Struwwelpeter: Until we move ourselves forward and merge ourselves with the world, we will remain primitive

Carols at Nkandla:

(Thanks Balt and KCG)

While the rest of the nation

Was shedding its load

The power was strong

In this humble abode

Whose brilliant gleam

Could be viewed from space

By a man in a sleigh

With a grin on his face

As he drove through the stars

In his dazzling red suit

He said “I’m coming to get you

To pay back the loot”

But the head of the house told him

Don’t be a fool

I spent it on building

This flaming big pool

So come sit beside me

And let’s get all boozy

In the Peace and Goodwill

Of my fire Jacuzzi

I’ll raise up my glass

And say, “Ja, Noël Fine”

But I won’t pay the money

And I’ll never resign

But look to the lights

That shine over yonder

And let’s bring a halt to the

Blitzen and Donner

For now is the time to

Cease all your fighting

And stop complaining

That you haven’t got lighting

Joy to the world

Let the Angels sing Hark!

Enjoy your cold turkey

That you eat in the dark

Forget all the chaos

Ignore all the scandals

Let’s gather as one

By the light of our candles

And dwell on the things

That deserve celebration

As we dream of a brighter

More powerful nation

(Anon)

* * *

The Tokoloshe by Vusi Mbasa: (Shortened)

400 years ago Africa might as well had been another planet in our solar system. We were living in peace in our thatch huts.

The 10 cattle were grazing under the African sky. The head of the family sat in the shade of a tree drinking beer, while the wives worked the land and the kids were playing with clay oxen.

We had to learn through bloodshed that we were not a planet of another solar system. We are part of this world and in this world there are certain rules that can’t be broken if you want to have food. Whether we like these rules or not, they are a reality.

Too many Africans are yearning for life as we knew it back then, but they just love the white man’s BMW and Lear Jet. The donkey cart is way too primitive for their liking and the cow hides that once covered our loins are not as “cool” as a Hugo Boss suit.

We are a race that conveniently wants to fall back on our traditions when it suits us.

Not everybody has the ability to be as black and white as I am, and I have been very blessed to come from a long line of fighters that have fought from the days of the spear right up to the AK47. They fought for my freedom. Now I have to address this cultural jail that stands between my people and true freedom.

When my Grandfather returned from exile, he brought me a teddy bear. I looked at the teddy and instantly knew this was the Tokoloshe I always wanted to meet. So my bear got named Tokoloshe. But the modern new reborn Tokoloshes sit in Parliament.

In a new African landscape, how practical is it having multiple wives? Nice idea, being a man. But 20 children? Not so good, because I see what my university education and all the sundry trimmings are costing my father. There are only two of us and not twenty. But what would I have been, if my father happily cavorted around claiming it is his culture and tradition?

I probably would have been marching with Malema on the road to nowhere and my father would have been dead by now. Back in the 80s when he married my mother us blacks hadn’t heard of HIV/Aids and those enlightened ones that did know about it, thought it was a homosexual disease.

Wouldn’t this be a far more worthy cause to march about than march to get stuff you deliriously think should be given to you for free?

My father knew he couldn’t run around making babies that he can’t provide for. He had us because he wanted us. We were to become his legacy. We weren’t conceived in a moment of uncontrolled lust or in the name of an outdated tradition.

Until recently we had that scary old bat minister of health, Tokoloshe personified. Beetroot juice and cabbage leaves indeed! And the Chief could shower after a bit of inyama.

Please don’t tell me this disease was invented by the Apartheid rulers to wipe us out. And speaking about Apartheid, get over it. It has no relevance in 2014. Our ultimate justification for everything that we do wrong can’t come back so that we can stone it.

We have now for far too long shrugged our shoulders and hid behind our traditions on the one hand and on the other we want to sit at the UN and pretend we have the wisdom to help decide the fate of other countries.

If you have more kids than you can provide for, they starve and when they grow up they will steal to survive because you didn’t have enough money to send them to a decent school. The government schools are a complete waste of time because the teachers are never in class.

You study or qualify as an artisan so you can earn your own keep and build your own house. There isn’t enough money going around building 40 million free houses. You can wait until the sun burns itself out, it is not going to happen. So live with it.

Forget the white man’s wealth. It has long gone been transferred to Sydney. There isn’t any left here. Create your own. Forget about redistribution. Use your logic. The wealth of 5 million whites was never going to send 45 million blacks into a blissful retirement. The white wealth that Malema cries about, was only in the hands of a few whites.

So until we move ourselves forward and merge ourselves with the world, we will remain primitive. We were freed 20 years ago. Embrace it and use your freedom to trade with the world, not crash your own stock market.

We are not going forward until we free ourselves from ourselves!

* * *

A Government official arrived at a farm, demanding to inspect the farm for dagga plants. The farmer said there was no need, he farmed cattle, not dagga.

Whereupon the official whipped out a badge and said, “If you don’t allow me on your farm, I will prosecute you.”

The farmer apologised and went about his chores. A short time later he heard loud screams. He looked up and saw the official running for his life, being chased by an enormous bull.

With every step the bull was gaining ground on the officer. The man was clearly terrified.

The farmer threw down his tools, ran to the fence and yelled at the top of his lungs: “Your badge… show him your damn BADGE!!”