The Importance of Being a Victim

 Dear Honourable Dudu 

Thank you. Your wonderful tweet about not being able to speak isiZulu because of Apartheid was typical of the sort of South African satire that writes itself. You called yourself a victim of  Apartheid,  poor dear.

I gave that some thought -  after a  hearty laugh. Your  plaintive cry exemplifies so much of what is wrong in our political landscape and in our  parliament.

You see, dear Honourable Dudu, although I am not a psychologist, I do know that it is almost impossible for those dedicated to victimhood to move on.  It's incredibly difficult to even conceive of doing something positive, innovative, imaginative while victimhood and self-pity cling to you like Durban humidity. 

In the mire of victimhood, there's no room for the needs and difficulties of other people, let alone a country.  But take comfort, you are not alone. I see many of your fellow victims in Parliament,  whose sole contribution seems to be hurling invective and insults, complaining, demanding 'justice' and reparations. (Perhaps read 'revenge' for 'justice').

Dear victims, that is not going to happen. You will cry to the heavens and beat your breasts until, in the words of the great Mr Zuma, Jesus returns. This is because the world and life move on. If reparations were paid for all past wrongs, we would have to crawl a hell of a long way back into history. I notice that you tend to omit the Khoi and San peoples and that's not so far back. A small oversight, perhaps?

Life and opportunity tend to pass you by when  you waste them on cursing and blaming all those that you imagine to be responsible for the moist puddle that you are. You folk remind me of a child, weeping bitterly over a broken toy or a broken adult. promise. So hard to see beyond the immediate disappointment. It seems utterly devastating.

I do hope that you and the comrades grow out of this. But the chances are as close to zero as the temperatures in the coldest parts of the country. You are at the age where you should have outgrown such childish things, so this does not auger well for  future change.  Unfortunately, your many strange, often foolish, often malicious utterings on social media also don't hold out much promise for your growth and maturity. 

The taxpayer doles out a large percentage of salary to keep you in bouts of self-pity and unrighteous indignation.  That's the tragedy of politics in this country. I think that even your perception of your role in politics is coloured, or discoloured by the small, narrow world view of the professional victim. What  can you see through your childish tears and snot, beyond the  broken toys?

It's ironic that you even fail to see how privileged you are. Daughter of a regional demigod-politician, with nothing to recommend her for the role,  parachuted into Parliament as a privileged MP.  Dear Honourable Dudu, it doesn't get better than this.  I doubt that your weeping and gnashing of teeth get in the way of enjoying MP privilege.  Accommodation, free flights, cars, generators to bypass loadshedding 

 and every other comfort that the pampered politician has. In this benighted country,  many would sell a kidney for just a fraction of that privilege. 

Of course, there's the strong possibility that the tears of our victims are of the crocodile variety. That the blame and self-pity game is exactly that - a game played with consummate skill between shopping for Luis Vuitton products and other staples essential to the victim / comrade  / revolutionary lifestyle.

This is not an appeal to your reason, conscience or common sense, none of 

which have shone forth particularly brightly.

 So in the words of Simon and Garfunkel: 

Sail on silver girl 

Sail on by 

Your time has come to shine

All your dreams are on the way. 

And the rest of South Africa tosses and turns through nightmare. 

I suspect that your period of sailing on will not last long, built as it is on the flimsiest of foundations. Enjoy it while it lasts. 

Yours in the struggle to find the mystical balance between victimhood and privilege.

Richard

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Apartheid in the Air

 

“I am sorry, I can't speak isiZulu I am a victim of Apartheid so this is one of the things that happens we don't get to grow up in South Africa and learn our Mother tongue but I'm trying I'm learning” Duduzile Zuma Sambudla-Zuma"

Dear Ms Sambudla-Zuma 

I wholly empathize. 

