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THAT our parliament is overflowing with illiterates has never been in doubt. It is futile to deny something as clear as a pig’s behind.

True, our lawmakers are capable of rare flashes of competency but on the whole the parliament is brimming with unmitigated failures on the academic front. You see it in their lame debates and obsession with trivia.

Indeed, our MPs are well-trained in the art of ignorance. They are on a mission to prove beyond reasonable doubt that they are dimwits masquerading as lawmakers.

Last week ‘Mamandla ‘Musa, an ABC MP of no particular constituency or skill, decided it was time to advertise illiterateness. She did a fantastic job of it.

There she was, roaming the grounds of a local hotel while pompously clutching a humiliating placard.

Pres Suma pls help we want Dr Thabane back asmplif tokh reaqela baba,” said her placard, scribbled in Grade 2 handwriting.

Muckraker’s tears and cheeks have never met under such embarrassing circumstances.

Talent has never been a prerequisite for one to know that they are a dunderhead.

And that is for a good reason: the Almighty did not want us to live a life of perpetual embarrassment on account of lacking the gift of knowing we are slow “upstairs”.

That there is no letter ‘Z’ in Sesotho cannot be an excuse for calling President Zuma “Suma”. Judging by the stern look on her face it was clear that ‘Mamandla was not trying to pull a prank when she wrote that placard. She had a serious message to convey to President Zuma. She genuinely wants Zuma to help “Dr” Thabane return home.


What astounded Muckraker is that ‘Mamandla remembered to put the Dr title behind Thabane’s name but could not spell Zuma’s name.

For the record, Muckraker would like to inform zealots and bootlickers in the opposition and the media that those given honourary doctorates should never append them to their names.

Using the title is a sign of desperation. It’s not for nothing that it’s called an honourary title. Nelson Mandela had many of those honourary degrees but never used them.

He remained Mandela to his grave. Michael Jackson also had such a title but he ever prefixed his good name with Dr.

Rwanda’s President Paul Kagame has never used any of the four honourary doctorates he has. Thabo Mbeki has one but he remains simply Thabo or Mbeki. Kofi Annan remains Kofi Annan despite several honourary doctorate degrees. President Obama has several. His wife Michelle also has one. Mike Tyson has one and so does Oprah Winfrey. Only in Lesotho do honourary titles become part of a name. It’s embarrassing.

Those who have honourary titles but don’t use them understand that they are just hollow titles, some of which can be purchased through favours, connections and donations.

They also know that it’s not fair to steal the thunder from those who actually earned their doctorate degrees. The distinction between what was earned and what was given on a silver platter should always be clear. People must earn their doctorate degrees. Those given such degrees should lock them up in their drawers lest they confuse young people. This business of calling Size Two and Uncle Tom doctors is just pathetic. It’s just silly.



That was a digression. What brought us here was ‘Mamandla’s placard. It is an established rule of begging that those who beg should learn to correctly spell the names of those they are begging from. President Zuma must have felt insulted by ‘Mamandla’s nerve of misspelling his name while she went on her knees to beg for his help.

But Muckraker always wants to look on the brighter side of things. Women like ‘Mamandla should never be underestimated. She has probably learnt a new language during her decades on earth.

In India Suma is a popular girl name that means flower.

So it was probably a love proposal to Zuma disguised as a mistake. Old women can be sneaky sometimes. She was probably saying “Don’t judge me by my age Mr President, I am still a flower”. There is no evidence to suggest she winked at the president as he walked into the hotel.

She probably knew Zuma will get the meaning because he has spent so much time with the Guptas, his controversial friends or masters of Indian descent.

It could that ‘Mamandla has been to Bangladesh where Suma means ‘good mother’ in Bengali. Here again the woman could have been passing a message to President Zuma.

It could be her way of telling the president that although years might have pillaged her beauty she is still a good mother.

But Muckraker knows ‘Mamandla also likes to speak tongue in cheek.  You see, Suma sounds very close to Summa, a Latin word for sum. Sum is a quantity obtained by addition or aggregation.

