Zukiswa Wanner

I have said this before and I say it again, I am a bad loser. I am that who was friends with her high school crush for years and gave him tips on how to get other girls because she didn’t want to risk telling him how she felt in case she got rejected. I am also that girl who never cut a CD because I feared never winning a SAMA (OK, I am lying there. Truth is, I can’t carry a tune to save my life. In fact, when I sing in the shower, my neighbours throw eggs at my bathroom window then yell at me when I come outside for wasting their eggs in a recession year). But folks, yesterday was different.

Yesterday I did not just morph into a good loser.

I slept a happy one, thanks to Google and Bafana Bafana.

The way it happened was crazy. Well okay, not that crazy if you are an artist. I was googling myself (see why I qualified that last statement?) and seeing what new stuff there might be on me. What do I come across but me on some South African fashionista website on Worst Dressed Celebrities for 2008. I have never been so HAPPY in my life. I started making a flurry of phone calls to all and sundry and even sent a text to my mother Down Under (‘Mom, I’ve done it. I made a list’, she did not quite get it when she called me later and asked ‘what list?’ but I will put it down to a generation gap). For fans of O Mag SA, remember that blue dress with a deep pink belt and yours truly cheekily licking a matching lollipop inside it in the November 2008 issue? That is what I made the list for. I will tell you why I was not fazed. I did not choose the dress, some other fashionista stylist for O Mag did but even better than that, I will tell you why I was happy. Dude, the website called me, a humble writer, a no-one, and Hintsa’s mom, A CELEBRITY, I mean yay, get me outta here. Are they serious? Awesome. Now bring on the invites for this celebrity to the real cool parties!

Then in the evening I watched Bafana play against Brazil. I am beginning to think the reason why soccer is known as the Beautiful Game may very well have been a prophecy of the way Bafana Bafana played last night. That match was, no other way to put it, beautiful. I admit that in the first few minutes of the first half I was a bit nervous but when I saw our boys taking the ball to the Brazilians, I almost cried tears of joy – and I was sober as a judge (well not a certain Pretoria judge obviously. More like the Chief Justice on a Monday morning at Constitutional Court). Was Kaka even in that field?  Robinho? Because Bafana danced circles around the Samba Boys. Sure we did not score but there were more shots on target than off from the South African side. At half time my son was so elated that he played the vuvuzela until the boys came back to play.

What disturbing the peace, the neighbours started it!

By the 75t^h minute, Hintsa had fallen asleep and so when that free kick from 21 metres to goal happened in the 87^th minute which led to Brazil’s salvation, he was already in dreamland. I told him this morning that we won and since he stayed up late and did not go to crèche today, he has blown the vuvuzela a couple of times in celebration already. Sure we didn’t win, but it felt like we did. There was no loathing for any of the Bafana players from me, in fact, the only thing I felt like doing was hugging our despondent goalie Itumeleng Khune and Steven who I am sure I saw shedding a tear or two to let them know, ‘it’s alright boys. You did well.’

I have no doubt that if yesterday’s game is the type that Bafana bring to the World Cup next year from their first match, we have an excellent chance of going very far. So to Tumi, Steve-o, Teko, Boooooooth, Masilela, Gaxa,  Siyabonga, Benson, Bernard Parker, Mphela, and Captain, our Captain Mokoena – you wore the green and gold well and one Jozi girl is proud of you.

And oh Sepp Blatter and your FIFA dudes, we won’t let you down. Sure, our Bafana are out but we will still cheer the finalists on Sunday. Who to cheer for? I am a sucker for the underdog myself. No. Not the US. I am thinking Brazil?

Huh? Brazil underdogs in soccer? OK, maybe not but they are underdogs everywhere else against the US. Explain? OK, here it is:

·        The US is the sole superpower and Brazil is a developing nation. I am South African, it makes more sense to support a fellow NAM, G20 and IBSA member. Besides, they have green and gold in their uniform.

·        Sure, Lula is cool but the US has Obama! That makes the US top dawgs anyway you want to look at it.

·         And then if you can speak a few of the Southern African languages you have to really understand how much the Brazilians are underdogs. The team has players with names that end in NHO and this is pronounced  ‘nyo’ and one called Kaka….any way you look at it that alone qualifies them for our support…aren’t their names sad enough?

So go Brazil, at least one girl is with you all the way. Well, at least till you take on Bafana at the semis next year!

So on Saturday I was at the only black-owned bookstore in town, Xarra Books, for the launch of the Miriam Tladi Reading and Book Club (for those who don’t know who she is, she is a doyenne of South African literature, author of such books as Between Two Worlds and Amandla and one of the funniest people I know with her marvellous self-effacing humour). I had no intention of watching soccer because I tend to think myself an amateur coach when watching the game and get a little too vocal for my companions’ears. Seeing my friend Marcia put paid to that as the suggestion of a drink at Sophiatown soon led to another drink and eventually, watching the game with five other friends in tow. I am a bad loser. So I had decided, and loudly vocalised it, that I was not going to support the SA Home Team (Bafana Bafana), in their battle against Spain because I didn’t want to support a losing team, to my mates’ annoyance.

All my good intentions of being a good host to the Spanish and supporting what I was certain was the better team were however laid to rest the moment the national anthem played. I found myself together with most of the restaurant patrons singing Nkosi Sikelel’a lustfully and cheering loudly (or louder than the next person) when the anthem ended. Good sportsmanship, support for the better team, whatever intentions had led me to claim that I would support Spain were firmly set aside as I watched the game and supported the boys in gold and green as though my own son was in Bloem and on the field from kick-off.

