Dubai

Baby, I can change! I promise!

Say anything

“Say Anything”: ANC policy for 23 years.

Jacob Zuma, the nation’s media announced, had “survived” the meeting with the National Executive Committee, which was rather like announcing that a medieval king had survived his morning blowjob.

Of course, I’m not suggesting that Zuma isn’t taking a lot of flak right now. According to insiders at the NEC meeting, anxiously warming the massage oil between their hands, 45 of the 106 attendees asked Zuma to step down. Hell, that means that only 57% of the ruling party publicly endorses the gutting of the republic for personal gain.

Then there’s the extraordinary claim in the so-called Gupta e-mails (presumably leaked to the Sunday papers by one of those malcontents to coincide with the NEC meeting) that the Zuma clan is trying to relocate to Dubai.

At first glance this looks like some sort of escape plan, a bit like the end of ‘The Sound of Music’ where the Von Trapps skedaddle over the Alps. Indeed, it’s easy to imagine the Zuma Family Singers all lined up on the national stage, warbling a medley of our favourite hits from that film – The Lonely Gupta-turd; How Do You Solve A Problem Like The Free Press?; My Favourite Indians; Sell Every Mountain – before rolling the car silently down the highway to Waterkloof Air Base.

I’m not so sure, however, that a move to Dubai would necessarily be about fleeing. One of the people named in the weekend’s tranche of e-mails was Mzwanele Manyi, who once declared that there was an “oversupply” of coloured people in the Western Cape. If Mr Manyi is in any way connected to the Zumas or the Guptas, it’s possible he noticed a severe shortage of Zulus in Dubai and the whole thing is just another of his social engineering schemes.

So yes, there have been lots of hard words – Daddy even had to get a bit shouty with the NEC, telling them that if they said naughty phrases like “step down” again he would send them to their rooms without any kickbacks – but I don’t think anybody actually believes that Zuma is about to disappear. He may not be Nominal President for much longer (our actual president, is, of course, whichever Gupta feels like handling the South Africa account that day), but it is now accepted dogma that his plan is long-range, long-term control over the country via remote control.

All of which brings us, rather confusingly, to the ANC Stalwarts. You’ve probably read one of their faintly heroic ejaculations about pulling the country back from the brink and how they don’t agree with the direction we’re going.

Who sends the best emojis?

What they mean, of course, is that they are feeling terribly uncomfortable. Fighting for a good spot at the trough is hard enough at the best of times, but imagine trying to position yourself ahead of Zuma’s transformation into a digital, holographic ruler. Whose back are you going to massage now? Or will it boil down to who sends the best emojis?

Drowning people will cling to anything, so it’s not surprising that the Stalwarts are gaining some traction. Already, some folks are convincing themselves that the apparatchiks who put Zuma in power and kept him there are actually ardent democrats just waiting to explode into a rainbow of good governance. “Yes, it looked like she was asleep in parliament but she was actually resting her mind ahead of the great struggle to take back the country from, er, herself.”

Alas, they’re going to sink. I know that not everyone in government is corrupt. Some of them are merely incompetent. Others are paralysed, trapped in a web of conflicts and contradictory promises they’ve made to their backers. But when I consider life after Zuma, I remember the words of Cyril Ramaphosa, our next president.

“The ANC is pained immensely by stories of corruption,” he told the New York Times. “We are highly conscious of the damage that corruption does to a party and a country.”

He said those words in 1996. Twenty-fucking-one years ago. The context? Damage control around Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma’s Sarafina 2 corruption debacle. And you tell me this lot can change?

We don’t know if there is leadership that can do right by the country. Certainly many people are becoming frustrated with the media’s focus on Zuma: why, they ask, do we keep saying what we don’t want rather than outlining what we do?

I understand that question, but right now it’s like marching up to a paramedic who is holding someone’s intestines in, and saying, “Excuse me, but I’m very concerned that you’re not addressing when this person will go back to work.”

When you’re learning how to identify feelings, you start with the not-feelings: what a thing doesn’t feel like. We’re clearly unskilled at electing good governments, so, as we begin to grope our way towards a better alternative, I think it’s OK to focus on what we don’t want; to say that we don’t want this, or the people who allowed this to happen.

The next step? Education. Better safeguards. Perhaps a paragraph added to the constitution explicitly stating that the country probably shouldn’t be run via e-mail from abroad.

We’ll slowly clarify what we want. But it’s not this.

*

Published in The Times

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The Freedom Charter – Rebooted!

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We, the Connected People of South Africa, declare for all our country and the world to know: screw you.

We know we once said that South Africa belongs to all who live in it, black and white, but that’s obviously a ridiculously naive position, so from here on South Africa belongs to anyone with enough non-sequential, unmarked dollars in a brown paper bag.

To help you understand your place, here are some important principles to remember:

The people shall govern. From Dubai.

All national groups shall have equal rights – unless their rights get in the way of our rights, in which case you’ll find that some rights are more important than others. This discovery is calling “marikana-ing”, derived from the verb “marikana”, “to remind the public about whose rights matter and whose don’t”.

The people shall share the country’s wealth. Mostly people who live in Dubai, or whose last name is Zuma. Mines and SABC soaps don’t come cheap, you know.

The land shall be shared among those who work it. And since our National Executive Committee has been giving this land a proper working-over for the last few years, we think it’s only fair that it be shared between us. (If you disagree, please see “marikana-ing”.)

All shall be equal before the law. Except for those who don’t ever have to come before the law because they know where the bodies are buried. Also this obviously excludes rich people. But if you’re poor or don’t know the dialing code for Saharanpur, India, the law will take its course, all over your face.

All shall enjoy equal human rights. Except, obviously, poor people. Because, honestly, screw them. Also, please see “marikana-ing”.

There shall be work and security. But mostly work in security. Signal jammers and email-readers are a major growth industry in our South Africa. Also, those iron gates at Nkandla and Saxonwold aren’t going to patrol themselves, you know.

The doors of learning and of culture shall be opened. By a government messenger, arriving at 3.15pm for his 11am meeting, to tell the Vice-Chancellors that they’re getting fokkol fromĀ  Treasury because we blew it all on Dudu over at SAA.

There shall be houses, security and comfort. Hell yes. So many houses. So much security. And so, so much comfort.

There shall be peace and friendship. Actually, on second thoughts, no, there probably won’t. Because those 25-year-old “military veterans” are itching to earn some combat medals, and elections are so goddamn unpredictable.

Adopted by an untouchable cabal, printed on buffalo-skin (thanks, Cyril) and signed in Veuve Clicquot.