Mr President, do you sometimes get the weird feeling that you’re not the right guy to be our President? I do. In fact, quite a lot lately. While I was chewing the fat with a friend who works in the intelligence sector, he let it slip that senior spies believe you’re all talk and no trousers. The general feeling is that “we” backed the wrong horse for the hot seat of Chief Induna of the Union Buildings.
In short, “saThuma umuntu owrong”. This may be harsh but work with me as I point out the anomalies in your lockdown manual. I guess I feel melancholy after being starved of alcohol and cigarettes for so long. Alcohol withdrawal syndrome is driving me up the wall. My wires are still crossed as to what prohibiting the sale of alcohol has to do with flattening the Covid-19 curve.
Put differently, what did alcohol consumption ever do to Bheki “Gangster Hat” Cele? There’s a fat chance that he comes from a family of alcoholics. Someone must whisper in his ear that having state power isn’t an opportunity to wash one’s family’s dirty linen in public. Can someone explain to me why 70% alcohol-based sanitisers keep Covid-19 at bay, but a mere 12% alcoholic beverage like wine from Anton Rupert’s wine farm isn’t allowed during the lockdown?
Mr President, cut the frills like you would when explaining to Ace Magashule how the modern economy works. Isn’t all alcohol considered good for us in moderation and crucial for big pharma? Look, I believe wholeheartedly in mainstream science. I am convinced we must wash our hands for 20 seconds regularly with at least 70% alcohol-based sanitisers. We must buy our food from shops like Pick n Pay (not some no-name stores) and prepare our meals at home.
To follow one’s nose, we must wash down our home-cooked meals with wine from the Fredericksburg farm under the Rupert & Rothschild label. Did I miss something? Maybe not.
It is all Greek to me why we can’t enjoy our amber liquids in the comfort of our homes while battling Covid-19.
I am still reeling from embarrassment on your behalf, Mr President, in that you stood before the country and announced phoney “donations” of R1 billion each from the Stellenbosch Mafia (Rupert and Oppenheimers). Speaking of Greek, why did your brother-in-law Patrice Motsepe embarrass you in front of the nation? It took Motsepe a week to come to the billionaires’ party with a legitimate donation. My horse sense tells me that the Solidarity Fund has fewer donors than your CR17 campaign. Perhaps uBaba (Jacob Zuma) was right about you need six months of internships before assuming the Presidency. Apparently, he is laughing all the way to Dubai, saying you’re so inept in all matters presidential that you had to shut down the whole country.
I seem to have lost the thread of the meaning of essential services. Why on Earth was the debit-order lady at the bank considered an essential service, yet mamas selling tomatoes on the side of the road and at their homes were initially not allowed to trade? It is still a cock-and-bull story as to why Western pharmacies are considered essential services, but traditional healers and muthi traders remain closed for business. The World Health Organisation estimates that traditional medicine is the first source of health care for about 80% of the population in SA. So iziNyanga neZangoma cannot practice while “miracle” pastors like Alph Lukau of the hoax resurrection video and “Prophet” Shepherd Bushiri, who “walks on-air”, continue prancing around in virtual sermons.
But I do take my hat off to you for cancelling the Easter church services. I am in awe of your weak courage, Mr President, to keep SA in apple-pie order without any shebeens and cigarettes for 21 days. You are the only leader in SA to have achieved this feat. But there’s a silver lining, you’ll be the President with the lowest Easter weekend road death toll since 1994. Till next week, my man. “Send me.”
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