windows, deal with petty misdemeanours. so that the environment does not encourage crime. A simple philosophy: keep the house clean; discourage the cockroaches. My, how we have encouraged the vermin these many years. Not least by example from the very top. There have hardly ever been consequences for criminal behaviour during strikes and protests. 'Ag, shame. It's a democratic right to piss on other people's rights." Remember that this is the twenty-first century with Big Brother video and Small Brother android everywhere.

And so, again, some animals are more equal before the law than others. Test this by smashing a shop window or burning something on your next stroll through town. Through the consenting silence down the years, the unacceptable became standard. Now, the atrocious is commonplace. As you sow....

What says our president?

 

"As I said in the State of the Nation Address, the Presidency and National Treasury will work together to rationalise government departments, entities and programmes over the next three years.

This work – which will review the role of all departments, including the Department of Public Enterprises – will inform the configuration of government going into the next administration"

Vague enough to mean anything and nothing,

I  would have liked to hear this speech: 

"We are in deep shit in every sphere -except tax revenue collection  Every one of my ministers will be moving their behinds  as if the place were on fire - which it is. We will have achieved the following by these dates...Any behinds not moving at pace and with purpose will he kicked into touch."

But I am sure that you will operationalise the strategies emanating from various think tanks, coalescing blue sky thinking with pragmatic approaches and best practice methodologies employed globally in the simmering and poaching of amphibians. Or something.

God bless South Africa 

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Baas Op Die Plaas

 Dear ANC and Friends

Some say that you are a mafia.

That's grossly insulting, grossly unfair. The mafia are amateurs compared to you, if half of what we read about you is true.

SANRAL, the state-owned roads agency, grants a very handsome bridge tender  to a company you may hesitate to contract to build a braai stand. Okay, it was only four billion. There will be cries of 'corruption'. But one can picture them applying their fine minds:

'So they have debt of some 418 million. Finances been described as being in a shambles. Said to be running a defunct company. Hmm, none of that means that they can't build a fine bridge.'

If so, I like the way you think. I myself am in debt, finances in a shambles. But I  

like building bridges. Can we talk sometime?

The bridge saga is just another of the weekly or daily reports from the front where the ANC fights a bloody battle with Corruption (winning, of course). I've seen boxers on the receiving end of a flurry of punches. That's how we feel. 

Please space your shenanigans. We are exhausted. Better still, take whatever's left and bugger off. We'll miss you but oh, the peace. 

More and more people are saying that life was better under apartheid. Of course you can't compare two abominations. 'This genocide was not as bad as that one'.

Under apartheid, people were reminded daily, by the entire fabric of their world, that they were, at best, second class people. The insults, humiliation, brutality gratuitous. Hostage in their own country to vile laws and the whims of vile people. Now, we are held hostage in our own country by the vilest thugs with weapons or smart suits. Now, we are reminded daily that we are, at best, second class denizens of this Animal Farm. And now, as then, notions of decency, compassion and fairness under the law are greeted with guffaws and belches. 

'You're good', says the mafia boss, played by Dr Niro in Analyze That, wagging a forefinger in admiration. You are good. From billion rand projects gone walkabout to state of the art R200 000 wooden mops. Tenders for half stadiums to hospital skinny jeans. 

Smart toilets to high tech taps

So inclusive: politicians, family members. employees, freelancers chancers, guilty bystanders - all feast off the vanishing fat of the land. From the top tiers of government to unknown rural councils, there is fun and frolicking to be had.

And there's your humour:

'The ANC is not corrupt'

'We have done well'

'Renewal'

'Integrity committee'

'Reshuffling'

And so many more brilliant one-liners.

In the words of Tina Turner, You're Simply The Beast, ...sorry, Best.

Yours in the flagging struggle for sanity.

Richard 

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AI: Astounding Intelligence

 Dear Fellow South Africans 

So Mr Cele may become Minister of Intelligence. 

Some compounds cannot be combined without disastrous consequences, says a scientist friend. So it is with this particular compound. I'm puzzled.

Another friend,  who falls into the  Clever Black WhatsApp group  (though I suspect that he's actually a bloody agent), asked with a feigned look of innocence:

"Doesn't intelligence work require demonstrated intelligence?"

I gave him what the classics call a 'withering look'.  He didn't wither.