I could have been a brain surgeon had it not been for Apartheid. Laziness might have played a small part but that's also because of Apartheid. I suppose that I could have worked harder at the science subjects at school but let's not split hairs. As the song, 'That's Apartheid', says:

"When the stuff hits the fan, 

Guess who'll carry the can,

It's Apartheid...."

Perhaps it's not altogether a bad thing, as there's not much demand for brain surgery in South Africa. Judging by the actions and utterances of many South African public figures and their numerous groupies, many, many brains are as good as new - unused. But then again, I could have been a brilliant legal eagle like Mr Dali Mpofu, who would have been knocking them out of the park, were it not for Roman Dutch law. And the judiciary. And, of course, Apartheid.

It's hard work thinking critically, taking responsibility and being honest with oneself. I'm so glad that there's Apartheid to fall back on. It just makes life so simple. That does remind me of another song (tune of 'Love is all Around me'):

I feel it in my fingers 

I feel it in my toes 

Apartheid all around me

And so the feeling goes

Ooh, it's blowing in the wind

It's everywhere I go 

You break your promise to me 

And I break mine to you

Apartheid is the reason

There's nothing I can do 

Your fellow  Zuma praise singer, Prof Moyo,  frequently voids his bow..., pardon, brainwaves, on X. Here's a recent offering:

"President Zuma is truly admirable for his ability to forgive, often extending grace even before it's requested. His daily life echoes the teachings of Jesus, as exemplified in the words: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

President Zuma supported Drip and even after the owner wished him assassination. The President of the people is now working with politicians who insulted him, he simply moved past propaganda. The ethical President Zuma will even give hugs to those who wrote rubbish about him. He sees the bigger picture: It’s about the emancipation of the people and not himself. What kind of a man is this? Indeed Gods greatest gift to SA."

Only true leaders move past slander and hate, focusing instead on unity, progress, and building a future that benefits everyone."

It was an epic struggle to read the entire masterpiece. So hard to concentrate when each line has one howling with disbelieving laughter.

One thing that Apartheid has not succeeded in is to diminish our South African talent for:

1. Talking kak

2. Gleefully inhaling every particle of kak spoken by our heroes

3. Zealously regurgitating said particles of dessicated kak

I am grateful to you, Honourable Daughter, Mr Lesufi and others, who relentlessly hunt down Apartheid in the dark alleyways in which he lurks. Your efforts remind me of the work of Simon Wiesenthal, nazi hunter. I am confident that we will reap the fruits of your heroic labours as crime, homelessness and unemployment become a bad memory because of your work. And the repo rate does whatever is best for the people.

Yours in the unrelenting struggle against Apartheid.

Richard 

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Zumasm

A tweet from the Honourable Daughter:

Let Me Go To uMkhonto Wesizwe Church Of Political Ideology Where We Learn About ZUMASM And Where We Sing Our National Anthem, THINA SIZWE And MHLA SIBUYAYO ✊🏾!!!

President Zuma WILL Live Forever!!!

Dear Honourable Dudu 

I don't know why you felt the need.

to share  with us that you are off on yet another pointless and doubtless crushingly boring little adventure. But your mind does seem to work in mysterious ways if one judges by you many exceedingly strange and increasingly bizarre contributions on X.

I hate to be the one to tell you this. You've heard of the inevitability of death and taxes? While your honoured father might be able to extricate himself from the coils of the latter, there is no doubt whatsoever that the former will have him shuffling off his mortal coil like the rest of us.

If you are learning about zumasm at your church then I should think that both the sermons and the entire series will be short in the extreme. Probably something like:

Lesson 1. Bring me my machine gun. 

Lesson 2. Down with Roman Dutch law.

Lesson 3.  Down with Ramaphosa's ANC.

 Lesson 4.  Down with Abelungu.

 

Lesson 5.  Sound financial management the Zuma way.

Listen 6. Romance, love and the age gap

What are you guys going to do with the rest of the year? Oh you did mention a new national anthem. That should gobble up another Sunday or two.

