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The hunt for SADC babies



Muckraker is thrilled the SADC standby army will soon hit our shores. But her excitement has nothing to do with the prospects of those foreign soldiers spanking our mischievous soldiers when they get up to their usual monkey shines.
Muckraker has never believed in outsourcing solutions to the shenanigans in our barracks.

She is not persuaded that yanking a few rotten apples from the ranks and tinkering with regulations will solve our problems.
So forget what our government and SADC say is the mandate of the standby army. They are missing the real point of those foreign soldiers.
There are two reasons why we urgently need those soldiers here. And they are not security and stability. No!

The first is to populate our country. Frankly, that is no job for a miserly 300 or so soldiers SADC countries are offering us.
We need at least 30 000 to be stationed here for at least five years. Yeh, I said it. Half a decade with foreign soldiers.
The recent census proves beyond any grain of doubt that our population is not growing fast enough.

That’s probably means more people are dying than what we are producing, the women have become stingy with their wombs or our men have abdicated their Maker’s duty to populate this little territory.  It is embarrassing that there are more goats than people in this country. It is time we seek foreign intervention.
There is no better way to do that than using soldiers paid by SADC to allegedly protect us. There is nothing sinister with being creative with borrowed things.

Imagine if a neighbour lends you a bulldog to guard your house and you discover that the dog has other talents like making cute puppies. The neighbour would not begrudge you for buying a female dog.

The second and perhaps the most important reason to have the foreign soldiers here is genetic engineering. You can call it genetic intervention if you like but the point remains the same. For years we have been marrying amongst ourselves, hoping to keep our breed pure.

We have been marrying cousins and nephews. With time the gene bank has shrunk.
That policy, if we may call it that, has been ruinous. Because we are fishing from the same pool we are producing a breed that thinks and behaves alike.

Worse, we are making children who will think and act like us. Little wonder our economy is not growing. Thabo starts a carwash and everyone in the country thinks it’s the only brilliant idea around.  Soon you have twenty struggling carwashes in one village and the owners will be wondering why business is terrible. It’s the same with the taxi and chisanyama businesses.

A country whose citizens think alike is destined for doom. We have a generation predisposed to being polarised.
We are a garrulous bunch that never gets anything done because it is committed to fighting useless battles. Groupthink is the bane of our country.
We are so fixated on uniform thinking that we have come to believe those who hold contradictory ideas and views are enemies. That is why propaganda has never been difficult to spread in Lesotho.

We are pliable to even the most idiotic of ideas. You see this in the calibre of debate on our grossly incompetent radio stations.
An inept presenter poops something outrageous and a battalion of listeners, in a zombie-like stupor, jostle to support it.
Rarely do we hear someone berating the presenter for being an unmitigated nincompoop.

It’s there in politics too. We are said to have been divided between two main ideologies: nationalist and congress.
Being literally one person we force our political choices to fit into these manufactured groupings. Beyond being a nationalist or congress there is nothing else we can be.

There are those who might fret about the stature of the offsprings we will be getting from the SADC soldiers but that fear is overdone.
Indeed there is no harm in having taller offsprings. Science has proven that shorter people, especially men, have an inferiority complex (Muckraker just conjured that from her experience with men bereft of metres). It could be one of the reasons why men in this country like brawling over nothing.
Our men are forever on the lookout for people they suspect of disrespecting them.

Add a little height to this generation and we might just have less quarrelling about mundane issues on the streets.
Of course there is a chance that the children from the SADC men and women will be a little darker but that’s a small price to pay for free genetic engineering.

In any case, there is no scientific benefit to having lighter pigmentation. Muckraker has heard this nonsensical refrain that Basotho women are beautiful.
Phew! Yeah right, many are dull though. Beautiful but slow. As Trump, yes that dimwit, says: nice tits, no brains.
Muckraker is not saying our women are generally dull. It’s just that this beauty thing is so overrated that you would think it contributes to the GDP.

We will be daft to deny that we don’t need to expand our gene pool, especially given our pathetic state. We are forever looking for outside mediators.
It is almost impossible to deal with our problems because we are related somewhere somehow. You walk into a High Court to find your distant cousins perched on the judge’s chair.

Thieves are being investigated by cousins and nephews. Uncles are being forced to convict their nephews.
Dig deeper into your history and you will discover that you share some genes with someone you are probably ill-treating.
That is why in times of disagreement we don’t have faith in our own mediators. There is therefore nothing scandalous with asking some foreigners from nearby countries to intervene in the making of future generations.

The SADC soldiers are what we have always wanted for this purpose because their intervention does not come at a cost. We don’t like to pay for things here.  Being on an international mission, there is no way they will demand to remain in this country forever on account that they have planted their seeds here.

So how do we make sure they don’t demand paternity and maternity rights when their mission is over? Well, that is a matter for another day.
Children born by a foreign fathers or mothers are ours. After the mission those who would have participated in the genetic engineering project will get a gratuity.
But if they insist on taking their children then we will expose them for moonlighting while on international duty.
We will tell the world that instead of helping to create a conducive atmosphere for reforms they were busy interfering with our demographic matters.
If that doesn’t work we will manufacture bigger lies about them. That is how we do things here: we lie big. Let the hunt for SADC babies begin.

On an entirely different matter, Muckraker is stunned by the thuggish treatment of MoAfrika boss Ratabane Ramainoane.
It is true that MoAfrika is a loose cannon and Ramainoane is an unmitigated blabbermouth.
Yet that does not justify silencing the radio station and arresting its owner like a rat.

It was surreal to watch a whole battalion of police officers dragging a bony and defenceless man like an animal.
The show of force we witnessed last Friday cannot be justified.
There is no evidence that he was armed.

So why the brute force? Well, it’s not hard to decipher. This is how our police behaves when they go for small men suspected of small crimes. Real criminals are laughing at the pictures of Ramainoane’s arrest and wondering what our police are inhaling.

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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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