WE ARE AS CORRUPT AS OUR LEADERS

THE SUNDAY TIMES
JOHANNESBURG, SA
By Fred Khumalo
Apr 11, 2009

"Criminal behaviour is increasingly becoming acceptable and even admirable in South Africa. When we find ourselves debating which criminal gang is the best of the bunch — not even the lesser evil — then we’re all in a lot of trouble
We actually as a nation have come to embrace corrupt politicians and criminals as heroes whose stories we should pass from generation to generation, in glowing terms"

Two fellows — one from Africa, the other from Malaysia — have just finished their business studies in the UK and duly go back to their countries to put to use the book knowledge they have garnered at their university.

A few years down the line, the story goes, the Malaysian invites the African to his house in Malaysia. This turns out be a well-appointed mansion, with a troop of servants, a fleet of sleek cars and other luxuries. There are some other well-appointed houses in the neighbourhood, but this mansion stands out by a mile.

“My friend,” says the African, “you’ve done so well for yourself. But how did you amass so much wealth within such a short period of time?”

“Easy,” says the Malaysian, “Come, let me show you.”

He takes his guest upstairs, and as they stand on the luxurious balcony, he points into the distance and says: “See that toll plaza in the distance?”

The African answers in the affirmative.

“You see, the proceeds from that toll plaza: 90% to government, 10% to myself!”

“Well done, my friend,” says the African. “You have taught me a good lesson.”

A few years down the line, the roles are reversed as the African invites the Malaysian to his home, an equally well-appointed mansion, with a fleet of cars and a staff complement even bigger than the Malaysian’s. But, remarkably, the mansion is in the middle of the bush, squalor all around.

The Malaysian is duly impressed by this beacon of opulence in a desert of desolation, and wants to know how the African managed to make so much money in such a short period of time.

The African leads the Malaysian to his balcony, and proudly points into the distance: “You see, where those cattle are grazing? A toll plaza was to be built there, but I took 100% percent of the money!”

Moral of the story: it is a universally accepted fact that corruption exists all over the world, but in Africa, corruption takes precedence over everything.

I was reminded of this anecdote when I went to my parents’ house in KwaZulu-Natal, where we had a family feast in honour of my late grandfather, Clement Bhambatha Khumalo. There was a huge crowd of relatives and neighbours, and the conversation naturally veered towards the story of the year — the Jacob Zuma corruption charges, and what it had done to our national psyche.

Speaker after speaker came out in support of Zuma, saying how he was the unfortunate victim of an orchestrated conspiracy — and how he hadn’t been alone “when government people were eating”. Government people will continue eating, it was argued, but they also needed to share the spoils ; and they should also take the heat if they were caught. That was the tenor of the message.

As fate would have it, tempers began to rise when one of the debaters made the submission that some politicians were cleverer than the others, and would always come out clean as they know how to manipulate the situation in their favour. He then made an example of himself, saying he had served time in prison, and while there he had joined one of the prison gangs, I think he said he was a member of 26 Gang, and he started making derisive remarks about the 28 Gang, at which point one of the guys produced a knife, challenging the speaker to show his mettle as a member of the “cleverer” gang.

This was such a shock to me — that a knife could be produced at such a slight provocation. But I was not ready for the next shock: the gang members were calmed down, but now the debate was, indeed, which was the better gang! Raconteurs started regaling us about the exploits of the various gangs.

The gangs were spoken of in admiration, and it was implied that the criminal activities they were engaged in were an inevitable part of living in South Africa.

My social conscience was riled that the corruption of the anecdote I just related was alive and kicking in South Africa; that we have not only made peace with the inevitability of corruption, that we actually as a nation have come to embrace corrupt politicians and criminals as heroes whose stories we should pass from generation to generation, in glowing terms.

How then can we hope to uproot this scourge if we see it as something of a boon, something to be proud of, something to be put on our pedestal as a living god to whom we should genuflect?

Unless we redefine who our role models should be, we are in for a long, sad and slippery slope into lawless debauchery of the mind and corrosion of the soul.

God, help me wake up from this nightmare.


Democracy’s poster child needs to grow up
Some smarty pants is going around defacing our streets with unseemly posters parodying the ANC and its president Jacob Zuma.

At a glance they look like genuine ANC fare — until you read the messages: “What a lovely kanga you are wearing,” reads one. The next asks: “Was it made in China?”

Another one reads, “Justice is the name of my next wife.”

As a person who loves humour, I must admit that some did bring a momentary smile to my face — until I pondered the seriousness of it.

With respect to my weightier colleague writing elsewhere in this paper, were it not campaigning period for the country’s more than 150 registered political parties, I too would have smiled and forgotten about this matter. But it being election time, I thought it hugely unfair and inflammatory of some smarty pants sitting pretty in some well-heeled suburb to stir anger among the electorate.

It is against the law to deface a political party’s posters. Posting insulting fake posters is counter to the spirit of fairness. Let’s not create unnecessary tensions.

If the creator of the posters doesn’t know what to do with his money, maybe he should contribute to a charity or, better still, offer financial aid to some of the poorer parties struggling to print decent posters. Looking at the poor quality of COPE’s posters, I reckon that party might benefit from the largesse of this guerrilla poster-maker.

Mailbag
1. ‘I do not have a beer belly, I have a joy belly. Forward with Mkhaba Day’

2. I Never thought of a National Mkhaba Day, but I think it is indeed a good idea, as suggested by Fred Khumalo in his last column. For years now I have been cutting some of my old T-shirts and re-designing them into stomach-out tops. Since this is a male version of the top, I call it Mkhaba-out. I know my wife hates it but she does admit that it is as sexy as it is funny. I do not have beer belly, I have a joy belly. Forward with National Mkhaba Day! — Thabo Maphisa, by e-mail

3. I Always find your page “somewhat serious, somewhat fun”. Your latest epistle, plus photograph, had me in stitches. As I said to you before, your column is always interesting and you have never let me down. — Joan Reid, by e-mail

4. I Always read serious stuff and have something to comment on at work, but with regard to your article of last week, I laughed from beginning to end. I agree that, as men, we must have something to boast about other than Father’s Day. — Xola Ngamlana, by e-mail

5.Khumalo, you are a mess. Really. Thanx 4 the piece on the Patriotic Front, I need to laugh this loud. Like we say up north, LWKM (laugh wanna kill me, oh ) — Okapi

6. Fred says: Laugh all you want, as long as you don’t kill me with that Okapi knife of yours, oh!