The tale of a dead donkey

The tale of a dead donkey

ONCE again, we have pushed the frontiers of mediocrity. Not even the Covid-19 crisis gripping the world could stop Lesotho from stealing the limelight.

We have lived up to our dubious distinction. Others are battling the deadly disease that has claimed thousands of lives and sickened millions while our politicians are getting up to their usual tomfoolery. Monkey business played by adults.

It’s a monumental irony that politicians of one of the poorest nations and the least prepared for the crisis are engaged in such shameless high jinks.
As has become the norm South Africa moved swiftly to separate our brawling rascals masquerading as leaders.

An envoy was dispatched after Uncle Tom allegedly sent soldiers into the streets.
He did so after shrieking about some people using the courts to destabilise his government. It didn’t matter that what remains of the government is a stinking carcass.

The dead are dead no matter how long you delay their burial.
He can bring all the thunder or sunshine but his government remains as dead as a dodo.
He has been hoisted by his own petard. Roasting on a pyre of his own making.
Like a pig, Uncle Tom’s government is frying in its own fat. Boom! Oh Boom. Up-side-down. The Feselady is quacking in her stilettos. The blabbermouth has been humbled.

The nurses at the State House are shivering. Their horse is tired and no amount of flogging will make it gallop. They can describe it as temporarily indisposed or recovering but it’s gone. Only brainless zealots can put their money on this one.

Ask Mapesela who has wisely dismounted. He is a happy man for that.
Kabi tried to give it a mouth-to-mouth but could not stand its stench. Had he persisted any longer he would have been reeking like a skunk.
Only the brave Chihuahua called Phori is still barking from that corner.
The rest are emaciated stray dogs rummaging an empty bin. What shall they do when their master is gone?

Please find Muckraker some buckets to trap their tears.
We will need them as evidence of what happens when you insist on bootlicking a politician way past his prime.

South Africa had to jump because Lesotho is the festering ulcer in its belly.
The rascal child always burning his fingers.
The spoilt brat that demands cheese and ice cream in a famine. We are that one.

The one who has no shame or sense of occasion.
Yeah, the one who always lets out a thundering and stinking fart during a prayer.

The altar boy who gets drunk on altar wine.
The one who winks at the pastor’s wife and gropes choir girls.
Notice that Uncle Tom sent soldiers, not doctors or nurses to test people.
He dispatched guns instead of masks. Armoured cars instead of test kits. His people are crying for food but he gave them fear.

After a day of marathon meetings the envoy released a statement that said the politicians had agreed to stop tossing their toys out of the courts.
In other words they were agreeing to behave themselves. It was as if they have always known that they were being silly but just wanted someone from outside to remind them.

Little wonder the envoy’s statement was bereft of anything new and illuminating.
There is only so much you can say about a problem child. At some point you just have to give up and allow them to misbehave to their demise.

There was however one paragraph that stood out in the jumbled statement.
“The coalition government of the kingdom of Lesotho commits to effecting the implementation process or modalities for the dignified, graceful and secure retirement of the Right Honourable The Prime Minister,” the statement said.

That wasn’t earthshattering but it goes right to what this fight has been about.
This brouhaha has always been about how Uncle Tom goes. He doesn’t want to leave with ghosts waiting for him at the gates. The only problem is that he wants to dictate how many ghosts should be at the door. He is fighting instead of negotiating.

He is screaming when he should speak softly. Barking instructions when begging is the right strategy. He should just raise the white flag, pack his bags and go.
Let’s unpack that nauseating bit that was sneaked into the envoy’s statement. It is clear that he requested that wording.
The idea, of course, is to get some form of assurances that he will not be haunted when he lets go of the levers of power. Forget about his demands for a “dignified” and “graceful” exit because that means nothing in politics.
All that matters is whether his exit is constitutional. The constitution says nothing about those niceties.

So those are just high sounding words being slipped into the statement to stroke Uncle Tom’s ego. In any case, he cannot be pushed out because he has already said he is going in July or earlier.

Our interest should be on the bit about him getting a “secure retirement”.
What that really means is a matter for potent wizards to decipher. It’s appallingly vague.
Muckraker however has her own explanation. This is Uncle Tom’s way of begging for mercy. He doesn’t want to be charged for his wife’s murder. He is also probably trying to get a deal for the Feselady. He is saying: Please don’t drag us to court when we are common Basotho man and woman. How the mighty have fallen.

The hypocrisy is astounding. This is the same man who had worked overtime to impeach Justice Mosito. The same Uncle Tom is fighting tooth and nail to remove the police commissioner.

He has fired ambassadors, diplomats and principal secretaries like his herd boys. Yet he demands a dignified and graceful exit. He has the nerve to request that he be spared of any legal desserts. Mohlolo!

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

Previous Bantu tackle Basutoland Ink over brand
Next Senkatana- Part 1

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


Find your own China man

THERE was a time when things were simple. When a man seemed prosperous it was either he is a hard worker or a businessman. Business at that time meant a


The sad song from NUL

THERE is a song for almost everything. Greed, love, envy, hate, death, heartbreak and so forth.Even thievery, fornication and hanky-panky.Remember the hanky-panky song that went like this: Khali, khali, khali


Muckraker: The last standing Bantustan

LET’s bin the tripe about national pride and face a stern fact. The fact being that this country is a wretched little Bantustan of South Africa. Now is not the