History has taught us that when the theology, strategy and dogma all centre around one person, there's a very good chance that what we have is a jolly cult.  If that one person has already been thoroughly  discredited, that does make the cult all the more interesting. Also somewhat fragile.

It was probably your eloquence, razor-sharp wit and  keen intellect, (all displayed in the tweet above), that had your party despatching you post-haste to parliament. Yes, we are delighted to see "the best minds of our generation" at work in our legislature. The quality of insults and non-verbal, tactile interaction must surely reach new heights -  or depths. The quality of debate  - that's a different matter. I see the poor, the unemployed, the homeless, uplifted as you sink your teeth into the repo rate and other challenges of our time. We see you Honourable Daughter.

Yours in the struggle to bring sanity, reason and pragmatism into our political milieu.

Richard 

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Durban: Place of Great Burning

Like many of you, I reluctantly left  the warm embrace of Durban's humidity some years ago. I returned recently to find the city much changed. Looking for West Street, I walked up and down Dr Pixley ka Seme street for hours. Then I remembered that we have discarded such relics of colonialism as the English names for the four compass points. And of course we are currently freeing ourselves from the equally cloying embrace of the  neo-colonialist West. Our new comrades may not offer as much trade as the old, but they do offer good vodka, warm comradeship and other important intangibles, vital for life, liberty and the pursuit of elusive happiness.

I wandered into Point Road (now Mahatma Gandhi Road). Once known as a hub for entertainment and cultural exchanges with foreign sailors, Point Road has apparently cleaned up its act. I was, therefore,  shocked to see a sign brazenly advertising Butt Traders. ""Yoh!", I said to myself, which is South African for "Golly!". It turned out that Butt is a surname. I was hugely disapp....,I mean, relieved. My virtue, which I prize as highly as some prize tenders for road name changes, was safe.

Right outside Durban's department of public works building, the paving stones had rebelled against whatever held them down.  They stuck out at interesting, sharp angles, allowing only one person at a time to use the walkway - at own risk. A decaying building next door seemed held together only by the danger tape around it. I wondered how long it had been so.  Probably only a year or two, going on the sterling record of our guardians of the city. Within the public works building, many voices were raised in loud, joyous song. Probably celebrating successes in the battle against raised paving stones and decaying buildings. They sang with the same gusto and bravura that surely must be applied to repairing our ravaged infrastructure. The song seemed to be made up of the same few words sung over and over. All of this was was so quintessentially South Africa today. My heart swelled with patriotic and provincial pride. I couldn't make out the words of the song, but the malady lingers on.

There is an upside to Durban's sad, neglected appearance. Tourists love historical ruins. Durban has got the ruins part right.

Durban people need to stop complaining about elected officials. It's hard to balance looting and other duties. Looting requires far more effort and inventiveness than the dull, soul destroying business of running a metro efficiently. One can understand how the artistic souls of our best are engaged, transfix̌ed, captured.  Was ever a muse so fair as money? Water, electricity, services - these things are ephemeral but the monuments to looting, like all great art, live on forever. Well, at least a hell of a long time.

To celebrate the national sport of looting, here's borrowing from well-known literature:

Fragments from the Misiderata (apologies to Max Ehrmann):

Go stealthily amid the noise and the haste, and remember what joy there may be in looting . As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all victims......

Avoid honest and ethical persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare your loot with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser looters than yourself.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the kleptoverse no less than the thieves and the tsotsis; you have a right to be here...

Fragments from If - The Looters' Version (apologies to the Kipling bloke):

If you can keep your loot when all about you   

 

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust the Cause when all men doubt it,....

If you can talk with crowds and know your slogans,   

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the sticky touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

Simply because you know too much....

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of looting done,   

Yours is this land and everything that’s in it,   

And—which is more—you’ll be a party Man, my son!

