DOCUMENTS

Nomvula Mokonyane's rearguard offensive

Andrew Donaldson writes that President Zuma's defenders have one default setting: snarling hyena

SINCE they've been brought to our attention with such emphasis, I suppose we must comment on the ruling party's backsides. 

It was, you'll recall, Water and Sanitation Minister Nomvula Mokonyane who did so last weekend at the launch of a reticulation plant in Mpumalanga, when she promised that ANC members would use their booties to rally around a beleaguered President Jacob Zuma. 

Or, as she put it, "The attack is not on Zuma, it is on the ANC. Re tlo thiba ka dibano [We will defend with our buttocks.]"

A number of commentators have since pointed out that Mokonyane was using a Sotho idiom in her address. No less an authority than Dr Rehabile Possa, of the School of Languages and Literatures at the University of Cape Town, was press-ganged into service to inform readers of The Star that the minister's comments were not to be taken literally.  "This means: ‘We shall fight with everything. We will never give up.' It's not just a fight that people fight under normal circumstances, it's a very serious fight," she said. 

So, nerves duly settled, etc. And here at the Mahogany Ridge we were grateful for the explanation because, shame, some of us really did believe that - forgive me - a massive rearguard action was in the offing. 

There was an admittedly colourful discussion about the logistics and mechanics involved in such a deployment - the ars of it all, as the Latin scholars would say - before the regulars agreed that perhaps some of the more redoubtable ANC members could just sit on the President's detractors to shut them up. (No need for fat-shaming here; they know who they are.)

The truth of the matter, though, is that, given the nature of their utterances, particularly in recent weeks, it could well be argued that Zuma's allies have been leading with their buttocks for some time now. 

Democratic Alliance Chief Whip John Steenhuisen suggested as much when, during the grubby National Assembly debate on the opposition's motion of no confidence in Obergruppensprecher Baleka Mbete, he told Mokanyane, "Well, we've heard about your buttocks. You're obviously very adept at turning the other cheek."

As an aside, it should be noted that this, too, was idiomatic language. It's from the Sermon on the Mount, and refers to the Christian teaching that, rather than opting for that vengeful Old Testament "eye for an eye" approach, it's best to go Buddhist and respond to aggressors without violence. 

Steenhuisen had also laid on the irony somewhat with his comment because, as ene fule kno (a literary reference; see Just William and other children's novels by Richmal Compton), when it comes to responding to criticism of the President, Mokonyane and others of her ilk have only the one default setting: snarly hyena.

But, speaking of speaking from the bottom, Deputy Defence Minister Kebby "Deserter" Maphatsoe was certainly full of it when he told the Sunday Times last weekend of his heroic years as a kitchen toto in Umkhonto weSizwe's Moscow camp in Angola.

Here was turd-polishing above and beyond the telling of it. According to Maphatsoe, serving as a cook - as opposed to a front-line combatant - meant that he was one of the most trusted MK soldiers. "To work in the kitchen you must have been security cleared," he said. "You don't just take a person because they are dealing with sensitive things. If the enemy wants to deal with us they would use the kitchen and give poison. Remember, even when OR Tambo came to the camp, it was us who cooked. So, it's not an easy, light thing."

Tambo, it must be said, did not visit the camp very often. Maphatsoe's menu may or may not have played a decisive role in the late ANC president's further travel arrangements but it was certainly a very long haul from La Gavroche in London's Upper Brook St back to the chef's table and battered bushmeat surprise in Angola.

Sobering news, meanwhile, from my ancestral homeland. It appears that that a near-terminal case of Stockholm syndrome has resulted in something of a setback for the Scottish independence movement. Three centuries of patronising condescension and snide bullying can do that to people.

But no matter. When it emerged, just ten days before Thursday's referendum, that the Yes campaign was leading the polls, Whitehall had a dribbling panic spasm and promised Scotland a raft of added devolutionary powers and tax benefits should they vote to remain in the union. David Cameron now gets to backtrack on those promises, and the Scots get to hate the Tories with even more passion. 

Everybody's a winner.

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.

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