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Someone find Mapesela’s head



WE all have something that makes us high. For some it’s the loudmouth soup (beer). Others like matekoane, that potent weed smoked by nearly all politicians in this country.
Those who deny this scientifically proven fact should explain should explain why our politicians, especially MPs, look perennially confused. But that is a story for another time.

Now we are talking about the other sources of inebriation.
Others get their kick from hard drugs (sorry for them that reject benign means of getting smashed). Some are intoxicated by love, kisses and nyafu. It’s all good.
Muckraker likes expensive wine and foot massages. She can afford the wine but is yet to find any man who knows the difference between massaging and strangling.

Applications are not welcome. Keep your calloused fingers to yourself, comrades!
There is no way you can give a proper foot massage if you cannot afford good wine.
It is pointless to even start a conversation with a man who thinks 4th Street is a wine.

Oops, Muckraker digressed again. Back to the matter at hand.
Others are into spiritual highs induced by religious sermons. A lot are imbibing from the wells of fake prophets who are just overrated motivational speakers with a special talent in separating you from your money. If gulps of hopose are your thing so be it.
We all have to be stoned some times, especially in a country where goats are better leaders than their two-legged owners. You have to wander in dreamlands, miles away from this wretched little place were poverty and corruptions are so permanent that they have been given totems and title deeds.
Uncle Tom gets a bit tipsy when he sees his young yellowbone. Love does that. It’s all good.
The trick is to imbibe and dabble with moderation.

The trouble is when you indulge so much that you lose your senses. Drunks are always a nuisance. That is why we should all pray for Tefo Mapesela, the garrulous and rude Defence Minister, who has become hopelessly drunk on power.
Last night Mapesela took his intoxication to unprecedented levels.
He landed in a village in Khubetsoana, a gun in one hand and a stick in the other.
Eyes crimson with anger, he fired several shots in the air while spewing profanities.

The source of his anger was not gold, money or diamonds.
The man was angry over grass. Grass that some cattle tummies were already turning into manure.
Now let get this right because the drama of it all can be confusing especially when drama queens like Mapesela are involved.
A Lesotho Minister was fighting Basotho herd boys for allowing their cattle to eat grass in a South African farm. Let that sink before we move on.
Some have said that the field across the river belongs to Mapesela. So what?

It’s just some poor villagers desperate to feed their animals. But you have to notice the irony of it all to understand that this is just bizarre.
The person who was waving a gun and a stick is the Minister of Defence. We all know that the sticks are associated with herd boys. In Lesotho thugs have more guns than the police.
If you had arrived at the village from another country you would be forgiven for thinking that Mapesela is a thug. He looked the part too. And his mouth provided irrefutable evidence.

A woman who tried to drag him back to his senses was instantly labelled a prostitute.
He didn’t know this woman but he quickly decided that she was a prostitute because she was telling him to recover his marbles.
You have to marvel at the minister’s ability to stoop to such gutter level. He wallowed in mud as villagers watched in disgust. Some threw stones at him but Muckraker thinks they were not doing so out of anger. They probably wanted him to leave the mud. It wasn’t hate but love.

They were trying to say: Stop it Tefo! Just stop it Tefo! You have embarrassed yourself enough already.
We have said the same to drunk friends and uncles.
But what really irritates Muckraker is not the drama but Mapesela’s showy antics. An average bullet costs M10. Now, if he fired five bullets it means he wasted M50. That is five loaves of bread.
Mapesela, my brother! How dare you throw away bread when villagers are starving?

All this happens because people like Mapesela are not used to power. In their hands power is a weapon with which to harass the weak. Such behaviour comes from a place of weakness and cowardice. Sadly, this is the kind we have in key positions. This is the type that is expected to take this country prosperity. We are screwed.

Muckraker has long accepted that Lesotho’s politics is not for the faint-hearted.
If you are not careful it will dispatch you to your maker, pronto.
Look how Uncle Tom’s family has been torn apart by the fracas in the All Basotho Confusion (ABC). His own daughter is shoving her lawyer finger into his eye.
His son-in-law is playing with his tail while spanking him out of the kraal he built from scratch.

Now Uncle Tom has been reduced to making idle threats whose only import is to advertise his desperation to a country that already knows he is way past his prime.
A few weeks ago he said his daughter will regret hobnobbing with his enemies.
It was as if he was warning a teenage girl he still feeds. The daughter is a married woman capable of making her own decisions.

Such is the brutal nature of Lesotho’s politics that fathers have to remind their daughters that they are their seeds. You know a man has run out persuasive words when he evokes blood connections in a political battle. All these faint and pathetic kicks are because Uncle Tom has lost his mojo.
They used to describe him as a shrewd political schemer who could wriggle his way out of the trickiest political dilemmas.