I clapped enthusiastically when the goalie saved what looked certain to be a Spanish goal, yelled to Bernard Parker to move forward with the ball even though he could not hear me, and would have stuck my tongue out at the Spanish threesome who were sitting a few tables from us with glee in a ‘so-there’ fashion if Bafana had scored.

By the end of the first half and with the score at zero-zero, I was loving Teko, Parker, Matthew Bloom, Macbeth (who I was certain was jinxed not to score by his parents. Didn’t they read Shakespeare? Didn’t they know what happened to the chap they decided to name their child after?), Steven, and the rest of the Bafana 11 almost as much as I love my four year old. If they had walked in Sophiatown at that moment, I would happily have bought them all a few rounds with money I did not have.

Then in early second half, there was a penalty against Bafana less than 20 metres from goal.

The whole of Sophiatown held its breath as the Spanish player took the shot, and all of us shouted with glee when our wonderful and loveable goalie dove into left corner of the goal and SAVED!!!! It was a beautiful moment. It was a moment filled with elation and much hugging at our table and surrounding tables. And it was to be the final bright light before darkness.

Less than a minute later, Spain scored and gloom fell on all of us.

But soccer fans have got to be the most glass-half-full optimists you can ever come across. Knowing what we know of Bafana, that they too tend to get dejected as soon as the other team scores before they have, we should have been realistic and looked on it as a loss. But we all kept hoping. And hoping. And hoping.

Maybe the boys would score?

Maybe there would be some miracle?

Maybe one of our better sangomas from Limpopo had worked some good muti to ensure our boys will surprise us and the country with a victory over the Spanish?

It wasn’t to be.

The Spanish team scored again putting paid any hope of us winning or equalising. As though we weren’t feeling depressed enough, the commentator kept mentioning how Spain had not lost a game in 35 matches. Gee thanks dude, want us to commit mass suicide?

By then I was really hating the Bafana players. I was so certain that if I had been on that field, I would have worked it somehow that we would have scored a goal (I can’t play soccer to save my life but the possibilities are endless when you are watching something on screen). It was then I started thinking perhaps the person who coined the phrase ‘thin line between love and hate’ must have been a soccer fan. How else could I explain the love I felt for the boys less than an hour earlier with the resentment I now harboured for them?

I was no longer looking to Bafana to win or equalise, there was not enough time left for that, but I kept hoping that somehow they would at least sink one in and salvage national pride.

There was a glimmer of hope a little while before the final whistle and I stood up and shouted with many other patrons but nothing doing. The goal was offside. We went back to being depressed. And Martin our server seemed to be really taking his time bringing the drinks – just when we needed it most. Or maybe we were gulping the drinks down too fast to drown our sorrows and he could not keep up?

The game ended. Bafana had lost 2-0. It looked like we were not going through to the semi-finals of the Confederations Cup. And this in our own land. Eish!

But salvation came from an unlikely source.

Our rugby nemesis and the country that ensured that we didn’t host World Cup 2006 by refusing to cast a vote, New Zealand, held Iraq to a goalless draw ensuring that we got through on aggregate (in essence by the skin of our teeth).

Thank you New Zealand.

All is forgiven for any curses and tackles you may have thrown at our players during rugby. You are forgiven for 2006 too, we were not really that keen to host it.  And all that sheep-shagging stuff that people say about you guys, I never believed it for a second.

Now if only we could get Macbeth Sibaya to Credo Mutwa before the next game so he can be cleansed of the bad luck that comes with his name!

In January this year I had a rather heated debate with a writer friend of mine. We had both read somewhere that another writer whose literary skills I am in awe of (although she is a year younger than me which is a serious blow to my fragile writer’s ego) had just been given an award of half a million dollars for her contribution to literature etc etc. The writer friend (henceforth known as David – because that is his actual first name) thought that the prize was too much. I thought it was too little. I thought of this conversation this morning as I was looking at my inbox and noted that, at the Cape Town Book Fair, I will be on a panel discussing the Importance of Literary Prizes to the Book Industry.
Let me first highlight though that in a contemporary South Africa full of brilliant writers, I have never personally been a recipient of any literary prizes. It does not mean that I do not think that there are not important though – and that I wish they had much much more money.
And here I come back to my debate with Dave. It is my contention that writers are so used to mediocre literary prizes of sums such as $10,000, or even less as some of the literary prizes in South Africa and the world show that we have become scared of becoming RICH (yes, I said that vulgar R word) as artists. I contend that writing as an art form will never be appreciated despite its great importance in the artistic field until writers and the book industry start advocating for it through worthwhile literary prizes. Moreover, we will never be able to corner a sufficient market of the arts industry and the public that buy into the arts if we always think of ourselves as the second (and poorer ‘though intellectually superior’ as we like to say of ourselves in the privacy of writers’ circles) cousins of actors and singers in the world of art.
So am I advocating that writers become greedy? Not at all. All I am advocating is that we start being appreciated for the important role we play in society and in the arts and that the recognition comes financially in our lifetime. The man who penned the one book that my soon-to-be four year old son enjoys the most died broke. I am talking of Alexandre Dumas – he of Three Musketeers fame. Centuries later, writers are still dying with nothing to their name and everyone seems to think this is somehow expected, that it is OKAY. The whole ‘poverty with dignity’ crap and writing as a ‘noble art’. You will have to forgive me David and anyone who thinks like him if I am not buying it. If one chooses to be an artist activist I think that’s quite okay but it doesn’t mean that we have to starve in the process – and I think Bono will agree with me on this one?. And literary prizes should reflect that.
Hands up those who remember the classic line in Casablanca, ‘here’s looking at you, kid.’ And I bet y’all know who spoke those words too. I was not even born when Humphrey Bogart first uttered those words on screen to millions of movie-watching public but they remain ingrained in my head and are a reminder of his genius. But how many people actually know the name of the writer who penned the words? And how much recognition did that writer get from the industry, what are his children or grandchildren benefiting from his estate today?
I have known writers to take five, sometimes even ten years to write a book. A really good book. How do we justify mediocre literary prizes of paltry amounts like R35 000 for a work that has taken ten (or even two) years to produce? Excuse me but that is the amount that some personal assistants take home at the end of ONE month. I realize that the major reason for this is because the book buying public is much smaller than say, the movie-watching public, but there too, everyone seems to forget that movies are made because of brilliant dialogue done by, uhhm, those artists known as WRITERS. Wouldn’t it have been something if the writers of Tsotsi had got as much recognition as Presley and Terry and been given an award for it? Sure, we know it comes from an Athol Fugard play but surely there were other writers in the bringing of the play to screen? Did Fugard himself even get enough recognition for it? Ask any ten kids in the street today and you will be hard pressed to find three who know that Tsotsi was a literary work before it became an Oscar winning movie.
I fear that so long as we don’t have one worthwhile literary award-ceremony, say, the SAMAs for writers (we already have the SALA’s – they are just tucked in the middle of one or two newspapers somewhere) where the national broadcaster does its bit (writers are taxpayers too) and hypes what everyone is wearing and which book or screenplay should have been more deserving, literature will always be on the backburner of the arts industry, writers will always be the brokest of artists, and writers in trying to explain this phenomenon will continue saying such stupid statements like ‘we are in Africa, black people don’t read.’ Perhaps they don’t. But if reading and writing as an art form was made sexy, then more people might just be encouraged to read.
So no David. Good literature comes down the ages and US$500 000 cannot even begin to show enough appreciation for the amount of work that writers put in their work. A century from now, children will still be quoting Ms. Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun. That type of writing is priceless. But if we must put a price or a prize on it, let’s make it worthwhile.

