In honour of your vote, I thee razzmatazz you

There is a Minister in this cabinet of our beloved country, South Africa. His name is known to many. He is the only one who stands out on this one. Yes, I admit, that there are many now and before who've blasted us with hollow speeches and left us transfixed with big words. But I doff my hat to this particular one.

He is Minister of bombastic words and dizzying phrases. You know, he reminds me of those of us who used to attend SRC and Student Body meetings with dictionaries in our hands. Let me take you back in time...

...When somebody would raise the hand to be noted by Chairperson in that round of questions (that is if they did not smuggle themselves into the discussion by calling an in-appropriate "Order.")

Once noted by Chairperson, the comrade would bury his head into something he’s holding under a desk, raise his head every now and then to follow the points coming up from those speaking ahead of him, while impatiently waiting for his turn to ask a question, or to make a point.

You'd not be so sure of what it is he is busy with under the desk until the platform has been accorded to him. Then the moment would arrive. Comrade would sting everybody with big, big words, and not really make sense in the process.

No-no-no, If comrade was asking a question, he’d begin with a 75 second-long preamble. By the time he got to asking the question, it’d be time-up. Rival comrades would call Order, demanding him to sit down. Comrade Preamble, not wanting to be undermined, would call a counter-Order, ‘Chairperson, can I be protected here from these howlers?’ he’d say.

I keep saying “He” because mostly it would be guys doing this. Women often cut to the chase, and mostly left the comrade they were talking to bleeding, in a political sense, and the rest of the Student Body rolling on the floor. They hardly had time for rhetoric and stroking of egos. A lot of time got wasted in those meetings. How do you explain a Student Parliament which started at 17h00, only to end at 00h55, and even then merely because the students need to sleep ahead of another grueling academic day?

I have witnessed these speak-oxford incidents many times. One day, Comrade Jasibaya put his Oxford what-you-call-it in his chair, pulled himself erect, slid the right hand inside his pocket, used his left index finger to punch the air, and asserted that if we did not challenge management's unilateral decision to increase academic fees, "the status-quo shall remain the status-quo!"

Yes, we sat there, wandering, which status-quo is which? Another comrade, confused by what we’ve just heard, called "Order." 'There is order from Comrade Neheti,' said Madam Chairperson.

'Chairperson,' he said, with all the seriousness he could muster, 'I think I want to call Order on Comrade Jasibaya... to say that he is forcing us to bring our own Oxford dictionaries to SRC meetings.' The boardroom became a scene of full-on guffaw.

Today I look at some of the up and coming political leaders who were part of these shenanigans back in the day, and I shudder to think that they will soon be very influential leaders in various capacities. They will be “razzmatazz-ing” us to no end. And these are the leaders who want a vote from the people, some of whom have no idea what "decayed rogues with dubious means of subsistence and of dubious origin…” means.

The bang-bang nerve of striking down dreams

Yesterday I read a story in the newspaper titled “Black youths becoming less skilled.” Pali Lehohla of Stats SA was reading the report on youth unemployment. ‘Black youth between the ages of 25 and 34 lost out in acquiring skills through the 20-year period, and that is the crux of the issue of youth unemployment,’ he reportedly said. 

As I was reading it, my mind raced back to the day in 2012 when a very irate HR Consultant phoned me. She felt that she needed to talk to someone. I pulled the car to the side of Golden Highway to listen to what she had to say.

‘I have just come out of the HR Committee meeting,’ she said. ‘An executive who came to address us gave us a real dressing down.’
About what, I asked.
‘Apparently we are doing nothing to transform and the business is feeling the pinch.’ She went on saying ‘Every year we chase the targets to recruit and employ Black talent from graduate level to senior management.’

‘Okay,’ I urged her to continue.

‘But our frustration is that every time you talk Employment Equity line (managers) tell us that there is no skilled Black talent; so the people come here, get frustrated, or if they stay until the end of graduate programme, they don’t get appointed and therefore they leave!’