As an ardent supporter of Mr Cele's innovative approach to policing I reminded him that the Hatman  developed the mp=mc squared theory (more people  = more crime  - the population growth theory). A Nobel prize  winner, if ever I saw one

Of course, SA is awash with rumours 

What with the the dearth of investigative journalism. Our national broadcaster  has found a niche in the fascinating  funeral, tiktok, soccer and ANC public announcements business. Understandably, that leaves no room for the unimportant stuff. One of the most bizarre rumours that I heard recently  is that we have a live president. 

I hope that the intelligence people do better than they did in the July unrest debacle when madam Zuzu (local psychic) and my 12 year old nephew beat them to the punch. So much to investigate, so little time (before we make Zimbabwe look like the uhuru of democracy and clean government by comparison).

There are allegations that one of the most senior ANC people has been involved in shenanigans that would make a hardened mafia boss scurry to the confessional in fear for his mortal soul. There are stories of fraud, looting, corruption and murder that would make the sparse hairs on the head of Semion Mogilevich stand on end. I'm not sure that even Hatman, The Daft Crusader, with his cutting edge approach to crime fighting, would cut it here. Did I just say 'Daft Crusader'? Sorry, damned WMC manufactured keyboards! 

I've met some very angry people recently. The growing darkness of the New Dusk is taking its toll. A clerk at an internet cafe gave me such a fierce look when I enquired about services that I felt compelled to explain that I had no dealings with Eskom crime cartels. She then fixed me with a glare and I hurriedly went on to explain that I didn't know the Guptas either. She seemed mollified.

There is no doubt that we need superb intelligence services. In the police and elsewhere. But this rumoured appointment  - Eish!

Yours in the struggle to overcome this sinking sensation.

Richard 

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The Clothes Off Our Backs

 Dear Mr Cele 

Two South African businessmen walk gingerly down a steaming, hot Durban sidewalk in their Calvin Klein undies (shorts, for our American friends).

"They got you too, Mark", says one, briefcase arm dangling uselessly.

"Took my bloody cricket tie, too", Mark mumbles disconsolately.

"At least they left you your socks. Sodding pavement burns like a stove".

Mark fishes a water bottle out of his Calvins. 

"They missed this", he says brightening a little. "Congratulated me on being so well, er, you know..."

His companion politely declines the proffered drink.

You read it here first. The next trending criminal fad. And who do you have to thank,  jingled the merry advert. After public funds, cash in transit, cellphones, pensioners' pittances and even solar panels off roofs, what will be left to steal but the clothes off people's backs? Clothes in Transit heists. But be of good cheer, we do know who is ultimately responsible  - WMC, Stratcom, apartheid and that old devil in Dutch garb, Jan Van Frigging Riebeeck. I'm sure that the EFF will be laying a charge at the nearest, unrobbed police station.

Just last night, our local library was robbed of every computer used by students and others. I don't have to tell you what the chances are of their being replaced anytime soon. Or of the thieves being collared. Rocket Boy will stop playing with his toys first. The only things left to consider were:

1 Why would they leave such great titles as Think And Grow Rich, Gangster State and Jacob Zuma Speaks?

2  Good of the librarians not to deprive us of that 'Aha' moment, as we surveyed the devastation in the computer room. A word or written notice at the entrance would have utterly ruined that delightful moment. A fascinating aspect of South African service, this variation on caveat emptor  - 'let the customer guess'. I once spent a day and a night at a bus stop, because the municipality didn't want to ruin the surprise by posting bus times. Okay, that is a slight exaggeration. Like saying that the ANC is corrupt through and through.

3 Was the municipality too cheap to install burglar bars and an alarm system?

I feel embarrassed for you, Mr Cele. Juxtapose this City of Gotham-like mayhem against the viral pictures and videos of our police officers in various states of sweet repose. You must be sitting bolt upright at midnight, huge, crazy, cartoon eyes staring into the darkness. Or when your finest confuse cyanide and sinusitis, though that confusion is somewhat understandable. I knew a chap who had severe sinusitis. Identical symptoms to cyanide poisoning: difficulty breathing, seizures, unconsciousness - all except the cardiac arrest. That happened when he was hijacked for the third time, outside a police station. Rest, sir. Leave it to some tough, experienced policeman. Sweet though your theories were about tattoos, alcohol, gqom music and population growth, they mean stuff-all with a big F in the real, cruel, savage world that is South Africa today. You are bewildered and overwhelmed. We understand. It's tough here for a philosopher-celebrity-fashionista. Let us quote to you the comforting words of the bard:

"Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone and ta'en thy wages"

And bloody good wages they are too, for jetting around the country, dispensing other-worldly wisdom.

