NOW HERE’S A THING

Nigel Henson

                                      “There was a crooked man who walked a crooked mile,

                                         he found a crooked sixpence beside a crooked stile”

Dear Readers

Belated best wishes for the year ahead- two months down and all is well.

It was nigh on 13 months ago that I swore on the remains of my tribal ancestors to make regular contributions to AU, in particular a minimum of two witty, erudite and insightful pieces that would enthrall you all, and cause much debate amongst those of you who have been to school. I have let you all down-I take comfort in the knowledge I have not been missed.

 I am on sabbatical as I write and loving my hols at a most agreeable location, for this spot fuses my love for nature with much whimsical and historic recollection. It remains my favourite place on God’s earth. How sad it is that I have to do a bit of labour …this is all I have managed in a fortnight, having really put my back into it.

Where was I? Where am I? I am camped at Crook’s Corner on Kipling’s ‘great, green, greasy, Limpopo River’ where South Africa, Zimbabwe and Mozambique share a common border…my map tells me at a junction a short distance away. There is no end to the tasty victuals I have consumed-a pile of bottles indicates that many wines have been drunk to their lees-my girth pleases me for I have assumed the profile of a snorty animal that grunts and blows H20 in the river below.

And today? I am engaged in producing a piece on the South African Annual budget where it is proposed that Value Added Tax be increased by 2%. And such are the implications of such a move that it would cause great discord amongst Buffalo Nose’s many beautiful people-hardly surprising this proposed piece of legislation was rejected.

How sad it is that a once fabulously wealthy country be reduced to begging bowl status by a thieving, venal, and disingenuous political party that has been in power for half a generation (of late-with a little help from its enemies)-the ANC’s popularity at a historic low. They are cursed by their countrywide electorate… from Soweto to Sandton… from Witfontein to White River. 

Of course, Crooks Corner is an ideal place to play out such a scenario: for as long as can be recalled, it has been just that…. a meeting place for smugglers, outlaws, brigands and footpads, all bent on evading the law. It was a place renowned for badlands justice; known for its escape routes; a bolthole for baddies of many nationalities who would tiptoe across a border to escape incarceration, whilst frustrated lawmen fumed and stamped their feet in rage.

It was but a short while ago when Crooks Corner became a rallying point for Mugabe’s thugs during the Rhodesian bush war, often swopping places with Rhodesian airborne forces who would refuel their Helis by a dilapidated store as Hawker Hunter jets howled overhead. In fact, just downstream a few kilometres away, and tucked against some cliffs we uncovered arms caches: still further on, dirt tracks wound their way into the hinterland to Mapai and Madula pans, scenes of many battles with Frelimo troops.

Of particular interest is the approach road from Beitbridge: it winds its way amongst beautiful glades of fever trees (don’t camp here! the cry) for early travellers believed that these trees gave travellers attacks of fever that would cause death. In fact, these stands of trees were located in swampy areas which played host to swarms of mosquitos and by association malaria and other diseases.

Sidetracked again…sorry for that- South African taxation.

“Extremely ill-advised “remarks friend and foe of the Minister of Finance, a Mr Enoch Godongwana, the current holder of ‘The Twat in the Hat ‘award, who even wears his headpiece whilst snorkelling in order that any attendant sharks can identify with him as he trawls the swamps for easy pickings.

My word-what is that?

I see a gaggle of brightly coloured ‘local’ ladies ululating on the Zimbabwe bank, waving fronds and dancing about-praise singers? Surely not?

And yet more illegal immigrants close by, waiting to take the plunge sure in the knowledge that if the Nile crocodiles don’t latch onto a limb, there lurks further bad stuff on the powerline’s road, where a pride of lions has taken up residence, picking off pedestrians whenever they feel like a squealing snack.

And again, an elderly man robed in a scarf of many colours (could it be Joseph?) prepares to enter the grey, greasy…in the distance behind are numbers of puffing uniformed men discharging firearms in his direction-is he not aware of the dangers that lurk beneath the grey, greasy ripples?

