Tag: Economic Freedom Fighters

Vote Warthog

I suppose I can’t put it off any longer. I really don’t feel like getting my mind dirty, but it must be done. So. Big decisions to be made on Wednesday, yes? Do we lie on the beach, go shoplifting at the mall or stay in bed with a bottle of gin and the curtains drawn? Hard times call for hard choices. I suppose some of you may want to vote. Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me afterwards.

I haven’t received a single pre-recorded phone call or sms from a political party. It’s almost as if they don’t want my vote. Good. Because they’re not getting it.

Meanwhile, parties are still moaning about their posters being vandalised. Please. Give me a break. Here at election time the complaint is, “They tore my poster off.”

Elsewhere in Africa at election time the complaint is, “They tore my leg off.” Get a grip. Don’t go whining to the IEC unless your polling station gets blown up and you’re carrying your kidneys in a bucket.

I felt a brief surge of hope when I saw the poster, “Chainsaw attack on DA man”, but it turned out that the merry prankster had merely sliced off the side mirror on Pietermaritzburg mayoral candidate Mergan Chetty’s car. The politician was part of a 75-car motorcade. I don’t even know 75 people with cars.

Chetty said he shouted at the man, asking him what’s wrong. This is an indication of Chetty’s commitment to politics at the local level. Even as the Imbali township version of Leatherface launches his one-man chop shop, he wants to know more about the man’s problems.

There are 206 parties contesting Wednesday’s elections. I imagine that most of these people filled in their applications to register as candidates for the same reason they fill in their Lotto cards every week. Tata ma chance. Councillors earn between R40 000 and R80 000 a month depending on the municipality. Nice work if you can get it. I use the word ‘work’ loosely.

Last year, only 40 of the 278 councils in South Africa received clean audits. Ten had sold the office stationery for zamaleks and were unable to to submit their financial statements on time.

Warthogs wallowing in bottomless pools of money.

If you’re not sure which party to vote for, here’s some information that might help you make up your mind who not to vote for. The governor of the Reserve Bank has forecast 0% growth for 2016. If, like me, you have trouble understanding numbers, let me break it down for you in words. Zero. Percent. Growth. The good news is that we all get to star in the movie, Honey, I Shrunk The Economy, produced by the ANC and directed by Jacob Zuma.

Before you vote, think about what kind of South Africa you want to live in. I already know the answer and I’m not even voting. I want to live in a South Africa where colour doesn’t matter. A South Africa with no white people. No black people. No people at all. Just a country full of animals.

That, however, might take a while. Ask yourself, then, what kind of South Africa do you want to leave for your children? If you don’t have children, or have children but don’t particularly like them, you may skip this section.

Actually, don’t ask yourself anything. Ask your children. I expect the answers will include an end to compulsory education, free money and cheaper, better weed. If these are, in fact, the policies of any party out there, please let me know before Wednesday.

Speaking of delusions, we are lucky to have such an awesome president. Speaking to ANC supporters in Inchanga a few days ago, Zuma slammed independent candidates for dividing the ANC vote. He described them as “witches” who would’ve been “impaled back in the day”. It’s common knowledge that anyone who isn’t a rabid fan of the ruling party must be a witch, warlock or goblin. Impaling is too good for them, I say. Burning at the stake. Now there’s a fitting punishment for the 21st century.

But then Zuma said they couldn’t be killed because “we are now living in a democratic system”. This must have come as a huge disappointment to everyone who had already begun sharpening their impalers. There’s not much use for a sharpened stick without having a witch to stick on the end of it. I suppose you could buy a pig and have a spit braai, but it’s just not the same.

Even though I’m not voting, I thought I should at least make the effort to find out who is standing in my area. When I say ‘effort’, I mean I walked down to the main road. I don’t know what ward I’m in. Most of the time it feels like the psych ward.

The DA says we should vote for someone called Geoffrey Pullen. It doesn’t say why. He looks like a Spitfire pilot cryogenically frozen in October 1940 after the Battle of Britain and has now been unfrozen to fight a far more cunning enemy than the Hun. Good luck, ace. Hold your fire until you see the yellows of their eyes.


