Who cut the pubic hair?

Who cut the pubic hair?

AT a recent science symposium a biological scientist says to his colleague: “Did you know that instead of rats we now use lawyers in our experiments?”
“Is that so? Why did you switch?” asks the shocked colleague.
“Well, for three reasons. First, we found that lawyers are far more plentiful. Second, the lab assistants don’t get so attached to them, and thirdly there are some things even a rat won’t do.”

If the scientist’s plan was to make a joke about lawyers then the real joke is on him.
Lawyers are not so different from rats.
Both species are stubborn and determined. All can do anything to survive. They are equally plentiful.

They are both so slick and cunning that they will always find a way out of trouble.
But the most important similarity is that both can neither be tamed nor trusted.
Uncle Tom ought to have known this when he sprinted like Makoanyane full of motoho to appoint Justice Kananelo Mosito as president of the Court of Appeal.
It was a monumental battle he fought with zeal.

Even when it looked like Justice Mosito’s legal career was toast, Uncle Tom carried him on his shoulders and nursed him until he reached the Apex court.
He should have known that Justice Mosito is just a male Mosotho lawyer, with no handlers or godfathers.

Muckraker can imagine the delight at the State House when Justice Mosito conquered and walked into the court.
Atamela madala, nke ke u otla-otle ka limeta. U monna oa banna,” ’Maesaiah could have said as she summoned with an ear-to-ear smile.
Uncle Tom could have said “Ke ’na eo,” as he presented his mouth.
Fast forward to January this year and the story is on its head.
When Professor Nqosa Mahao galloped to the Court of Appeal after he was clobbered in the High Court, Uncle Tom probably giggled, knowing that the professor was reporting him to a church to which he has paid a handsome tithe.

It seemed obvious that Justice Mosito would not entertain Mahao’s shrieking.
So Uncle Tom thought.
But as is the case with all lawyers, nothing is certain.
Soon Uncle Tom was squirming after Justice Mosito’s stinging bite. Ouch!

Mahao won the case, stormed electoral conference and delivered a thumping blow to Uncle Tom’s hangers-on. What looked like a sure victory had turned into a funeral for political careers.
Boom!
Uncle Tom’s puppies had been washed and hung out on the line with their eyebrows.
Mahao’s camp were to have croissants at the after-tears party.
Now the old man of Lesotho’s politics has a deputy he loathes.
Mahao is a heartbeat away from being the ABC leader. He might even be prime minister of Lesotho.

Eat your hearts out.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Anger has replaced elation. From jubilation to despair.
They no longer toss to Justice Mosito’s good health at the State House because he is biting them.
Hei uena madala, ua e bona nta ee ea hao ea se lomela-kobong!” ’Maesaiah must be saying.
“Hae uena mosali, ke uena u rekileng seana-marena sena se futhumalitseng nta ena, se k’a ntena!”

Little wonder there is a scramble to clip Justice Mosito’s wings.
The trouble is how to do it without coming across as hypocrites.
They cannot concoct some flimsy allegations against the judge because it will be as naked as a goat’s behind that they are using Mosisili’s manual.
Mosito has sorted his tax matters.
In any case, Uncle Tom is not a double dealer.
But in the mayhem that ensued someone has dreamt up probably one of the most absurd solutions to Uncle Tom’s trouble with the judge. Shut down the Court of Appeal and blame it on the lack of money.

Even Lilaphalapha could not have cooked such a hilarious dish of comedy.
Silas Monyatsi, the esteemed filmmaker who speaks for the First Lady, should be turning green with envy at this drama.
The fallout has been instant and spectacular. Court officials are pleading poverty while the government says there is money. Lawyers are threatening to run amok.
Magistrates, the little judges, are weeping in one corner. For the first time in history, our politicians have found someone else to accuse of lying. Court officials should have known that you must never lie because politicians hate competition.

Muckraker thinks the whole money story is a pathetic lie told by people who have neither the talent nor the skill to tell tall tales. Either that or the questions have caught them by surprise.
The episode reminds Muckraker of a tickling story she heard years ago. Here it goes.
A married man had a nyatsi who hates pubic hair. He kept refusing when the nyatsi told him to get rid of the bush. Then one day after hours of pleasure with the nyatsi, the man goes into a deep sleep.

The nyatsi yanks out a shaving machine and cuts the man’s pubic hair. Unaware that his bush has been stolen, the man goes back to his wife. In the morning he walks out of the bathroom and starts smearing himself with Nivea when the wife asks: “Ntate, maboea a ile kae?”
Shocked, the man replied: “Moratuoa, mong’a rona mosebetsing koana o re kutile maboea. O re a bohlasoa.”
The same has happened to our court officials. They have been caught in a lie and they are fumbling for answers.

Small Business Minister, Chalane Phori, told a local radio station that he would that “I rather be castrated” instead of allowing farmers to export their wool and mohair to South Africa.
Declarations don’t come this emphatic.
No minister in the history of this country has ever gambled his pee-pee on a policy issue, especially one that is no longer in his hands.
Were it in another country and in another time you would think that Phori is a brave young man standing for what he believes in. But this is a different.

Phori seems to be betting his pee-pee to defend some Chinese businessman who has been unfairly granted monopoly to market and export Lesotho’s wool.
This is the dubious businessman who has failed to pay farmers for their wool.
Yet a whole Mosotho minister is prepared to stick out his pee-pee for him.
What do we smoke in this country?
Or what does Phori think we smoke?

Muckraker has always wondered why Phori gets extremely agitated every time he speaks about the wool issue. It’s as if his life depends on those regulations.
Phori will huff and puff when asked about wool. When pressed he will scream and throw toys out of his cot bed. We now know that if you press him harder he will bet his pee-pee.

Even Stone Shi should be shocked that a whole minister is now threatening to lose his pee-pee to protect him.
A word to Minister Phori: that pee-pee is not yours alone. There are stakeholders in that ‘thing’. You will need it when your China man is gone, so keep it intact.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

 

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