Well, those days are gone. Only those high on something illegal still believe that Uncle Tom is the real McCoy Maseru, the village whose fathers insist on calling the capital.
Uncle Tom is no longer the big fish in this small but toxic pond that is our politics.
Boom! Oh, boom! Where art thou, Lekhoakhoa? Jo ’na oe! Lekhoakhoa le qetiloe ke masetlaoko.

Nqosa Mahao, a mere professor he has resorted to calling a mafikizolo and other disparaging names, is dragging him by his nose.
Uncle Tom, the man who has outwitted many opponents, is kicking and screaming but he cannot escape Mahao’s clutch.
Watching an old man being heaved around is such a sad sight.
Mahao and his crew have hung Uncle Tom on the laundry line with his eyelids. That line is not in the backyard at Makhoakhoeng but in front of a malaeneng compound in Motimopso. All can see him.
And they don’t seem to be relenting in their malice.

A few weeks ago they slapped Uncle Tom with a six-year suspension from the ABC. It is not clear how they decided on the six years but Muckraker suspects that there was mischief involved.
Here is why. Let’s suppose your ancestors are in the habit of welcoming their visitors from the land of the living with a pot of Likahare. When you get to sixty they designate a beast for your arrival. At seventy they start sharpening the knives. When you are 80 they start the fire, take the beast to the tree and wait for the call. But when you are 86 the pot of likahare is kept ready for your arrival. They know you have boarded the bus to their homestead. The message is clear: this column has no time for lazy thinkers.
Suffice to say anyone who suspends any 80-year-old for six years is malicious. It doesn’t matter whether you are suspending them from a stokvel, burial society, mokete club or church. It’s banishment that will not end well.

Verifiable science tells us most 86-year-olds are in wheelchairs or permanently stuck to a stool. If he or someone close squanders his fortune then he will be moving around in a wheelbarrow. Surely Mahao’s camp doesn’t expect an 86-year-old to crawl back into the party after his suspension ends. If they expect that they are ill mannered rascals.

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Let them take korobela



Nqosa Mahao has pulled a fast one on his opposition comrades to join Uncle Sam’s government. Muckraker suspected the bromance among the opposition leaders would end in tears but never expected Mahao to do the betraying. The lesson is that there is no honour among politicians and everyone has a price. The BAP’s price is two cabinet seats and some morsels to be flung its way here and there.
The opposition is furious at Mahao for stringing them along for three weeks while Uncle Sam whispered sweet little things in his ears.

They say Mahao attended their nocturnal meetings to plot Uncle Sam’s demise but was busy with a plan to get himself a mok’huk’hu in the government.
Their screams of anger are hypocritical. They too would have been charmed for the right price. Mahao just happened to have yielded earlier than them. None of them can claim that they were not approached by the RFP or its dealmakers.

No one could claim that they refused the RFP’s marriage proposal because they differed on ideology and principle. The only sticking issue was what was offered and what they thought their support was worthy. So let’s bin the hypocrisy and confirm that some of them overreached and overestimated their value by holding out for more spoils. It’s not their business if Mahao sold himself too cheap.

He was smart enough to understand that the market of political support was already flooded. That is being pragmatic.
In the end, it was a simple matter of demand and supply. Uncle Sam played the game well by lodging a scarecrow of a court case to delay the vote of no confidence to buy himself time. That blindsided the opposition leaders and allowed Uncle Sam to counterattack.

So while Lehata was laughing like a hyena in parliament and the opposition congregated at the BNP Centre for drinks Uncle Sam was cooking some delicious dish across town. It was only a matter of time before the aroma reached the politicians’ noses.

So while they were claiming to be united most of them were busy receiving calls to hear what was on the menu. It was a buffet of embassies and cabinet seats. The desserts were deputy minister positions and some small jobs for hungry supporters. The only problem with some of the opposition leaders was that they wanted to eat the whole buffet, including Uncle Sam’s portion.

Meanwhile, Uncle Sam was busy gauging what was enough to satiate the hungriest among the opposition leaders. In the end, he knew he didn’t have to part with much to get the deal and the numbers he wanted. Some politicians are saying Mahao could have asked for more because Uncle Sam was desperate and cornered. Not true!

Your tomatoes do not cost more simply because you worked hard to produce them or you think they are special. It’s the market that decides.
To get more for them you should get the timing right. The same applies to political support. Uncle Sam knew the market of political support would be oversupplied if he waited a few days before buying.

By the time he came to the market the available political support was about to rot and everyone was willing to sell at a huge discount. This is common sense but some opposition leaders want to pretend Mahao ambushed them by selling fast.

