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Muckraker

Gigaba and his things

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THIS column has a PG18 rating this week. Not that there is much our so-called teenagers don’t know about anatomy: they are probably nastier than you think. It’s just that it’s decent to warn readers about potentially offensive content. Now that the warning has been proffered let’s get to the tale of this week.
Forget the clowns and clowning pervading our shallow politics.

The real story this week is Melusi Gigaba, South Africa’s Home Affairs minister who has shoved himself into what should have been a cyber-scandal of monumental proportions.
That’s thanks to a video of him playing with his molamu and asking someone to imagine that it’s in her mouth. It’s a brief video but leaves little to imagination. That is why responsible parents should not expose it to children (It’s however possible that some children have seen it already).
We should however remember that the Gigaba scandal is pregnant with important lessons for everyone.
The lesson is not that adults should be careful of what they post on social media.

We know that already. The biggest lesson is that size matters. Yes, I said it. Size matters in everything and everywhere. Those who say size is inconsequential are just sick with ‘J’ or are not gifted.
You know the kind that is always trying to explain their obvious disadvantage or lack.
They will say it’s not the size but the skill that matters but will never tell you that a combination of skill and size is always better. And they like to speak as if they have the skill in the first place.
What’s the point of being big but clumsy, they ask.

All of which is to avoid the real issue: Big, bigger, biggest and small, smaller, smallest.
E ‘nyane, e nyanenyana, e ntsoipi.

Gigaba has survived the humiliation because of his size. It has not taken days for his size to divert attention from his shenanigans. His transgressions have been forgiven and forgotten sooner than he can say ‘imagine that in your mouth’.
All it took was for someone to say: “Wait a minute. The story is not Gigaba here but his silent ‘colleague’ in the video. That guy is the main actor!”
And soon enough people were saying o ruile. Someone enterprising launched the ‘Gigaba Challenge’ but there were few takers because Gigaba seems to set a lofty standard with his Gigabyte.
No sane man is going to bring his shrunken Megabyte to a Gigabyte.

And so people are ogling at Gigaba’s asset while marveling at both its beauty and stature.
Suddenly Gigaba is no longer the pervert but the gifted minister. He will not be remembered as the minister whose scandalous video went viral.
Rather, he will be recalled as the minister who reminded us why primary teachers taught us about “big, bigger, biggest”.
They knew that there will come a time when we have to make a distinction between big things and biggest things.
The joke is now on those who tried to embarrass him by posting the video.

He might not be squeaky clean but he is not as dirty as his nemesis wanted him to be. The scandal is not the video but showing it to your pastor or in-laws. Watching it with colleagues is fine. Showing it to friends is acceptable. You can show it to your boss to illustrate what kind of a pay increase you want.

All this is because of the size. Gigaba has watched as his size fought his public relations battle. Instead of tears he is probably rolling with laughter as women claim they are hunting for him.
When his wife said he stood by him someone sighed: “It’s obvious. Who wouldn’t stand by such?”
Gigaba has marched his way out of a scandal because of his size.

From this episode we learn that lurid videos are not really harmful, especially for men. It is not about what the man is doing in the video that matters.
The scandal is never really the act being portrayed. Sexual acts don’t become scandalous because they are captured on video. Most of those watching the video have probably done worse things.
They are watching out of curiosity and to measure the drama in the video against their own monkey shines. People want to be reminded that they are not the craziest creatures around them.
They also don’t want to be reminded that they are the least adventurous.

The point here is that sextapes rarely trigger disgust. Which is why even the moral prefects in our midst have been scrambling to lay their hands on Gigaba’s video?
Muckraker’s Pastor was looking for the video too.

“Sister Muck you have to find that video today. I am counting on you as the journalist in the church to deliver the video because I need it for my sermon on Sunday,” he said with a straight face.
Muckraker tried to explain that she is too innocent to even think of seeking such sinful pictures but the pastor would have none of it.
“No, sister. There is nothing wrong with seeking information for your job. Right now I am asking you to use your skill to get me that video so that I can do my job.”
Muckraker eventually relented and the pastor is thankful.

Everyone has been hunting for the video.
Men wanted to know what is it that Gigaba thought was worthy capturing on video.