‘Mamandla’s might have been having a go at Zuma for his failure to understand the sum of his own money and that of government.

He used R240 million of the people’s money to build his rural home. When people asked questions, Zuma, with a straight face and in a full parliament, said he had an R800 000-bond on the property. The man could not understand why people were angry that he now had a M240 million property from an M800 000 bond. Phew! That is the quantum of ignorance. Zuma is still doing the maths and ‘Mamandla’s is still learning her spellings.


Opposition MPs are livid that Zuma did not give them a look when he was here last week. Zuma snubs opposition MPs, said a headline in a local newspaper.

Muckraker cannot understand why the opposition should even be complaining that Zuma did not meet them.

First, Zuma was not here to meet them. Second, they never put an appointment to meet him. Third, he never said he was going to meet them.

This noise about Zuma snubbing the MPs is indicative of the lack of understanding of the basics of state protocol. Meetings of heads of government are not like village pit latrines you can visit randomly. Those meetings are not meant for riff-raff.

If you are not on the diary you should just stay away because gate crushers are not tolerated.

Our opposition MPs learned the hard away when Zuma ignored them.

In the end they handed their petition to the South Africa High Commission. That, ironically, is where they should have started in the first place instead of accosting Zuma.

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Machonisa on fire



It was only a matter of time before the so-called socialist party owned by a machonisa started unravelling. Now the capitalist owner of the Socialist Revolutionaries is lashing out at anyone who dares to tell him to behave himself.

Teboho Mojapela is moving around his party’s structures with a phafa, leaving his victims scratching their bums.

Muckraker has no sympathy for his victims. They deserve what they are getting.

Having deluded themselves to think that they are stockholders in the SR, they should now enjoy their harvest of thorns. They were guests at Mojapela’s house but tried to tell him how to arrange his furniture and what to eat.

He is telling them to go find somewhere to play because the SR is his personal property.

That the SR is in Mojapela’s armpits has always been clear. He formed and funded it.

It’s just that some were too naïve to realise the obvious.

Thabo Shao packed his bags and left after Mojapela whipped him out of his house. He now mumbles something about Mr Machonisa being a dictator. He says that as if it’s a discovery to be shared with the rest of the world.

Yet anyone with something between their ears would have known that a machonisa who brags about beating his naughty workers could not possibly be a democratic leader.

Only Shao and a few dimwits didn’t know that.

Anyway, Shao’s exit will not change much because he just doesn’t matter. He is a political nonentity who overrates himself.

What interests Muckraker is Mr Machonisa’s nerve to call Shao an uneducated rascal. That hurts because it’s an insult coming from someone who has made it a mission to give education a bad name. Mr Machonisa’s definition of someone educated is Tlohelang Aumane. Hear, hear, and hear. Phew!

Does anyone remember Aumane saying anything either educated or educative?

Muckraker only knows him as a political jezebel incapable of staying in one political bed for more than 15 minutes. He is always itching to be married to the next political party.

Muckraker is tempted to say Aumane is politically horny but she won’t say it for fear of offending the oversensitive souls. The kind that claims to have almost suffocated to death after someone farted in a hall.

But Mr Machonisa doesn’t care about Aumane’s habits because he thinks he is renting a brilliant political mind. A few things will happen in that union.

Mr Machonisa will soon realise that Aumane is just an empty-headed political slay queen always looking for the next partner to get him Ice Tropez (May lightning strike whoever drinks that but cannot afford it. Fire!)

Aumane will realise that Mr Machonisa is a moneyed but unrefined village bumpkin whose mouth has a terrible habit of rebelling against his brain.

Mr Machonisa will find the next brain to rent while Aumane will be putting on his stilettos to find another political lover to smooch on the Maseru streets.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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The queen Mampara



Muckraker once promised to say nothing about the Feselady but that Mampara’s mouth keeps running as if it’s connected to Muela Hydro Power Station.

