Muckraker : A lecture for Size Two

Muckraker : A lecture for Size Two

IT’S not by default that we have never invented anything as a country. Don’t blame that on a lack of innovators and dreamers.
We have plenty of those. It’s just that we expend our energy on manufacturing storms over nothing.
In recent weeks someone has conjured a little whirlwind over some dubious claim that the government is abusing Size Two.
His zealots, now in the minority, are hopping mad as they accuse the government of treating him like a nonentity. Size Two has even started believing that this concocted fuss has some force and effect.

The source of the brouhaha is that the government refused to fund Size Two’s junket something dubbed the 18th International Conference of Chief Justice of the World in India. He had been invited as a ‘special guest’ but the government said it would not part with even a cent to sponsor his journey.

He was told there will be no per diem for his private secretary and security detail, who apparently also wanted to tag along as if they matter to the conference.  Muckraker cannot understand what the rumpus is all about.
It wasn’t the Lesotho government that sent him to India in the first place. This was a private arrangement between Size Two and his friends.
At no point was that plan supposed to be funded from the public purse.

The government wasn’t even requested to nominate him to represent Lesotho at the conference. Therefore, there was no obligation for the government to pay for something that looks and smells like a personal trip.
Size Two should learn fast that there is a reason why he is called ‘former prime minister’. It simply means he is no longer an employee of the government.

He is a bygone with no relevance apart from providing us with memories, some of which will traumatise rather than thrill us. He is a pensioner who should enjoy his hefty pension in silence. The noise about the trip is a clear indication that Size Two is refusing to let go of some privileges enjoyed when he was prime minister.

Like a woman dumped by a rich sugar daddy, Size Two is having a tough time adjusting to life without government resources.
The trappings of power have a way of blinding people. When you enjoy them for too long you begin to think they are not part of the position but you.
This is a man who has not bought his own plane ticket in nearly two decades.

He had never had to sit in an airport terminal and order a sandwich from a kiosk.
Holy crap! He still believes in travelling with an entourage, hence the silly demand that his bodyguard and secretary come along.
The delusion is astounding. Upon his return Size Two was welcomed by a bunch of bootlickers at the Airport.

Realise here that this business of being received at the airport is a habit he has refused to ditch from his years as prime minister. The man still thinks he still matters in the broader scheme of things, even when he is now a backbencher.
You could see this denial in what he told the crowd in a voice devoid of any shame.

“In India I was afforded a convoy of cars with police security in front and back,” he said, as his impressionable battalion grinned ear to ear as if they were being told something that will transform their bank balances.
It was lost on him that the only reason he got an escort was for convenience and not because he is such an important person. It was necessary to have an escort so he could get to his hotel faster.

Remember Indian cities are legendary for their congestion. Cows are allowed to roam streets and hotel foyers in that country.
In fact cows are sometimes used as traffic lights. Everything comes to a standstill when a cow enters a road.
So it is not that his hosts feared his life could be in danger. It’s neither an exaggeration nor an insult to say the only Indians who know Size Two facially are those who own mom and pop shops in Butha-Buthe. And even those no longer consider themselves Indians but Basotho.
It is therefore naïve for him to read much into the convoy.

But Size Two said a few more things that exposed him as a cry-baby of a former prime minister who is refusing to accept his new reality.
He wailed that there were no officials from the embassy to welcome him at the airport in India.
“And even there, servants at our mission were not there,” he said.

So the man wanted our embassy officials to leave their work to welcome him with flowers and carry his bags. Notice here that Size Two does not refer to the embassy people as officials or diplomats. He calls them ‘servants’.
So those people we send to embassies to represent our national interests are nothing more than porters to him. Put bluntly, the likes of Talla are overrated bag carriers and guides.

You have to have the ego the size of Thabana-Nthlenyana to be so brazenly condescending and still not realise it.
Hearing Size Two speak like that, Muckraker wondered what a torrid time Size Two’s ‘servants’ must be having.
She also wondered why a man who has several camels would want someone to carry his bags. Couldn’t he have just brought his camel to carry his bags?

This is the problem with these African leaders and bosses. They see it as a sign of disrespect if they don’t carry their own bags.

Size Two should just accept that he can no longer be pampered.
He has neither the power nor the authority to instruct anyone to do his bidding. Not even his goats should take instructions from him.
That lesson will be much easier if he talks the fastest route to humility. It starts with accepting that he is now a mere MP who used to be prime minister.

The next step is to clamber off the high horse he continues to saddle.
It is shocking that Size Two wanted the state to fund his trip to India but he has never asked for help to travel to any rural place in this country.
When was the last time he visited the sick at a local hospital? When last did he have a meeting with his people in Tsoelike? Which orphanage has he visited in the past 12 months? When last was he in Thamae?

The man is just hostile to the idea that he is a now a commoner. That’s why he keeps accepting invites to international trips he cannot afford.
Having accepted the honour of being a special guest he wanted someone else to carry both his bills and bags.
We need not forget that this was the 18th International Conference of Chief Justices of the World. The last time Size Two saw the door to a law school was when he was at university, and he didn’t even enter it.

He is not even a paralegal. His contribution at the conference was therefore to give an international flavour. Paprika is not food but a spice.
He is probably the only former prime minister who had nothing more important to do apart from attending the conference.
Even then, Muckraker is baffled how the organisers selected him to be a special guest to a conference of chief justices. This is the man who harassed a senior judge when he was in power.

Remember how Justice Kananelo Mosito was galloping all over town with Size Two in hot pursuit.
Muckraker remembers that under Size Two the judiciary was reduced to a beggar.
There was a time when the judges did not even have tissues. Yeh, I said it. Don’t ask me what they used.
They might as well have used those shabby wigs they wear with pride as if they are not a pitiful relic of the colonial era (Every judge looks ugly and silly in that hideous wig).

With Size Two in power, it was a nightmare to get even a pen at the High Court.
It was under him that the case backlog ballooned until judges and magistrates simply gave up trying to reduce it. Phew!
Now he wants the people to pay for his trip to talk to chief justices from other countries.
Whoever is rolling the weed for this man should stop it immediately.

Still on the issue of leadership Muckraker wishes Robert Mugabe a happy snoozing in the last months of his life.
There are those who are now asking if the man should be prosecuted for crimes against humanity.
They are wasting their time. The man is too old to walk in his garden. He will not last a minute in court.
His garrulous and rude wife should however face the music. Not for trying to steal power but stealing from the country.
Muckraker’s friends in Zimbabwe say she owns 13 farms.
Yes that’s right…13.

Her house is bigger than Lesotho Avani Hotel and her bedroom is slightly smaller than Mzala Hall at NUL. This is not a sick joke or fake news.
This is a woman who bought a M15 million ring for her anniversary.
Muckraker’s friends chuckle every time she complains about thieves in Lesotho.
“Give your politicians a break. They just pinch. Here in Zimbabwe our politicians don’t break the safe they steal the bank,” they say.
Muckraker doubted that until one day when she heard that Grace Mugabe had stolen a dam. Yes, a whole dam several times the size of Maqalika Dam.
Yet some people are asking Zimbabweans to forgive the woman.

Nada, they say in Portuguese. Drag her by those expensive weaves, cuff her with her gold chains and lock her up. Swallow the keys.
The issue of forgiveness is between her and her Maker. Zimbabweans should not interfere in that one. Sisters should know that power is not sexually transmitted.

Just because you share a bed with a powerful man doesn’t mean even a quarter of your bum has a place on the chair of power. Know your place and you shall be received well by fellow villagers when the well of power runs dry.
Muckraker says that with a wink.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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