Bootlicking with passion

Bootlicking with passion

THE imminent demise of Uncle Tom and the Feselady has unleashed a nauseating bout of unprecedented sycophancy.
Last week the Public Eye treated us to some 2 000 words from State House employees furiously bootlicking the Feselady. It was a battle of tongues as bearded men and breasted women fought to leave their saliva on the Feselady’s boots. By the time the story ended the Feselady was drowning in the saliva.

Muckraker hopes she used her international trips to get some basic swimming lessons.
First to stick out her tongue was ‘Makeketso Rebecca Motopela, a State House employee, who seemed too excited to be interviewed. Along the way she pooped some eye-popping tosh that should have stunned even the Feselady herself.

Motopela said she has worked for the Feselady and Uncle Tom for over seven years, and is close to both.
That sounded fair and fine until she announced her job at the State House.
“I work in their bedroom,” Motopela said.

Clearly, she felt it was not enough just to say she works at the State House. She just had to specify a room as if it’s a department. Muckraker wondered if Motopela does night shifts too.
It is important, at this point, to put brakes on your imagination. Let’s assume she is just a naïve woman trying to defend her boss. Her point, of course, was that she knows them too well because she works where they sleep. And that makes Muckraker wonder why she was not in the choir when the couple was singing.
We got the message loud and clear, though. Seven years in the bedroom is a long time.
What you think of her words is your business. Muckraker is responsible for her words, not your thoughts.

Then there was Keneuoe Machela who said she is the director of the Feselady’s Trust Fund. Machela was on fire as she waxed lyrical about the Feselady’s virtues.
“She is like my mother, sister, friend and everything,” she said of the Feselady.
As a rule, you should never trust anyone who says someone is “everything” to them. Suffice to say Machela looks too old to be calling the Feselady “mother”.
Machela was crying more than the bereaved.

“This whole thing is traumatising to me and my family as she has not only been good to me and my family but to the whole nation as well,” Machela said.
Notice here that the only reason this “thing” is traumatising her and her family is because the Feselady has been good to them. That is to say if the Feselady has not been good to them then her troubles would not be traumatizing Machela and her family.

That qualification is crucial. And so is the use of the word “traumatising”. She probably meant that the trauma is caused by her impending loss of a job.
In the meantime Muckraker is still flabbergasted by Machela’s lie that the Feselady has been “good” to the “whole nation”. The truth is that the Feselady has traumatised the whole nation. For three years she was hogging our newspapers, airwaves and social media with her monkey shines.

If she was not beating someone at a hospital she was tongue-lashing waitresses. When she was not throwing opulent birthday parties she was spanking senior government officials.
She had the nerve to accuse ministers of incompetence while running her own Trust Fund like a spaza shop.
We were still recovering from Motopela’s bedroom story when Nteboheleng Ralekuku entered the fray.

“Definitely! I am hundred and fifty percent convinced,” Ralekuku said when asked if she believes the Feselady had nothing to do with Lipolelo’s murder.
Only idiots are convinced 150 percent because it’s mathematically impossible to do that.

Ralekuku’s only contribution to the story was to show what dunderheads the Feselady has for friends. No surprise there.
Manama Letsie, a failed politician, was quoted as a “concerned citizen” (whatever that means).
You will remember him as that chap who was speaking for Stone Shi, the Chinese broker who pulled a fast one on wool farmers. Letsie said he had no personal relations with the Feselady but even rats in Motimoposo would laugh at such a joke.

The disclaimer sells him out. Muckraker can only say Letsie should not be too clever by half. His pseudo-analysis of the case against the Feselady makes him look silly.
In any case, anyone who describes himself as an activist in a political party has no right to be taken seriously. Being an “activist” is a job that has no pay or purpose. That is to say it is not a job. Neither is it even a hobby.

All politicians know that an “activist” is that nonentity you hire when you want some loud shrieks.

Forget the nonsensical cliché about age coming with wisdom. Sometimes age just comes alone, unaccompanied by logic and probity. As lonely as a herd boy in the mountains.
Some old men remain arrogantly stubborn to the very end. Every village has that quarrelsome grey-haired old man always itching for a fight.
Uncle Tom is at it again, confusing an already confused situation.

As his party rummages the political bins for the next Prime Minister Uncle Tom is busy playing the spoiler, spitting on those auditioning for his position.
Like Idols’ Randall, Uncle Tom has shown nothing but contempt for the contestants. Never mind that he has long lost the authority to run this show.
Two weeks ago the man reluctantly tossed the towel into the ring after his own political blunders and legal woes chocked his waning political career.
Despite the occasional barbs in his capitulation speech the old man of Lesotho politics spoke some sense. Muckraker was however far from being fooled, for this is a sly political operator sitting on a mountain of 55 years of experience in the messy and stinking business of politics.

And it wasn’t long before he pulled a knife from his socks.
Last week the Public Eye quoted him saying the brouhaha over his replacement is mischievous because “I am still the prime minister and there is no vacancy”.
“You cannot seek to fill a non-existent vacancy unless you are mad,” he added with gusto.
You read that right. Up-side-down goes the logic. Sense is on the run like the Feselady. Catch it if you can.

A man who has announced that he will leave in July or earlier says his position is not up for grabs.
If you had just dropped from another planet you would wonder why a seasoned politician is getting bamboozled by such simple things. Surely the old man cannot be getting lost in a one roomed house.

But this is Uncle Tom. He refuses to allow circumstances to render him irrelevant. He wants a piece of the action and is determined to bite a huge chunk of it. He insists on playing a rough game when his bones are just a minor tackle away from cracking.

You don’t need to be a sorcerer to decipher what is happening here.
The game plan is as clear as a goat’s behind. Uncle Tom suffers from a disease that afflicts most old people. It’s called forgetitice. Its symptoms include forgetting what you ate for breakfast and the names of those around you.

This would not be a problem if he was just an old man living out his last days in Qaqatu.
But he is leading a government. His decisions affect two million people and future generations.
It is possible that he doesn’t remember that he said he will leave in July. He probably forgot telling us that he is too old to be leading the party and the government.
Still, such amnesia would not be so toxic if Uncle Tom was not surrounded by a bunch of scheming nurses who are taking care of their interests instead of looking after him.

It is those unscrupulous nurses who have stolen Uncle Tom’s ears and have made it their toys. They are busy stuffing tosh into those ears.
They keep telling him that he is the real McCoy when he is just a sitting duck. They are lying to him that he still has the mojo when he is a man in the twilight of his career and life.
Such manipulation borders on abuse of the elderly. No senior citizen should be subjected to such callous treatment.

But Uncle Tom has only himself to blame for his misery. Over the years he had amassed a battalion of rascals with a penchant for backstabbing. It is therefore not shocking that as age caught up with Thabane this clique has become more brazen in their shenanigans. They are now pulling the old man’s strings.
This, by the way, is nothing new. It happens in every family. There are always those cousins and nephews who surround old people like maggots.
They say they are taking care of their aged relatives but they are just angling for inheritance.
The nurses at the State House say Uncle Tom needs them but the truth is that they need him more.
He is their meal ticket. Without him they will be common Basotho men and women pounding the streets of Maseru, penniless. We know them.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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