There is no point repeating what happened when Muckraker was away.
Nothing is to be gained by revisiting the trauma repeatedly inflicted on us by those in power.
We lick our wounds and wait for new blows.
Toughen up, comrades! It is thy politicians and thy government.
Thou shall love thy Moshe and his team.
A fresh wound has just been inflicted on us via the politician’s hammer (read that as the army).
Someone is sweating to sneak in an amendment Bill to extend the contracts of senior army officers through the air vents. Whoever cooked that stinker takes us for unmitigated morons incapable of smelling their rotten plot.
That anyone could even think up such a brazen plan to tinker with the retirement ages of army officers for the instant benefit of a few officers is a sign of their disrespect for us.
There is no scientific, anthropological or psychological reason why 62 should be the new retirement age of a major general or lieutenant general.
No ngaka can decipher why a colonel or brigadier should now retire at 60 instead of the normal 55.
Without any logic, flawed or lucid, we are being told that the retirement age of a lance corporal should be trimmed from 55 to 50 and that of a corporal from 55 to 52.
We are not told why only sergeants and second lieutenants should retire at the designated age of 55.
Don’t crack your head because there is no other reason behind the manufacturing of that amendment apart from helping a few to hang on to their jobs beyond their retirement age.
It might as well be because it rained this week or a stray dog was seen in Motimposo. Anything can pass for a reason for that inane plan.
That stinker was discussed in whispers at a nightly off-the-schedule meeting.
Parliament is now being prodded to endorse a project discussed by a few somewhere over poone or sebera.
They are being asked to dance to a drumbeat composed somewhere very far from parliament.
Our MPs might be intellectually limited – some are even slow upstairs while others are certified dunderheads – but they sure know when they are being manipulated to be waiters and to clean the dishes of a delicious meal enjoyed by others.
They know this is not their shindig and won’t be cleaning those huge three-legged pots either.
And therein lies the pounding headache for Minister Limpho Tau.
Only the MPs can deliver the scrumptious food he has for the senior army officers.
Tau is now stuck with a scotch-cart of food that his troops cannot enjoy without the MPs’ say-so.
There won’t be any armoured cars or helicopters to collect the food. The only solution is for him and the officers to beat a retreat and pretend that they never attempted to eat more than they deserve.
They can salivate, while back peddling. Imagine the sight of soldiers running in reverse while singing and drooling at the sight of a buffet disappearing into the horizon.
If Tau thinks the MPs are being unreasonably stubborn, he can simply walk to the bus stop area, climb on a bin and ask who supports that Bill. He will be hit by a dirty diaper before he can say lumelang.
But he needs not trouble himself with testing the povo because he knows he is just up to some mischief.
He is aware that the proposal is unacceptable to even the rats in Thamae and Size Two’s Camels (Where are Gadaffi’s useless gifts, by the way?).
Tau is now desperately mumbling some drivel about the idea being inspired by South Africa and Botswana.
Of all things about the militaries of those countries, we choose to copy their retirement age.
How about we start by copying their practice of soldiers staying in the barracks and zipping it about political and civilian matters?
Next, we can emulate their military’s respect for human rights, stop cracking the citizens’ heads and breaking their limbs.
Then later, when those lessons have been swallowed, our army can learn from Botswana and South Africa that soldiers are not fathers of a country.
After imbibing those lessons from across our borders Tau should also learn that it is a poor political strategy to bring a controversial Bill without first lobbying your MPs. You will look silly.
Watch him now as he scrambles for the people’s support by holding impromptu press conferences to explain what he should have explained when it was just an idea.
It’s unclear how he expects a Bill being rejected by MPs to be accepted by the people.
Perhaps he is waiting for some people to troop to parliament with placards saying “Let our commanders stay longer” or “62 is great”. Ah, he is waiting for Godot.
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!
muckraker.post@gmail.com
Where was Muckraker?
Where was Muckraker? Well, some rest here and some reading there. All to avoid being like the proudly uncultured and quarrelsome dunderheads now peeing on our beloved profession by puking profanities with reckless abandon.
Add a liberal shake of a Six Gun of arrogance and it delivers a ceaseless orgasm from which you can only be extricated by Nthane’s yellow plant. So forgive Muckraker for her occasional hiatuses.
It is never to forsake but to give space for the mediocre to splash.
If you try to stop a madman’s tomfoolery at a funeral you should never be shocked when they molest the corpse. Clear the ground and stay clear.
A stinging skunk is only acting its nature. No amount of nurturing will change nature. So let it be. Phokojoe ha e sole mekhoa, e sola boea.
Whose thokolosi is it? Give it a few days for its owner to come out bellowing. This is not an open letter to mang-mang. But if the shoe fits…!
Muckraker will only point them to a helpful institution sandwiched between Makoanyane Barracks and Tšepong.
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuu!
muckraker.post@gmail.com