Then there’s Mervin Pillay from something called Minorities of South Africa. The slogan on the poster says, “Claim your space.” I don’t know what that means. Or even if I’m entitled to claim it. I expect so, though. In these parts, if you’re not a Zulu you’re a minority. This country is awash in minorities. If we all began claiming our space, there’d be nothing left for the majority. That’s how civil wars get started.


The IFP has a photo of that old warhorse Gatsha Buthelezi, who looks remarkably well for a 107-year-old man. The message is, “Trust us…” I think the ellipsis might have been a mistake because the temptation is to finish the sentence and it might not always count in their favour.


The EFF’s man is Khuzwayo Mandla. His picture is in black and white, which is not in the least ironic unless you think about it, and makes him look like he’s wanted in three provinces. He’s not smiling because smiling is counter-revolutionary. If they win this ward, everyone will get a free farm, factory and two cows. There are no farms, factories or cows in my area.


The party’s election manifesto does, at least, stipulate that, “A revolutionary councillor does not dwell in the conspicuous consumerist practices that seek to blindly show off privilege.” In other words, he will sleep under a bridge and catch a horse to work.

And, of course, Jacob Zuma’s giant grinning head on a pole at the traffic circle. Not literally, unfortunately. On a poster.


Elections provide the opportunity for change. I’m a big fan of change. I never stay married for more than ten years and I leave a job after five. Not always by choice, it must be said. Julius Malema has asked voters to give the EFF a municipality so they can prove themselves. Hell, why not? Okay, maybe not eThekwini, but surely there’s no harm in giving them something like Kai !Garib in the Northern Cape?

So this is us – we, the people – sloshing about in gutters running thick with scurrilous calumny, militant hyperbole and enough hogwash to leave a million pot-bellied pigs clean and sweet-smelling while the supreme weasels wheedle and cajole, coax, fawn and pander, quibble, fence and lie – then cross their fingers and hope to die.

Lastly, in case you still give a damn, here’s a convenient glossary of election terms.

Democracy – A political system that punishes minorities for not breeding fast enough. From the Greek word ‘demo’ meaning ‘tyranny’ and ‘cracy’ meaning ‘of the majority’.

Party – A political home for like-minded people. Something of a misnomer since nobody ever gets laid and drinks are in the House every five years.

Manifesto – A document outlining a party’s policies. From the Greek word ‘mani’ meaning ‘barefaced’ and ‘festo’ meaning ‘lies’.

Coalition – An alliance of parties more interested in power than principles.

Proportional representation – An electoral formula guaranteeing members of parliament that they will never be confronted by an angry constituent.

Polling booth – A secure environment in which control over one’s life is delegated, in writing, to perfect strangers.

Door-to-door campaigning – An opportunity for poor people to get lied to directly to their faces.

Poverty – A recurring condition that distresses politicians for a few weeks every five years.






An open letter to Julius “Seizure” Malema

Dear Comrade Julius Malema the First, Commander-in-Chief of the Economic Freedom Fighters, Hero of the Poor, Prince of Pedis, the People’s Parliamentarian, Evader of Taxes and Creator of the Revolutionary Onesie.

Congratulations on getting your BA degree through Unisa. That’s quite an achievement, especially when you consider how difficult it is just to get through to them on the phone.

I see you’ve been very busy lately putting your qualifications into practice and exercising your superior intellect. For a start, you reminded the people of Soweto about their role in the struggle against apartheid. Well done. People have short attention spans these days and all too often we forget hair appointments, wedding anniversaries and crimes against humanity.

The real masterstroke, though, was when you reminded the crowd to continue reproducing. I often forget to reproduce, with the result that I have only one loinfruit. Pathetic, I know. But this is good for black people because, as you so accurately pointed out, “White people do not want us to give birth because they know we are more than them … The day they are more than us, they will take over our land.”