I encourage you to visit the great coastal city of Durban. Some useful information:

Relief from heat and cloying humidity comes from cool ocean breezes scented with the  exotic perfume of Durban's finest zol (marijuana). It was this heady mix that had NDZ exclaim in poetic rapture on the mysteries of zol and saliva.

The people of Durban and KZN are renowned for their political astuteness, farsightedness and loyalty to the chess loving Mr Bojangles of KZN politics (Lord, that man could dance!). They are also very fair-minded and tend to give discredited politicians many opportunities to discredit themselves further. During the last municipal elections, a mayor, who had not covered himself in glory during the looting and other jolly stuff that took place in 2021, was speedily re-elected.  Ms Gumede, of solid waste tender fame, who some said had covered herself in….. something else, also took her rightful place. “KZN is f&*^%d”, wrote an angry, disgusted resident. Durban people can be so melodramatic. That’s going too far. Buggered, yes. 

Spirituality is also important to the people of KZN. Not all that long ago, our pious ANC comrades proposed a ceremony to cleanse KZN of bad spirits from the Anglo-Boer war, who are supposedly behind the violence and murders in the province. During KZN's many wars, scuffles and tussles, people of all hues stabbed, shot and generally donnered one another. But it just had to be the white spirits still stirring it up, didn't it? Can't take these white folks anywhere. One of my many uncouth friends suggested that a quite different sort of white spirit led to this proposal. 

In 2021 Durban literally became The Place of Great Burning, during the troubles. This was when His Former Excellency was offered state accommodation in Estcourt, no passing ‘Begin’, no collecting R200. 

Imagine this, thirty years later:

A grandfather regales his grandchildren with tales of that struggle. Driven by hunger and revolutionary fervour, he acquired a large screen TV set (which still takes pride of place in the lounge) and was able to assuage his hunger with large helpings of MasterChef Australia. The grandchildren are enchanted by the tales of derring do. 

"Yes, my children." With a grand sweep of his arm, Grandpa takes in the scenery outside. Burnt trucks litter the verges of the roads, blackened skeletons of buildings dot the green countryside.

"And one day, all this will be yours."

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Service With a Sneer

Capitec has not the faintest idea of the meaning of that mysterious word, 'service'.

I have had several interesting experiences with Capitec.  This may well count as the most fascinating. I bought a voucher on their banking app that turned out to be invalid.  I called the Capitic customer care line, and that was when the fun began, proving that those two 'c' words are not in the organization's lexicon. 

 I should have known, from the very first response, that this was going to be a dizzy merry-go-round ride.

"The voucher vendor is not Capitec, sir. They are a separate business."

A quick Pontious Pilate like washing of the hands. 

It got better. Capitec's answering service Is like a maze with no beginning and no end. I had a wonderful array of meaningless  choices. One of them ('Press 4 for questions about an existing enquiry')  always resulted in the call terminating rather abruptly. 

I went from the useless answering service to an even more useless (if such is  possible)  Whatsapp service.

It didn't matter what choice I made.I always landed up with someone who would tell me that I was at the wrong department and then transfer me. This resulted in my telling the same dreary story about fifty times.

Promises to call back were never kept. It was like dealing with the ANC. It took about three weeks to resolve a problem that any business worthy of the name would have been keen to resolve immediately, as it lay at their door, regardless of who the voucher vendor was.  In South Africa, the buck never stops. Urgency or a sense of responsibility are clearly beyond most of our businesses. As in our political milieu.

Had Capitec brought together their best minds in order to devise ways to completely frustrate the customer,  they could not have done better. And this is our number one bank?

The SABC, of course, never misses a promising opportunity to disappoint or stuff up royally. They confidently announced that the Currie Cup final would be shown at four p m.  What was actually on at the promised time was the worst movie I have ever had the misfortune to see. I pressed the 'information' button on the remote. The result told me that I was insane and yes, it was indeed the Currie Cup final that I was mistaking for an exquisitely bad movie.

