A FAMOUS GROUSE

“CURIOUSER and curiouser,” Alice famously cried. She was, as those who have read the children’s classic can tell you, describing the strange experience of “opening up like a telescope” and becoming so tall that it appeared as if her feet were vanishing from sight. (There definitely was something in what she drank that day.)

But she could well have been commenting on the ANC’s decision to dust off its aging veterans and cranky stalwarts and trundle them out in public as part of its election campaign. Simply put, this business of going forwards by looking backwards is every bit as weird as anything conjured up by Lewis Carroll. ___STEADY_PAYWALL___

First there was the magic elf, Thabo Mbeki. His recent comments on the stump, namely that there was, among other things, no chair for him to sit on when he was appointed deputy president in 1994, have already been dealt short shrift by several commentators, including Dave Steward and David Bullard, so we’ll quietly move on.

Next week, News24 reports, the ruling party plan to unleash on potential voters another former deputy president, Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, and the former National Assembly speaker, Baleka Mbete. ___STEADY_PAYWALL___

While they no doubt both come with a wealth of campaign experience and can guff on regardless before an audience with the best of them, they will have their work cut out if they wish to top the tosh trotted out this week by former Gauteng premier, Tokyo Sexwale.

Speaking to reporters ahead of a door-to-door campaign in Katlehong, Sexwale acknowledged that the ANC faced an uphill battle when it came to restoring trust with the electorate. He also suggested that calls to the emergency services were probably in order, and most pronto.

“Our house is on fire,” he said. “When your father’s house is on fire, you don’t doubt. You take a bucket and start dousing flames, and then we can talk later about what caused the fire.”

Sadly, it’s a bit late for the buckets. And, besides, what good are buckets when it’s the fire brigade that’s needed? And they really should have been there — back in 1998 or thereabouts when the blaze first started. That house is now a pile of rubble and cold ashes. There’s nothing left of Thabo’s office furniture, save a few pieces of charred wood. As for the cause of the fire? Well, we’ve known how it started for a while now. 

Then, as if plucked from the ether, another metaphor. And another stalwart. Figuratively, that is. “When you are a soldier in the trenches, as Chris Hani was, they can wait when there are problems inside your family. The house is on fire. That's why we are here to join these leaders.”

Senseless as that was — a house on fire, in the trenches? — it then got worse as Sexwale turned to the rash of new parties, like Jacob Zuma’s uMkhnto we Sizwe malcontents, that will be on the ballot paper. 

“We are here for the proper renewal of the ANC,” he said, “because things have happened inside the ANC that make us unhappy. All these parties that are starting are people who are unhappy with things that have happened inside the ANC. While we renew the ANC, we don’t forget that the people who did wrong inside the ANC have found their way into society, so they cause problems inside society.”

This bears unpacking. Or at least an attempt at unpacking. Is it an admission that the ANC is to be blamed for everything that the ANC has cocked up? And by everything, we could mean that quite literally. There is perhaps no facet of our public life that has emerged from the rot unscathed. 

Still, the empty promises come. But, added to the avowals of a better life for all, just around the corner, is the equally hollow suggestion of a newfound humility. As Sexwale described it, the leadership “is bending our knees” before the people.

“We promise them a better life because we promised them in 1994. We are also promising a better life because we want to renew the ANC and reconstruct the country by putting people in power who understand the requirements of the ANC.”

Oh dear. That bit didn’t come out too well, did it? Given that we’re well aware of what the ruling party regards as its “requirements”. But we get it, we really do. It’s all so very poignant, and we’d be in tears if we weren’t laughing so much.

Accidents will happen

An intriguing report at the weekend from Sky News on developments arising from insults directed at the criminal defendant Donald Trump by his former lawyer, Michael Cohen. In recent posts on X (formerly Twitter), Cohen called his former client “Von ShitzInPantz”. This, as some regulars at the Slaughtered Lamb (“Finest Ales & Pies”) flippantly offer, is not a reference to the man’s Teutonic heritage.

But, and as a result of Cohen’s taunts, the presidential contender’s supporters are wearing nappies at his rallies. These are sported over trousers and leggings, much like Superman and other comic book superheroes wear their underpants, and often with T-shirts with slogans like “Diapers over Dems” and “Real Men Wear Diapers” to complete the ensemble. Further evidence, perhaps, of the infantilism that, along with the petulance and narcissism, has characterised the Trump campaign.

