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The past week has been good to yours truly, not because that thief called our councillor had all his clothes stolen – repossessed – off his washing line, but because besides hosting a celebratory two-case-and-bottle session for his misfortune, yours truly was reappointed director of Nahab, again, Mugaberising the position indeed.
If it’s not broken don’t fix it I was told by delegates during our annual AGM at Sister Bettinah’s shebeen.
Obviously the reappointment called for a session of the highest order – none other than the Son of Mongale, the Willow of Sofaya and Son of Nkwanyana, the Pencil of Etshodo – and they indeed did not disappoint. Even Sister Bettinah ran out of the immortal waters of wisdom and had to send an SOS to SAB to deliver the finest of the brown bottled fermented cereals.
It was at that august occasion that Son of Mongale, who was apparently rejected at the local FET when he tried enrolling for bricklaying studies, announced that apparently the minister of cops and Twitter had been crocodiling because his life was in danger.
When the protectors need protecting too, surely those who protect the protectors might also need protecting. And many wonder why yours truly refused to seek refuge under sobriety.
Apparently Son of Mbalula and family members had to be moved around regularly because some of the “non-statutory forces” thugs were not happy with him.
Methinks if Twitter can investigate almost everything in Msanzi, surely it can expose the culprits within 24 hours – after all, he is its minister.
Skhindi, Sister Bettinah’s unofficial Ben 10 who is also an economic refuge from Ngwelezane in the Zulu coastal province, said his big ears also heard through the grapevine that apparently our high maintenance number one is going to cost us R25 million so he can go see our new colonisers in the East (China) and their bitter debtors in the West (New York).
Generally, heads of states are not high maintenance, but rather precious cargo with lavish instructions for upkeep. But ours is on a level of his own and saying he is precious would be fluent sarcasm at its best.
It’s unfortunate that he will evacuate the office without even considering the beer grants submitted in Polokwane.
In the height of that depressing news, Son of Nkwanyana also told us that apparently in his province of KwaZulu-Natal, the Eskom people there still subcontract to their competitors and it was normal to get tender money even if you lost out on the tender anyway – perfectly normal in that part of the world he said.
Before nearing the bottom of the bottle of the cold beverage in my hand, my ninth of the session, the wireless whispered that a “close companion” of the militant minister of spaza shops had been accused of forcing himself on a young woman, again in women’s month, and again some women’s league will not touch that holy cow topic.
Yours truly thinks the close companion tag is economising the truth and the images of the him, the fellow surnamed Fakude, and that militant Lindiwe Zulu – she who once threatened to manhandle a EFF MP – show nothing short of the joy and happiness that even Cupid would claim to have produced.
Talking about that damn bow and arrow wielding little bastard angel, apparently there’s a fellow who was caught in the crossfire of Cupid’s deeds and now he might have to part ways with 300 cows just to marry a normal female human being with imaginary blue blood – 300 cows!
Obviously the sobering news of a man having to part with 300 cows necessitated yours truly to call the SAB headquarters to speed up that delivery because such news had the potential to leave one’s throat very dry very quickly and SAB needed to intervene.
And while on my mobile to SAB, in walked our councillor. The businessman in me offered him “information that might lead to the capture of the cause of his misfortune” in exchange for a few cases sponsorship of the SAB’s finest, to which the fool agreed.
And like an honourable businessman I gave him the GPS coordinates of the address of a popular thief who might have an idea of other thieves in the area who might know others and so on and on.
Like the tech-savvy citizen I am, I even punched the coordinates in his phone and told him to go show the cops so they could go make an arrest.
It was only at the peak of the glory of the councillor-funded session that the thief realised the address was his own loot-funded house. Needless to say, when he returned his investment was a lot of empty bottles to strengthen his empty ego.
Our wonderful police, led by the big-bellied Warrant Officer Gumede and flanked by that skinny rookie Sbantana, Son of Medupi, walked in and walked out without a shred of evidence against yours truly because all the witnesses were drowned in alcohol courtesy of my facilitated sponsorship and were honourable enough to have seen nothing and heard nothing as per protocol.
Hallelujah Asphuzeni!
Obviously yours truly was proud to have been of help to Karma and she sometimes too needs a helping hand to make the wheel turn faster.
Talking of karma, because its menu has no choice of variety and people get served what they deserve, Son of Hanekom and Father of Braam, was this week served a dish from its menu and it didn’t look good.
Hanekom, who spearheaded the ousting of Son of the Malema a few years ago as head of disciplinarians, was this week threatened with discipline himself and that is when he learnt that karma is pronounced ha-ha-ha.
The revolutionary house in Sauer Street penned a love letter to Hanekom to “Kom” and explain why he should be the one driving the karma bus of the disciplinary committee if he was to vote with his conscious in motions of no confidence in Parly.
It was at that juncture that I almost spilled my beer with laughter when I saw on the telly that Son of McCarthy’s team was having a field day with his former mentor and once again his blue and gold army triumphed over the clever boys when Ayanda Patosi ensured the teams did not come out level.
Yours truly suggested to Son of Hunt to go into the market and scout a player called Jack Motsoeneng, who though unrelated to the special one formerly of the SABC, can ensure with his two left legs that he loses by a decent margin at least three goals instead of a single goal.
• Majakathata the Rogue is a comrade, director of Nahab (National Association of Husbands and Boyfriends) and chairperson of Asphuzeni Stokvel in Skomplaas, Mashishini. He pens in his personal capacity as a veteran patron of SAB.
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