‘Hold on; why is this happening?’ I asked.
‘They reject Black talent, and then they have the nerve to come to meetings to grill us on our dismal failure to help the organisation to transform!’

Where does your (Black) HR Executive feature in all of this? I asked her.
‘Ooho! That one has no influence whatsoever.’
‘But…’
‘No one knows how she got to that position,’ she said, nullifying what I was about to say.

When I lifted my eyes, two boys were signaling at me to give them a lift home. The Ipelegeng Bus droned noisily and stopped right in front of me. The Caller said something about being “so angry and tired of this nonsense I am even prepared to resign.”

The bus ejected Black talent and swallowed some, and sped off its way towards Orange Farm, Evaton and Sebokeng. The passengers in the bus are those I usually see at the bus stops around Johannesburg every afternoon. They wait there for the bus ride back home. Most of them have been plodding like this for fifteen years and more.

I figure that the boys who are “interrupting” my phone conversation have shunned nearby schools (some are overcrowded; some are dysfunctional; some have closed down) to find better education far away. Perhaps some of them can afford school transport but they choose not to use it. Yet I have not seen school transport in that part of the world. So the learners risk their lives every day to get education.

The caller told me about two young people who came through graduate programme about two years earlier. They were fast-tracked through to HR management positions. My ears stood up, yet I followed the actions of the two boys by the pavement. I must have asked something about what qualified those two to even bypass her (a qualified professional with 7 years experience) to management level. I only regained full focus when she said ‘maybe it’s because they are White.’

It came with a bang. The gravity of this, my mind argued, is that the two inexperienced, newly appointed HR managers, who came through dubious means, will be replicating the norm of striking down dreams, given the power which has just been bestowed upon them.

If the school kids who are hitch-hiking down Golden Highway make it to graduation, and find a career job, they are likely to witness what the HR Consultant is witnessing in the plush corporate corridors North of Joburg. If they do not make it, they are likely to join the multitudes of youth who entered large corporate premises in the city through a promising Learnership or graduate programme, only to be let go after 12 months.

I think of this as I make a mental note of the fact that the highest unemployment rate is of people between ages of 15 and 24. Today the Stats SA is saying the Black youth of 25 to 34 years lost out in acquiring skills in the 20-year period, and are part of the 75% youth unemployment.

As a consequence, the future is such that the Black youth will hop in and out of buses to do unskilled jobs far from home, because they could not impress dubiously appointed managers who struck down their ambitions, because they were not “fitting in” to the company culture. And what of the irony of great BEE scores, obtained through hurried skills development programme of Black youth, that would have earned the company serious contracts during the financial year? It is a frenzied bang-bang of legislative compliance.

The mood of the phone conversation was turbulent. I was listening, but I was not commiserating; I was tracing the ramifications of what she was angry about. The bus, the passengers and the school boys who cannot afford a ride to and from school illuminated the conundrum. We ended the conversation, agreeing that we must explore the solution.

The school boys had suddenly disappeared. As I turned on the ignition, I wandered how the female school girls cope with this situation. Further down the way, I offered the lift to a father of 3 school-going children. He told me that he is working in Benoni. ‘The company car drops us at Eldorado Park; so I hitch-hike everyday to get home.’

‘Haibo, ntate!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yebo, mfana wam’; I have been working in Benoni for 18 years.’

I write what I like, on Biko Day

On this very important Day, I want to write what I like by saying...

Given our white supremacist world order that ranks the value of life according to race (which means that Reeva's life ranks slightly higher), and patriarchal culture which renders women the servants and punching bags of the psychiatric ward we call world order, White dude gets what promises to be a lenient sentence for murdering a woman. Patriarchy wins.

And because the Judge is Black, and a woman, patriarchy and racism collaborate towards victory. As a result of this, every hierarchy of human species has the universal "right" to tear Judge Thokozile Masipa to pieces. It is free for all attack, despite the legal brains attributed to her, under the circumstances of this psychiatric ward we all live in. There can be no consequences for this attack on her. The assault is literally top-down. Nobody in the ranking order cares. We are all above the object of our fury.'