Yes, of course-the GNU.

John Henry, little goody two shoes, faultlessly suited, had this very day, shouted from the stalls when hurling abuse “We told you two weeks ago, that your 2% wouldn’t fly, I even told Buffalo Nose and he agreed, don’t you listen to members of the GNU?” (An aside here-the wildebeest or Gnu is universally recognised as a very un-intelligent creature: it rushes about headbutting trees and trying to reverse -kick vehicles: SA’s Government of National Unity mimic this behaviour with great accuracy.)

There are plenty of gnu wandering the plains around Crooks Corner, and just as many wandering the corridors of power in Cape Town. Like most lily livered, grubby politicians, Buffalo Nose sits on the VAT fence, two per cent on one side and two per cent on the other.

“It wasn’t my idea “Buffalo groans whilst wringing his hands Uriah Heap style “I humbly submit myself to the majority view of the GNU. I don’t want to keep the country guessing. Of course, I will, as President, have the final say, I will give it my consideration. There will be no delay. “

  WHAT! Delay?

There are two thousand pieces of proposed legislation that have been awaiting his blessing since God knows when…he only rushes through those bills that serve his party’s agenda. His glacial haste only hastens the death of an economy that is already knackered through years of looting and mismanagement. There are many amongst the rank and file who pray that the Orange Man will de -knacker Buffalo Nose, his inept and corrupt ANC cabal, his chums in Hamas, Phala Phala (whatever that is) as well as Putin and his window hammer throw. I am a paid-up member of the “Friends of the Orange Man” society.

No country (contrary to public belief) deserves to be plundered by a government such as ours.

A splash.

Work aside now- a scarf trailing behind a line of bubbles in the wake of a Nile gator as the creature briefly surfaces, ducking and diving butterfly style…merging and submerging-surely a gator…flat yet crusty nose-could it be Emmerson -by the very devil, it is he, escorted by many of his type, evil eyes in front, behind and to the left and right. Amazing how the evil cover for each other.

Recently at the G20 Conference in Cape Town, Buffalo Nose was found reluctant to in any way discuss the reported Zimbabwe situation-coup or no coup- the Crocodile on the run for it was reported he had disappeared underground and was seeking asylum elsewhere.

‘Tell me, Mr President, if Emmerson Minagawa was to end up in South Africa, would your administration grant him asylum?”

“That question is academic…that event has yet to unfold”

 “Sources say he is on his way. Don’t duck the question Mr. President”

“Let us say, I will give it my full consideration. I have a pen to hand” De dah de dah de dah.

Back at the sharp end, I am ducking incomers as fusillades tear holes in my canvas- rifle grenades explode in my pile of empty bottles-the little column of travellers in the river behaving as do porpoises…steady progress putting distance between them and their pursuers, much as did the criminals of old. They take shelter behind a low island, reeds quivering in the swift flowing   current…Croc and his escorting gators now out of sight, and carried to safety by the great, green,  greasy Limpopo River now in spate.

South Africa or Mozambique? Where will they head?  Three million Zimbabwean diaspora in South Africa who have been forced to flee the Crocodile’s ravages make it an unlikely sanctuary- even Buffalo Nose can figure that one out. Buffaloes have no love for crocodiles.

Zimbabwe’s forgotten have not forgotten for they have many debts that need repaying.  MNEMNOGAGWAA has not only destroyed his country, he has deliberately laid asunder it’s most economically capable people, not touching those too young or the feeble, for they pose no viable threat to him.

I was one of the few who tried to block the path to power for people like the Crocodile but we were told off by the almighty and all-knowing liberal inteligencia that haunted the halls of world power. 

I have taken cover and lie prone in my trash pit: covered in leftovers and ash, I cut a sorry picture…warily, I raise my head above the parapet for the firing has ceased: I dive again into the tomato sauce and rotting pickled onions as there is a clap and boom of thunder. More stormy stuff…high winds…it begins to precipitate in buckets.

 I am saved yet again.

God bless the rains down in Africa.

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