Metsing’s lullabies

Metsing’s lullabies

WHAT will it take for Metsing to come back home? Everything! Everything! Everything!
Try saying that in Metsing’s mellow voice.
The naïve in our midst have been hoodwinked to think this is about his security concerns and the reforms. The word ‘dunderhead’ was not concocted for nothing. What we have is an eternal political ping-pong. It should not end because such drivel is the fodder on which our politicians masticate with gusto.
Crisis is their Dragon (the sugary drink and not the tale).

The opposition is eager to sustain the fiction that there is chaos in Lesotho. The government, already losing a propaganda war despite hiring some garrulous fellow, has been caught snoozing.
It has played into the opposition’s ruse from which it might not untangle itself.
The web of deceit is made of steel.

Even the stray dogs in Motimposo are aware that there is an elaborate game of chess being played and the government is losing it.
Uncle Tom and his people are playing catch up for they have allowed the opposition to sustain the charade that the reforms will be stalled if Metsing doesn’t participate.

How the masters can be so daft to believe clowns in their court, we will never decipher.
All indications are that the opposition will eventually participate in the reforms, with or without Metsing.
Their leaders were in the first meeting and their representatives will be chowing sandwiches at planning committees.
They have already given the veneer of legitimacy the government craves for the reforms.
Of course there will be occasional skirmishes in the sessions but the point is that the reforms process has started. And they should proceed without Metsing because he is not the Alpha and Omega of this country.

He was not even a remote idea when this country was founded.
He is a politician whose fortunes have been tumbling like water into the Maletsunyane gorge. Nyoe, nyoe, nyoe he is the leader of an opposition party.
Holy dung!

Let’s not smear the pig with lipstick so we can justify kissing it. If we want to kiss a swine we must just go ahead without trying to beautify it.
Metsing’s LCD is a party that has long stopped declining. It is at the rock bottom from which it cannot climb out. It is a tiny party masquerading as a mover and shaker.
Granted, it was a crocodile in years gone by. Now it is a mere lizard begging for the honour of a crocodile.
Politics is an unforgiving enterprise. Your death can be very slow but it remains a death anyway.
To resurrect you need more than just political songs and propaganda.

It will be a miracle if LCD supporters can fill a rickety scotch cart.
We should therefore never pretend that the absence of a leader of such a trifling party could rob the reforms of integrity. The talks don’t hinge on Metsing’s availability.
And even if his voice was so important there is no way his insistence on being on voicemail would sabotage the reforms.
And it’s not as if he really needs to be present to make a contribution. He can write a detailed proposal that can be delivered to the committees working on the reforms.
There are many zealots who can swim across Mohokare River to deliver the document to Lesotho. He can also write an email or a Whatsapp. Or he can announce that his views can be found on his Facebook page.

The point here is that it is pointless to pretend that his presence really matters.

Muckraker is not unjustifiably railing Metsing.
He is a good fellow whose crime is to have misjudged his political acumen and prowess.
His noises are a cry for political relevance. Let’s face it: what other bargaining chip does he have apart from his participation in the reforms?
What will he yelp about when the reforms are done and dusted? What bag of grievances would he lug to SADC when the reforms are completed?
The reforms are his only means to wring some concessions from Uncle Tom.
His cows on the morabaraba board have been decimated.

His opposition comrades know it and so does he.
That is why only slow minds would expect Metsing to come back. He says he has a long list of things he wants fulfilled before he sets foot on Lesotho soil. But we all know that list will keep growing for as long as he senses that the government is bulking to pressure.

If the government says it will bring back Mojakhomo, as he has demanded, Metsing will say he wants a second wife. If that wife is delivered he will demand a virgin.
When that virgin is presented he will say he wants her to dance like Zodwa.
And when she dances he will say: “You see, I told you this was no virgin. No real virgin is capable of such raunchy dances.”
“Now bring me a pregnant virgin.”

Metsing will continue to shift goalposts to frustrate the reform process because it is that process that keeps the ambers of his political significance glowing. Like a Qaqatu girl being courted, Metsing will play hard to get for as long as possible. He will demand a handkerchief with five corners.
He will tell the government to bring him lion milk. He will demand that mountains be moved.

Yet we must not think that his mission is for the government to meet those demands so he can participate in the reforms. The idea is to buy time and drag this until the next election while praying that this government eventually crumbles like his.
History says this is not a lousy strategy at all.

You would think this tactic is as apparent as a goat’s behind. Not in the eyes of this government. It is incapable of seeing a train until it is under it.
Look how they have handled the wool and mohair fiasco. Watch as they bungle in the dispute with teachers. Notice how they fumbled on minimum wage.
Look how they slept on the job for months until they discovered that the coffers were dry and then tried to blame the previous regime for the mess.
They might be right to point fingers at the previous government but their timing gives the impression of a bunch of politicians desperate to disperse blame.
They thought they were doing well until people started asking why it took them so long to discover that the vaults were empty.
To those questions they sheepishly smiled and shrugged their shoulders.

“Our bad,” they said. Those they accused of being litsotsi were having a shindig at the government’s expense. All the thieves of money had to do was to poke a few holes into the government’s story.
There was money when we left government, they said. The government must say what they have done with the billions we left in the state coffers, they said while picking their noses.
Those, of course, were blue lies because we all know that just because money is in the vaults does not mean that it is not committed on something.
The previous government could have simply left millions of debts unsettled and claimed that there was money.

This government did not have an answer to the opposition’s allegations because it is incapable of coming up with a lucid position on many things.
Now Metsing is throwing boulders from across the border as if he is the victim.

Meanwhile the government keeps mollycoddling him as if he is a mokhoenyana demanding back cows they have since swallowed.
Muckraker is not in the business of proffering unsolicited advice to government officials but today she will make an exception.
Point him to the direction of Thabana-Ntlenyana and give him the military band to play him his favourite lullabies as he hikes the slope.
Once at the summit tell him to whistle into the wind and see if anyone gives a hoot about him.
When he is done get close to his ear and ask: Do you need a rope, my man from Mahobong?

Previous Keeping it simple
Next NUL tries new funding model for postgraduates

About author

You might also like


The stinking little story

THE season of tomfoolery is upon us. Its high jinks all the way. We can hardly spend a day without being told of some nonentity forming a political party. As


Festival of silliness at Trade

MUCKRAKER is inconsolable. Once again some spirit has intervened to deny the numbingly bored people of this country a street fight. Last Wednesday was supposed to be the day when


Muckraker: Let the MPs fight

MUCKRAKER, a rural girl to the core, has always liked real fights that are unregulated by rules and unrestrained by the pretentious dictates of decency. There is always something fascinating