OK, I have been having emails in my personal email box from characters who have access to my email address.
‘I know you don’t like blogging unless you feel you have something to say but what’s with the silence for this long? Much has been happening in SA and in your life. Surely, an opinionated ass like yourself has something to say? ’ someone who claims to be my friend emailed me asking.
Indeed a lot has been happening in the last few weeks.
Comrade JZ became the President of South Africa sans showerhead thanks to cartoonist Zapiro. South Africa marked a year of shame for the xenophobic (read: negrophobic) attacks with some muted discussions about the need for investigations and prosecuting wrongdoers (Joy! The family of the dude who was necklaced to death in Ramaphosaville must be soo relieved!). Ndumiso Ngcobo launched his second collection of satirical essays on South African life entitled, Is It Coz I’m Black? (available on Kalahari.net NOW) then as an advance for this very shameless plugging of his book I have just done on my blog, he bought me a six pack and mentioned my name in the acknowledgements section of the book [I admit it. I am a friend!]. Another friend, Kenyan writer, documentary maker and all-round Master of All trades Parselelo Kantai got short-listed for the Caine Prize. I submitted manuscript number three to my publishers and started writing for upcoming SAFM radio soapie Radio Watyamacallit. A rather interesting debate has started on BOOKSA post-Franschhoek Literary Festival on literacy and the black person. All good reasons for me to blog but honestly I was not feeling inspired by any of these seemingly appealing topics.
What I could not forget though was a phone call from my aunt to come to my little hometown for some umsebenzi for one ancestor or another. I turned the invitation down because I am so “busy and important” in bright lights, big city Joburg.
Then I thought about it. And thought about how crazy it is for me to avoid going to a town I always claim to be home but that I can’t bother going to. So I decided to write this knowing that we now have a new administration in charge of the country.
This, which is a plea for the small town.
The back water town.
The home town.
It is a plea for its recognition and its development so it does not get drained of its best people in their prime.
I was born and educated out of South Africa. I now stay in Johannesburg and have been staying in the City of Gold since returning to South Africa in 2003 so it always amuses my friends when I talk of my home town.
‘What home town?’ they ask, ‘you did not even grow up there and you do not stay there now.’
And they would be absolutely right. But the funny thing about home towns is one’s sentimentality with them. Although I stay in the melting pot that is Johannesburg, I always think fondly of the place I call home because it is there where my father is buried and there where, when I want to get away from the hustle and bustle of this big city that can swallow one up, I go.
My home town is a little town in the Eastern Cape called Stutterheim or eCumakala as it is known in the vernacular. For non-drivers, the good news about getting to Stutterheim is that it is on the train and bus route from both Cape Town and Johannesburg. The down side to that is, you have to pile on many jerseys and blankets because, the closer one gets to Stutt as the locals call it, the colder it gets particularly in the winter months. It is often stated by many that, with Stutterheim, until it snows it remains cold. In 2004 the snow only came in December so it was cold the whole time.
Those who know Stutterheim say ‘town’ is a bit of an overstatement because of its size. Sure, it’s more Norton in Zimbabwe than it is Bornemouth in England but I figure that since we have our own municipality, we qualify. Unless someone is from the Eastern Cape, most people do not know where it is and when I talk of its location, I do so by using the three towns closest to it. Like many small towns, there is nothing remarkable about this town, but it is for this reason that I write about it. Because there are many small little towns like it in South Africa which are remarkable by virtue of their people but which will never be put on any tourist map of places to go.
‘It’s 60 km from East London and 40km from King Williamstown,’ I say by way of explanation. ‘Stutt is between Queenstown and King,’ I say further trying to give my audience a geographical idea from the map. I find myself additionally saying that Stutterheim has one traffic light by Amahlathi Municipality offices and that ‘if you blink you miss it.’
There are one too many shebeen and bottle stores although in the last three years, the town has added a library on its ‘things to do while in Stutterheim’ list. This however, is not good enough to put the town even as a Sho’t Left challenge stop except as a rest stop.
Most of those who work in Stutterheim- and there are many unemployed – are civil servants. Those who can, leave as soon as it is expedient to do so, which is unfortunate because it is for such reasons that many similar hometowns remain underdeveloped while big cities become congested. I am of course as guilty as the next person in ensuring that my hometown remains underdeveloped. I have chosen the glamour and glare of big city lights to it. Sure, once a year I make the trek home during the holiday season but I never stay there for any significant amount of time. I resolve to stay there for at least two weeks getting to know people and appreciating the town. After three days I find myself calling friends from Mdantsane who are also down in the Eastern Cape on holiday so I can go and visit.
‘Ndibhorekile (I am bored)’, I say. ‘Can you look around see whether I can get some accommodation that side so I can come to East London?’
Like many people from such small towns, I complain every year about how little there is to do and how bored I am when I get to my home town. And like many such people who call these towns their home but do not stay there, I take the quickest exit route whenever that home town vaguely starts losing its romance. And those who are not as lucky as me continue to stay, and drink, and breed.
I wonder, what type of facelift could places like Stutterheim receive to keep their people there for any length of time? I wonder too as I plead for the small town, just what it is I can do as an individual to make places like Stutterheim that bit attractive for myself and those like me?
Perhaps the new cabinet could give us some answers on how they intend to uplift the less urban areas?

