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Muckraker

Look who is ’Mannyeo now!

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Now that he is gone, Muckraker thinks it is time to ask what is it that Uncle Tom will take back home. Leabua Jonathan took his cattle home.
Major General Justin Lekhanya has his cows. Size Two left with his camels. Ntsu Mokhehle never had much liking for material things.
What will Uncle Tom take back to Abia?

His Chinese friend will not agree to be carted to Abia.
The silly boys around him won’t be joining him. He is no longer relevant to them. They have their own problems to ponder.
He will pack his yellowbone in a bag and return home.
There is no way the Feselady will return to Abia in broad daylight. The shame is too much to bear. She will have to be sneaked into the village in a Ha re eeng Thaba-Tseka.

She will wake up in the wee hours of the morning and start sweeping the yard as if she has always stayed there. Neighbours will chuckle. The chief she once insulted will snare at her. Welcome to the people sister! In Abia you are a subject.

You can however be sure that the Feselady will be bored out of her mind without the international trips, power and aides to tend to her every whim.
She is used to drama. She is used to being the centre of attention.
In the village she will be just another ’Mannyeo.
The village ladies will not gossip with her.

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She might start visiting the library but that will be a disaster. You can imagine the Feselady walking into the library, heading to the counter, slamming a book down and screaming at the librarian. “This is the worst book I have ever read. It has no plot and too many characters,” she will say.

The librarian will look up and calmly remarks: “Ah, so you are the one who took our phonebook? Mehlolo! Now you see what your Form B is doing to you?”
Never in the history of this country has a woman risen and fallen with such stunning speed. The loquacious yellowbone from Mokhotlong has fallen with a thud.

It’s too late to go back to school. Too early to mend bridges. Too early to show some contrition. And so she will pretend that all is well (say that with an Indian accent, please) while wearing a plastic smile that belies her fear.
But it’s not too early to see a shrink. The woman needs it because a sudden loss of power can be traumatic. She will be suffering from what is called Post-Good Life Disorder (PGLD).

Or PAO for Post Arrogance Disorder. From now it’s Muvhango all the way.
Someone must tell her to watch Lockdown, a jail drama.

Without power you feel naked and exposed. For the Feselady it’s even worse because she was in the business of spanking and insulting people in town.

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Now the woman she bashed at a local hospital might want a rematch.
The playing field has been levelled. The Feselady can no longer fight while perched on her bodyguard shoulders.
The waiter she harangued at a lodge in Butha-Buthe might be calling her with the pinky finger. She must be saying Tloho ‘Me` as she rolls up her sleeves and tucks her dress into her undies. Tloho ngoan’aka, sunyetsa, u nyoke tšehlana ena.

Forget the economic policy that Majoro will cobble up in the next few days.
Worry not about the jobs he will promise to create.
For now Muckraker is not even concerned about the cabinet which she knows will be just mishmash of some old and new faces.

Her only wish is that the government grants her just five minutes to beat up the Feselady for her shenanigans. This will not be gender-based violence but a sister disciplining another sister. A free lesson to every woman who will one day find herself swaggering in the corridors of power with a ring thrust on her finger.

The Feselady should have her ears wringed. She was a nuisance. She abused borrowed power with such vim that you would think she owned it.

By the time you read this Dr Moeketsi Majoro will be soaked in saliva from bootlickers. He must find a raincoat, pronto, or the stinking drool will keep pounding him.

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Muckraker sincerely hopes the man can swim because there is a Tsunami of saliva coming his way. Such is the nature of Lesotho’s politics of the belly.
Tongues are always in overdrive. People who called him a nonentity a few weeks ago are now harassing him with their shameless tongues.
Not even Covid-19 can stop this unhygienic politics of bootlicking.
You have to feel for the man. The same long tongues that were licking Thabane are now all over him.

Imagine being brushed by the same tongue that was glued to the toxic Feselady for years. The nasty rash that comes with it.
The itchiness of such tongues.
Now is not the time to teach Majoro to avoid hanger-on jostling for his attention.

He has seen it all. The boys at the State House had their tongues bruised.
He is also smart enough to know that when the end has come no amount to legal gymnastics will save a leader. For weeks we have watched Thabane twisting and turning as he tried to delay his exit.

His spin doctors said he will only go in July. It was as if he had control over his fate.
Then we had mumbo jumbo from pseudo political analysts who tried to teach us about politics.

Enter the Attorney General with his damp squib of a legal opinion that read like it was written by a paralegal.
“Unless I haven’t read the provision well enough there seems to me..,” said the AG in one of the statements in the opinion.

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He was giving legal advice about a constitutional matter but admitting that he might not have read the law well. No conviction whatsoever.
In the end it was clear that someone was probably been looking over his shoulder as he wrote that embarrassing opinion.

If this is the last legal opinion the AG will give to the government then he has soiled his reputation. Henceforth First-Year law students will use it as an example of how not to write a legal opinion.

We also had a battalion of nincompoops insisting on ingratiating themselves with Thabane and the Feselady even when it was apparent that their time was over.

One day Fako Moshoeshoe will have to answer why he thought it prudent to dismount a fit four-legged horse and clamber a two-legged on.
The same applies to all those who were ululating for Uncle Tom as he clung on to power with his nails. Nyoe, nyoe Uncle Tom has nine lives. My foot!
Blah, blah Uncle is a scheming politician. Well, he schemed himself out of power.

The lesson from all this is that most people are not as clever as they claim to be.
There was never any doubt, even to pigs, that Uncle Tom was on his way out.

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Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

muckraker.post@gmail.com

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Muckraker

Jackals are hunting

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Cheeseman’s recording of the conversation might border on the criminal but that doesn’t matter to those who have been looking for a stick to spank Molelle.

They have been waiting for this moment and are seizing it with both hands.