#OscarTrial#

Well, good morning to you, Hala (Gorani) at CNN Studios…

The news that is coming from South Africa is that Oscar Pistorius will walk.

Given that this is South Africa, where somebody else must take the blame for the mess of important people, it’s only a matter of time before Judge Thokozile Masipa takes the blame for what became the outcome of this case of murder.

A racist idiot (pardon me, Hala, but this is a common name here in South Africa) in the streets of Johannesburg was heard saying as he walked past the TV set showing the Oscar trial inside Bradlows store, ‘Masipa, what were you doing officiating in the white man’s failed romance?’

The other news coming through is that the reaction of the ANCWL, who’ve been missing in action on hundreds of cases of women murdered by their men – except this one, interestingly - is highly anticipitated, especially by everybody that still takes politics seriously in the country.

Somebody who admires what goes on in the offices at 187 Bree Street (Public Protector headquarters) was heard saying she will be laying a complaint with the Public Protector. According to those who were within earshot, the woman wants the PP to investigate why the ANCWL did not come to her defence when some Deputy Minister called her a CIA Agent.
But some argue that this is not necessary, given that the Idiot has since apologised.

In other news:
The number of legal experts in South Africa has increased phenomenally in one day. It is expected that many of them will be getting their legal degrees by midnight. Dr. Pallo Jordan will be officiating the ceremony, with Mr. Hlaudi Motsoeneng delivering keynote speech.

David Kibuuka
Reporting live

Pretoria, South Africa

Have we chosen presidential opulence over country's wealth?

The Julius Malema-led EFF squared up with Jacob Zuma in parliament. They asked the president, ‘When are you going to pay back the money?’ The president responded to the question, by not answering it, and all hell broke loose.

In a fit of rage, Gwede Mantashe remarked that parliament may have to relocate because the WC police don’t take instructions. Don’t ask ‘whose instructions?’ Maybe the Farlam Commission on the Marikana massacre will reveal that, in a way. That is if the Commission is not yet another façade of our democratic dispensation.

Thami ka Plaatjie entered the fray. He ordered the Public Protector to “learn to wait”; and reminded her that she is “not a law unto herself.” A barrage of irate remarks ensued, some ordering Thami to sit down, while others urged him to keep the missiles flying into 187 Bree Street.

The Chairperson of the MK Military Veterans Association, who is also Deputy Minister of Defence, (just think about this combination), Kebby Maphatsoe, took to the podium at a weekend event to get a few things off his chest. He has since been made to swallow his words; for “insinuating” that Thuli Madonsela is a CIA agent. And while you hold that thought, is this not an act of misleading parliament, that a Minister refutes claims inside parliament, and apologises later for saying what he refuted?

How did we get sidetracked like this?

Should we be shouting "pay back the money"? Should those of us who oppose Public Protector’s finding descend to parliament to protect “our president” from the EFF? We are sidetracked, and we seem to be enjoying our off-track descent.

Here we are, clogging our arteries, and sustaining blinding headaches, shouting at the president, to pay back part of R250m spent on Nkandla, because the Public Protector has said so. Yet, we have not made any demands to an endless conveyer belt of foreign-controlled, racist, and exclusive programme which has been taking from our land, and beneath it, for 3 centuries.

I thought that the miners in the platinum belt were onto something. The death of 34+ people in Marikana is a loud message of where the politics are. I thought that after the Die Doorns strikes we'd all say: Enough with this greed!

I thought that we’d show that our way out of poverty is to reclaim equitable ownership of what makes others so wealthy. And I was under the impression that we will be weeding out the politician-cum-rogues from the garden patch while we are at it.

But no, we are fighting for space in parliament in order to shout at the president. Are we supposed to throttle each other, as black people, just because the president, whose party was voted into power 3 months ago, is refusing to pay back part of a mere R250m?

Yes, R250m is nothing. How much money have we wasted, looted, in the public sector, before and during the time when the president watched with bewilderment as his Nkandla home rose from the ground? How much is being wasted now as you are reading this piece? And how much will still be stolen?

