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This Msanzination must shut down or at least go for a half-time break because too many things are happening too fast, at least for those sorry teetotallers who wake up every morning with the best feeling they are going to have all day.
Fully aware of the craziness that has befallen our cowntry, yours truly called an urgent Asphuzeni general meeting to address and once again search for the nation’s problems at the only place we are always bound to find them – the bottom of the SAB’s brown-bottled beauty.
Armed with a case of the finest brew, I headed to the unofficial headquarters of the mighty Asphuzeni – Konkodi’s Tavern – and, as I entered, that heathen shebeen queen partner of his, Sister Bettinah, scolded me for bringing my own amber nectar to her beerhole, likening it to “bringing sand to the beach”.
Obviously her penchant for mindless talk got to me and I politely asked her to make herself useful and put my beers in the fridge. She blew a fuse and called in Konkodi to tell him I had been banned from another overdraft on my million-rand tab. Naturally, Konkodi made up the amount since he was under siege.
With the cool beer soothing my throat, Son of Mongale, the Willow of Sofaya, said he read in the koerant that the new protector of the citizens, Thuli Madonsela 2.0, might actually be 0.2 because she allegedly watered down her predecessor’s report to protector Free State Premier Ace and his buddy Zwane.
Son of Mokone, the Mpho of Lebowakgomo, said he heard over the wireless that Son of Ramaphosa was giving away awards.
Obviously my name slipped his mind again. I understand he must have Supra and expropriation on his mind.
Son of Mokone also uttered that apparently there is still some good public servicemen in Mahikeng and one of them risked his life in the shutdown town to go deliver babies at his hospital as a doctor.
With the brew subsiding in my well-orchestrated architectural masterpiece of a belly, Son of Nkwanyana, who of late has also made a habit of being a mythomaniac of note, said apparently his home varsity there in the heart of Zululand had decided to give its king a second honorary doctoral degree. Dr King probably has several of them but they saw it fit to reinvent the wheel.
Son of Nkwanyana’s lies made the brew taste bitter so I ordered that we gather our spoils and head to the wedding of Camagu’s middle daughter, the Claire Mawisa lookalike, birth-named Nthabiseng.
Now Nthabiseng was once crowned the most prettiest of them all in the entire Mpumalanga many years ago and to this day, even Stevie Wonder can see she still is.
Arriving at Camagu’s compound, he handed over the reins of manning the bar and obviously the flow of the brew was impressively consistent under my leadership, as expected.
With all throats well-soaked in SAB’s finest, son of Letsie, the Tebogo of Tsetse village in Mafikeng, said apparently professors are stealing students’ work in the City of Gold.
Letsie, who is a veteran economic refugee to this part of the wonderful Thaba Chweu said apparently Irvin Jim’s Numsa compared Cereal Ramaposer to the American president. Methinks they are both rich but I also know our new number one likes walking a lot.
Just when I thought the brew had sunk in well enough to call it a night, the progressive groom, a short fellow from Dundee in KwaZulu-Natal, came to pay his respects with a bottle of Russia’s finest courageous waters. Needless to say it was my time to be selfish and hit the road to my shack castle, where the brave lay their head.
• Majakathata the Rogue is a comrade, director of Nahab (National Association of Husbands and Boyfriends) and chairperson of Asphuzeni Stokvel in Skomplaas, Mashishing.
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