You can hear the excitement in their voices as they discuss Molelle’s impending downfall. Knorx’s misery has triggered a collective orgasm.

Watch them now as they hunt in packs like jackals.

Even those who sang Molelle’s praises a few weeks ago are queuing to lynch him.

We are masters at kicking those who have fallen from grace.

The Law Society of Lesotho has been startled from years of slumber to race out of its bed with a long sjambok in hand.

They have written a letter to Uncle Sam pretending to have discovered, through a “whistleblower”, that Molelle was appointed the DCEO boss without being admitted as a legal practitioner in Lesotho.

It’s unclear why they needed a ‘whistleblower’ to discover something in their records for years. Muckraker suspects they always knew but were either too timid to say or waiting for this moment.

They are saying it now to give the impression that they sneaked in a kick when Molelle was being spanked out of office. It’s a desperate scramble for relevance.

By claiming that they didn’t know Molelle was appointed the DG without being admitted as a legal practitioner the law society is exposing itself as a proudly incompetent organisation.

That much is clear from their brazen admission that they needed a ‘whistleblower’ to whisper to them something on their notice board or drawer.

Muckraker is amused by the battalion pretending to be irritated by what Molelle’s mouth said about Bro Richard, Sister Majara and Uncle Sam. They are borrowing offence as if it’s them who were labelled idiots or satane.

Bro Richard, Sister Majara and Uncle Sam are capable of getting irritated on their own without prodding and instigation from self-hired mourners, chancers and bootlickers.

Molelle himself knows what is supposed to happen in the next few days.

He can only extricate himself from this mess by proving that the audio clips were manufactured and his voice is either AI-generated or from someone who can expertly imitate him.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

muckraker.post@gmail.com

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Muckraker

Pressing the Knorx Stereo

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As she listened to Mollele’s audio clips Muckraker could hear a man devoted to waffling his way to an abrupt end to his tenure as the DCEO boss.

Cheeseman only had to keep poking him with cunning instigations. It was as if Cheeseman knew which buttons to press for Knorx’s stereo to keep playing his songs. And he wasn’t using a remote control. He was right there pressing the brown Tempest. Muckraker is unsure if Cheeseman danced to the Knorx hits but is certain he enjoyed himself.

Press: “Satane”. Press: “Idiots”. Press: “This case”.

Press: “Oh, yes that case”. Press: “The DPP this and that”. Press: “Blah, blah, blah and blah”.

Cheeseman was playing Knorx like DJ Boots on the decks.

At some point you hear that Cheeseman was no longer playing his favourite hits but requests from people who had given him a list of songs before he met Knorx.

Cheeseman’s motive for recording their conversation doesn’t matter now.

It matters now who got the audio clips, snitched and leaked. It all boils down to what he said and to whom he said it.

Molelle would still have been in trouble even if he had been heard saying those words while in his shower. He put himself in that position by allowing his mouth to go wild.

He should have kept those thoughts locked in his mind until uttering them had no consequences for him. They are words you only mention as history: “Eish, I used to work with devils and idiots”.

Muckraker is not saying he should have never said those words now. Of course, he could have driven out of Maseru to find a mountain to tell those things.

If a molisana had secretly recorded his chat with the mountain, Knorx would have said what he tells his ancestors is his business. He could have also claimed he would have gone bonkers if he had not told someone or something about his bosses.

Many have a boss they believe to be a moron or evil. Yet they keep their mouth shut about such truths to keep the job and the peace. The smart ones know it is their job to cover up the idiocy of their bosses.

That is how they earn their keep and promotions. Otherwise, what is the point of an idiot boss keeping a smart employee who doesn’t know how to protect them from their idiocy?

It is your job to protect your boss from his idiocy. And you have no business discussing your boss’ idiocy, especially with his enemies. Venture into such reckless discussions and you will be jobless with your smartness.

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Muckraker

The mouth

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WE start the year with a little story of the dangers of a reckless mouth. Muckraker will write it as if you are listening to your granny’s tsomo. The point of it all will be revealed before the kettle boils.

So here goes.

Some two centuries ago, Czar Nicholas I, the ruler of Russia, faced a rebellion from some renegades who demanded democracy and other things. Qoi!

The Czar reacted with a brutal crackdown that included the chopping of heads.

Kondraty Ryleyev, one of the rebels, was caught and sentenced to death by hanging. On the day of his hanging, the trapdoor opened but the rope around Ryleyev’s neck broke.

In those days, a rope breaking during an execution was considered a miracle which compelled the authorities to pardon the convict and spare the convict’s life.

With rope broken Ryleyev, thinking he had been saved, stood up, looked at the crowd that had gathered to witness his execution and shouted: “You see, in Russia they don’t know how to do anything properly, even to make rope”. A messenger was sent to the Palace for the Czar to sign Ryleyev’s pardon.

The disappointed Czar was about to sign the pardon when he asked the messenger: “Did Ryleyev say anything about this miracle?”

“Sir, he said that in Russia they don’t even know how to make rope,” the messenger replied.

“In that case let us prove the contrary,” said the Czar as he tore up the pardon.

Ryleyev was hanged the next day and the rope held tight until he kicked the bucket.

Muckraker read that story from Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power. The anecdote accompanies Law 4: “Always say less than necessary”.

Ryleyev would have lived to see another day if only he kept his tongue on a short leash.

Did Muckraker hear you say qoi?

The story is not about what happened to a reckless mouth in Russia two centuries ago but what is happening to Knorx Molelle because of his mouth.

Muckraker’s grandfather used to say the three things that get a man in trouble are the mouth, the hands and the ‘member’. The hand does things to things and people. The mouth says things. And the ‘member’…we all know the David story. Molelle is a victim of his mouth.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

muckraker.post@gmail.com

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