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Hygiene and hypocrisy



SOME men are at a chisanyama at a bar in Thamae when a stranger walks to the braai stand packed with pork, mutton, beef and chicken.
From a paper bag the man pulls out a huge well-marinated and neatly spliced frog. You heard that right. A frog!
He finds a corner on the braai stand and lays out his frog.
The other men are flabbergasted by his nerve but cannot utter a word for two reasons: they don’t own the braai stand and there are no rules prohibiting exotic meats.

Some ten minutes later the man is turning his frog when its blood and juice spill onto a whole chicken. The chicken owner is furious at the frog eater.
“But why are you so angry? After all, it’s all meat,” the frog eater says in a soft voice.
“I don’t eat frogs so just shut up and replace my chicken,” the chicken eater says, amid vociferous support from his friends who are equally pissed.
You know how we like getting angry on other people’s behalf.

Sensing that he is outnumbered and understanding the injustice of it all, the frog eater buys another chicken for the complainant. A brawl averted, everyone goes back to having a good time.  But twenty minutes later another incident threatens to sabotage the shindig.

The chicken eater is turning his chicken when some of its blood and juice spill onto the frog.
The frog eater sighs and says: “Well, your chicken blood has spoiled my frog. I want a fresh frog.”
“And where the hell can I get the frog?” asks the shocked chicken eater.

“Well, that’s not my business. A few minutes ago I replaced your chicken. I just want my frog.”
The chicken eater’s friends are hopping mad at the frog eater for being a “difficult” man.
Muckraker leaves you to use your imagination as to what happened next for anything imaginable can happen in this little country. The fight might have escalated into a bloody fight.

But the moral of the story is as clear as a goat’s behind. Humans are generally hypocrites and they are brazen about it.
The “do unto others…” mantra only belongs to the Big Book. The real world is a mean place full of unashamedly hypocritical people.
The tendency, of course, is to hide behind the majority to avoid doing the right thing. And more often than not the so-called majority doesn’t have to be empirically verified before its views are accepted and its agenda sneaked to the top of the list.
In July 2015 Brigadier Maaparankoe Mahao, the man who had been cheated of his position as commander of the army, was killed by fellow soldiers in coldblood.
It wasn’t long before the opposition, journalists, civil organisations and the international community called for a thorough investigation into the murder. They were right to be outraged at this heinous act.
There was no way, so the reasoning was, the government could be trusted to fairly and prudently investigate that case. “Commission!” they screamed as Size Two and his comrades scampered for cover.

Soon a judge from Botswana and eleven other people from regional countries were grilling supposed role players for answers.
The commission did shed some light on what happened to Brigadier Mahao but its biggest contribution was to arm-twist the government to speed up the investigation.

We know that Size Two’s government dithered and hid behind its fingers until it was eventually spanked out of power by Uncle Tom and his comrades.
Now fast-forward to almost two years later and another disaster is looming.
Another commander has been killed.

This time, however, the commander has been killed in his office in the barracks.
Two senior soldiers are also dead.  In a state of disgust peppered with confusion the opposition and other people have called for another commission of inquiry.

Their questions are genuine but no one is listening. Instead they are being told to either shut up or move on because the answers to the questions they are asking are said to be obvious. Phew!

The journalists and activists who went berserk over the 2015 killing have suddenly lost their voices.

If that doesn’t go far enough in proving that we are hypocrites let’s flip the coin. In 2014 Justice Mosito was appointed president of the Court of Appeal.

He was just about to settle down when nails were put on his chair. A bunch of senior lawyers rolled their sleeves to fight his appointment on account that it was political and had been made by a caretaker government.  What that really meant is only clear to that legal battalion and its zealots. Every appointment of a senior government official in Lesotho is political. Even the hiring of government lawyers is steeped in politics.

As for the allegations that the appointment was done by a “caretaker government” Muckraker can only call it utter bunkum.
Uncle Tom’s government at that time was substantive in both law and stature. A bull does not cease to be a bull because it has lost a horn.

The animal they call “caretaker government” has not existed in this country for nearly 25 years. To call a government “caretaker” because we are a few weeks before an election is not only daft but also a pathetic attempt to rejig the constitution through mischievous means. It is a ploy to manufacture a power vacuum that does not exist.

You either have a government or you don’t.  But Muckraker digressed.
The bunch of lawyers galloped to the High Court where a judge told them to return whence they came. Hands over head, they returned to their chambers and it looked like Justice Mosito had won.

A change in government would however throw his tenure into a new quandary. This time the taxman was wheeled in to sting him.
Size Two’s government grasped on the case with unprecedented vim and started shoving him towards the exit door while the senior lawyers rubbed their hands with glee.
A tribunal was cobbled to look into his fitness to hold office but Justice Mosito bolted out of the kitchen before it made its recommendations whose import was obvious even to stray dogs in Seapoint.

