With the festive dizzy season done and dusted and the Januworry economy still punishing sinners of the silly season, yours truly took some time to do stocktaking in my favourite drinking holes in Mashishing township.
My first stop was Kwa-Jezebel, a double-storey shack a stone’s throw from my shack castle in my hearty Skomplaaas.
Now Kwa-Jezebel has not been a hotspot in ages because Jezebel is the only shebeen owner around who does not give booze on credit ... but is said to offer much more for free.
I’ve deliberately avoided Kwa-Jezebel because of her loose morals when under the influence of her own cheap whisky.
True to her stingy nature, she asked me to buy her beer, her own beer.
Like a true street economist I told her I was waiting for my lotto money to be deposited later in the day (same story I spun on her last year).
And like a true chancer she fell for the bait and so the floodgates of beer opened.
Now Jez is a Durbanite and never ceases to remind all that she is from Umlazi, not that it’s hard to tell.
She was brought to the beautiful Mpumalanga by her late security guard fiancé, Son of Mosotho.
While enjoying my soon-to-be-free beer, Son of Mongale and Son of Mokone came to join me and more immortal waters flowed.
They briefed me that apparently the new number one of the ungovernable ruling party wants Jacob of Nkandla to go fly a kite while he takes over.
Ramaposer, who leads a top-six team sandwiched by former Zumanites, wants to take over the Union Buildings and apparently plans are already under way to name it Khoroni.
According to Son of Mokone, the Mpho of Lebowakgomo, Ace Elias Magashoole of the Free State has alleged that one of his late buddies was poisoned and Nxamalala was meant to facilitate a Russian trip for him.
With the beer getting bitter because Jezebel was losing her manners again, I led my entourage to Ga-Skontiri – which is a former scrapyard chopshop for stolen cars owned by a well-travelled serial thief.
So good at his art, Skontiri is always stealing beers from his patrons and reselling them.
Arriving at his junkyard joint, I started by warning Skontiri that I would repeat the beating I once gave him in primary school when he stole my stationery if he dared steal my beer.
Skontiri is the only teetotaller tavern owner in the whole of Thaba Chweu.
He read in one of the woke newspapers that Eishkom held a sham of a disciplinary against a certain Koko Matshela and obviously intended to let him off the hook.
What surprised me was not the Eishkom shenanigans but the fact that Skontiri, who I know is illiterate and can’t even read his own name, said he had read it.
With Skontiri’s lies piling up and my paranoia about him stealing our beer escalating, we headed to the newest joint in my beloved Lydenburg, Conversation Stukke.
Now on arrival at the joint, which is not a typical tavern but a bit on the classy side, I knew I was out of place when they handed me a menu while there was band playing on a stage made up of beer cases.
It was obvious from the onset that Son of Majakathata did not belong here.
The owner was a hippie native from the rolling hills of Lusikisiki in the Eastern Cape named Lufafa Malibonwe and his partner was an unknown non-entity fellow from Ga-Raphahlelo in Limpopo.
Son of Malibonwe, who is apparently a former newspaper man, said apparently Son of Gama, the Siyabonga of Transnet, was being probed by Mbalula’s boys in blue for allegedly spying on some of his colleagues.
The Xhosa fellow also said he had heard on the wireless that apparently the mathematical numbers around the Jacob of Nkandla’s free education plan did not add up and might not even add up.
Yours truly was obviously not surprised because number one and numbers are like Bafana and winning.
Obviously like the honourable guests we were at the fancy tavern, Lufafa ensured a special case of SAB’s finest brown-bottled brew was procured to honour yours truly’s presence.
As usual, I led the search for Msanzi’s solutions at the bottom of the bottles.
En route, Son of Shungube, Simphiwe of Emalahleni, graced the gathering with his empty pockets.
Like a progressive businessman, Lufafa offered him credit in order to be able to appease my throat and have the honour of my audience.
With the empty bottles piling up and with little sign of solutions, Son of Shungube said the former Zumanite, Mphephethwa Blade of the communist sidekick of the ruling party apparently told the woke media that his former boss was stealing from the poor.
Blade, who crocodiled his way out of Zumanation at the non-profit end of number one’s tenure in Sauer Street, said he wanted to know where and when the money for free education would rain down.
Yours truly bona fide believes the end of the error is not near and we should brace ourself for more punishment from the gods.
While I was reminiscing on the headache that this Cowntry had, in walked that rogue daughter of Maphanga from Malelane and that’s when I knew there was no hope of solutions being found, so off I headed off to my favourite drinking hole, the majestic Konkodi’s Tavern where the best inebriated intellectuals chew the cud on the nation’s headaches.
Arriving at Konkodi’s tavern, I was welcomed with bottles of some Russian courage water by Sister Bettinah and I immediately knew there was something amiss.
And indeed there was. Polokwane City, her favourite PSL team, had drubbed the Masandawana from the capital.
Obviously that was a sign that Khoroni was becoming a reality.
• 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.