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The last week has been good to yours truly and signs are that the gods will continue being generous to my brew-seeking throat.
Under the blue moon of the land of the rising sun, yours truly was busy relaxing on top of my shack castle enjoying the view of the doings of both ANC and apartheid government with a few cold ngudus as my sole companions, Son of Nkwanyana knocked on the door under me, because he “did not see me” seated on my camping chair on the roof.
The sluggard from Nongoma that is Son of Nkwanyana wanted to alert me to the fact that Gumede, that corrupt cop from the lookable side of Mashishing, was arrested while doing what he does best: strip-searching motorist for bribes.
Son of Nkwanyana said he had tried to forcefully solicit a bribe from one of the MECs without knowing who it was. Needless to say the poor politician had to call the servant of Mbalula to order.
Now half the township was organising a mother of all parties to celebrate his looming stay in prison and yours truly – as the drinker-in-chief in this part of the country – was requested to come preside over the jubilations.
So Nkwanyana and I headed to Konkodi’s tavern where the festivities were to be hosted and, upon my arrival, I found that the Willow of Sofaya had disrespected me by opening the first bottle without me – an offence punishable by beer fine according to the Asphuzeni stokvel constitution.
In his typical way of trying to deviate attention from his sins, Willow said he had heard of the wireless that apparently Son of Mahlobo, the David from our province of Mpumalanga (askies Mzansi), has not wasted any time in getting ready for the nuclear deal he was reshuffled there to do.
Willow also said the former party of Shikota (Cope) had fingered auditors for the withholding of R1 million pocket money by the honourable house.
The party, which has been languishing at the bottom of the democratic popularity stakes for a decade now, cried foul after Parly did not give it the money.
It would have gone a long way to wetting dry throats at Asphuzeni.
Son of Mokone, the Mpho from Lebowakgomo, added that he had read in a woke koerant that apparently the unintelligent intelligent agency wanted some book about Msholozi receiving undeclared loot off the shelves.
Apparently according to word from the agency, the book tells of nothing but lies about number one.
Obviously those comrades did not get the memo that everyone knew Number One’s favourite pastime was such activities and more.
Son of Mokone also said the soft copy of the book was leaked and has been circulating via the streets of WhatsApp, becoming more popular than its own author in the process.
With the John Barleycorn well sunk in the belly of my honourable self and the throat well marinated, I proceeded to hand down my sober judgment of the Willow of Sofaya’s misdemeanour and announced that he was to buy three cases of SAB’s finest brown bottled brew – especially the longtoms.
With the tiring administration completed, I schooled my congregants on what my woke ears and eyes picked up on the street.
The cereal, Son of Ramaposer, majestically set the cat among the pigeons and broke the ruling party’s tradition by announcing his running mates openly.
With his pickings all edging 60 years in age and averaging the same, Ramaposer’s officialised slate politics, and because of his deep pockets, has seeming become untouchable.
Word on the street is Ramaposer’s fellow presidential candidate, Mathews Poser, who is also an Afrikaans poet, is a litchi farmer with more patience than the community of Qunu who’ve been waiting for a better life since 1994.
After all, he lost at the previous mass gathering of his beloved party five years ago in Mangaung.
Poser, who is also a lawyer like Ramaposer, seems to be winning in this life thing and, like Ramaposer is loaded with Randelas. Yours truly is planning on approaching him for a hectic Asphuzeni Stokvel beer session sponsorship – of course in exchange for votes, as is the culture in that party.
Methinks Poser has not a chance of every leading this Guptanation of ours but then again stranger things have happened in politics.
Trump is president, Julius is more popular than Zuma and Motsepe’s brothers-in-law are both running for presidency.
With my perfect wisdom evenly distributed among my loyalists, yours truly headed to the mansion to catch some shut eye ahead of the aftertears of the daughter of Mahlangu, who apparently had taken her own life after discovering that her hubby, a tycoon from Nelspruit, was taking a sixth wife without notifying her.
With Mahlangu sponsoring the entire drink-till-you-drop session in memory of his daughter, the immortal waters of wisdom flowed like the Limpopo river and so did the lies from Mahlangu’s lips.
Now Mahlangu is a notorious prevaricator and manufacturer of alternative facts and everyone knows he got that tendency whilst he was a cleaner in-chief at one of the big audit firms in Jozi.
He once convinced the entire Mashishing township that he was going to be elected our mayor by Number One, only to discover that he does not even belong to the same WhatsApp group.
Mahlangu said he heard over the wireless that apparently Son of Msimanga, the Mayoral Solly of Tshwane, was selling his official residence to buy votes (or maybe houses) in that filthy capital.
Obviously that was just the beginning of Mahlangu’s lies so I retired to my castle with the hope of dreaming of a better Satafrika.
• 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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