Day: July 10, 2014

A blast from the past

A Letter to Eric and Donald Trump Jnr


Hey boys!

Just wanted to congratulate you on your successful hunting trip to Zimbabwe. Our papers have been full of pictures of you guys holding up dead leopards in a pink mist of vapourised waterbuck. You’re real heroes in these parts, let me tell you. There has been a bit of criticism, but it’s coming mainly from white bunny-hugging do-gooders who think wild animals are there to be photographed instead of destroyed like the vermin they are. Bloody liberals.

I see you managed to bag three of the Big Five. Well done! But what stopped you from going for a full house? You got the buffalo, elephant and leopard, but missed the rhino and lion. And you call yourselves Trumps? Just kidding. I’m sure it’s not your fault. I bet the organisers of the hunt failed to tether them securely and they escaped before you could drive up and shoot them in the face.

Donald jnr, I particularly enjoyed the picture of you holding an elephant’s tail in one hand and a knife in the other. You can even see the legs of the elephant lying on the ground to prove that you got it off the animal and not from a curio shop. I bet you also cut off its trunk and poked it through your zipper and pretended you had a giant willy. I certainly would have.

I liked the shot of you guys posing next to a crocodile strung up from a tree. It reminded me of those old pictures from your Deep South. Now that the darkies are off-limits, croc-lynching could be the next big thing in Alabama. Wanna be partners? You gun ’em down, I string ’em up.

By the way, did you know that we also have a Small Five that are tremendous fun to kill? Meerkats are my best. If you’re quick, you can run up and kick them before they bolt for cover. Your brother, Eric, could have been waiting in an imaginary end zone to catch the flying ‘kat. Touchdown! American football, Africa style. What’s not to love?

Another of my favourites is the tortoise. Hunting tortoises is usually done when you have a hangover. I’m sure you had lots of those on your trip because the only way to survive Africa is to drink heavily while firing blindly into the night.

So what you do is set up your chair within shouting distance of a reliable servant – you don’t want to run out of Bloody Marys – and wait for a tortoise to come along. Put your foot on his back to stop him from getting away. This is where it gets tricky. He will have retracted himself, making a clean head shot impossible. Don’t shoot him in the shell if you plan on using him as a paper-weight. They shatter easily. Rather take a leaf out of your father’s book. Cut off his lights and water and starve him out.

You said the local villagers were overjoyed at getting the meat from your hunt. And why wouldn’t they be? Leopard carpaccio garnished with a sprinkling of civet cat and drizzled with crocodile jus doesn’t appear on the menu in the Matetsi area all that often.

When I read that the hunt organisers were called Hunting Legends, I thought they were offering legends like President Robert Mugabe. Now there’s a trophy you should have on your wall. But I suppose he would put up too much of a fight. Not that you lads aren’t bok for a fight. Far from it. A kudu is a hell of an adversary. You were just fortunate to come across one that was drugged. To be honest, a lot of the game in southern Africa is on drugs these days. They also lack any real work ethic and spend most of the day sleeping. Smelly freeloaders. No wonder we kill them.

You were also lucky to have survived shooting a tusker. Many elephants, particularly in Zimbabwe, are known to explode without warning and, even from a distance of 300 metres, you could easily have lost a leg. Or worse, had your hair messed up. Gel is hard to come by in the bush. Poachers probably stole his detonator. With elections coming up, they are worth more than ivory these days.

I’m not much of a hunter myself, but I think I know why you boys enjoy it. For a start, Eric is a girl’s name and he has a lot to prove. And your name is Donald jnr, and yet it is Eric who looks more like your father. No wonder you’re angry.

You said the money you paid for the hunt will be used to fund nature conservation in Zimbabwe. I presume by “fund nature conservation” you mean “arm Zanu-PF veterans”. That’s okay. We understand code in these parts. No names, no pack-drill. Whatever the hell that means.

My wife, Brenda, says you’re both latent homosexuals. As my Uncle Pervy used to say, “Better latent than never.” Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that I beat her soundly for her insolence.

I must say, though, Eric, you do look pretty damn sexy with that leopard draped over your shoulders. It brings out your eyes. And Donald jnr, seeing you straddling that dead buffalo makes doggie style seem positively Christian.

Y’all come back again!

Citizen Cane (& Coke)

Citizenship issues seem to be in the news lately. Here’s a column I wrote in 2010. Not much has changed.


IF the ANC gets its way, which generally happens in this benevolent dictatorship of ours, people who want to become South African citizens will have to renounce citizenship of their countries of origin.

In a sentence that belongs in calipers, Home Affairs Minister Noksazana Dlamini-Zuma said: “A people that does not value its citizenship is not worthy of being characterised as a nation and will not be taken seriously by other nations.”

This is a pack of jingoistic lies and the minister should be arrested at once. With the exception of money, geographical entitlement is the single biggest cause of conflict in the world. What else are the Israelis and Palestinians fighting about if not ownership of territory?

What our government should be doing is scrapping citizenship laws, not reinforcing them with misplaced notions of superpatriotism. We should throw open our borders and issue everyone with passports declaring the bearer to be a Citizen of the World. If, as the minister fears, other nations don’t take us seriously, then we resurrect our nuclear weapons programme and build bigger and more powerful bombs than the world has ever seen. That should stop the sniggering.

An ANC MP said the legislation, which essentially forces people to choose between deportation and pledging their undying allegiance to South Africa, would also prevent naturalised South Africans from participating in “wars which the government did not support”. How quaint to have, in this era of death and destruction, a lawmaker who proudly admits we are a country that supports war. Not all of them, though. Just the sexy ones.

How about a law that outlaws wars altogether? A law that converts the defence force into a peace force. A law that says war is an aberration and makes it illegal for any South African citizen to ever participate in one.

Nkosazana-Zuma says citizenship is one of the key elements in our precious national heritage. So is good governance. Once nationalisation has crippled our mines and the media is muzzled, our jails are full and the coffers are empty, at least we will be able to hold up our little green book and say: “I am South African! Hear me roar!”

As it turned out, not much could be done with the Citizenship Amendment Bill because parliament lacked a quorum. This means a fair number of MPs were too sick, drunk or lazy to come to work. But at least they don’t have dual citizenship. And once these fiercely proud South Africans return from recess, “it will be one of the bills put up for adoption”. Much like an unwanted child.