JOHNNY Cash had a hit song about a General Motors plant worker who, after realising that he would never be able to afford one of the Cadillacs that he worked on each day, decided to steal one instead. He and a colleague then smuggled parts out of the factory and stored them at home to be reassembled later. The whole process took about 25 years.

The narrative arc of One Piece at a Time, released in 1976, began in 1949. Over the next quarter century, various redesigns and changes to models were introduced by GM and, by the time it was finished, the homebuilt Caddy was obviously a confused mess; parts didn’t fit properly, there was only one right headlight, but two on the left, only one tail fin, and so on.

Still, it was a fairly unique vehicle, and attracted a lot of attention. When asked where he got it, the plant worker replied, “You might say I went right up to the factory and picked it up. It’s cheaper that way.”

Here at the Mahogany Ridge we were reminded of all this by Defence Minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula who this week alerted the National Council of Provinces of the mysterious theft of South African Air Force aircraft. This in response to a question as to why SAAF pilots were training in Cuba and Russia.

“We have a problem,” Mapisa Nqakula reportedly said. “Sometimes these young people train and they run short of flying hours before they can get their wings. We can’t give them those flying hours because there are no aircraft.”

It did rather beg the question: what use were wings, then, when there were no aircraft? But where were they anyway? You must remember that in addition to those SAAB Gripen fighters, which may or may not be gathering dust in storage somewhere, the SAAF bought a further five dozen Pilatus trainer aircraft in that celebrated arms deal.

“I tell you,” Mapisa-Nqakula continued, “that some of the aircraft were taken by some of the people who left the air force and they belong to them in their museum. (sic)

“Actually, it started ages ago, and some of the people stole some of the assets of the people and left with them. So when you talk about shortages it has to do with the fact some of the assets were stolen.”

The minister was not alone in this absurd flight of fancy. The Economic Freedom Fighters, it seemed, were quite prepared to support the government should they decide to go out and find the missing aircraft.

“We must bring our stolen stuff back,” EFF NCOP member Leigh-Ann Mathys said. “If people stole our equipment we must go and get it back. Just like our land.”

It was all getting to be a bit like that time, in the 1990s, when Swaziland apparently misplaced its entire merchant navy. Which really wasn’t difficult – the landlocked country only had one vessel, the Swazimar. 

The country’s then transport minister, one Ephraem Magagula, was reportedly not too upset at the disappearance.

“The situation is absolutely under control,” he told parliament. “Our nation’s merchant navy is perfectly safe. We just don’t know where it is, that’s all. We believe it is in a sea somewhere. 

“At one time, we sent a team of men to look for it, but there was a problem with drink and they failed to find it, and so, technically, yes, we’ve lost it a bit. But I categorically reject all suggestions of incompetence on the part of this government.”

Much of that search, it was rumoured, took place in the bars of Amsterdam. Which is where boats and sea-faring types like to hang out until the wee hours.

“The Swazimar,’ Magagula continued, “is a big ship painted in the sort of nice bright colours you can see at night. Mark my words, it will turn up.”

Responding to a taunt from an MP, he added, “The right honourable gentleman opposite is a very naughty man, and he will laugh on the other side of his face when my ship comes in.”

The story was later found to be a hoax, one of the internet’s early “fake news” jokes.

The fact that South African authorities were seemingly prepared to raid museums in their quest to recover missing military hardware would seem the premise of another hoax – but, alas, it’s not. 

It happened in January 2005, when three three people were arrested at the SA National Military History Museum in Saxonwold, Johannesburg, and bizarrely charged with being in possession of an exhibit, a Ratel armoured vehicle. 

Five gets you ten that’s where they find the SAAF’s missing Sopwith Camel.

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.