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Size Two’s rude rants



HUMAN beings like to think they matter. They think just because they are matter means they matter. They want to be taken seriously.
We all want to believe what we do and say carries some weight. In a way, we are all attention seekers. We are in a race for relevance. A stampede to mean something to other people.

That need defines relations in marriage, business, church and politics. Even nyatsis see themselves as mover and shakers despite being just side dishes.  We moan when others treat us like nonentities.

We cannot believe there are people who don’t give a rat’s behind about our words and actions.
We are vehemently hostile to the reality that we are small quantities in the broader scheme of things.

We hate to be reminded that we are just like other animals gobbling more than our fair share of scarce resources.
The election season has exposed how our politicians have an exaggerated sense of self-worth.

Apart from perambulating mountains and rivers to beg for votes Size Two has been throwing tantrums at SADC.
There is no doubt that as a local political actor Size Two is worth something. If he wasn’t relevant he would not have led this country for nearly two decades.

He would not have had the arrogance to tell us the congress movement will rule this country until donkeys have horns.
Yet it is that haughtiness that has made him believe he carries the same weight in SADC as he does locally.

A few weeks ago Size Two had the audacity to try to pull a middle finger at SADC. He penned an insolent letter to remind SADC that as a sovereign country Lesotho will not take instructions from the regional bloc.

What had angered him was the small matter of SADC wanting to send an Oversight Committee and Uncle Ramaphosa to monitor the political and security situation.

Why that would make him lose his marbles is mindboggling.
After all, Uncle Ramaphosa has been camped in Lesotho for almost half a decade. And the Oversight Committee is just a SADC surrogate whose presence here does not change much.

Yet Size Two would not let that get in the way of his cheap shots at SADC. He could not resist his two minutes of fame.
Lesotho is not your backyard garden, he told SADC as if he was instructing his maid to wash his stockings.

This is not the SADC we formed, he thundered as if it has ever been disputed that a lot has changed since the regional bloc was formed.
In all fairness, he was right.  His mistake was to think what he was saying really mattered to SADC.
As it turned out, SADC merely told him to deposit his behind on the floor and drink some water.
Instead of entertaining his rants SADC told him to hold his camels.

“May I encourage you and the government of the Kingdom of Lesotho to continue implementing Summit decisions and cooperate with all relevant SADC structures assigned to the Kingdom of Lesotho,”Mswati said to Size Two.
Those words sound polite but they carry a deeper and biting meaning. Stripped of their diplomatic coating, they amount to a chastisement for Size Two.

Mswati was saying SADC doesn’t care about the outbursts in Size Two’s cheeky letter.
While jumping and screaming you have to remember SADC is the boss and you will follow its instructions.

He was telling Size Two that none of what he said matters to SADC because the summit’s decisions are binding.
This is the reality little Lesotho has to accept pronto before it starts dispatching bile-laced missives to SADC.
It has no regional, political, geographical, social and economic value to SADC.

There is therefore no point in our leaders pretending theirs is a country capable to threatening SADC’s survival.

Keketso Ransto, who runs the silly excuse of a party called RCL, also thinks she matters in politics.
Last week she told her few supporters that RCL was no longer part of the opposition’s pact. As she spoke Muckraker wondered if there was any relationship between her frame and her ego.

Here is a sister who thinks her party is a serious political player in the election.
Calling her delusional will be a gross understatement. She probably lives in her own world where every number is automatically multiplied by ten.

In that world the 5 000 votes she got in the last election translate to 50 000. So as far as Sister Keke is concerned the RCL is worth 50000 votes and will have a dozen seats in parliament.

That makes it the Kingmaker in the June 3 election, according to her warped reasoning. May our Maker have mercy on such poor souls? It’s not that Sister Keke cannot count.

She just happens to confuse ones for tens. It’s a pity she will not be counting the votes.
Sister Keke is not high on anything illegal. She genuinely believes that without the RCL the opposition pact will suffer.
That is why she had the gall to instruct her supporters in Taung to disregard the agreement. And how many supporters were there?
Well, enough to fill a chicken bus.

No wonder her chances of getting a single seat are not so ‘chubby’.

Perhaps one of the biggest problems for Lesotho is that its people don’t know when to shut up.
They want to have the last word on everything, in arguments, funerals and weddings. They keep waffling even when it’s prudent to just zip it.

No wonder we never get much done in this country. We seem to think we will chatter away our problems.
We just keep on ranting as if our hearts will stop when we shut those beaks. The urge to prattle affects everyone, from the most sophisticated to village bumpkins.

Last week High Court Registrar, Lesitsi Mokeke, could not resist the temptation to babble.

He had been stung by a story that the High Court is leasing a ridiculously expensive house, owned by one of its judges, for the chief justice.
In full national glare Mokeke tried to justify renting a M27 000-house for a chief justice whose housing allowance is a measly M4 000.
Mokeke tried to wiggle out by claiming they had used an estate agent to find the property.

You could see that Mokeke was pleased with himself as he uttered that tosh. If you are blunt like Muckraker you could summarise what Mokeke said at that press briefing as BS.

He was saying there is nothing wrong with hiring a mansion for the chief justice because the law is silent on how much can be used.
Further, he was saying those who see a conflict of interest in the High Court renting a judge’s house were being mischievous. Which all comes to one conclusion: Mokeke is too clever by half.

For a lawyer, he could conjure up a better spin than the drivel he tried to sell to journalists.
There was no need to weave an intricate web because the scandal was there for all to see. As clear as a goat’s behind.
Coincidence is when two women wear similar dresses to the same party. A High Court renting a house from one of its judges is by design.
That Mokeke and his people did not know the house belonged to a judge until they signed the lease does not absolve them of blame. They should have known this was going to come back to haunt them.

In a rush to have the last word Mokeke forgot that the issue at hand is not that there was any scandal but that the deal creates a bad perception for the High Court.

It is the idea, and not the reality, that matters.  If Mokeke had walked out of the press briefing without mentioning the monetary side of the scandal the damage to his reputation and that of the judiciary would not be as terrible as it is.

But the man could not just help himself. He was on fire because journalists kept nodding at his words like zombies.
He said there was nothing wrong with renting a M27 000-house for the chief justice even though she is entitled to a M4000 housing allowance.

So let’s break it down.  The chief justice’s net salary is around M40 000. The M27 000 being paid for her house translates to 67 percent of her net salary.  No one in their right senses spends two-thirds of their salary on rent. The question then is: would the chief justice be staying in that house if she was paying from her salary?

Mokeke does not see anything wrong with such an arrangement because it’s not his money being used.
And herein lies the problem with our bureaucrats.

As long as the money belongs to government austerity does not apply.
That is why at his press conference Mokeke did not allude to the auditors’ finding that the lease is tantamount to uneconomical use of government funds.

That explains why civil servants sign off dubious deals.
They use the same evil justification they use when dishing contracts to unqualified and dubious companies.

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The market of rascals



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


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The Market of nonsense



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


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Is Kabi a real lekoloane?



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.
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


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