Raffle in the  cabinet

Raffle in the cabinet

SOME pseudo political analysts are sweating buckets to decipher why Mr Softie abruptly reshuffled Cabinet last week.
Never has a battalion of bearded men devoted so much energy on such a futile task.

There is no logic behind the reshuffle. Nor was there any analysis of the competencies of those kicked out or shoved to other ministries. It might have been just the prime minister playing eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the ministers. More like a raffle.

Peddling the ideal of some lucid method behind those dismissals and reassignments is like hawking warm water in the bus stop area. Just mumbo-jumbo conveying zero meaning.

The only sensible explanation for this reshuffle is that Mr Softie was tired of being a boring prime minister and wanted to give us something to chuckle about. Something to cheer up Basotho sick and tired of his depressing lockdown speeches that always sound like repeats of Cyril’s “My fellow South Africans…” monologues.

Given the comical nature of his appointments, he might have succeeded in tickling us. It’s not entirely side-splitting but it will do just fine under these dreary circumstances.
Hooray! Like Mr Bean, Mr Softie has made us laugh without saying a word.

There is something amusing about the thought of sister Rantšo scrambling to clear her desk after Mr Softie said ‘get lost now!’. Imagine the sister dashing for the elevator or down the stairs, clutching her blanket and molamu.

Remember she once stormed an RCL (Retarded Congress of Lesotho) meeting brandishing a stick to bludgeon some traitors she accused of plotting her demise.
Eyewitnesses say Rantšo was waving her molamu while threatening to put the renegades into a coma if they insisted on putting a full-stop to her political career.

The police intervened to stop her from breaking bones but Muckraker suspects she was relieved more than her intended victims. There was no way that stick would have lasted a few seconds in her hand.
Someone must have told her that she has to be agile to use that stick on anyone, including herself.

Reason seems to have prevailed after she realised that once she loses the stick, she will have to do a Usain Bolt out of that hall. Sometimes all it takes to avoid a disaster is the wisdom to accept your limitations. Rantšo knew that running was not one of her strengths. When you have dololo speed you have to keep the peace.

She should, however, not be bitter about her dismissal because it was long overdue. She wasn’t cut for the incessant brawls with trade unions. As such, she should profusely thank Mr Softie for putting her out of her misery.
Rantšo could also have grown weary of pinching herself to confirm if she is indeed a minister in the coalition.

It was a miracle that her RCL had a cabinet position. Rantšo thought it was a gift from the ancestors. Some people opined that it was unfair. Muckraker only saw criminality in the whole affair. Fraud doesn’t come this naked.
The evidence is clear. Her party, if at all it exists in any other form beyond the name, has fewer members than some stokvels or burial societies. Its members barely fill Pitso Ground or one bay at Setsoto Stadium.

The RCL was thus a hobo in the government. There are many vagrants in the coalition government but Keke’s party was their headmaster. The commissioner of the vagabonds in government.
Muckraker suspects that after receiving her marching orders Rantšo could have said: “Finally, someone has come back to their senses. I don’t belong here”.

The sister will now be a backbencher but don’t hold your breath because she will continue sleeping on the job.
Parliament officials are advised to equip her seat with a blanket and a pillow to make her journey to dreamland always memorable.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!


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