IF YOU read this because you expect a giggle, turn the page. This is no laughing matter.
IF YOU read this because you expect a giggle, turn the page. This is no laughing matter.
For the first time since the release of Nelson Mandela South Africa will be the place to be come June 11 when the Soccer World Cup kicks off.
Hopefully by then there will be some semblance of normalcy in the country. Juju will have piped down from creating unnecessary enemies and Winnie will have receded quietly into the silence of her lonesome self, leaving the man to Graça.
In case you missed it, the former mother of the nation told the world this week that Nelson Mandela had sold out blacks and his name was an albatross around the neck of her family.
She also lambasted poor ol' Arch Desmond, he who begged her, on bended knee, to apologise before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission about that little matter of Stompie.
She said the arch was a cretin.
Theories abound - a woman scorned, sour grapes, a bitter ex, and the poignant question: if she was still Mrs Madiba would she have spewed this vitriol?
When she pleaded with tribal elders to intervene when their marriage was on the rocks, did she know he was a washed-up old codger who'd gone into prison a young firebrand leader and came out smiling, toothless and harmless?
Perhaps Madiba, on being released, should have said: "Bulalani abathakathi," and then we could have driven the whites into the sea.
Or, perhaps, we could have shunted the whites out to Alexandra and got the black folks there to move across the freeway and take over the houses in Sandton.
Look where that has got comrade Mugabe up north.
Sadly, good does not always triumph over bad.
Winnie is an "honourable" member of Parliament and it is not impossible to imagine His Excellency President Julius Malema a couple of elections from now.
Think Comrade Mugabe.
Back to the World Cup and our dirty linen.
Not so long ago I shared the amazing, though queer, wisdom of my shack barber.
This time he had an odd opinion on why Carlos Alberto Parreira was taking Bafana Bafana on a safari to Brazil in preparation for the World Cup.
"He is going to work them," he said, adding in frustration: "it will not work. White muti cannot work on us blacks."
While he was "working" my head an old lady who has had a mental illness since we were kids stopped by the door to greet us.
When she left, he shook his head sympathetically and said: "People can bewitch. What has this poor old lady done?"
That, I thought, is the kind of mindset we should hide from our visitors come June 11.
They should not know so many of us believe all good old-fashioned mental illness is caused by witchcraft.
They should not know that we destroy the neighbourhood when delivery is slow.
We disrupt traffic when we oppose new laws. We have Winnie and Juju.
Pity we can't hide our other dirty linen ... Bafana Bafana.
We have a lot to hide from visitors, come the World Cup
IF YOU read this because you expect a giggle, turn the page. This is no laughing matter.
IF YOU read this because you expect a giggle, turn the page. This is no laughing matter.
For the first time since the release of Nelson Mandela South Africa will be the place to be come June 11 when the Soccer World Cup kicks off.
Hopefully by then there will be some semblance of normalcy in the country. Juju will have piped down from creating unnecessary enemies and Winnie will have receded quietly into the silence of her lonesome self, leaving the man to Graça.
In case you missed it, the former mother of the nation told the world this week that Nelson Mandela had sold out blacks and his name was an albatross around the neck of her family.
She also lambasted poor ol' Arch Desmond, he who begged her, on bended knee, to apologise before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission about that little matter of Stompie.
She said the arch was a cretin.
Theories abound - a woman scorned, sour grapes, a bitter ex, and the poignant question: if she was still Mrs Madiba would she have spewed this vitriol?
When she pleaded with tribal elders to intervene when their marriage was on the rocks, did she know he was a washed-up old codger who'd gone into prison a young firebrand leader and came out smiling, toothless and harmless?
Perhaps Madiba, on being released, should have said: "Bulalani abathakathi," and then we could have driven the whites into the sea.
Or, perhaps, we could have shunted the whites out to Alexandra and got the black folks there to move across the freeway and take over the houses in Sandton.
Look where that has got comrade Mugabe up north.
Sadly, good does not always triumph over bad.
Winnie is an "honourable" member of Parliament and it is not impossible to imagine His Excellency President Julius Malema a couple of elections from now.
Think Comrade Mugabe.
Back to the World Cup and our dirty linen.
Not so long ago I shared the amazing, though queer, wisdom of my shack barber.
This time he had an odd opinion on why Carlos Alberto Parreira was taking Bafana Bafana on a safari to Brazil in preparation for the World Cup.
"He is going to work them," he said, adding in frustration: "it will not work. White muti cannot work on us blacks."
While he was "working" my head an old lady who has had a mental illness since we were kids stopped by the door to greet us.
When she left, he shook his head sympathetically and said: "People can bewitch. What has this poor old lady done?"
That, I thought, is the kind of mindset we should hide from our visitors come June 11.
They should not know so many of us believe all good old-fashioned mental illness is caused by witchcraft.
They should not know that we destroy the neighbourhood when delivery is slow.
We disrupt traffic when we oppose new laws. We have Winnie and Juju.
Pity we can't hide our other dirty linen ... Bafana Bafana.
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