THE upside with this Gupta business at the Waterkloof Air Force Base is that we find we're all pretty much on the same side here; there hasn't been a display of such national unity since maybe Siphiwe Tshabalala's opening goal in the first game of the 2010 World Cup. A rare moment - so much so that even the Mahogany Ridge's normally unflappable classics department was moved to issue a brief statement: "Iunctus in improbus."

Yes, united in outrage, the condemnation has come from all corners of civil society. The trade unions, the African National Congress, the Democratic Alliance, the Communists, the far right, the Boy Scouts, the cake sales ladies at the church, the abalone poachers around the corner here . . . all pretty much annoyed at what they regard as wholesale misuse of state property and personnel for a family wedding party at Sun City.

The national task team of the ANC Youth League were so upset they labelled the affair an "invasion of our country" by guests of President Jacob Zuma's friends, and they wanted answers from the government on how it came to pass that "national security was breached in such a callous manner".

Which is all well and good, and we commend them for their indignation, but it should be borne in mind that it is perhaps technically impossible to "invade" a territory that is already yours, and this really is the issue here - the Guptas appear to own most of the country.

I lived in Johannesburg shortly before it was swallowed up by the Guptastan expansion programme and I remember the uproar from citizens when the Guptas wanted to buy up a huge chunk of the land around Zoo Lake, a public park, to build a private heliport to service the family compound in the neighbouring suburb of Forest Hills.

Thankfully nothing came of that scheme. Zoo Lake is a great asset to Jozi, a place of calm and tranquility in a bustling city. Helicopter traffic would definitely have ruined it for those who picnic there on the weekends. 

But I can't help feeling that, had the Guptas cracked the nod with the heliport, then we wouldn't have had this fuss with Waterkloof. Think also of the advantages of the area over the drab utilitarianism of a military base. The lawns would have been ideal for wedding guests to stretch their legs after all the hours of flying and, should they feel so inclined, gentlemen in the party could have made their way over to the lavatories on  the eastern side of the public swimming pool for the novel methods of stress relief on offer there. 

Had they landed in the early morning, guests may have also encountered kitchen staff from one of the Chinese restaurants in Cyrildene splashing about in the reeds as they tried to catch a duck or two for the a la carte menu.

But instead of all that, we now have this bloody mess on our hands. What particularly annoyed some critics was not so much that the Gupta party landed at Waterkloof, but the "royal" treatment they got once they were on the ground. Officers from various elite police units were deployed to escort the party to Sun City in a blue light convoy.

South Africans aren't all that dof. We know royalty. Charlene Wittstock is a royal. So is Charlize Theron. Maybe even King Goodwill Zwelethini. At a push. But a "friends of Zuma" wedding party? No way. 

In this regard, Collins Chabane, the minister in the Presidency, gave the affair one of its more endearing soundbites when he announced that high-level investigations were underway to determine whether diplomatic privilege had been abused: "I'm not aware of the reason why the escort was provided . . . escorts are provided for soccer teams." So there.

Meanwhile, according to the pointedly obtuse Atul Gupta, the family simply cannot understand what the fuss is all about. After all, as he told the SABC, his chartered Airbus did have permission to land at Waterkloof on Tuesday. "No airplane in the world can land without permission," was how he put it, neglecting - obviously - to detail the strings pulled and knobs polished in getting said permission.

More defensively, he did point out what a bunch of ingrates we all were for not appreciating all the fabulous wealth and investment the family had brought into the country. "There is so much you can see . . . hundreds of people are getting jobs," he said. "There is a boost to the tourism."

Steady on, old chap. A wedding party of 200 guests? That's hardly a tourism windfall, is it? Even it is a week at Sun City, that great vulgarity around which an apartheid homeland was built.

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.

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