A special kind of hell

A special kind of hell

A young man dies and goes to hell. At the gate a guard tells him he can choose from several kinds of hell. And so he runs to a Germany hell where there is a small queue. The chief there tells him how things work.
“Here we give you 100 lashes, nail you to a wall for two days, make you eat 10kg of papa in an hour and force you to drink four gallons of beer in five minutes,” the chief says.

The young man is terrified and turns back. He tries the American and British hells but it’s the same story of nails, lashes, mountains of papa and beer.
But just as he is about to give up he arrives at a Lesotho hell where there is a long queue of excited people.
“Why are there many people here?” he asks an old man at the back of the queue.

The old man takes him aside and whispers.
“Here they give you 100 lashes, nail you for a wall for two days, make you eat 10kg of papa in an hour and force you to drink four gallons of beer in five minutes,” says the old man.
“So why are there so many people when the conditions are as terrible as those at the other hells?” he asks.

“Well, the government here owes the company that supplies the nails so there is no much nailing happening. They have just paid a new supplier but not a single nail has been delivered in five years. They do have the whips but the person hired to do the beating once worked at the Covid 19 Command Centre so he is too lazy to beat anyone.”

“And even when he does beat he is so fat that he can barely swing two lashes. He has been sleeping for several days now,” the old man says.
“How about this bit about papa?” the boy asks.
“Mmmmm, they cannot afford that. All the food was swallowed at the Command Centre. A small plate is all they can manage now”.
“And where are the leaders of this hell?”

“Ah, we don’t have leaders here. They are in their own special hell somewhere very far from here. They are being punished for their incompetence and looting during the Covid 19 crisis of 2020.”
The young man is about to ask about the beer part of the punishment but the old man interjects.

“Don’t even ask me about that one because it hurts me dearly. They say some guy who was a police minister in Lesotho intercepted our supply and drank it all.”

“Please don’t ask me about the president of this hell because he was captured by some Chinese thugs on his way here. Rumour has it that he is there with his excitable wife who used to be a motor-mouth wife but has since been silent for years because he cannot speak Mandarin.”
The young man sighs and joins the queue.

Muckraker doesn’t believe in a hell of fire but hopes you get the drift.
Our hell is here and now in this country that is the nasty ulcer in South Africa’s belly.
If at all there is hell somewhere then it should be reserved for our politicians who have turned on their people and are working overtime to make their lives miserable.

The sin of sins is locking up people in their houses, refusing to feed them, unleashing soldiers on them and eating their food.
Our politicians have done all that and much more to us.
Forget the “thou shall not judge” cliché. These are facts.
There are consequences to every action. Karma is a bitch. As Muckraker writes this, some of the rascals are about to pay for their sins.
In a few weeks they will be jobless, common Basotho men and women like us.

If this lockdown continues they too will be locked in their houses, with no excuse to sneak to the Command Centre for free food.
Muckraker hopes Dr Moeketsi Majoro fires every minister when he replaces Uncle Tom.

First to get the thundering boot should be the bootlicking nurses around Uncle Tom.
Kick them everywhere, including their blabbing mouths and behinds.
Majoro should close the Command Centre and demand an audit.
After all, those at the Command Centre of Feasting have already admitted to be playing all along. That much is clear from the report at the command centre.

“The NECC is frustrated in executing its mandate because it does not have the decision-making powers in especially to direct resources (personnel, health materials and financial resources,” said the report.
Remember the report was written by a group of people who have been eating M620 worth of meals per day for the past two months.
Bearded men and breasted women have been reporting for duty but were not aware that they are just a secretariat pushing papers and stuffing their mouths with food.

It is clear that they have vented their frustrations on free food.
It is only now that they are realising that food can also be a punishment. Too much of everything is not good.
This granary is not going to be empty anytime soon.
And by now the quality of the food must have deteriorated. The amounts remain the same but the caterers have discovered that they are feeding a bunch of ungrateful people.

Much of the food is leaving the centre in takeaway packs anyway. Why make it scrumptious when the point is to load rotund tummies?
Junk or tosh, the gourmands at the centre will eat and the caterers will still get paid.

It was only a matter of time before someone at the centre starts worrying about how this shindig would damage their reputation.
Some people there are now admitting that they have been doing nothing apart from eating.

The confessions are coming thick and fast.
That much is clear in the Command Centre’s report that says “The National Response to Covid-19 continues to be uncoordinated. The focus and authority of government is needed”.
So there you have it: the Command Centre has neither focus nor authority.
Makes you wonder why it took them two months to discover this obvious fact.

Phew! Perhaps their brains were overwhelmed by the copious amounts of food they consume.
Its quiz time again.
What do you call someone who pretends to be working at the Command Centre but spends hours eating and gossiping?

A Covidevil. Let’s use it in sentences.
“My cousin has been hired as a Covidevil at the Command Centre.”
“If you keep eating like that you will soon be as fat as a Covidevil.”
“My nyatsi has won a tender to feed Covidevils”.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

muckraker.post@gmail.com

Previous Dealing with ‘it’
Next Disband National Emergency Command Centre

Warning: count(): Parameter must be an array or an object that implements Countable in /home/thepostc/public_html/wp-content/themes/trendyblog-theme/includes/single/post-tags-categories.php on line 7

About author

You might also like

Muckracker

Who cut the pubic hair?

AT a recent science symposium a biological scientist says to his colleague: “Did you know that instead of rats we now use lawyers in our experiments?” “Is that so? Why

Muckracker

When spin doctors keep spinning

FORGET the brouhaha over a salary review for teachers, soldiers, cops and spies. The people who deserve a salary increase are the dozens of spin doctors with the unenviable task

News

Let’s spank the judges

JUSTICE Thamsanqa Nomncongo must sit on his cozy chair in his aerated chambers and read this very slowly because Muckraker will never say this again. Henceforth, it will be combat.