Oops, it has happened again! Teboho Lehloenya, the deputy headmaster of our overrated kindergarten (also known as the parliament) has contrived to stop a fist fight between two quarrelling MPs. Cheeseboy (Machesetsa) was about to enter the boxing ring with Size Two when Lehloenya, against all wisdom and etiquette, intervened.
Lehloenya ordered Cheeseboy to cool off outside the parliament.
Muckraker was left fuming as Cheeseboy walked out. Lehloenya had successfully sabotaged what was promised to be the most important event in parliament. He had used his powers to block a monumental event.
For that unpatriotic, Lehloenya deserves to be chastised. He had no business stopping MPs who were clearly itching to clobber each other.
What he did is tantamount to abuse of power and it clearly shows that he is not as creative as he pretends to be.
History will judge him harshly for denying Basotho a chance to see a real fight in parliament. Future generations will remember him as the saboteur of fun and drama.
Lehloenya lost an opportunity to redeem his reputation as the boring bearded deputy headmaster. It is shocking that a man whose only claim to fame is to grow a bushy beard would miss such a golden opportunity to enter the history books by allowing MPs pummel each other.
All he needed to do was to pretend to doze off for a few minutes while Cheeseboy dragged Size Two to the aisle. Then as Size Two scrambled for a loose chair to unleash on Cheeseboy’s yellow bones, Lehloenya would open one eye and thoroughly enjoy the fracas. Perched on the Speaker’s chair, he had what amounts to a ringside seat to that match.
Basotho would have been internally grateful to him for this comic relief. They need something to break the monotony of corruption, mismanagement, factionalism and monkey business that has pervaded this country for the past two years.
They deserve some respite from our numbingly boring politics of bellowing and verbal diarrhoea. They are sick to the back teeth of hearing stories about the Feselady, most of which are concocted out of malice and hate.
Their ears are clogged with the same old stories about the feud between Mahao and Uncle Tom.
What they need now, more than ever, is real drama. Something that tickles them and oils their funeral gossip. Lehloenya and his beard are not funny enough. They make a weird pair but not a hilarious one.
What annoys Muckraker is that Lehloenya had the nerve to disrupt some drama when his government has worked overtime to steal every source of fun in this country.
No one can afford beer because his government had snuffed the life out of the economy by failing to pay suppliers. The teachers, some of the biggest boozers in village bars, have stopped buying beer.
Even those who have been paid are pleading poverty. They keep moaning about unpaid hardship allowances and salary adjustments.
The police say they cannot keep the liquor flowing because government owes them.
Others say so bad is the economy that no one is willing to bribe them.
One officer told Muckraker that even errant taxi drivers now prefer to be locked up for a day instead of paying a M20 bribe.
There is no point of honking all day for passengers who prefer to march their way home.
They are telling the police to ask the Four-by-Four government where it put the money.
Soldiers and spies are also broke.
The nyatsis that used to flaunt blessings from Blessers are avoiding bars and restaurants like a plague. The Blessers have gone on voicemail as they conserve the little cash they have for their families. Connected Chinese have elbowed our tenderprenuers from the feeding trough.
If your pockets are not perforated then you are a prudent money manager, a penny pincher, a thief or you are hobnobbing with one of the movers and shakers in the government.
TV Lesotho is painfully boring and DStv is too pricy for nothing.
The radio stations are full of political tosh. Newspapers won’t shut up about the scuffles in the ABC and some are just bootlicking without provocation.
“Manyokole meets former US president Bush,” screamed one newspaper last week as if anybody cares who meets a former president.
Times are tough and fun has left these streets. And the government has everything to do with the misery.
Yet Lehloenya has the audacity to stop a little drama in parliament.
In a way, you could say by stopping that fight Lehloenya stole our only moment of fun and shoved it into his beard.
Now we cannot reclaim it because he is likely to say that which is in his beard is his. He will be right. And it’s not as if we will find that morsel of fun even if he allows us to comb thorough that thicket.
You may be asking what triggered the quarrel between Cheeseboy and Size two.
Well, ask Serialong Qoo because he is the one who snitched on Cheeseboy.
Qoo told parliament that Cheeseboy had said Size Two should be reprimanded for something he said. Cheeseboy denied the allegations and accused Qoo of being a lying Chihuahua.
Cut to his right size, Qoo looked at Size Two for a reaction. You know the look that says: “Hey boss, did you hear what this Leneshenale said about you and I?”
Size Two rummaged deep into his ha re eng Thaba Tseka of insults and pulled out the most potent one.
“Ha ke ‘mao,” he said to a bouncing Cheeseboy who rolled his sleeves and shot back with equal venom.
“A ka ba ile hae koana a lo nyant’sa bana,” he retorted to a stunned Size Two.
The stage had been set. At that moment wise MPs would have cleared the isle and cheered.
Tampane would have ululated while Pontšo Sekatle would have said “shapa!” Sister Keke would have pulled out her lebetlela and handed it to Cheeseboy. Phori would have taken the mace and threatened to unleash it on any lecongress who dares lay a finger on Cheeseboy.
Of course, Metsing would have hid under the benches, not out of fear but confusion as to which side he would take in the fight. He plays for every team in parliament, that one.
One day he is sipping coffee with Uncle Tom and the next he is asking Size Two about his camels. All Lehloenya had to do was to take a nap and allow good things to happen.
But he just could not close his eyes for a moment. He just had to jump in, uninvited. It is clear that Cheeseboy had been itching to pummel Size Two for years. He badly wanted to teach the old man a lesson.
Size Two might have also wanted to show that he is not a spent force.
But thanks to the excitable Lehloenya, we will never know who has the best Kung Fu kick.
There are four lessons from that incident. The first is that not everyone likes a good laugh and cares about Basotho having some fun.