I wonder, though, whether our own politicians may draw inspiration here, particularly in the final weeks before the elections. Commentators, after all, routinely refer to ours as a fledgling democracy, one that is not quite adult or grown up. This is not an inaccurate description. Judging by the behaviour of some elected representatives — the violence of EFF eThekwini city councillors in November last year, for example — it is clear that many are not housetrained and do frequently soil themselves. 

Branding opportunities are obvious. Who among us would not welcome the sight of ANC secretary general Fikile Mbalula sucking away at the rubber teat of a yellow and green milk bottle? It would at least keep him quiet for a while. Rallies could also see ruling party supporters waving baby rattles as Cyril Ramaphosa makes cooing noises at the podium. (“Open wide, here comes the choo-choo…”)

At MK Party events, Jacob Zuma could be presented to the faithful in a cot. From which, obviously, various toys will be hurled. Playpens, on the other hand, are to be avoided, given the symbolism of the bars. EFF leader Julius Malema, meanwhile, may prefer a pram, one perhaps in a sporty fire-engine red, along with a nanny to give his nose an occasional wipe. 

An added bonus to all this is the nostalgic warmth derived from revisiting the innocence and security of the toddler years. If we are to progress into the future by going backwards, as the ANC suggests, then this is the probably the direction to take. Shun maturity at all costs and head for the warmth of the womb. 

Growing pains

Elsewhere, the confected outrage at the Democratic Alliance’s latest campaign advertisement is further evidence of the childish seam now foregrounded in national affairs. The advert features the burning of a paper South African flag while a voice-over warns of a disastrous future under an ANC-EFF-MK coalition government. Then, and as if by magic and phoenix-like from the ashes, the flag is returned to its original form along with the advert’s crucial message: the DA will save the country.

Whether or not we agree with this is moot. The point is simply this: no actual flag is burnt here. This is an allegory. What unfolds is intended to reveal a broader, more significant message. Namely, that an ANC-EFF-MK coalition government would be very bad news for us all.

To my mind, this message is abundantly clear and, frankly, if anyone fails to understand this, well, they’re either being wilfully obtuse or are just naturally stupid. Personally, I’d go for the former; I’m a kind-hearted softie and, seriously, no-one can possibly be that dumb.

Still, there was the predictable and spittle-flecked rush to righteous indignation. As Ferial Haffajee, writing in the Daily Maverick, observes: “A firestorm hit the [DA] after it touched people on their studio. We love our flag, and seeing it burn has got many people seething, including the former Public Protector Thuli Madonsela and others.” 

There are two things to consider here. The first is the unfortunate “touching on the studio” reference. This, as some readers may recall, stems from a disastrous April 2010 episode of the e.tv current affairs programme, Africa 360, which featured former AWB secretary general and all-round windbag André Visagie in discussion with political analyst Lebohang Pheko.

Following a heated exchange on race relations, Visagie lost his temper, ripped off his microphone and stormed out the studio while the show’s host, Chris Maroleng, shouted after him, “[Don’t] touch me on my studio, [don’t] touch me on my studio!” Visagie responded, “I’ll touch you on your studio!” 

The incident became the focus of many jokes on social media, but the poet Antjie Krog did have misgivings about the meme. It was, she said, a case of “an Afrikaner and a black man’s inability to use correct English [becoming] the laughing stock of the country”. 

Krog had a point: is it fair to mock those whose language is rubbish? In the hope they learn from the unpleasant experience and get it right next time? Or do we look on politely as they waffle on, clashing metaphors in a torrent of Manglish? And sneer at them silently on the inside? This is terribly arrogant of me, I will admit, but if we don’t have standards, well, we’d all be talking gibberish like Tokyo Sexwale. We’d never understand one another. 

The second thing is this: do we unequivocally love the flag? I mean, there are flags and then there are flags. There is, for instance, a massive difference between the budgie smuggler valiantly displayed by Springbok scrumhalf Faf de Klerk after the 2019 Rugby World Cup final and the vulgar nationalistic mega-rag that former sports, arts and culture minister Nathi Mthethwa wanted to fly from a R22-million flagpole in Pretoria’s Freedom Park.

Context, after all, is everything in these matters.