He had to conserve what was left of his reputation viciously shredded by his enemies. Once again it looked like the judge was down and out.
He would however return when Size Two’s government limped out of office.  Uncle Tom wanted to ‘right the wrongs’ of the past and he reappointed him. The senior lawyers however regrouped again and sharpened their spears.

They have trooped back to the court again to challenge the appointment. So where is the hypocrisy, you may ask. Well, around the time Size Two was hauling Justice Mosito to the pyre he was also smearing Lieutenant General Tlali Kamoli’s wounds with balm.

As Lt Gen Kamoli walked back into an office from which he had been booted out by Uncle Tom the senior lawyers shut their eyes and zipped their mouths.  Not a word was uttered about the general having to challenge his dismissal before he goes back to the barracks. A government gazette announced his removal.

\It was fine and dandy, because this was their man who was being reappointed.  Now it’s sour because Justice Mosito, a man they hate with a passion, is being parachuted back into an office he left in a huff as political dogs gnawed at his heels.

You can split the hairs all you want but the principal behind both reinstatements is the same. They are both political.
Yet the senior lawyers see an injustice in one and perfect justice in the other. Muckraker is not saying the lawyers have no right to fight for a cause but if the fight is based on principal then their revulsion must be equally applied.

Still on the subject of duplicity, Muckraker demands to know why fellow journalists pretend to be blind at the heavy-handed treatment of MoAfrika and its owner.  Some advocacy groups seem to have deliberately shoved their heads in a sack.
They have mumbled a few words that amount to almost an apology to the government.

This was not the case when PC FM was being harassed by the previous government.
We did not see such meekness when the previous government was pelting journalists with stones.
Now a fellow journalist is being frogmarched from his office and his radio station unceremoniously yanked off air but these groups think this is jumping castle business.
This is precisely because we never deal with issues on the basis of principle.
Journalists and activists are caught in political vice.
They have been captured and they cannot deny it. Let any of them raise a finger and Muckraker will come down on them like a ton of bricks.
This also applies to all those cowards who think Facebook is a suitable arena to wage a war against perceived enemies. They will gather some ‘likes’ from fictitious friends but Muckraker will wash and hang them by the eyelids.

All this should however not distract us from the equally important issue of hygiene. Indeed, there can be no denying that Ratabane Ramainoane’s beard should interact more often with a scissors.  There is no point is growing anything you cannot harvest for food or profit. It’s not as if the Ministry of Tourism will soon be clamouring to make them a national tourist attraction.

As for that hair, Muckraker’s humble advice is that it should be trimmed.  Given the way the government has been pursuing him it might not be long before they throw him in a cell for days. There is no point in keeping anything that attracts the flies in a police cell.

\Muckraker has always wondered what is in that satchel that is always clinging on his bag. It makes him look older than he is.
Why load such a heavy thing on such an old backbone?

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Machonisa on fire



It was only a matter of time before the so-called socialist party owned by a machonisa started unravelling. Now the capitalist owner of the Socialist Revolutionaries is lashing out at anyone who dares to tell him to behave himself.

Teboho Mojapela is moving around his party’s structures with a phafa, leaving his victims scratching their bums.

Muckraker has no sympathy for his victims. They deserve what they are getting.

Having deluded themselves to think that they are stockholders in the SR, they should now enjoy their harvest of thorns. They were guests at Mojapela’s house but tried to tell him how to arrange his furniture and what to eat.

He is telling them to go find somewhere to play because the SR is his personal property.

That the SR is in Mojapela’s armpits has always been clear. He formed and funded it.

It’s just that some were too naïve to realise the obvious.

Thabo Shao packed his bags and left after Mojapela whipped him out of his house. He now mumbles something about Mr Machonisa being a dictator. He says that as if it’s a discovery to be shared with the rest of the world.

Yet anyone with something between their ears would have known that a machonisa who brags about beating his naughty workers could not possibly be a democratic leader.

Only Shao and a few dimwits didn’t know that.

Anyway, Shao’s exit will not change much because he just doesn’t matter. He is a political nonentity who overrates himself.

What interests Muckraker is Mr Machonisa’s nerve to call Shao an uneducated rascal. That hurts because it’s an insult coming from someone who has made it a mission to give education a bad name. Mr Machonisa’s definition of someone educated is Tlohelang Aumane. Hear, hear, and hear. Phew!

Does anyone remember Aumane saying anything either educated or educative?

Muckraker only knows him as a political jezebel incapable of staying in one political bed for more than 15 minutes. He is always itching to be married to the next political party.

Muckraker is tempted to say Aumane is politically horny but she won’t say it for fear of offending the oversensitive souls. The kind that claims to have almost suffocated to death after someone farted in a hall.

