GULUVA was sitting alone in a cosy larney pub in one of Jozi's affluent northern suburbs one chilly winter night, quaffing moderate amounts of a conservatively priced no-name red wine and minding his own business...
Behind him sat two dudes, one of whom - judging by the conversation they were engaged in - had just returned from Perth (remember the Pack-for-Perth or PFP brigade?) to which he had fled just before the dreaded swart gevaar and feared Ain't Seen Nothing Yet terrorists took over the running of Mzansi in 1994.
The conversation covered many topics about the new Mzansi - from the Lotto, Gupta family, Juju, corruption and Kruger National Park to Mandela, nationalisation, broad-based black economic empowerment, Cape Town and Patrice Motsepe.
It was at this point, as the night wore on and as the effects of alcohol were beginning to take their toll on the dudes' oral ability, that the conversation between them - we will just call them Pete and Jack - began to narrow down to just one man.
Pete (with a fake Aussie accent): One of the stories that really fascinated me before I left the country was the one about the guy who was a security guard at The Star. The basement (at The Star's building) was his world; it was his oyster, man. Then he surprised everybody, including myself, when he suddenly became a powerful and successful politician. What was his name by the way?
Jack: You must be talking about Mbhazima Shilowa, the former premier of Gauteng. As you probably know, he has also been widely credited for coming up with the Gautrain project. The project was even named after him at some point. Shilowa Express it was called. But he now...
Pete (interrupts): That's him. Sam, we used to call him. I used to read about him a lot while I was living Down Under after his sudden change of fortune. But he seems to be no longer in the news these days. What's up? Where is he now, Jack, do you know?
Jack (hesitates before answering): He... he... I don't know. I suppose he has gone back to the basement, Pete.
The last funeral
On the other side of town - in Soweto in particular - a group of emphatic funeral parlour workers are working quietly behind the scenes, meticulously planning what will rank as, Guluva is told, Soweto's funeral of the year.
The venue for the service has been booked, the cemetery has been secured, the obituary has been written, the programme has been drawn up, speakers have been lined up, the programme director has been appointed and a priest has been selected from a whole host of suitors.
It's basically all systems go.
Billed as a funeral to die for, the send-off will take place on Saturday September 4.
It will be the last funeral the workers will plan and conduct because it will be their boss' - The Rose of Soweto Funeral Parlour owner Dingaan Thobela, the overweight, sluggish, slow and punch-drunk former boxer, who will commit suicide when he steps into the ring at the age of 44 to face a youthful Basil Ray on August 19.
E-mail Guluva on thatha.guluva@gmail.com
Where has Shilowa gone?
GULUVA was sitting alone in a cosy larney pub in one of Jozi's affluent northern suburbs one chilly winter night, quaffing moderate amounts of a conservatively priced no-name red wine and minding his own business...
Behind him sat two dudes, one of whom - judging by the conversation they were engaged in - had just returned from Perth (remember the Pack-for-Perth or PFP brigade?) to which he had fled just before the dreaded swart gevaar and feared Ain't Seen Nothing Yet terrorists took over the running of Mzansi in 1994.
The conversation covered many topics about the new Mzansi - from the Lotto, Gupta family, Juju, corruption and Kruger National Park to Mandela, nationalisation, broad-based black economic empowerment, Cape Town and Patrice Motsepe.
It was at this point, as the night wore on and as the effects of alcohol were beginning to take their toll on the dudes' oral ability, that the conversation between them - we will just call them Pete and Jack - began to narrow down to just one man.
Pete (with a fake Aussie accent): One of the stories that really fascinated me before I left the country was the one about the guy who was a security guard at The Star. The basement (at The Star's building) was his world; it was his oyster, man. Then he surprised everybody, including myself, when he suddenly became a powerful and successful politician. What was his name by the way?
Jack: You must be talking about Mbhazima Shilowa, the former premier of Gauteng. As you probably know, he has also been widely credited for coming up with the Gautrain project. The project was even named after him at some point. Shilowa Express it was called. But he now...
Pete (interrupts): That's him. Sam, we used to call him. I used to read about him a lot while I was living Down Under after his sudden change of fortune. But he seems to be no longer in the news these days. What's up? Where is he now, Jack, do you know?
Jack (hesitates before answering): He... he... I don't know. I suppose he has gone back to the basement, Pete.
The last funeral
On the other side of town - in Soweto in particular - a group of emphatic funeral parlour workers are working quietly behind the scenes, meticulously planning what will rank as, Guluva is told, Soweto's funeral of the year.
The venue for the service has been booked, the cemetery has been secured, the obituary has been written, the programme has been drawn up, speakers have been lined up, the programme director has been appointed and a priest has been selected from a whole host of suitors.
It's basically all systems go.
Billed as a funeral to die for, the send-off will take place on Saturday September 4.
It will be the last funeral the workers will plan and conduct because it will be their boss' - The Rose of Soweto Funeral Parlour owner Dingaan Thobela, the overweight, sluggish, slow and punch-drunk former boxer, who will commit suicide when he steps into the ring at the age of 44 to face a youthful Basil Ray on August 19.
E-mail Guluva on thatha.guluva@gmail.com
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