The cooling of Size Two

The cooling of Size Two

MOSISILI scoffs at his detractors, screamed a headline in a local newspaper this week. And so Muckraker dashed to the nearest shop to pick the rag.  It turned out there was no much scoffing in the story. It was just Size Two firing shots at those predicting his demise in February.  They were not even biting shots, just meek slaps. No insults. No stinging idioms. Nothing!

In his best moments Size Two can sting like a bee. He has a way with his tongue. He can puke bile-laced words that leave his opponents lacerated.  So why has he mellowed so much that journalists are manufacturing his “scoffing”?

Reality has a way of bringing politicians, even the most garrulous, back to Mother Earth with a thud. The politics of today have robbed him of his mojo.
No longer does he walk with a spring in his step. The reality is that some people are throwing Ha re eng Thaba Tseka bags at him. They want him to load his things and vamoose from the State House, pronto.

Some have told him to keep bags by the State House’s majestic door because when the day of his leaving comes there will be no time to pack.  That is good advice for that was never his house. He does not even have a sublease to that house. There was just a verbal agreement that he continues to sleep in that house for as long as his coalition government remains in power.   Now that the bell tolls for him and his comrades there is no point in getting too comfortable.

With hindsight, it’s almost as if Size Two knew his current tenure in the State House will not be iron clad. Little wonder he did not even bring his beloved camels back to Maseru.
Rumour has it that all he had was his briefcase and small school bag when he moved into State House. When you lead a coalition of seven-parties you might as well call yourself a squatter in both the State House and the government.

Your situation is even more precarious when your own party is full of restless people busy counting your days before you say adios.
You know your days in government are numbered when your deputy in the party starts hobnobbing with your political nemeses.
You see, Size Two is aware of the futility of launching missiles at his opponents before he has insulated himself from the impending kick from the opposition.
For months now he has been scrounging around for ways to wriggle out of this self-imposed quagmire.Given the gravity of his situation, it would not be an exaggeration that he has not slept well in recent months. He is probably sleeping with one eye open.

Yet we must never underestimate Size Two’s ability to pull a fast one.  So far he has head-butted Mokola from the Doomed Congress (DC).  He also spanked Mokola’s backers from the party. Now he is the alpha and omega of the party.

Some might call it a pyrrhic victory.  They are probably right.
But the logical question is: What would have become of Size Two if he had lost the Doomed Congress? He would have been a political hobo.

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