Will paying back a fraction of the money by the president solve the problems we are having? Seeing that we are bent on seeing the president return some of the money to government coffers, for what use will that money? Do we want the money to be paid so that it can be stolen again using different methods, or do we want politicians and oligarchy to find a way back to being human?

If the answer is the former, then what we are seeing today may worsen tomorrow. But if the answer is the latter, then we must all deliver dishonest politicians and oligarchy from their evil ways. It is in the interest of humanity that we help them to be human again. And the only way for them to gain acceptance to humanness is to pay back the wealth, and surrender it to the nation.

Distracted from demanding humanity

Is there a country in the world where politics and comedy coexist like it is in South Africa? Not long ago we witnessed "pay back the money" demands in parliament. Over the course of last week it has been "give us the tapes," outside the court. These are two political demands of no real significance.

We want the president to pay back part of the R250m which went into building his Nkandla homestead, and then let him go live up his retirement in peaceful splendour. Yet we have said very little about the continuing looting of the real wealth of the country. Trillions of rands are siphoned on daily basis by Mr. and Ms. Foreign Investor.

Granted, the EFF is demanding nationalisation of the mines. But this is not revolution. It is a cry for Oligarchy to hand over control of their interests to the politicians who, arguably, are their historical and institutional employees any way.

When those who stand up to revolt against injustice meet the wrath of the State, we cry crocodile tears, on media platforms and smaller social circles, and leave the matter to a Commission of Inquiry, set up by the employee of Oligarchy. As expected, the Farlam Commission is letting the real culprits off the hook. The Lonmin executives and shareholders - are they not the people who preside over daily exploitation?

We giggle ourselves silly, watching a side-show spectacle, as Adv Mpofu vents at a Deputy President who owns minority share of Lonmin. As it is to be expected, those who take the side of DP make hollow speeches and irresponsible threats at the podiums. Then it is loud silence afterwards.

Once the dust has settled, shareholder instructs executives who walk scot free to ramp up profits and prevent the costly incident of labour strikes. Massive retrenchments follow. Politicians make few noises, just to contain the narrative. But everybody who is affected will certainly live with the consequences. At times we protest, by stealing from and murdering one another, all in pursuit of survival. Politicians call it a crime. They promise to stop it yet they do not have solutions. Even they are busy avoiding abject poverty. So, they carry on appeasing Oligarchy - a crime of their own. They apply gloss on the norm; they call it crafting legislation. The elite continue to rake in super profits. It’s a vicious cycle.

The leaders who must’ve descended to Marikana to demand real answers from the real culprits, and to prevent a massacre, were missing in action. Some of them have denied culpability to the massacre, at the very Commission set up by their Boss to uncover the truth, despite the fact that they were in charge of state police machinery which pulled the trigger. ‘We are all responsible for what happened in Marikana,’ says one of them. And nobody is asking the question: Who is “we”? Not all of us own Lonmin shares.

Today we are reading that the same leaders have requested a meeting with Mfundi Vundla. He is allegedly exploiting a cast of few actors, by paying them an average of R50 000 per month, to keep the daily lullabye called soapie rolling for the entertainment of the wretched masses. The cast are not his employees, yet a labour federation is demanding explanation from him. The leader of a federation is calling for a boycott of the soapie, because the matter must be resolved, so that the lullaby can go back on the screen. Are we ever going to boycott exploitative mining companies?

Somebody, please compare the Generations cast to thousands of miners who were at first ignored by the “leaders”, then later mowed down by the state police for wanting R12 500. The soap stars are not employees, in a sense, but independent freelancers. The essence of their work is steeped in the culture of earning in order to purchase the bling, amongst other things, from Mr. and Ms. Investor, in order to flaunt it, for the masses to keep “dreaming”, instead of demanding justice. Generations is hardly a contributor of 18% of GDP, which is what mining sector is contributing. But hey, Mfundi Vundla is not Ian Farmer (former CEO of Lonmin); so we will take him on! We are bullying a small boy here. What about taking on the big boys?