Lehloenya delivered that one.
The second is that some men are staunchly loyal. Qoo gave us that lesson by snitching on Cheeseboy.
He will never forget Size Two for pelting him with a ministerial job when he was walking down Mpilo.
The third is that the young ones are cheeky and always spoiling for a fight, especially with adults they despise. Cheeseboy!
The fourth is that when you been hit with a demotion you must hold your mouth and accept that you are now a just a colleague. Sometimes Size Two forgets that he is now just a mere backbencher.
We should forgive him because 18 years in power does that to people.
Look at how some people have transformed after just two years in power. Phew!
Prayer for the losers
Remember to pray for Joang Molapo, Tlohelang Aumane and Khothatso Tsooana. They are all licking their wounds after being clobbered in the RFP primaries.
The people of Maputsoe were not impressed by Joang’s pretentious English accent. At least he is not bellowing like he did when he was spanked by Chessman in the BNP. Back then he cried as he packed his bags to join the AD.
Now he has to look for another home that tolerates those who speak English through the nose. Shibilishibilishibili. Muckraker wishes him well because although he is a mediocre politician, Joang is a good human being.
Aumane lost because he is a political prostitute. Yeh, I said it! And I will say it again before the cock crows thrice. Muckraker can prove that beyond reasonable doubt. The man defected from the DC to join the AD because he was promised a ministerial position. When the AD ran out of its sweetness, he jumped to the RFP.
The RFP however saw through his monkey tricks and rejected him in the primaries. Not here, the RFP people said. But Aumane is not one to spend too long in an unsatisfying political bed.
He is now rumoured to have crawled into bed with the Socialist Revolutionaries. Socialists led by a machonisa. Socialists who drive a million rand car. Phew.
Do they even know what socialism is about? Or maybe they think socialism is the same as socialising. Aumane will not ask those questions because they will interfere with his kuenalisation. He stands for nothing and believes in nothing. He is just a political opportunist. He can sell a relative for bus fare.
As for Tšooana, Muckraker can only say tough luck. He is a typical example of what happens when you run away from an apprenticeship. Clearly, Uncle Tom had not finished training him. It’s not for nothing that he was a PS.
Did you hear the hilarious joke from that overrated one called Mahaletere? He had a rally in Mohale’s Hoek where he was speaking in tongues. He obviously learnt a few things from his papa, Bushiri. Bushiri, however, did not bother to learn proper English pronunciation from Mahaletere.
The thieving midget still calls Rands Laands, victory is victorly, malaria is maralia, Luke is Ruku and dilemma is diyirema. But this is not about Bushiri. It’s about Mahaletere’s hallucination. He said the AD will win many constituencies in Mohale’s Hoek including Mpharane as they have worked hard to campaign.
“We will win others which I know, but I should not tell you so that the candidates continue to work hard there,” he said.
He also said the AD will beat many parties to the extent that other leaders will lose their minds and have to be admitted at “Mohlomi Mental Hospital”. Muckraker does not know whether to laugh or cry. What she knows for sure is that anyone who remains in the AD needs counselling.
The RFP’s rough play
MUCKRAKER is having the last laugh as Uncle Sam shreds the rule book of democracy with vim. There is mayhem in the RFP as those who have failed to make it to the list of Uncle Sam’s A Team throw tantrums like kids denied lipong-pong.
You could see the pain on their dejected faces at a press conference they held to moan about their treatment. Muckraker thought she saw one of them wiping a tear.
To add chillies to the wounds Uncle Sam waited until some of the candidates had won the primary elections before picking his team. It’s as if he wanted to send a crude message by making it excruciating.
What is becoming clear is that this is not about meritocracy but Uncle Sam’s whims. You don’t know whether he is using intuition or he gets the message in his dreams.
Either way, it’s a brutal method. It might as well be that he is either rolling dice.
Ke mang ea jeleng
Bohobe ba Ntate
A lala a phinya
Or maybe it’s Biblical. “The last shall be first and the first last,” Jesus says in the Gospel of Matthew. Uncle Sam must have been laughing as he watched the aspiring candidates unleashing sharp elbows on each other in the primaries.
He must have chuckled when he received the final list of the candidates from the constituencies. He then took out a red pen, kicked out his shoes and started editing the list. Moving number six to number one. Number five to number one.
Then he called the candidates to tell them what he had done before making the announcement. Muckraker hears the RFP was kind enough to hire a psychologist to help those edited out of the list to cope with the trauma. Ouch!
Those whose minds could not be repaired by the shrink were consoled by promises of some posts somewhere in the government. A government that might not be formed. It’s some special kind of therapy. You deny a person the right to represent the party after winning a primary election. When they scream you send them for counselling.
If they are still sore and sour you promise them some position in a government that you are not even guaranteed to form.
Muckraker suspects the psychologist was not there to help the candidates recover from their disappointment. Rather, it was the party’s way to evaluate why those candidates thought they could just walk from the primaries straight to the national election without being scrutinised by the leader.
What were they thinking? Who did they think they are?
They are now asking Uncle Sam to explain the criteria he used to select the candidates. That just shows why they need counselling.
Who are they to ask what an owner does with his party?
Did they really think their few dozens of votes in the primaries would matter to the leader?
One excitable fellow who won a primary election after giving his constituency M500 000 for electrification did not make it to Uncle Sam’s list.
Uncle Sam was teaching him a lesson never to use his peanuts to buy votes.
He cannot ask for a refund because the villagers delivered their end of the bargain by electing him. What happened when the results landed on Uncle Sam’s desk is not their business. It serves him right. This is a year of political lessons.
Meritocracy is being redefined. Thebe-ea-Khale is among the best minds in the RFP. Don’t laugh. This is not funny. Minds are going to be lost here. Things are rough.
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