The singing couple

The singing couple

SOMEONE pass Muckraker a hankie. Not to wipe tears or mucus. Just sweat induced by the tomfoolery oozing from the State house.
A few weeks ago we were treated to pictures of the Feselady and her hunky munching some sausages.

At that time, Muckraker refused to believe that it was the Feselady who had dispatched those pictures to the world. After all, it didn’t look like there was any motive to do that.
But hindsight is a powerful thing. Time has a way of healing ignorance.
If you knew then what you know now you would not have married that pervert you call a husband. Your deranged mother-in-law would still be just another lady in the village.

You would not have applied for a job at that wretched pressure cooker of a company. Your colleagues now would be just some people you think are having sterling careers at that corporation.
Your lousy, stingy and insecure boyfriend would still be that stranger at the bus stop.

That Khotso you rejected when he was a vendor is now a Phori, ruling wool farmers and vendors.
Meanwhile, you are stuck with some voter whose only claim to fame is tainting his finger with ink just so that another man can be a minister, MP or prime minister. You know all this because of hindsight.
Sadly, you cannot change history. You may whinge about it but nothing will change.
You didn’t know. Now you know. Life goes on.

Today Muckraker regrets dismissing those who alleged that the Feselady had probably posted the State House braai video. Yet if an apology is what you seek then you are will wait until you are 80-something.
Anyone who cannot change their mind has no reason to have a brain.
Time, circumstances and events have lifted the veil off Muckraker eyes. Her moment of revelation came last night as she watched yet another video from the State House.

This time it was the Feselady and Uncle Tom bellowing a hymn.
“Ha re na matla, rea kopa, rea lla Ntate (We are weak, we ask for strength Father, we are crying),” they sang. Uncle Tom was on the bass and his sweetheart on soprano. And boom! Oh boom! A band is born.
It is not clear whether they were trying to compete with Maseru Vocal Waves or Mohapeloa Singers.
That, of course, is neither here nor there.
Suffice to say they have zilch talent. But who are we to judge fellow congregants? Letlaila le tlailela Morena (A bad singer is at least singing for the Lord).

The choice of the song was curious. Ideally, it’s a hymn of desperation and not happy moments.
The video itself had two conflicting emotions. Uncle Tom looked sad while the Feselady was slashing a smile. One was glowing while the other was sullen. Uncle Tom’s demeanour fit the sombre song perfectly.

His better-half was however bubbly as if she did not understand that they were asking for divine intervention. It’s like asking for forgiveness while laughing. More like gyrating at a Roman Catholic mass. Bumjiving at a funeral.
Muckraker can only say if you cannot be in synch with the emotion of a song you are singing then it’s highly likely that you cannot read the country’s mood.

Muckraker is not shocked that the couple cannot sing. She is happy that they, at least tried, but that doesn’t mean she is crazy enough to give them five or ten. Just two for effort, is all they get.
What she finds alarming is that such a private video is now consuming data on people’s phones.
Like all social media videos, this one did not warn us that it contains some terrible choir.

The discord starts as soon as you open it. And before you know it, you are singing along because this is a common hymn. Besides, the theme itself speaks to the sorry state of the station.
Coming at the tail end of what has been a miserable year, the hymn has some soothing effect.
Our pockets are perforated and bellies empty. So yes, we are weak. We are crying. We need some intervention. But the two people in the video don’t seem to be troubled at all.
They are in white and soft morning gowns. Only those who can afford laundry services have such snow white gowns.

We the masses stick to our brown and pink rags from Jet and Pep. If we have any white gowns then they are now yellowish. We blame it on the maids but the truth is that we cannot just maintain such colours.
Those in the State House can.
That all boils down to the fact that they are a hugely privileged couple. Which is not to say they should not be living the life. The point is that they should not be flaunting their cosy lives when the economy is a mess and the people are struggling. The video is like salt being sprinkled on a fresh wound.

Yet if you are angered by that video then you don’t know what’s coming.
Brace yourself for more vanity and possibly another huge dose of bad singing.
We haven’t seen anything yet. The braai was just the starter. The choir is a main course. We started in the State House’s yard, now are in the bedroom. More is coming tomorrow.
At least the white gowns are a huge upgrade on the hideous pink suit Uncle Tom was made to wear some months ago. The taste is refining slowly. Let’s hope the signing does to. Lilaphalalapha better watch out.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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