Today, it is different. And I hope for all concerned it makes a positive difference. In 2004 when I voted in South Africa’s last presidential elections, I strolled at the voting station and less than 30 minutes later, I was out.

Today, I wake up at six in the morning to prepare my son some porridge. He is still sleeping and when he wakes up, we do our toilette and I put on the news. I know that voting stations are opening at seven so I figure like the last elections, I will go to vote around nine. Not so much because I think that there will be less people but because I want to have use the occasion as a chance to socialise with some of my neighbours. I am one of the lucky few who stays less than 10 minutes away from one of the over 1000 voting stations in the country so I decide to just peep outside to see how many people are showing interest in the election and boy, am I surprised at the crowd.

The polls said it, the energy prior to this election highlighted it, but now IK am seeing it for myself – today, it is different.

It is only 7.45 and already there is a sizeable crowd at the voting station. I there and then decide to just go indoors, get my ID and go and vote immediately to avoid spending my whole day waiting to vote. The morning is cold so I bundle up in a t-shirt, sweatshirt, jacket, woollen hat, socks and tekkies (sneakers).

When I get back to the voting station, the line is already snaking round the corner and a good 300metres long and it is getting longer. It is like its 1994 all over again.

It looks like it will be a long wait so I pat myself on the shoulder that I have Ronnie Govender’s At the Edge and other Cato Manor stories. The beauty of short stories is that they do not generally need as much concentration as novels but the beauty of this particular collection is that national awards’ recipient Ronnie talks of a South Africa that existed before the vote was available to everyone and this makes me appreciate democracy and the ability to vote all the more.

As indicative of my working class neighbourhood, there are people of all races. In front of me is a coloured couple and behind me is an Indian lady. A few feet from me is a white boy wearing a red t-shirt with a heart in ANC colours reading ‘Show your Love for the ANC’ but that is the only person wearing anything that hints at sloganeering. The line is moving slowly initially but I will not give up my place in line for a possibility of a shorter line later which might not come to pass. While in line I receive SMSs, many from the majority ANC party telling me to Vote ANC. One rather verbose one forwarded by a friend of mine who is a strong ANC supporter reads: Cause of death could be complications emanating from a combination of a multiplicity of deadly virus resulting from political kwashiork(sic), illdiscipline(sic) and mostly uncontrollable levels of greed, jealousy, tribalism, factionalism and all other counter-revolutionary isms one can think of. The baby COPE apparently (sic) was never vaccinated as the parents SHIKOTA & THE BIG MAN AT SHELL HOUSE are so CRUEL and irresponsible. No prizes for guessing who I am being told to vote for.

Another friend, a COPE supporter, sends me one less subtle reading: Stand up & be counted. Your vote counts. Vote for CHANGE and DEMOCRACY 4 ALL. U can make a difference. VOTE COPE. Greetings Terror & Mvume.

But by far the funniest  is from my friend Khens which reads: IMPORTANT NOTICE 2 ALL LADIES: VOTE 4 THE PENIS PARTY!!! The only Party that has BALLS and will STAND UP 4 U.

I scroll down my messages wistfully as I think, after today, I shall not be as popular. No-one will send me any SMSs courting me to come to a rally or to vote for them so yet again I become insignificant. After today, no politician will look at me right in the eye via my television screen telling me how good and how right they are for me. After today, Nando’s will probably also pull its hilarious Malema advert (WE DEMAND CHANGE).

But it’s not all doom and gloom.

After today my street lights will not be littered by mugs of politicians and parties. The posters will however become useful elsewhere. I have noticed in the past that they tend to come in handy for some of my enterprising fellow-citizens (I am thinking here of an old poster that I saw in some informal settlement some months back covering the dwellers from the summer rain. The poster said, Vote ANC, A Better Life for All.)

When I get to the door, my ID is checked with an electronic scanner to see whether I am registered. I am given a slip and shuttled in. My ID is checked again and I am directed to go to where my name is so that I could get my name cancelled, my thumb is marked with indelible ink, and I receive my two ballot papers, one for provincial and another for national selection.

I find myself frantically searching for the Penis Party.

There are a lot of dicks on the ballot paper but that party does not seem to exist.

