Political prostitutes

Political prostitutes

SOME things are just obvious. Former Prime Minister Pakalitha Mosisili is an expired political product that can neither be re-launched nor rebranded. Semano Sekatle is a political sell-out who has no shame in wallowing in his flip-flopping pranks.

The Lesotho Mounted Police Service is a rag-tag of thugs in uniform. If you deny these three facts then you either have the short-term memory of a baboon. Let’s start with Size Two.
His politics is as old fashioned as a georgette skirt.

It’s sad that he doesn’t seem to understand that he is a political goner. Instead of hiding somewhere under some Qacha’s Nek rock he still wants to hog the limelight by masquerading as a mover and shaker. There was a time when he was a political crocodile for sure.
Then he could arouse congress zealots and scare opponents. As a statesman Size Two never grew to be a political giant but he was not a midget either.
A man of no stunning talents apart from stringing together some Sesotho idioms and stinging opponents with vulgar barbs, Mosisili is fortunate to have led this country for nearly 15 years. Now he is a political lizard.

Instead of trying to shout his way back to political relevance he should spend his last years pinching himself and loudly wondering how such an average soul like him became a prime minister.
Either that or he should be telling folktales to his grandchildren. His camels miss him terribly anyway.

But you cannot whisper such wisdom to Size Two for he has no life outside politics. He has no hobby apart from waffling at political rallies.
Little wonder he is still perambulating the streets, a megaphone in hand and handful bigots in tow. The other day he was announcing his exit from politics with vim.
Adios, he said in a letter to his party’s mediocre executive committee. Not many grieved because the idea that he was still politically relevant resided nowhere else apart from his head.
A few days ago he was telling his ever dwindling pond of followers that he wanted to leave politics in 2012. Why that revelation matters now, only he can tell.
The point, though, is that he didn’t leave. Therefore, there is no point telling us that he was persuaded to stick around.

It’s not as if he has much to show for the two decades he was in power. His brief return in 2015 ended in disaster. It was as if he had returned to show the people that they were correct when they said he was a hopelessly incompetent leader.

Like he wanted a second bite of the cherry so that anyone who gave him the benefit of the doubt is put to shame. Even after a three-year leave he came back and bungled even the most mundane assignments while shoving the country down a precipice.
Those who never doubted his ineptness merely sighed and said: oa mo bona motho oa hao!

And those who had any lingering doubts about his mediocrity said: He! Ke utloile ke Mosisili.
Any question about Mosisili’s ability to bodge things has been put to rest after a two decade long test. Yet here we are, getting our ears assaulted by the same man.
Muckraker is now telling the old man to just zip it or risk losing the morsels of goodwill he still enjoys amongst his last few supporters. There is something disgusting about people who don’t know when to say goodbye.

Anyone who has interacted with Sekatle knows that he has a taste for the finer things of life.
His main problem is that he does not have the means to afford those things.
That is to be expected for a man who was pampered by the state for years.

As ministers, husband and wife were chauffer driven. They had state security and access to about six government cars as a family.
Their proximity to Mosisili guaranteed that they could be ministers for as long as he was in power.
Their homeboy would never let them live modest lives when he had the power to pummel them with goodies from the government. Those days are gone and the husband has been inconsolable.
Suddenly he was living on an MP’s salary and had no access to the treats that government once provided.
You would think that will be a motivation for the man to venture into business and earn enough to afford his own bodyguards, drivers and luxurious cars. But that is not how Lesotho’s career politicians think. When the chips are down they simply commit political adultery.

Sekatle simply eloped to the ABC. His only justification for that fornication was that Uncle Tom had promised him a ministerial position.
Note that he did not say he was pushed out or there was a substantial dispute with his colleague. There is no mention of ideological shift in the party he is leaving and the one he is joining.
He didn’t have a Damascene moment.

Sekatle joined the ABC because he missed the things he enjoyed when he was a minister. He just could not go back in lifestyle. Does that make him a horrible person?
No! It confirms that politicians have no shame. Sekatle’s decision proves that politicians live for themselves. You cannot blame a pig for dabbling in filth.
Until recently Muckraker believed that like diapers politicians need to be changed frequently. It is with a sad heart that she announces that she was horribly wrong. Politicians are the very scum that make it necessary to change the diapers.

Contrary to popular belief, the problem with our police is not lack of education but lack of manners. Many people have never seen the door to a classroom but are professional and good human beings.

So we should stop blaming the lack of education for the police brutality. Remember lack of education does not make you violent or dull.
There is no connection between literacy and intelligence. Nor is there any link between manners and education. There are lots of uncouth characters who have been to school. The problem with our police is lack of manners. Not that those who sired them did a bad job. Far from it.
Most officers were decent human beings until they started their training.

The first instruction at the Police Training College was for each trainee to take off their brains and drop them into a large bin outside. There was also another bin in which to deposit good manners. And so for the next six months they were immersed in the thuggish doctrine that anchors police operations.
Lesson one: “Beat and think later. Thinking is for weak people. Violence gets you far in the police force. A sjambok is your best friend. Your ears are not meant to listen to people but the sound of your sjambok landing on their skin. Never be bothered by manners.”
Lesson two: always remember lesson one.

They carry those lessons like a badge of honour throughout their careers.
Butha-Buthe police boss, Senior Superintendent Teboho Khesa, remembered this lesson when asked about the reign of terror police officers unleashed on villagers in Kao.
He said police “took the whole village because, for example, if a sheep has lumpy wool all the sheep in the kraal should be dipped” to cure them.
The analogy here is astounding.

The people are the sheep, the village is the kraal, lumpy wool is crime and dipping is beating. The only problem is that you don’t fight crime by treating it like lumpy wool.
There is no need for the whole village to be rounded up because someone has misbehaved. Collective punishment has always been wrong. You don’t need matric but manners to know this.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!


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