Women wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
Judging by the reaction Muckraker can tell you that many were not disappointed.
And because many were not dissatisfied with what they saw the scandal gradually disappeared.
If they had seen some tiny scary creature they would have quickly hit the roof and gone after Gigaba.

“Ke’ng ntho e nyane ena,” they would have asked in disgust. “Ha a na letho,” they would have said.
Gigaba’s reputation would have been butchered not on the basis of morality but the size of what he was showing off.
We are learning that those who have been telling men to avoid posting their nude pictures on social media don’t know what they are talking about.

The problem is never the posting but the size of what has been posted. If people think that you had something worth posting they will quickly forgive you.
You might actually start getting suitors like is happening to Gigaba. But if you post some little animal and pretend to be funny people will bludgeon you.
And don’t think it’s anything personal. It’s just the way humans think and behave. They believe people must keep their small things to themselves.

Those who insist on showing off their small things are ridiculed. That’s just the way it works. You cannot parade your little things at the market.

When people hear that you were showing off in a video they want to be satisfied that you had valid reason to do so. They have legitimate expectations to be entertained.
If you come brandishing your little creature they will rough you up with snide comments. The idea is simple: if they want to see small things they will stare at their own in the comfort of their homes.

The Gigaba issue also proves that women are a nasty lot. They are the ones talking loudest about Gigaba’s colleague. They are the most excited about what they see on the video. They are probably the ones who launched the Gigaba challenge. They are busy gawking the Gigaba video at every chance.
The lesson: never believe a woman who says size doesn’t matter. She is a horrible liar.
She just wants you to feel better but when you turn your back she will be chuckling.
You will be slow if you think this article was a tribute to big creatures.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

muckraker.post@gmail.com

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Muckraker

The market of rascals

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THE Market’s management is either high on something illegal or just reckless.
They could also be either proudly incompetent or simply daft.
Muckraker suspects they are high, reckless, incompetent and daft.
That is a heavy burden to carry but self-inflicted and deserved.

Their job is to feed tummies and quench thirsts but they believe they are capable of many jobs. In addition to cooking chickin, they fancy themselves to be detectives, expert witnesses, rape experts, psychologists, communication gurus, criminologists, prosecutors, CCTV analysts and many other things they conjure up in their small minds.
That much is lavishly clear from their crude statement reacting to a woman who alleges she was raped in their toilet last week.
Instead of just acknowledging the alleged incident, The Market was sweating to testify, analyse evidence, scrutinise footage and play judge.
They tell us the alleged victim arrived at the restaurant “heavily intoxicated” as if they had measured the alcohol content in her blood.
They say she had left an “unpaid bill” at another restaurant as if they were the Small Claims Court.
They claim CCTV footage shows the victim coming out of the toilets holding hands with her alleged attacker as if they are certain that the handholding was consensual and not one dragging the other. Make no mistake about the sinister motive behind those salacious details sprinkled all over the statement.
They were gathering wood for a pyre to burn the woman and her allegations.
Their demented reasoning is something like this: she could not have been raped because she was intoxicated, absconded her bill down the street and was holding hands with the alleged attacker. None of those things have been proven and they might be just shameless lies told by uncouth characters.
The point, accepted by everyone else except some nincompoops, is that The Market should not have mentioned anything about a bill or intoxication. They are not just trivialising her serious allegations but also calling her a drunk who dodges bills and lies about being raped.
They do this by telling what they believe to be a cogent tale to illustrate that her story is incredible.
Muckraker read that clumsy statement several times and each time she was further disgusted by both the writer and The Market as a business.
They say the gentleman from another restaurant who is “well known to The Market staff” claimed that the woman had left an unpaid bill. That is not some random anecdote but an attempt to justify why they allowed him into the bar after they had closed.
It could also be a flimsy attempt at saying the man could not have violated the woman because he is “well known” to them.
As soon as the narration started Muckraker knew The Market was on an evil path.
And boy, did they march with vigour.
They say while the two were discussing the unpaid bill, the victim “indicated that she needed the bathroom”. Then comes the killer line in the statement: “Moments later, the said gentleman also walked to the bathroom, where after a while they both emerged holding hands”.
The public is invited to conclude that the discussion about the unpaid bill was resolved in the toilet and the two “emerged holding hands”.
In other words, whatever was said or happened in the toilet was so mutual that a debt was settled and hands were held.
The victim blaming and bashing could have ended there but The Market was just getting started.
After social media clobbered them for their callous and inept statement, The Market came back with a second one pretending to be correcting the first one.
This time they tried to sanitise the first statement by weeding out the offensive parts but avoided withdrawing the first statement and sincerely apologising to the woman.
They forget that people will never unlearn what they learned from the first statement and are most likely to read the second statement as an update rather than a correction.
But just like that, The Market thinks they have dodged the bullet so they can go back to their cooking and notorious upselling.
Their message to women is stinging: “It’s your funeral if you run away from a bill and get raped in our toilets. We will protect ourselves and the suspects at all costs. For good measure, we will tell the public you enjoyed free drinks and got so drunk that you made allegations of rape against our friend who was only trying to get you to pay”.
Muckraker will not speculate on what happened but can say, without fear or favour, that The Market’s management are unmitigated and unrepentant rascals. Only a business managed by accredited scoundrels reacts with such brazen thuggery to allegations of rape on its premises. Muckraker didn’t say CHE accredits scoundrels but that the mischief exhibited by The Market is of such high quality that it deserves a certification of sorts and at a higher level. It’s Level 8 stuff.
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuuu
muckracker.post@gmail.com