Sir, pardon me for adapting a quote from a plum-in-mouth neocolonialist:

"This is not Little-Puddling On The Marsh."

This is bloody, bloody South Africa. And it's getting worse. This for you and  many, many of your comrades, to quote another of those hated Brits:

You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. In the name of God, go.

Yours in the struggle to awake from sweet slumber.

Richard 

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The Ruin Of A Great House

When the brutal tyrant fled in terror to parts unknown, he left behind a great house, splendid orchards and fields and even treasures beneath the rich soil.

Oh, you bet there was rejoicing in the streets. Ale overflowing in taverns. Neighbour shouting to neighbour. Singing, dancing. All was splendour and joy unbounded.

And the speeches were grand as the  ballads of the poets.

"No more shall the sound of weeping be heard in this our land. No more the terror of the hand raised to strike or the knife to wound. Every man and woman shall have peace and joy at their labours and in their homes. The young child and the aged  shall know peace and be cherished. This place of rivers, mountains and green fields shall be an inheritance for generations to come. And this great house. We shall rule with wisdom. Justice and compassion will be our guides. This is our pledge."

Then, a rainbow in the sky and many took it for a sign.

From the east and the north came many, fleeing from tyranny and every misery that the curse of evil rulers brought in the lands 'east of Eden'. And the stewards of the land welcomed them, saying:

"This is a large land and you shall live and labour with us in peace."

But there came also thieves, murderers and vagabonds of every sort. Seeking to hide themselves among the people, they took new names and wives. And many a Lerato Ndlovu sauntered through the land, doing whatsoever their hearts desired. But the stewards, stars in their eyes,  paid little heed, 

Slowly, ever so slowly, came the ruin of the great house, the orchards and the fields. Even as a frog is boiled. The fruit trees were hewn down for firewood. Smoke and ash swirled over the cornfields. In the house, where the stewards sat at gallons of wine, mounds of KFC and power drinks from spaza merchants, the young people and the guests, invited and uninvited,  did as they pleased. Forgotten the grand speeches and the fine promises. Gone the fine linens and the precious things.  And out of cracks and holes crawled the vermin. Slowly at first, feelers and whiskers testing the dank air. Then boldly, fat, insolent and swaggering. Still the stewards ate, drank, quarrelled and mused upon moonbeams. Forgotten were the young child and the aged, walking in fear, dread and hunger. And of the inheritance for generations to come, was spoken not a word. 

Appeals to decency and compassion fell upon ears clogged with the fat of the land. Indeed, the persons of the stewards shone so with fat, that people crossed the streets and shielded their eyes for fear of being blinded.

And as the house stank of decay and urine in corners, the vermin sat at meat like masters of the dwelling. And the stewards quarrelled over bedrooms and the last KFC drumstick. And in the house were found dead men's bones, some said to have done themselves mischief, having many knife wounds about their backs.

Then those who cared for the great house and the lands made an alliance. But, all too soon, they fell to quarreling over every inconsequential thing that the mind of man can devise. And they, too, became as of no consequence.

In the house, the vermin scurried to and fro, rats with bulging eyes and cheeks, and other loathsome creatures.  And the stewards lay supine, sated with food and drink, dreaming of great cities and castles in the skies.

Then some inquired of wise men:  "What is to be done?"

"Five years",  they replied. "To rebuild. To cleanse every nook and cranny of vermin. And those within must seek other lodging. For as long as they remain, so long continues the decay."

But the people knew that, until the last leaf withered on the fruit tree, until the last brick crumbled into dust, until the last ear of corn was blasted, the stewards would stand fast. For that is the curse of gluttony and greed. The raging thirst for power drinks. The curse of this great, dark continent.

This the wise counsellors saw. And they could but recall the words of the book:

"And great was the fall of that house".

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Power And Corruption

Dear Mr Mbalula 

So Mr De Ruyter is the prince of darkness. Quite ironic then, that he is  departing the Place Of Darkness.