In the end I find myself having to vote for some other party. Sure it is not the Penis Party but I hope that party (or whichever one wins) stands up for me and the rest of its citizens.

I go out outside and feel a rush of emotion and patriotism for this one moment in five years that democracy allows most of my fellow South Africans to speak up for the one minute that we are behind the booth. The last time that I felt that way was when the Springboks got the Webb Ellis trophy in France. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Even when I am questioning in the back of my mind how it’s possible that in a country of 47 million we could have 23 million registered voters.

There are those who will say that they do not vote because they have become jaded and politicians are liars, and I say that’s their democratic right but that’s not me. Given that many developing nations had the blood and guts of their people spilt to get the power to vote, I am not about to so casually dismiss that right. Moreover if it is indeed true that most politicians are liars, in a country where the national election only happens once every five years, the minute or so that I have in the voting booth is the only time I have to be truly free and ‘be the change I want to see.’ This year, I find myself in a bit of a quandary though. South Africa goes to its fourth democratic elections on the 22^nd of April, and for the first time ever I am still musing over who to vote for at this late stage. In keeping with the 2010 spirit, I bring you, my  finalists.

THE BIG THREE

 African National Congress (ANC):- The party with a tradition of great marketing strategies that they successfully made one of its members, Nelson Mandela, an international icon. The winner of the last three elections, the ANC, yet again goes into the elections as the leading member of the tripartite alliance which includes the largest workers union Congress of South African Trade Unions and one of the few truly active communist parties in the world where communism is all but dead, South African Communist Party.  As in the past three elections, the ANC looks set to clean this election too, what is unclear is whether they will get the two thirds majority they so desire and that will allow the legislature to rubber stamp every suggestion that comes from the executive as was the case after the 2004 elections. Part of the problem is the captain of this team, former South African Deputy President Jacob Zuma. JZ, as he is affectionately known by team mates and fans of this team, won the Polokwane League in his party against a team led by former party president, Thabo Mbeki (he of the health Minister who was a strong advocate of beetroot and garlic for HIV/AIDS sufferers as opposed to ARTs). At the time of winning the league, there were corruption charges looming over his head but many in his Polokwane team believed the charges came because of foul play on the part of Thabo. After Polokwane, a judicial referee, Judge Nicholson, stated that there indeed was a foul by Thabo which led to Thabo being red-carded and announcing his resignation on a Sunday, a day before he was to have given his final address to the United Nations. When Thabo resigned as president of the nation, some voters also resigned their loyalty to the ANC. One can only assume that those disgruntled non-card carrying ANC voters had voted for the man and not the party. Meanwhile, the acting head of the National Prosecuting Authority just dropped all charges against JZ last week resulting in a collective sigh of relief from Team ANC supporters and much anger from other team supporters. Faced with disillusioned members who broke away to form a new party, the ANC’s campaign strategy has been to discredit the opposition and play up its triumphs in the 15 years under Mbeki (and yes. Mandela may have been President the first five but the country knows that his deputy was running the country) and promise more and better. With a budget believed to be the largest in this election, the ANC has managed to do what they do best – market with some great television ads. There is one with a young man talking of how he is unemployed but will still vote ANC because he feels he has better chances under them. They have also been doing door-to-door campaigns, toyi-toyi’ng at my local store during weekends, and streets are full of posters asking me to ‘VOTE ANC, TOGETHER WE CAN DO MORE’. I admit to not having seen their manifesto because the campaigners have not come to my door and the marchers at the shops have just given me some credit-card sized card telling me about my ANC home. A friend and keen supporter promised to bring one to my door within forty eight hours. That was 72 hours ago. It seems delivery may not just be a problem of the executive but may be a problem with the rank and file members too.

Democratic Alliance (DA):-Team DA goes to this election led by Captain Helen Zille and being the official opposition. Zille, who is currently mayor of that country called Cape Town, came to power after the resignation of the very divisive Tony Leon. Where Leon seemed to enjoy being a member of the loyal opposition, Zille will actually agree with the majority party on certain issues. It does not hurt that she is fluent in the second most spoken local language and the language most spoken in the Western Cape Province, isiXhosa. According to punters, Zille and her DA look set to take the Western Cape province on April 22, and not just the city of Cape Town. This will mean that for the first time since 1994, that province will be under a non-ANC premier. DA’s campaign posters talk of ‘one nation’. I suspect that this may be because, in spite of Zille, many people still believe that DA is a party catering for ‘white interests’. It does not help that one of their more contentious election promises has been the scrapping of affirmative action. Like the ANC, I have seen the DA posters and the adverts on television. The television adverts are beaten hands down by the ANC’s more people oriented approach. I have also not seen or read the DA election manifesto. There are those who will argue that if I am interested, I can download the manifestos but the point is, they want my vote don’t they? It should be up to them to bring it to me. Right now, I rule. I matter….I know I will cease being important on the 23^rd but at the moment…hmmm. According to a recent Markinor survey, the DA might soon be unseated from the position of official opposition by new kid on the block, COPE.

Congress of the People (COPE):- After the forced resignation of Thabo Mbeki, some incensed members of the ANC left to form the breakaway COPE. Among many amateur political analysts, it is believed that he is the architect behind the party. I do not know but I would certainly kill to be a fly in the voting booth to see which party Mbeki will put his X on. Among some Mbeki loyalists who have joined COPE are his former vice-president Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka, the man who served the ANC divorce papers and COPE president Terror Lekota, former Gauteng premier and now COPE vice president Mbhazima Shilowa and businessman Saki Macozoma among others. Although COPE made a lot of noise and much waves when they first broke away, the money has not been flowing into their coffers as much as they hoped and this has debilitated their campaign. Earlier in the year there was much talk of dissent in the party when the party president failed to convince the national executive of COPE that he should be presidential candidate… too much taint from the ANC and some alleged tarnish from the arms deal. This has resulted in election posters that could be confusing to the average person with the face of both Terror and COPE’s chosen presidential candidate, the former political activist and Methodist Bishop, Mvume Dandala. The posters that I have seen do not have a slogan p- perhaps they could not agree on that either?

