A former colleague phoned me from Namibia the other day and gave me some lip about my story about our Dundonian baboons doing quantum physics and riding cows, so I said to him to tell me about their baboons. You know, if their baboons are so clever, or better, tell us what they can do, or did, if anything. So he came up with this story:

Three policemen at Buitepos Police Station were busy doing their financial registers in the charge office (they still call it charge office over there) when suddenly a shadow appeared in the door. When the inspector looked up, he saw three huge male baboons standing in the door. One had a shovel in his hands, the other one a roll of toilet paper and the last one a bunch of beetroot, garlic and potatoes. The inspector jumped up, called out to his two comrades to watch out, when a huge commotion erupted. The baboon with the spade stormed into the charge office, klapped the inspector a huge one through his bek, and jumped over the counter. All hell then broke loose.

The three cops were doing their utmost now to escape the irate primates while everything that was not nailed down, was flying through the air in the charge office. The inspector got to the back door, looked back for a moment, and saw both of his fellow cops being held down by the baboons, while the one with the spade was giving them a lekker hiding. “What the hell…?” he thought, and then made for the door again. Outside, another troop of big, hairy primates was parading, each in full dress uniform, and they were all carrying beetroot, garlic and potatoes.

The big, hairy oke in front saw the inspector, came scuffling up, and announced himself as the Minister of Health, Police and Agricultural Affairs. He told the inspector that they have found a cure for HIV, and they are now going to take over the country. He told the policeman to stay, went indoors and came out shortly with the other two cops, who by now have been thoroughly woken up. The baboons started wrapping them in the toilet paper, and told them to go and find a big enough water closet to accommodate them all.

“So…?” I asked. “What’s this got to do with our baboons here?”
“That is just my point,” my former colleague told me. “They really did discover a cure for Aids.”
“Bull,” I retorted.
“S’true,” he came back. “They took it to Canada, and gave it to Manto.”

I sighed, put down the phone, and decided to write to the Bowman. Now, maybe our baboons can find a cure for Manto.