UNLESS Size Two comes out of hiding Muckraker will soon be making a report to the police. The man has been missing since he was beaten on June 3.

It is troubling that since his crushing defeat at the polls Size Two has not been seen in public or uttered a word.
Is he just on voicemail or he took an unplanned holiday?
Is he in Tsoelike, Roma or some hole somewhere in the wilderness?
For more than a week, now Muckraker has been searching for the idiom-spitting comrade.
Some say he wants to lick his wounds in peace while others have opined that he is too embarrassed to face his supporters who are equally inconsolable.

Both theories are probably correct. The “wound licking” theory is plausible because men like Size Two don’t want to show their anguish in public.

He has pretended to be invincible for years. It’s a charade he would want to maintain at all cost.
The idea that he is too ashamed to face his supporters also holds water because for three months he was promising thunder and fury.
He said he was going to chew the opposition and spit it out on June 3.

Remember the “I doesn’t care” gaffe that made him the butt of mischievous jokes on social media.
Size Two was so sure he was going to win that he probably could not resist the temptation to brag to his camels in Qacha’s Nek. When one of them ogled at him like it was about to pass some message Size Two laughed loud.

“Poor animal, I know you want to wish me luck,” he said as he rubbed the camel.
“Now, let me make something clear to you tall animal of Muammar Gaddafi. I don’t need luck. I am the one. The only one! The people love me to bits.”

Well, the election came and they showed that they loved him so much that they let him go. They say if you truly love someone you must be willing to let them go.

True love doesn’t force and trap. The people said fly away Size Two, just fly away.

Now he is crawling under rocks and bushes while hoping no one is cruel enough to remind him of his words during the campaign trail.
But the man from Tsoelike need not wail and mourn too much for his retirement was long overdue anyway.
His return in 2015 was a mistake necessitated by the DC’s failure to have a frank discussion on the succession issue.
Now that Mokola has found a way to be a leader of a political party and deputy prime minister without grovelling to the hawks in the DC, Size Two can silently retreat to his village.

Muckraker is sure there are things he has been putting off for years as he tried to manage the government.
There are memoirs to write, English novels to be translated into concise Sesotho, grandchildren to entertain with folktales, and the camels to feed.
There are villagers and relatives who want to know why he has been aloof since his political star started glowing. His cattle, goats and chickens have missed him dearly.

Muckraker’s only request to Size Two is that he takes good care of himself. First, he must seek the services of a psychologist to help him settle into the new life out of power.

When you are used to having your bags carried and bed made, living without help can be a daunting task. Size Two has to get used to a life of doing things on his own.

But perhaps the biggest adjustment he has to make is that of living without bootlickers.
For nearly two decades he was sounded by pathetic brownnosers who saw him as their meal ticket. There are some who could move mountains and mop dams for him just so they could remain under his table to grab some crumbs.
You know the nonentities that have no other claim to fame apart from hanging around in the leader’s pockets. The nobodies who see it as their lifelong vocation to sing the leader’s praises.

Size Two will not find such ilk when he gets back to Tsoelike. The villagers will welcome him back, and then get back to their lives.
For the first time in more than 20 years Size Two will have to attend village pitsos to hear fellow villagers complain about roads, clinics and diseases.

Out of government, he can no longer tell the villagers he has to hurry back to Maseru to attend a summit or a cabinet meeting.

You would think in this moment of despair the congress zealots would take a cue from Size Two to retreat into their shells. Hell no!
Some just won’t zip it. DJ Waters has adamantly refused to bow out quietly. Even as the results were being announced the man from Mahobong started running his mouth.

First he tried to scare people with a dead snake. He said Uncle Tom would seek revenge on the soldiers who had made him pack his Ha re eeng Thaba-Tseka.

Where he got the vim to utter such words we may never know.
He said the congress parties had to protect soldiers who put their “heads on the block” for them to return to power.
While people were still trying to make sense of that howler, DJ Waters came back with another stinker a few days later.
This time he was not up to his scare tactics but was tacitly pleading for a backyard room in the new coalition government.
“There is no need for the removal of the existing government in office as we all agree that in order for Lesotho to be stable there is a need for a government of national unity (GNU),” Metsing said at a press conference.

DJ Waters just doesn’t smell the coffee. He wouldn’t know a defeat until it hits him in the face.
Losers don’t get to suggest the make-up of a government unless they are invited to do so. They only speak when spoken to.
The whole GNU suggestion smacks of hypocrisy. DJ Water should have suggested it in 2015 if he knew it is what was needed for the country to be stable.

He could have suggested it in 2016 when it became apparent that Lesotho was still unstable. He could have offered that solution this year when Mokola started a fire under Size Two’s behind.

Now he has neither the leverage nor the legitimacy to suggest anything to the new government.
That he is doing so shows that he is either an opportunist or is suffering from a bout of selective amnesia.
Either of those or he urgently needs professional help to deal with his loss. Muckraker has no energy to suggest a shrink.
Get well soon papa.