 

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Muckraker

The Market of nonsense

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You are wrong if you think The Market’s statement about the alleged rape in their toilets is just terrible public relations or some error of judgment.
The statement reflects society’s attitude towards rape victims and women in general. That much is clear in the statement’s tone.

The statement says the alleged victim was “heavily intoxicated” but the truth is that its author was drunk from both something illegal and prejudice.
Even someone who had drunk all the beer, ciders, cocktails, whisky, gin and brandy in The Market would not come up with such a statement. This is top-notch BS rehearsed over years and expertly mastered. The Makhadzi dance to the alleged victim’s trauma.
But there is more to show their contempt for the alleged victim.
The one-page statement mentions the alleged victim’s name five times. Five!
It has 11 sentences and mentions the victim’s name in five of them.
It is unethical to mention rape victims by name but The Market did it anyway because they probably wanted to remind everyone that she is “that woman”.
You can bet your last January kobo that some dunderheads will justify naming her on the basis that she had already identified herself by posting the incident on social media. Nonsense!
The Market had no right to identify her by name in their statement.
They didn’t seek her consent. And even if they did, it’s still unethical.
To see that mentioning her name five times was not an innocent mistake you have to check how many times the statement mentions her alleged attacker‘s name. Zero!
This is despite that the alleged victim had revealed his name, or at least part of it, on social media. They call him “a staff member of one of the establishments at Maseru” and a “gentleman”.
They don’t even say the man is from one of the establishments at Maseru Mall because that would instantly narrow the list and expose him.
So they resort to saying “Maseru” as if Maseru City is synonymous with Maseru Mall. The idea was to keep his identity as vague as possible. Even if the alleged victim had not mentioned his name The Market knew him because the statement says he is “well known to The Market staff”.
There is a method to the madness here. The Market was at pains to protect the alleged attacker while loudly shouting the victim’s name. Ideally, neither the victim nor the suspect should have been mentioned by name. She is a victim of rape and the suspect was yet to appear in court.
Those with an eye for detail might have also noticed that The Market unashamedly tries to pretend to have suddenly discovered the woman’s rape allegations on her Facebook page. She reported to their staff soon after the alleged incident.
Muckraker will end this depressing story with one more observation.
The Market’s statement mentions “toilets” as if they have many toilets.
The reality is that it’s one toilet for men and women. The main entrance is the same and so is the washing area.
On busy nights you can use either of the cubicles. Muckraker has seen men budging into the women’s cubicle and vice-versa. “Hona le motho!” is a common scream in that toilet.
Muckraker has bumped into men with open zips and women pulling up their pants in the washing area. Women fixing their bras bump heads with men tucking in their shirts.
Whoever designed that toilet has a brain the size of the punctuation mark at the end of this sentence.
There are no words for those who thought it fit to be used by their patrons.
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuuu
muckracker.post@gmail.com

 

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Muckraker

Is Kabi a real lekoloane?