I also do not know what COPE stands for apart from Mbeki. It is believed that after this election they may become the official opposition. Their largest support base seems to come from the black middle class who are traditional ANC voters but may be disillusioned by Jacob Zuma’s leadership.

These three are not the only teams on the political landscape of course. There are others, more famous for one key individual, often the leader. I can honestly say of the parties below, I do not know any other members of the executive apart from their leaders.

From United Democratic Movement (UDM) led by Bantu Holomisa, one is told that ‘now is the time for all South Africans,’ it is unclear it is time for all of us to do what. Bantu will probably carry some votes in the Eastern Cape. His was the first billboard I saw so there may be some really good funders somewhere.

Chief Buthelezi’s Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) has traditionally been a serious contender in the province of Kwazulu Natal province but this year it is believed the party may lose some votes to the ANC since ANC President Jacob Zuma hails from that province.

Patricia De Lille’s Independent Democrats (ID) will likely take some votes in the Western Cape and Northern Cape but the possibility of carrying a lot of those votes are minimal.

African Christian Democratic Party (ACDP) led by Reverend Kenneth Meshoe is worrisome not for the votes it will carry but for what it stands for. The party is loud on morality and strongly anti-gay and pro death sentence.

Freedom Front Plus (FF+) led by Dr. Mulder is proudly Afrikaans and campaign promises are based restoration of Afrikaans rights which may work for some but which ensures they leave out a large chunk of the population as potential voters.

The Africanists like Azania People’s Organisation, Pan-Africanist Congress and others would have made more of an impact if they went to the elections with a united front. As it is, they shall continue just pulling a representative or two for parliament and therefore voting for them appears to be a waste of votes.

So? Any suggestions from out there in cyber world on whom I should vote for? Please deliver manifestos with a timeline of expected delivery dates to convince me.

Citizens will continue paying taxes.

No. That’s not a joke.

I am genuinely looking for an honest and noble politician. A politician who cares about the interests of the electorate before theirs (and not just as rhetoric in an election year). And before anyone from the African continent says ‘Obama’ please don’t. Y’all don’t know him and even if you do and you are sure he is wonderful, he still doesn’t serve this continent.

Now where was I?

Ja. I was talking of the need for a politician that can be trusted to serve and not be served. Would it not be refreshingly different if the electorate dispensed with the ‘chief/chef/honourable bani bani’ when talking to politicians and the politicians realized that there were in power to serve us and not vice-versa?

When I first went to Kenya, I told a Zimbabwean friend of mine that Nairobi reminded me of Harare when Harare was Harare (in the 90s). Well it looks like the two African nations have just had another similarity.

They are now both ruled by governments of national unity. Now here is the thing. There has never been a government of national unity formed when the incumbent wins the election fair and square. A GNU, African style, appears to happen when the losing side wants to hold on to power by any means necessary as in the case of the two examples I am writing about. The winners (known prior to elections as the opposition) will then ask the international (Western) community to freeze aid to THE illegitimate government that has sworn itself in (politicians are clearly getting softer. Back in the days, the party that did not want to lose would hold on and the nation be damned. Perhaps we should thank the gods of Africa for small mercies?) A Kofi Annan or Thabo Mbeki will be brought in to get the two sides talking, and boom, a GNU is born.

For that reason one would therefore assume that this type of government, though generally said to be temporary until elections in 20-voetsek will work as a type of checks and balances government to ensure the resources are given to those who need them and that no corrupt behaviour goes on while both parties are watching each other like hawks? Particularly from the party that is NOT of the incumbent because they are the more honest politicians, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Not for these two countries that I mention at least. We knew the politicians in the old party were self-interested buggers but now the politicians in the new party, the party that’s supposedly of honour, comes out and proves that, as one Kenyan politician put it, though it may be ‘different trees, it’s same old forest.’

Non-Kenyans, and those who are not Kenya-philes like myself may not know this but late last year as the average Kenyan worried about the price of unga (maize meal), parliamentarians from both the so-called old and corrupt party and the new and honourable parties were deciding that it was necessary for them to have a monthly salary of US$10,000 and that amount should be tax free. All this for their highly important job of mostly sleeping in parliament while teachers, who render a bigger service of educating the nation, are taxed to death on the peanuts they earn. When the nation protested, they were quickly silenced and a bill was put in parliament to muzzle the media that because they raised the questions first. There was more to come. Cabinet members from both parties were soon implicated in the tender process of grinding maize meal. Turns out there were quite a few ‘companies’ that won contracts to grind maize meal and yet did not own any grinders at all. And it wasn’t so easy as to ask them to return the maize. Somehow the bags of maize meal had disappeared.

And that’s the first government of national unity.

Last week I returned from Zimbabwe. The Zimbabwean GNU is a little over a month old but clearly, the politicians are not wasting time.

We have all seen on television leaders of both parties begging international donors for aid to rebuild the country. It is admirable that both parties have united for the good of the nation. What’s less admirable is the fact that, in this space where politicians are asking the world for assistance to rebuild the once impressive Zimbabwean infrastructure, not a single cabinet member of either major party decided that it was not in the national interest for them to have three top class vehicles at their disposal.

Would it not have been revolutionary if some leader said, ‘uhhm, well no. My cabinet members  will just have one state sponsored vehicle. Perhaps we could sell the Mercedes and the 4WD and give the funding to the treasury so teachers or doctors can be better paid?’ but no.