So nobody monitors? Just flick the switch and go on to more interesting things than the job? This was not the first time. One of the few series I could stomach  on SABC was JAG. One day, no warning given, JAG was not on  at the allotted time.  The series was back the  next week but a previous episode  repeated. It seems to me that nobody at the SABC monitors what is actually happening? That would also explain the many misspelt and grammatically incorrect captions that often lie unmolested at the bottom of the screen.

There is a home for senior citizens in the city, with a wonderful set of value statements  right at the entrance. Here's what I have observed. The staff are, like many of our politicians, pretty much invisible most of the time. They can barely greet and seem to be at pains to avoid the people they serve. At a meeting that I missed, one of them had a physical altercation with a resident and received a resounding klap for his troubles.  The resident was evicted. Another resident told me that a few days later, the klapped one called him an Instigator  and commented that he would be the next to be evicted. Why instigator  I asked. Because he had asked  a question not to the gentleman's liking. What? Is this communist China? Guys this is not Game of Thrones and you are not  untouchable royalty. Thus far, I have seen little evidence of those wonderful values actually being lived out. Perhaps I'm being overly cynical and critical but this looks much more to me like a Home Affairs type setup. 

"Don't disturb me. Let me do my paperwork, have my tea and collect my pay."

Of course, let's not forget that our government has led the way in living out culture and values. It's noteworthy how many organizations are faithful in emulating them. Some lessons that many South African organizations have learned from government are:

1. Appoint the most ill-suited  people you can find. If they have no stomach or aptitude for the responsibilities, so much the better. it's about paycheck, not  contribution 

2. Have no supervision or leadership worthy of the name

3. Make sure that there are no consequences for poor or non-performance (except salary, of course).

4. Show total disrespect for the people you are supposed to serve. Give them the great South African service finger.

South Africa is now indeed a wanker's paradise.

And genuine service that requires a soul? Come now, you're not really asking that, are you?

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So What’s Gnu?

It's been a month for congratulations and condolences. 

An ANC person, somewhat plaintively, commented that the DA ministers in the GNU have been showing up their ANC comrades... no, counterparts; we're not at the comrade stage yet. Not a terribly difficult thing to do.  Anybody can outrun a lame duck. (That's just a local proverb. I would never say that the ANC are lame ducks. That would be insulting  - to ducks).

Like many of my comrades in red, green and other flamboyant hues, I want to alert my fellow South Africans to the mortal danger that the DA poses to our democracy. They haven't come up with anything to rival 'umShini Wam' or 'Kill the Boer'.  Their dancing is embarrassing. Nothing jaw-dropping has ever come from the DA. Who was it came up with smallanyana skeletons, the discovery of hazenile (a Wakanda-like mineral), carrying medicine by head? Not the DA. They are deadly dull. How could they possibly dream that they can govern South Africa, land of Generations, Durban Gen, umKhonto...Given the opportunity, they will turn us into a colourless, humourless nation like the Swedes or the Germans.

Dear Floyd, congratulations on your  move to MK. MK's loss, EFF's gain  ... sorry, should that be the other way? From Malema to Zuma is surely a step up. Ok, it's a step. You cannot be forever in the shadow of the CIC, great, wise statesman though he is. At least now you will be in the shadow of the Honourable Daughter. And Daddy. I am sure that you will fit right in.  What that bunch of colourful former judges, politicians and repo rate experts needs is a dose of superior logic and banking expertise.  

You said that your departure is not a sign of distrust in the EFF but a revolutionary gesture that will unite progressive forces behind an agenda to work for progressive and revolutionary change. I used a similar argument after being fired from my last company. And yes, it doesn't get more progressive and revolutionary than the motley crew led by the chess grandmaster.

'I am sure that Floyd Shivambu will add great value to the MK party - he is ideologically profound - so too is Julius Malema,' gushed a loyal MK / EFF supporter.