In the calm, restrained, thoughtful manner that we have come to expect from you and the comrades, you reportedly called him a racist and a 'right wing'. (This obsession with the right wing in your circles, does it have anything to do with the fondness for KFC?). A lesser politician would have blurted out accusations in fury, panicked denial or all of the above. Not you sir, the calm, rational moon voyager. When you start out this way, it makes all that you say that much more believable.  You could be a model for one of those corporate training videos on conflict handling,

The ANC is not corrupt, you advised us. Why would anyone think that? I am relieved that you cleared up that little misconception. You see, there's some misleading information about.

In 2015, the sum of 700 billion rands was mentioned. Consumed in the fiery furnace of greed. There was much debate about the numbers. 20% - 25% of GDP is apparently often used. I  think this is erroneous.

There is a joke about a South African civil servant impressed by the wealth of his counterpart in a foreign country. His host shows him, from a high vantage point, a beautiful four-lane highway snaking through the jungle.

'See that project? Ten percent off the top'

During the reciprocal visit, the now fabulously wealthy South African civil servant takes his visitor to a viewing point on a mountain. Below them, as far as the eye can see, is bush. 

"See that project? One hundred percent off the top."

Our guys don't play. 

But the ANC is not corrupt. Mr Mbalula said so. And Mr Mbalula is an 

honourable man and so are they all, all honourable men and women. (Apologies Bill). So it could not be the ANC. Someone else did this under their noses. And the State Capture Commission was just an expensive joke. Ah, the jolly humour of the comrades.

There is mention of 1.5 trillion redeployed between 2014 and 2019. But we know now that that has nothing to do with The Party.

The ANC does not tolerate corruption nor shield the corrupt. That's why the cabinet, the corps of honourable members, provincial governments and local governments are filled with cadres out of whose faces virtue shineth as the bright sun above. Whose hands are cleaner than the snows of heaven. In whose mouths a Flake chocolate would not dare melt. And all those under a cloud have resigned like the honourable people that they are. And the promotions, the transfers and the deployments are only of the best, the brightest, the cleanest. Hallelujah.

So there you have it, all you 'right wings', the ANC is not corrupt.

That is fortunate because all that we see and hear clamours that putrefaction is so dire that only a clean amputation will save the body. Nothing less.

De Ruyter dredged all that stuff out of his right wing imagination because he is a masochist who knows what happens to whistleblowers here, but enjoys the thought of being a victim.

I do notice that your priorities are as right as ever. When damning allegations are made, damn the alleger immediately. Truth can wait.

But fortunately, the ANC is not corrupt. And they are all, all honourable men.

Richard 

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Blowing In The Wind

Dear Dudu

You have been rather quiet. Those inspirational messages that you used to post, full of good cheer and serene benevolence towards all men, have not graced the twittersphere lately.

(Please note that 'men' is my pronoun for men, women, smaller persons and the undecided - all protocol observed, or something).

The Durban wind was howling like a demented soul last night. I don't know why, but it brought to mind your frequent. eloquent musings on Twitter.  I recall how you reached a record low, juxtaposing a picture of a well-known person against that of an ape. I assume that you were not sued because that was mean-spirited, low and vulgar enough to be considered truly beneath contempt.

So much better when you tweeted about family breakfasts with your excellent father. Heartwarming stuff. Good to read that you have stimulating discussions at the breakfast table. You mentioned one such about blowpipes or blowjobs - something along those lines. I assumed  that this is similar to archery but using older, indigenous weapons. Not having participated in or watched this particular sport, I consulted Dr Google. I was a little taken aback at what appeared. Also disappointed that Dr Google had no further information. This is perhaps a sport known only to a small group of enthusiasts?  Probably people with an interest in the weaponry of indigenous peoples  (tribes of the Amazon etc.).

I imagine that you have thrown your full support behind your father's efforts in his new role as chairperson of some acronym. The new job is probably as demanding as his previous one. What was it again? Oh, yes president and Excellency. This could explain why we've not seen tweets with the usual celebrations of dubious, obscure victories, paeans of praise for dubious, obscure persons or vitriolic, upper-case laden attacks on an assortment of foes. Please keep up the good work, whatever it is.

While I'm quite curious about the blowpipe / blowjob concept, I'm content that the 'answer is blowing in the wind'.

I wish you joy and satisfaction in your new-found interests.

Yours in the struggle to find fun, stimulating pastimes for the whole family.

Richard 

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