THE Reverend Frank Chikane has a plan that, in his words, will “save the soul of the ANC”. It does rather beg the question whether the party still has a soul. Many believe it was last seen in 1999, when it was sold to the Devil in the arms deal. 

Be that as it may, Chikane has nevertheless submitted his document along with presentation material to the party leadership ahead of this weekend’s national general council at Gallagher Estate, outside of Johannesburg.

It is a great pity, though, that Chikane has refused to reveal the details of his plan. He is, he explained, a “disciplined member” of the ANC and would only discuss its contents once he’d met with party leaders. Until then, we can only speculate – as we so often do here at the Mahogany Ridge – about the nuts and bolts of this salvation.

Will it involve washing of the feet? Singing and dancing? Will there be an exorcism? A stoning to drive out demons? Will the chickens be harmed in any way? What will it cost the taxpayer? 

But enough with the mockery already. This document is no doubt important. Chikane has said so himself. He has apparently toiled for nine months on what he has termed “a journey to Luthuli House”. 

He first met with his branch leadership to discuss his concerns about the drift from the straight and narrow, then the Johannesburg and Gauteng leaderships. He consulted ANC veterans. Uncomfortable questions were asked and there came much in the way of beard-scratching and forelock-tugging. 

Sadly, all may have been in vain. It now appears obvious to everyone – except maybe Chikane, of course – that the leadership believes the party doesn’t need saving, thank you very much, and that all is pretty much in top shape in both heart and soul as far as the ANC is concerned.

Shame, but Chikane’s explanation as to why the party was pointedly ignoring him and his redemption blueprint was rather sad. He’d written to the leadership in July, requesting a meeting with them. But, he said, this meeting hadn’t been possible because of their “difficult schedules”. So, last month he sent them his plan.

The document, alas, will not be discussed at the NGC, according to secretary general Gwede Mantashe, who was quite dismissive of “normal” members like Chikane getting ahead of themselves. 

Mantashe told reporters on Thursday, “Close your eyes and imagine . . .  that [if] every member of the ANC just writes a document, it goes to the NGC. There will be chaos. The ANC operates structurally . . . so we are not going to discuss individual views.”

If that is the case, then the party’s quest for Mammon – channelled as it was through President Jacob Zuma at the ANC’s Progressive Business Forum gala dinner on Thursday evening – is clearly a collective one. 

In an address not without hubris, Zuma compared the party’s “winning” policies with the Springboks and warned of the danger of not donating money to the ANC. (There goes the Rugby World Cup.)

“I always say to business people that if you invest in the ANC, you are wise,” he was quoted as saying. “If you don’t invest in the ANC, your business is in danger. The TG [ANC treasurer general] is a nice and a handsome young man. When he knocks, open the doors. If he says we need something he will ask one thing only. If he says support the ANC, just write a blank cheque with the instruction that it should be six digits.

“This organisation does not make profit, but we create a conducive environment to those who make profit. Once you make profit, you know what to do.”

Was he joking? We can’t say, but that bitter laughter? That’s the beggared tourism sector and the soon-to-be-redundant security industry people falling out of their chairs. 

Not to mention the derisive snorts from other interested parties over Hitachi paying a $19-million penalty to the US Securities and Exchange Commission to settle charges of alleged corruption over its $6-million “donation” to Chancellor House to secure Eskom contracts to build power stations.

Still, the faithful pitched up at Gallagher Estate for the dinner. According to one report, guests paid “anything between R100 000 to R1.5-million” to “rub shoulders with number one”. 

As they arrived, they entered a dimly-lit hall to be security-screened. Perhaps the low lighting was a precautionary measure. As Zuma reportedly quipped, people did not want to be seen there. 

It was a telling aside. Who knows what happens in the murk at such times? And besides, many a true word spoken in jest and such.

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.