If this is not an obvious example of how people are being distracted from demanding humanity, then there can be no better examples.

The Generations cast have a right to demand their dues. And so do the miners who risk their lives working deep in the belly of earth, bringing up precious minerals to enrich a few greedy elite, and their chosen gate-keeping politicians. To think that most miners live in squalor, and on poor diet; that they barely afford good education for their children, when the mining licenses granted by government place social responsibility on the investors to create decent livelihoods for the miners and their surrounding communities… It is real shame!

The attention politicians are giving to Generations, in the aftermath of their absence in the platinum mining sector showdown, goes a long to reveal what they think the priorities of running a country are.

After the Democratic Alliance has obtained convenient evidence to force the president to face charges, and to “probably” go to jail, what will the country gain? I will not be surprised if what is in the spy tapes is nothing but inaudible conversation between people about nothing of real earthly significance. The distraction of people who are demanding real justice is in full swing.

Perhaps nailing the president will give the nation hope. But a clean president is not the solution to the man-made human suffering we are confronted with. This humungous system of hoarding resources and amassing wealth is exploitative and thus produces corruptible servants of itself with swift efficiency. A president will go, another one will come. The system maintains itself in this way.

As long as you have Mr. and Ms. Foreign Investor looting, and using greedy politicians to keep the attention away from the real crime, grand opulence and heart-breaking poverty will keep people divided forever.

http://www.pretoria-news.co.za/nathi-mthethwa-fights-to-save-generations/

http://www.miningweekly.com/article/mining-sector-core-to-sas-gdp-growth-2014-06-04

http://enca.com/da-gather-pta-spy-tapes-handover

https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=620300908055965&set=vb.113344868751574&type=2&theater

Progress, show some respect!

I visited a con artist yesterday. ‘We are selling nice food here. Come over to see,’ the man said. ‘And since you owe me (an apology), be ready to buy me a large burger when you get here.’

That didn’t sit well with me. So I removed the R50 note in my wallet and headed to Bedworth Park, penniless. I wasn’t going to let Progress to con me without a fight. The guy can sell you a stone when he’s in great selling form.

I found familiar faces there. Progress Sondlane, Desmond Mashele, Respect Sondlane and a likeable guy who preferred to introduce himself by his surname – Vilankulu. Did you note the first names? Yes, the parents in Bushbuckridge and surrounding areas give their boys names like Surprise, Knowledge, Sensible, Excellent and Salvation.

I was not necessarily thinking about this when I was shaking their freezing cold hands, but when my hosts started re-arranging their surnames into “sond-lane”, “masheley” and “villain-cool,” then I knew why great Tsonga names like Ntsako and Khensani were enjoying second class status in the country of their birth.

Those entertaining fellas talked about facebook, the country, politics, books, etc. I did more listening and less talking. I thank Progress who did the most talking, much to the irritation of his brother, Respect, and Villain-cool, who both teamed up to command him to "learn to listen.” As soon as Progress started practicing some listening skills, we seemed to make great progress indeed.

Respect would pull out of the circle to go sell a packet of chips to a customer. Whenever he returned, he’d respectfully (no pun intended) ask to interrupt us, and then take us back to a point we were discussing when he left. How rude is that? He also kept suggesting that I have nodded to his point of view, which for him it meant that he damn well had a right to carry on interrupting us after selling another packet of chips, or a white loaf of bread. That is how brave Respect is. He debates with friends whilst making money. This is a man who sold his car in order to finance the very food business his progressive brother was forcing me to support by buying him a large burger.

And then there was Desmond, who kept referring to his profession, IT, every now and then during the debate. The guy is passionate about his career, I tell you.

Vilankulu is that man who, after commanding Progress to “learn to listen”, the courage which we really appreciated, deserted us for a lady who’d come to buy a loaf of brown bread. Because I could overhear, the poor lady was made to answer silly questions like ‘between white bread and brown bread, which one do you like?’ Ag!

We closed the shop and called it a day. Thank you for a great afternoon, guys.