Of Misleaders and Empty Promises

Apparently, the elite club called parliament seldom debates. They simply play a game called flipping the coin, where heads literally translates into ‘let’s plead ignorance to their needs’ and tails means ‘let’s flip again’.

Which explains the 32 years of absolute gat-vattery, and two slices of bread at political rallies, but that’s none of my business.

I admit it, folks, our misleaders do get generous every now and then, and spoil us for choice. Weirdly though, these treats are reserved for special occasions, which as it turns out, only happens on 29 February.

Tough sh*te.

Which is why I got seriously elated when Joseph inked a piece on how everyone is tayad of their selfish ways.

Tell you what, sometimes, just sometimes, what goes around stays around. Like it never comes back around. Not in Namibia, though. It may be the temperature or the poverty, but out here karma is pretty pissed off, you have no idea.

Which is why Joseph Diescho’s ‘Peepol are Tayad’ fan mail to African leaders, which appeared in The Namibian on 19 August 2022, deserves a special place in the Old Testament.

It’s not every day that you get a disgruntled outcast, as per Godfrey’s assertion, come out with so much malice to cater for the well-being of his former compatriots.

I am reminded of the biblical Moses. But while Mo never saw the promised land, Joe left the land of milk and honey under a cloud.

Be that as it may, his piece of writing had me wetting my pants while laughing my rabble-rousing arse off. I knew the embattled professor was about to hit the bullseye when he lamented our misleaders’ speeches. Kamma, they mostly lack substance and just make claims about the “good old days”.

S’true, Joe. That “we died for this country” rhetoric is becoming stale, comrades. It’s as if political manifestos for the next 30 years are mass produced at once. And then the talking starts. Pull out quotes from what tatekulu wrote during the liberation struggle.

Yes, “the leader in Malawi is a wholesale robotic phony who pretends to be a baptist evangelist from Atlanta, Georgia”.

Spot on, boet. Too bad, his oratory skills and sermons will never outdo those of Jerry and Sophie, I say. And thinking that some will ever lower their diction for the ears of the masses, is like expecting some Omuherero man to sue his parents for the removal of the foreskin.

S’true, they loot and eat with an immeasurable propensity. Admittedly, only those who do not eat complain. Holy moly. A trend which, I concur, has seen them catnapping in parliament – when not watching porn on their smartphones.

Be that as it may, politics still remains the biggest show in Namibia. And the main showdown is upon us. When unscrupulous looters will once again vie for their share of stuff you do not even have.

Swapo is headed for big thangs with all knives out. And very soon, for once after a couple of years, expect to hear nicknames like “sitting duck” and “chicken on drugs” being tossed around ‘comradely’ within the party.

Look, I am not one for all-round condemnation. So, kudos to politicians who always try to keep it on the straight and narrow.

But good intentions seldom win and smart does not make you cool. Which spells doom for many aspirant moegoes out here. No lie. Name-droppers, uncertain naysayers and random crowd-pleasers have been hot property for a while now. Your penchant for sounding average determines your proximity to the cream. Welcome to the Namibian house.

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