I WAS rather hoping to write about something else this morning. Like the six boats that were doled out to fishing co-operatives here in the deep south by the Department of Trade and Industries earlier this week.

Any other time, this would have been on the Mahogany Ridge agenda, and there would've been some discussion as to how this R1.6-million gift would level the small-scale fishing playing fields and the seas would now be flat enough for equal opportunity poaching. 

There would no doubt have also been observations to the effect that, with regard to the trawling of voters, it was a great pity that election years did not come around more often, like every three months or so. 

Naturally, the fact that Rob Davies, the trade and industries minister, bravely elected to dress as a fisherman for the handover would also have drawn some comment, although some of us believe that is how he normally appears in public; should the occasion warrant a garment that flaps in the wind - brave, baggy-seated trousers, for example, or a large-collared shirt that wants to be a dashiki - then the doughty Davies has wardrobes full of the stuff.

But no, this awful business in the Central African Republic has cast a pall over matters, and we must now give it our full attention. Here is what we know:

In addition to South Africa, the governments of Chad, Gabon, Cameroon, Angola, the Republic of Congo and France had sent troops to the CAR to shore up the government of president Francois Bozizé. That government has now fallen to the rebel Seleka forces, led by a former ally of the president, Michel Djotodia, and Bozizé has fled the country.

The current fighting started on January 23 after a ceasefire between rebels and the government unravelled. Since then, the Seleka advance on the capital, Bangui, has met little in the way of resistance from government troops. Rebel casualties have been slight.

Of all the foreign troops in the country, including the French who control the airport at Bangui, it was only the South Africans who were directly attacked by the rebels. The reason for this is that, in the CAR, our troops are widely regarded as mercenaries - and only in the country to protect the shady diamond dealing and related concerns of dodgy, politically-connected businessmen here and in Bangui.

Thirteen young men are now dead, 27 others are injured - and we look set to escalate our involvement in a hopeless conflict . . . about what? 

The questions are mounting. Why were we there in the first place?  Why should we remain there, particularly now that the government that invited us there on a "training" mission no longer exists? If, as Defence Minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula has said, our soldiers who died had "fought protecting South African interests and were not protecting any business", then what exactly are these interests?

The responses from government and the ruling party to this catastrophe have been profoundly embarrassing. From the outset, President Jacob Zuma and others wanted attention focused on the heroism and valour of those that died - and little else. 

And so, in their uncontested, jingoist version of events, a force of about 200 SANDF soldiers held fast against about 3 000 well-armed "bandits", as Zuma called them, in a firefight that lasted more than nine hours. 

Little wonder, then, that The Star could hardly contain itself told its readers, "The last time there were similar odds against a far smaller force was probably 134 years ago when 150 British soldiers held off 3 000 Zulu warriors at Rorkes Drift ... over a 14 hour period."

On Thursday, when the remains of the soldiers were handed over to their families at Waterkloof Air Force Base in Pretoria, Mapisa-Nqakula told them the men were heroes who had been determined to fight until the last bullet. 

Sadly, they may have had little option in that regard - it's been claimed by their trade union that our troops in the CAR were so unsupported they had to bum medical supplies and ammunition from French troops.

But it was Mapisa-Nqakula's deputy, Thabang Makwetla, who put in the more farcical performance when he visited the wounded at 1 Military Hospital. He uttered the usual platitudes about the fighting spirit of the SANDF for the benefit of the media before telling two NCOs: "You will be called a scarred soldier. You live with the experience. Some died with the first bullet. Not many of us go through that experience."

How insulting is that? I cannot think of anything I've heard or read all year that is more fatuous and stupid.  

This article first appeared in the Weekend Argus.

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