The Feselady told some ABC members who visited her home that she will not associate with the party until it distances itself from the remark of suspended spokesman Montoeli Masoetsa. What made her relapse to her Drama Queen ways was Masoetsa’s attack on her and her hubby. He said the ABC lost because of Uncle Tom and Feselady.

That simple truth, known to even donkeys in Qaqatu, pierced her cheeky heart and got her tummy roiling. She now says she will never wear the ABC’s regalia until the party apologises. Don’t laugh. If this was a threat, the Feselady has lost her touch.

She used to beat people for merely looking at her in a funny way or calling her hubby.

She would harass government officials in public. Now she has been reduced to threatening to avoid yellow dresses and T-shirts to fix the ABC. Boom! Boom! The mighty Drama Queen has fallen.

What remains is just the fading memories of power sexually transmitted.

The transmitter of that power has long ceased to function literally and figuratively.

But the Feselady is too engrossed with herself to realise that she has neither the power nor the capacity to make threats to anyone. She rules only her home, yard and a few idiots still clinging to her.

It takes some sophistication to read irony and the Feselady doesn’t have even a pinch of it. Her people in Mokhotlong rejected her when she tried to sneak into parliament via that hollow popularity garnered through matrimony.

ABC supporters think she is just an uncultured blabbermouth. That she thinks anyone would lose sleep over her threats to burn the party’s regalia or turn them into fatukus is comical. Her tantrums will not change a thing. Her boycott might be the best thing to happen to the party since the October 7 defeat.

Why would the few remaining ABC supporters worry about a garrulous charlatan boycotting their party?

The last time she was wearing the ABC like a wig, it lost more than 200 000 voters, flew to the opposition benches and became a smallanyana party. Nothing hurts more than that. So bring it on mummy!

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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The RFP’s thokolosi



The RFP leaders should fire whoever is advising them on how to deal with constituencies demanding a conference to elect a new executive committee. Their response to those demands has been a comedy of errors.
It’s been nothing short of kindergarten blunders unbefitting of people who sold themselves as the smart ones to lead the country out of darkness.
The secretary general told those bellowing for a conference to take a chill pill and wait for Uncle Sammy to give directions.
Uncle Sammy said those people or their kind are divisive, dragging the party off its agenda and incapable of understanding his dream for the country.
Other leaders have said those clamouring for a conference can go plead their case to a mountain because the current national executive committee will run the party for another six pregnancies.
Never mind the words they use, the leaders are telling the members that they will not be told how to manage a party they started. This is to say the leaders will not be taking instructions from the riffraff. Yes, I said it! Those rubbed the wrong way can curse.
Someone should round up the RFP’s executive committee members, lock them up in a room, throw away the keys and spank them until they understand politics.
They are clearly struggling to make a distinction between a political party and private companies. You would think this is common sense but the human mind is always slow to banish habits.
The RFP leaders were used to being business owners, not political leaders. That is why they cannot understand why anyone who wasn’t there when they started the party can tell them how to manage it.
But make no mistake, reality will grab them by the noses and eyelids back to their senses. They will be taught three simple lessons. The first is that political parties are voluntary entities in which power lies with the members.
The second is that party members are not employees you can just instruct to jump around because you pay their wages.
The third, which is more important, is that the only time a political party is a personal property is when it’s an idea in the founder’s head. Once registered and people join, the members own the party together with its structures, leaders and vision.
The other problem with the RFP’s responses to the demands for an elective conference is that they keep pretending that those three constituencies are just rogues out to sabotage the party. Nothing can be further from the truth.
Those constituencies are small thokolosis of someone right there in the party’s echelons. They represent a growing faction in the party. That faction that is a thokolosi was birthed when the party was still a spirit. It was nurtured when the party was registered and continued to grow during the campaign.
By the time the RFP became government, it was a full-blown thokolosi vigorously doing bedroom things to produce more thokolosis. Now it is granddaddy thokolosi living in the RFP’s armpits.
There is a simple way to find the thokolosi’s owner.
Just round them up and beat them until their parents start wailing. If the parents don’t come out the thokolosis will run to them for protection.

Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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