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Is Kabi a real lekoloane? That is not a trick question so don’t bother scratching your stressed head.
Even the goats in Matatiele, where he is alleged to have been initiated, know he is not a real lekoloane.
They know what he did last December and are as disgusted as the other makoloane who rightly feel he has cheated his way to the title.

The Matatiele goats know that other initiates had to spend at least five weeks at the initiation school to earn the honour of being called a lekoloane.
The leadership of the national initiation committee says claiming to be a lekoloane after just 72 hours at an initiation school is “unacceptable”.
Muckraker will call it fraud until Kabi proves otherwise.
Muckraker is not saying this to humiliate Kabi. He is a good fella but the stubborn reality is that he didn’t complete the course and therefore has no business pretending to be qualified.
It’s not as if Kabi entered the school with credits from another school. There was no transfer letter.
If there is a letter he should name his former principal.
He cannot claim to have attended initiation classes through Zoom and then went to complete the course with some practicals for 72 hours. He didn’t do distance learning because initiation schools are not UNISA.
There is no crash course in initiation school. That he qualified for mature entry doesn’t mean he could just sneak into the school hours before graduation and then claim to be a certified lekoloane.
The issue is not whether Kabi believes he is a real lekoloane because that doesn’t matter. Being in a plane doesn’t make you a pilot even if you scream to be regarded as one.
Muckraker has visited NUL’s law school but cannot claim to be a lawyer. She has joined the wires on her phone charger but is no electrician.
The real Makoloane are furious because he has cheated his way to their title and wants to be treated as their equal. They are right. Yet what Kabi has done is more serious than stealing a title. He has corrupted the institution of initiation.
He had no excuse for pulling the 72-hour trick at the initiation school.
Parliament was closed, they had dismally failed to topple Uncle Sam and his party is dead. He cannot claim he was busy running the ABC because Feselady and her hubby are still in charge.
For the past week, Muckraker has been wondering why Kabi could deliberately inflict such dishonour on himself.
The answer is that Kabi is entitled like other politicians. He wants to have the best for his minimum effort.
They want to earn the best perks but still claim to be the people’s humble servants. They want the people to vote for them for merely being present or promising something.
When held to the highest standards they point to the incompetence of other politicians.
Their favourite refrain is “at least….”
Kabi desperately wanted to be a lekoloane but was not prepared to put in the work.
The second part of the answer is that Kabi, like other politicians, thought he could get away with it. It’s an attitude informed by the general contempt politicians have for those they believe are beneath them.
It’s just that he has underestimated the resolve of other initiates to protect their institution from fraudsters and imposters.
Now he will be remembered as a political leader who was caught, pants down, masquerading as a lekoloane. The national initiation committee has said he is not wanted near an initiation school and if he is seen in the vicinity he will be forced to repeat the course.
Muckraker thinks “repeat” is not the right word. He will be starting from Grade 1, doing the ‘a, e, i, o, u’ of initiation school.
Ouch!
Kabi is worse than a high school dropout because dropouts don’t show up for graduation.
He is worse than those who insist on using the honorary doctorate title because, at least, that title is given voluntarily. There is nothing called an honourary lekoloane. You are either or not.
Those who cheat in exams are way better than him because, at least, they would have attended classes and qualified for exams but are just too daft. Kabi didn’t attend classes or take the exam.
He just arrived when others were rehearsing their graduation songs, got himself smeared with ochre and proudly walked to the podium to be capped.
Kabi is welcome to call himself a lekoloane but he will be a lekoloane in his head and not to anyone else.
He might as well have spent the 72 hours plotting to topple Uncle Sam because he will never be a lekoloane even if he smears himself with a Maqalika of ochre and recites initiation songs a million times.
A man who is not initiated is called a leqai but what do we call one who tries to cheat their way to initiation?
Let’s call him a kabi. And that is a real title because it is earned. Finally, oh finally, Kabi has invented something useful. Hooray!
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuuu
muckracker.post@gmail.com

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