That would have been too noble for our men and women.

And the rot was not just at the top.

As many know, revolutions generally begin in towns and so too with Zimbabwe. The majority of MDC supporters are in the cities and it is therefore no surprise that majority of councillors serving the towns are from MDC.

So, many of these wonderful councillors (who by the way are supposed to have day jobs and leave the town clerk and his team of administrators to do their work in council) have decided to start frequenting council  because for every appearance they make at the various town halls, they get paid.

Even in situations where there are no council meetings or meetings of their committee. But that’s not all. These wonderful city councillors had also decided that for some reason, they deserved free cellphones at council expense and some were even requesting….don’t laugh this is true….laundry allowance (I wonder whether this is money to pay the domestic workers?).

Even more worrisome though was the plot for discounts idea that many councillors passed.

Those who have been to Zimbabwe recently would have noticed that the Zimbabwean dollar is now non-existent. If one goes into a shop, they buy with Rands or US$ (with the US$ to the rand pegged on an easy to work with US$1 to R10). Imagine then, a bunch of councillors deciding that they should be allowed to buy plots on a non-existent Zim$ rate for as much as 60 percent discount? Yup, true story. Fortunately for this part of the article, someone top up (Minister of Local Government with his three cars) decided to nip the behaviour of councillors in the bud and refused to allow the cellphones or the laundry allowances and while councillors can buy plots, they should buy them at the US$ value.

But what of all the other examples?

Is this continent incapable of having any politicians who care more for the people they serve than they do for their pockets?

Is it alright for nations to continue to bleed while politicians feed?

Your thoughts!

I am always hopeful for a better future where all are equal above, beneath, and beside the law. But I have never harbored any fantasies that I am living through that time and this morning was just yet another proof that I live in Orwellian times where some are more equal than others. Two days after the death of the Scorpions comes an announcement that South Africa’s future president’s former financial advisor Schabir Shaik is now free.
For the record, Schabir had been given 15 years for corruption but has served less than a third of his sentence and most of that, in a private room (at taxpayer’s expense) in hospital because he was suffering from stress-related high blood pressure. His high blood pressure is incidentally, the reason why he is getting out of prison.

Now I have some serious gripes with the whole Schabir thing. I already had issues with his private hospital stay and now comes the news that he is free. Why do I care? Because I am a taxpayer who can’t afford medical that’s why. Last time I was ill, I managed to get a semi-private room because I showed the booking nurses copies of my book and they thought I was a celebrity. And I am one of the lucky ones. I have been to Baragwanath and good, law-abiding, tax-paying citizens who cannot afford medical aid may be found lying on the floor underneath other people’s beds when they get ill because the state does not have sufficient resources and here our state had a convict in a private room?
The private hospital room alone of course is a good argument for his release as that means tax Rands are saved in these days of recession (oops. forgot that Uncel Trevor said there’s no recession).

But the reason for hospitalization itself is shady. One of my friends argued regarding the HBP, ‘Bah. If our convicts are not suffering from HBP, anxiety, and other stress-related ailments then we are fucking up as a country. Our taxes are going to waste.’ The argument this friend is making of course is that prisons, by their very nature, are not supposed to be government-sponsored holidays and if one suffers from stress then that would be a very good argument to keep children from prison. ‘Look little Mfundo, look at Schabir, he is suffering from stress and still has 10 years to go. Do you want to do crime, go to prison and suffer through that?’ Not only that. Our prisons are full of prisoners in their last stages of HIV related illnesses. If we are to argue for compassionate release of prisoners, surely we should look at the more serious illnesses first?

That said, I have to admit to being surprised that Schabir even served any time in prison at all. To his credit he served his almost full three years conviction for fraud and, given the number of white collar criminals that generally get away with paying a fine and not seeing a day in prison, that in itself was remarkable. All credit given though for the time he served in Durban Westville, the question must be asked, is Schabir Shaik’s freedom a sign of how white collar criminals who have struggle credentials will be treated under the next administration? We cannot ignore the fact that the political administration that decided to get Mr. Shaik out of prison (or hospital) are aligned with the current leadership at Luthuli House. A field day for corruption, or just popping out a comrade so they can have enough time to prep themselves to be Minister of Finance?
It would be funny if it were not so sad.
(For the record to those who may want to report me for public drinking  and throw me in prison sometime in my lifetime, I too have struggle credentials. I struggled to write that last paragraph giving Mr. Shaik credit)

This afternoon, I received an email from the Treasurer General of PEN Kenya, poet, and my friend Khainga OokwembThis page will be updated as I get news about her but meanwhile, would readers please send mail to The Nation/ Standard and other Kenyan print media to question what seems to be a serious infringement of free expression.

International PEN Kenya Chapter president has been arrested. Miss Philo Ikonya was arrested this afternoon when she, together with other creative writers and human rights activists tried to hold a peaceful demonstration outside parliament.Philo and blogger Fwamba NC Fwamba are  being held at the central police station while Patrick Kamotho, a member of Bunge La Mwanachi (People’s Parliament) is being held at parliament buildings. The demonstrators had planned peaceful demonsrations across the city to highlight the plight of many Kenyans following the government’s inability to address the hyper inflation. Their tool, carrying a two-kilogram packet of maize flour which according to the government’s own admission, should sell at Ksh.54 but  which retails at double or more this price. Philo has been physically brutalised by a police officer  who pushed her as she demanded the police gives her a phone which had been taken away.  Lawyers Elisha Ongoya and Anne Njogu are presently  demanding her release so that she can receive medical treatment.  At the time of publishing on this blog, Philo, Patrick and Fwamba had been denied bond and  this blogger awaits word from Kenya on her release.