Yes, regurgitating  chunks of  doggerel (of African origin, surely) does tax the brain cells. And look what a difference that has made to the poor and to the huddled masses yearning to be free.

Condolences to Mr Malema. A tragic loss. I can empathize. We recently lost the treasurer of our social club. An almost insupportable loss,  as he left with the club funds (allegedly spotted shopping at Louis Vuitton). Mr Malema, I am willing to fill the gap. I have a good line in insults. While I draw the line at throttling journalists, I'm happy to wag the odd forefinger and toss out inventive threats. I am flexible almost to the point of flip-flopping. A great fit, yes? A quick study, I have already boned up on creative border crossing and dialectical materialism. I just won't do ice. 

You reportedly said that it was as difficult as losing a mother. A friend once called Floyd a 'mother' (meant as a compliment, I think).

Congratulations to Al Jama - ah for going the extra mile or two to the church of air-walking spiritual jedi, Bushiri, for a prophecy on poll performance. Asked why he would visit a fugitive from South African justice, party leader, Ganief Hendricks, told a TV interviewer that he had never been to Malawi before. He took the  opportunity to visit. Sounds reasonable to me. As a responsible, ethical politician, carrying the hopes of hundreds of voters, I'd also take the opportunity to go, say, to Dubai, for a prophecy from the Guptas. Still, those leaders needn't have gone all the way to Malawi for a prophecy on poll performance. I could have told them that it wouldn't be lekker.

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Protecting the CIC

Dear EFF Comrades

I value the wonderful exchanges that we've had on TikTok and YouTube. Almost as much as your Great Leaders value quality garments and accessories.

I'm very moved by how sensitive you are. You protect your CIC with the same passion as those honourable members who once vowed to protect Zuma with their backsides. Touching stuff - really. I suppose that gives a whole new meaning to 'rear guard'.

TikTok expressed some concern about the 'aggressive' and in their own words, 'bullying' responses to some of my videos... They suggested ways that I could cut you off. Now why would I want to do that? Your responses are most entertaining -  unimaginative, somewhat pathetic - but entertaining still. I hope that you like that I 'like' all your responses. 

Someone suggested that he could set up a debate for me with Mr Malema. Who am I to debate with Mr Malema? He is, after all, the great commander-in-chief of ground forces as numerous as the sands of the polluted Durban sea. We witnessed how they almost swept him into power. I am just an ordinary South African citizen. Even that is in doubt, according to EFF theology. My grandfather was German and my grandmother South African. I suspect that your dogma would be that I should go back to Germany. I have never been there, so I suppose I can't really go back. But I do get your drift. Perhaps I'll find a creative way to get there. Suggestions welcome. I'm not overly fond of sausages and beer. On the other hand, we South Africans are very adaptable and I suppose I could get used to it. After all,  over the years, we've got used to pathetic debates, absolute rubbish for political discourse, dismal leadership, galloping 

 corruption and everything else that makes South Africa a truly great country to live in. I might as well have a debate with Donald Trump or the school bully. 

It's fascinating that those who dole out insults like VBS handouts find it so heart- wrenching to take a jab or two in return. But hey, I understand.  Don't touch the C.I.C. It's like mucking about with a high priest or even whatever god it is that he serves.

I would also be protective of a great leader who holds in his mighty hands the promise of free Gucci, Dolce and Gabbana, and land. 

Yes, I can see you guys in power. No.

Nonsense with you -  all action. Moer anyone who gets in the way of dialectical materialism, CIC worship, or any of the however many pillars that you have. I can see the quality of debate and political discourse in the land soaring heavenward.

I suspect that many of you would like me to stop writing about the CIC. Call it a hunch. How can I, when I grow with every flip flop and insult that he scatters abroad? Long long live the CIC and may he and you continue to provide me with the wonderful material that I so appreciate.. See you on Tiktok  and on YouTube, my dear Comrades.

Yours in the struggle to protect Great Leaders.

Richard 

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