SO there we were, we happy many, just three days ago, waiting excitedly for Number One to present his annual State of the Nation Address (Sona).
Were we dying to hear Jacob Zuma's plans for keeping the lights on? Without electricity it's difficult to watch soccer. This is a basic fact that Eishkom does not seem to comprehend.
Gedleyihlekisa surely understands. He used to play a fine game of soccer. This was on Robben Island in the good old bad days, when men were men and there were no cheeky boys in berets behaving badly. If there were any, you took them into the corner of the prison cell and explained the facts of life without any "democracy" nonsense.
Or were we Mzansi-ites waiting to hear Number One's ideas for creating jobs? Some boring people think it would be a good thing if we worked instead of sitting around all day drinking a few cold ones. Or was it the great fashion parade we were waiting for? Dali Tambo looking like a plump canary with a little moustache? Zwelivelile Mandla Mandela doing his Michael Jackson imitation?
No, no. Unlike politicians, lawyers, capitalists and managers, let us be honest.
If you have heard just one of Number One's shambling annual speeches of promises, guffaws, ANC-speak, and not much detail, you have heard them all. Or you have slept through them all.
What we, we happy band of brothers and sisters living in Mzansi, wanted to see was whether the cheeky boys and gals in red berets, Juju Malema and the Economic Freedom Fighters, would have the cheek to mess with Number One on his big day.
We were at fever pitch. We had been primed and stoked for weeks by the evil media. They had been fiddling with us, getting us more excited than if Khanyi Mbau were taking off her clothes slowly.
Picture the scene. The nation is waiting and watching, praying fervently that Eishkom won't plunge us into darkness at the crucial moment. The Speaker of the National Assembly, Baleka Mbete, wearing a remarkable head covering, has prepared answers ready for rebuffing Malema and his point-of-order brigade. So what happens?
Eish, in a true display of ANC genius, some master tactician decides to jam all electronic communication signals. We can imagine what this subtle thinker thought to himself: "Ehê, we know what to do. We learnt our stuff at the Vladimir Putin School of Communications. We'll stop these bloody journalists and opposition MPS from making calls and tweeting and telling the world what we're doing."
In one swift move, this creative genius doomed Zuma's night - and Sona - turning it into disaster from the start. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth. Talk about sticking your signal scrambler straight up the ANC's wazoo.
THE big question is: Who was the superior thinker who had the scrambler activated? I have read that Deputy President Cyril Ramaphosa - in another version it was Minister in the Presidency Jeffrey Thamsanqa Radebe - hastily handed a note to David Mahlobo, state security minister. After this, the cellphone signal was restored. Lady Democracy could pull her panty back up.
Mahlobo follows a line of other master tacticians such as Ronnie Kasrils and Siyabonga Cwele. And Mahlobo gives every indication that he will outshine even those two.
Another big question is: With whom did Mahlobo liaise? He would never have organised the jamming on his own. Who were his link people in the president's office and Parliament? Jeff Radebe? Thandi "Schweinsteiger" Modise?
The Potatoes' Best Performer of the Evening Award goes to Godrich Gardee of the EFF who explained patiently to Number One that he could pay back the money by "EFT, cash, or" - and he paused dramatically for effect - "by e-wallet."
) Tell Mr Potatoes what you think: [email protected]
This article first appeared in the Sunday Sun
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