Muckraker suggests that next time they plot against Uncle Sam, the opposition leaders should visit a sangoma to give them all a huge dose of korobela so that none is tempted to find another lover. The best love portion comes from the North of us. Mwa, mwa, mwa!

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuuu

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How to share a stolen goat



Those who think Uncle Sam is now safe from the barbarians at the gates are naïve. Mahao’s defection is a temporary setback from which the opposition leaders are plotting to recover.
They are coming because Uncle Sam is holding something they cannot live without: power.
And they will not rest until they get it. Those who believe this fight is based on principle and ideology are unmitigated dimwits. Their claim that Uncle Sam’s government has failed is just a cover to justify their plot. They know they would not do a better job.

Everyone knows that because they have seen their epic bungling when they had a chance to rule.
The notoriety of their thievery, corruption, deliberate mismanagement and nepotism precedes them. They say Uncle Sam has failed to implement his party’s campaign promises but forget that some of them failed several times. If this was about ideology and principle it would reflect in the negotiations for coalitions. In countries where politicians still have morsels of self-respect and specks of shame, such negotiations would be dominated by ideological and policy considerations.

Political parties try to find some common ground on fundamental issues like the economy, education, climate change, trade and foreign policy.
Our rascals here talk about ministerial and diplomatic positions as if they are sharing a stolen goat; I want the head, give me likahare.

My ancestors said I should always eat the testicles. Give me the liver, I don’t have teeth. The heart is my favourite. In a way, our government is like a stolen goat being shared by thieves. Ba ja maleo.

It’s a fat goat stolen from Basotho. The politicians will eat it and not leave even the skin for Basotho to make a mat to lay on when hungry. The thieves are eating while the people watch.

Yet we people never tire to give the politicians the permission to rob and pee on them.
It’s tempting to say we deserve it but no one, not even the Devil, deserves the politicians we have in this country. Some say there is hell somewhere. Muckraker says we are already in a hell of some sort created by our politicians. We are being roasted slowly by politicians and they will never stop.

Does that make you feel depressed and hopeless? Well, you are not alone. There are worse places on this earth. Does that mean we should accept tosh because there is worse tosh in other places?
Well, it’s your choice.

Muckraker wishes you a wet weekend. Let’s hope Uncle Sam throws us a party to celebrate his great escape. You marched for him, didn’t you?
A beer is what you deserve for sweating from Maseru Mall to parliament.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuuu

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Give Lehata a Bell’s



Mootsi Lehata behaved like a clown in parliament last week. Laughing like he was in a shebeen. Spewing insults as if someone had stolen his goats. He even used the ‘F’ word on Lejone Mpotjoane.
“Moshanyana enoa a se ke a ntella. Se ke oa ntella sonny, f**k you,” he said in response to Mpotjoane. Muckraker doesn’t know Mpotjoane to be a moshanyana. What she knows is what Lehata did to a ngoanana a few years ago.

The girl dropped the rape case on the condition that Lehata builds her a house and pays for the child’s upkeep. So ke eena ea tellang molao. Some might say it’s water under the bridge but Muckraker doesn’t forgive. Never!

For now, we should talk about his monkeyshines in parliament. He looked high on something. Lehata can however deny it. He can say he was shaking because he had spent sleepless nights plotting to topple Uncle Sam. He can claim he was shaking with excitement at the prospect of becoming a minister again. If that doesn’t cut it he can say wasn’t drunk but just suffering from a hangover.

That might work because he could say those who say he was drunk on that Monday should have seen him on Sunday. He could claim he was still suffering the effects of knocking down several bottles taller than him.
But whatever happens, no one can prove that he was high.

Yes, a test could have revealed that he had blood in his alcohol but that is now beside the point because it didn’t happen. In any case, Muckraker has seen worse things in parliament. Remember how some MPs spanked each other a few years ago?

Chairs and bins were given wings. An MP was once captured on camera groping another.
As for insults, worse things have been said. Some of the MPs don’t need to be insulted to feel humiliated. Imagine how it feels to be an LCD MP.
You see it in their faces that they are beating themselves.

No wonder they are not even mentioned as part of the opposition. They are not in opposition, not government and not in the crossbench. They are there, somewhere there.

Muckraker would not sleep well if she ended these musings without mentioning one small thing. During the debate on Lehata’s tomfoolery, one opposition MP said the Speaker should protect MPs so that their images are not manipulated to tarnish their reputation. Yeah, right!

You must have a reputation first for it to be tarnished. Muckraker and 98.9 percent of Basotho know 99 percent of our MPs to be freeloading, greedy and power-hungry charlatans.
That is their reputation. Those who say our MPs are honest and hardworking are tarnishing that sterling reputation.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuuu

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