But Mr Machonisa doesn’t care about Aumane’s habits because he thinks he is renting a brilliant political mind. A few things will happen in that union.

Mr Machonisa will soon realise that Aumane is just an empty-headed political slay queen always looking for the next partner to get him Ice Tropez (May lightning strike whoever drinks that but cannot afford it. Fire!)

Aumane will realise that Mr Machonisa is a moneyed but unrefined village bumpkin whose mouth has a terrible habit of rebelling against his brain.

Mr Machonisa will find the next brain to rent while Aumane will be putting on his stilettos to find another political lover to smooch on the Maseru streets.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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The queen Mampara



Muckraker once promised to say nothing about the Feselady but that Mampara’s mouth keeps running as if it’s connected to Muela Hydro Power Station.

The Feselady told some ABC members who visited her home that she will not associate with the party until it distances itself from the remark of suspended spokesman Montoeli Masoetsa. What made her relapse to her Drama Queen ways was Masoetsa’s attack on her and her hubby. He said the ABC lost because of Uncle Tom and Feselady.

That simple truth, known to even donkeys in Qaqatu, pierced her cheeky heart and got her tummy roiling. She now says she will never wear the ABC’s regalia until the party apologises. Don’t laugh. If this was a threat, the Feselady has lost her touch.

She used to beat people for merely looking at her in a funny way or calling her hubby.

She would harass government officials in public. Now she has been reduced to threatening to avoid yellow dresses and T-shirts to fix the ABC. Boom! Boom! The mighty Drama Queen has fallen.

What remains is just the fading memories of power sexually transmitted.

The transmitter of that power has long ceased to function literally and figuratively.

But the Feselady is too engrossed with herself to realise that she has neither the power nor the capacity to make threats to anyone. She rules only her home, yard and a few idiots still clinging to her.

It takes some sophistication to read irony and the Feselady doesn’t have even a pinch of it. Her people in Mokhotlong rejected her when she tried to sneak into parliament via that hollow popularity garnered through matrimony.

ABC supporters think she is just an uncultured blabbermouth. That she thinks anyone would lose sleep over her threats to burn the party’s regalia or turn them into fatukus is comical. Her tantrums will not change a thing. Her boycott might be the best thing to happen to the party since the October 7 defeat.

Why would the few remaining ABC supporters worry about a garrulous charlatan boycotting their party?

The last time she was wearing the ABC like a wig, it lost more than 200 000 voters, flew to the opposition benches and became a smallanyana party. Nothing hurts more than that. So bring it on mummy!

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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The RFP’s thokolosi



The RFP leaders should fire whoever is advising them on how to deal with constituencies demanding a conference to elect a new executive committee. Their response to those demands has been a comedy of errors.
It’s been nothing short of kindergarten blunders unbefitting of people who sold themselves as the smart ones to lead the country out of darkness.
The secretary general told those bellowing for a conference to take a chill pill and wait for Uncle Sammy to give directions.
Uncle Sammy said those people or their kind are divisive, dragging the party off its agenda and incapable of understanding his dream for the country.
Other leaders have said those clamouring for a conference can go plead their case to a mountain because the current national executive committee will run the party for another six pregnancies.
Never mind the words they use, the leaders are telling the members that they will not be told how to manage a party they started. This is to say the leaders will not be taking instructions from the riffraff. Yes, I said it! Those rubbed the wrong way can curse.
Someone should round up the RFP’s executive committee members, lock them up in a room, throw away the keys and spank them until they understand politics.
They are clearly struggling to make a distinction between a political party and private companies. You would think this is common sense but the human mind is always slow to banish habits.
The RFP leaders were used to being business owners, not political leaders. That is why they cannot understand why anyone who wasn’t there when they started the party can tell them how to manage it.
But make no mistake, reality will grab them by the noses and eyelids back to their senses. They will be taught three simple lessons. The first is that political parties are voluntary entities in which power lies with the members.
The second is that party members are not employees you can just instruct to jump around because you pay their wages.
The third, which is more important, is that the only time a political party is a personal property is when it’s an idea in the founder’s head. Once registered and people join, the members own the party together with its structures, leaders and vision.
The other problem with the RFP’s responses to the demands for an elective conference is that they keep pretending that those three constituencies are just rogues out to sabotage the party. Nothing can be further from the truth.
Those constituencies are small thokolosis of someone right there in the party’s echelons. They represent a growing faction in the party. That faction that is a thokolosi was birthed when the party was still a spirit. It was nurtured when the party was registered and continued to grow during the campaign.
By the time the RFP became government, it was a full-blown thokolosi vigorously doing bedroom things to produce more thokolosis. Now it is granddaddy thokolosi living in the RFP’s armpits.
There is a simple way to find the thokolosi’s owner.
Just round them up and beat them until their parents start wailing. If the parents don’t come out the thokolosis will run to them for protection.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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