In South Africa, the weekend of the 7th and 8th was the last possible time for many of us to register to vote. Not so out of South Africa. According to a high court ruling on Monday, it is unconstitutional for the Independent Electoral Commission not to allow expatriates to vote. The application was brought on behalf of a South African expatriate by the Freedom Front Plus so one hopes that chap at least votes for the party that fought for his right to vote if the Constitutional Court upholds the ruling.

Me? I am in disagreement with the High Court on this one. If expatriates want to vote in this country, they should stay here. I mean, shouldn’t the ability to vote be the right of taxpayers? What temptations can the Homecoming Revolution now give people to return back home? ‘Please come back home and if you are black you may be stopped by the cops and asked for your passport because you are too dark to be South African and if you are white and want to set up a business you’ll have to partner up with your semi-illiterate gardener to be BEE compliant?’ Come on. Expats are getting the pounds, US, Canadian and Australian dollars.
Those of us who are here by choice (or because our three months bank statements don’t allow us to go anywhere that requires visas) should have at least one advantage over those who choose not to be here. I mean, what do those expatriates who agree with the application think this is? America? We are in Africa. It’s good enough that they are allowed to have dual citizenship. As a counter-measure, I am considering bringing in an application to allow the rest of sub-Saharan Africa to vote in South African elections. Because at least with the rest of the continent, we know that our economy and our government will affect them more directly than people in Europe, Americas or Australia, be they South African or not (incidentally does that mean the Afrikaans community in Argentina will also be allowed to vote?).
But who should be allowed to vote in our elections is not the point of today’s rant. Today, I have decided not to even rant. I am just notifying all political parties that I registered to vote this weekend. OK I was already registered but I had to reregister because I moved house and I did not want to get into a situation where some electoral official tells me that I can’t vote behind my house and have to travel 20 kilometres away.
Not in South Africa? *&^%, it has happened elsewhere on this continent and I am not taking chances. I am not taking chances this year because it looks like the elections that may or may not be held on the 22nd of April (depending on the Constitutional Court ruling on the case mentioned above) will be the most momentous since 1994. Sure there is no National Party, new or old, but there is an African National Congress which is riled about IFP, about COPE, about conspiracies by comrades, about counter-revolutionary judges and a few other things you can think of. It should be fun. Again the fun has already started. The rest of the continent with DSTV just has to check out the election debates on SABC2 on Sunday nights at 9 pm to know how much fun.
But back to me. Today, I am making a notification to all political parties who have been canvassing and knocking on my gate, and those who are sending me SMSs and emails on how they can earn my vote. Forget what I said last year about needing to see their artist manifesto. It may be too much work for you and this year, I am going capitalist. I have told the ANC guys who asked me to vote for them this weekend, I have emailed the COPE folks who emailed me an invite to some function of theirs, and I would have SMSd DA back when they sent me a message reminding me to go and register and ‘Vote DA’ but their SMS came from one of those lengthy-computer generated numbers you cannot respond to. What am I telling (or would like to tell all of them)?
I am saying that my vote is expensive in this capitalist country.
I am saying it’s no longer about what you can do for me in the next five years but what you can do for me now, pre-elections. No. I don’t want money or a house or a car. I just want the parties to enable me to get these things. So here’s how they can do that.
All parties are talking about the need for increasing literacy but none are showing it. So here is the thing. The party that can buy copies of any South African writer equivalent to 50 percent will get not just my vote but my endorsement. Words are powerful, writers ultra powerful pre-election, you don’t want to miss this and it will serve to make at least fifty percent of your party members acquainted with South African literature.
Below is a list of authors that political parties may not know but that they can look for, google online, and purchase from Kalahari.net, booksa or Exclusive Books:

Angela Makholwa, Angelina Sithebe, Jo-Ann Richards, Imraan Coovadia, Siphiwo Mahala, Maxine Case, Futhi Ntshingila, Melinda Ferguson, Napo Masheane, Ndumiso Ngcobo, Lebo Mashile, John van der Ruit, Niq Mhlongo, Ronnie Govender, Mandla Langa, Eric Miyeni, Rayda Jacobs, Phillipa Yaa de Villiers, Sindiwe Magona, Charles Cilliers and Ndumiso Ngcobo (these two should be absolutely read together. The former’s For Whites Only and the latter’s Some of my Best Friends are Whites are a must for any rally package), Kgebetli Moetli, Bridgette MacNulty, Kopano Matlwa, Mary Watson, Achmat Dangor, Fred Khumalo, Zapiro (for all political parties with an ability to laugh at themselves which should really mean all of you) Ceridwen Dovey, Sihle Khumalo, Bongani Madondo, Henrietta Rose-Innes and of course, Zukiswa Wanner.

NB to Political Parties
*An alternative to the 50 percent of one author could be five percent of each of the above ensuring endorsement from more voices.
*J.M Coetzee does not count on the above list (he is a powerful and well-known writer but he doesn’t stay here).

NB to South African writers
*If your name does not feature above you probably have not written in English, I have not read your book, or you have not found it worthwhile to bribe me. Please put a comment after this and let the world know your name, the title of your book, and where it can be bought.
* If on the other hand you have been (or are) a poet laureate or your name is Dennis Brutus, James Matthews, Andre Brink, Nadine Gordimer, Mafika Gwala, Christopher Hope or Antjie Krog, or anyone born before the 60s, I just assumed all political parties know you right there with the flag and …well okay, may be not all words in the national anthem.
* I have deliberately left out political biographers, for the simple reason that political parties have probably bought your book if they think it will give them ammunition against the opposition or help them defend their candidate.