It’s a fascinating theory, right up there with Frantz Fanon’s theory of colonial identity and the parallels between racial and commodity-based fetishism. And, obviously, the theory that Tinky Winky is gay.

However, no matter how brilliant theories are, it is important that they be tested. Without testing we could all just go around saying things like, “The moon landing was fake.” And, “9/11 was an inside job.” Which it quite clearly was. I don’t believe the moon landing was faked, though, because there is no such thing as ‘the moon’. I know a hologram when I see one and this is up there with the best.

Anyway, I tested your theory that white people wanted to take over politically by out-breeding black people. My maths is about as good as your woodwork, so my figures might not be one hundred and ten percent accurate. There are 55 million people in this country, most of whom can be found in my local bottle store on a Friday afternoon. Of that, 44 million are black and 4.5 million white. Hang on. What’s this? There are 4.8 million coloureds? Are you aware of this? What if you’re wrong and it’s the coloureds, not the whites, who are out to win this breeding war? If that is the case, we’re in deep trouble, my brother, and blacks and whites need to stand together against the Bruin Gevaar.

But I assume you’re right because you have been right about everything so far … well, everything apart from your blind loyalty to President Zuma, which only ended when he pulled a Dr Frankenstein four years ago and inadvertently turned you into his monster. I use the word ‘his’ loosely.

So here are my calculations. For the white population to go top of the log, every last Caucasian would have to have ten babies. That includes pensioners, children and, indeed, babies themselves. That’s right, comrade. The babies would have to have babies. But that’s not all. The men as well as the women would need to breed, which is entirely possible because it’s a well-known fact that white men have ovaries tucked behind their livers.

Oh, no. My test just got a whole lot more complicated. Figures show that last year the black population grew by 7.3% while the white population declined by 4.2%. This means that … I don’t know what it means. This is one of those rare moments in my life where beer can’t help.

So, unless Statistics SA is part of the white supremacist conspiracy, I think it’s fairly safe to say that white South Africans are still breeding – they’re just doing it in Perth, London and Auckland.

I must say, though, that you are a bit of a natural contraception. I was lying in bed with a girlfriend watching you being all red and shouty in parliament and she got so depressed that she lost all interest in sex. Maybe it’s a white thing.

You also told the people of Soweto – a vast, sparsely populated area where you can sometimes travel for up to three or four metres without bumping into another living soul – that “to make children is a revolutionary duty‚ because children represent reproduction of society. And when you reproduce yourself you reproduce your ideas and legacy.”

Correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I know, you have spawned only one sproglodyte while your archenemy Jacob Zuma has 22 at last count. Soon we will find out who is the real revolutionary.

Inexplicably, not everyone recognises your genius. Jabu Mahlangu, spokesman for the SA National Civic Organisation, described your call to coitus as “illogical gibberish”. Well, that’s one less person you have to name a street after once you’re president.

Anyway, good luck with the launch of your manifesto next weekend. Did you know it comes from the Greek word ‘mani’ meaning ‘barefaced’ and ‘festo’ meaning ‘lies’? Of course you did.

Also, all the best for the municipal elections. When you win a municipality you absolutely must ride into town on a tank. It worked for the Americans when they liberated Paris and it can work for you when you liberate Parys. I’m happy to come in with my flamethrower and flush out the last of the ANC councillors.

By the way, I like your logo – a giant black fist dominating Africa and threatening South America with an assegai. Good for you. Those goddamn uppity Latinos need to learn that they aren’t the only ones who can cripple economies through poorly thought out socialist policies.

Juju Tank






An open letter to Julius Malema

Dear Right Honourable Excellency Julius Sello Malema the First, Commander in Chief of the Economic Freedom Fighters, Ruler of all the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Seas and Conqueror of Colonialism in Africa in General and South Africa in Particular.

Or, in the parlance of the common people, heita Juju! Having said that, there shall come a time when political scientists will want to add an ism to your name. You need to drop a vowel. Malemism is easier on the tongue than Malemaism, which sounds more like a tropical malaise than a bona fide ideology.

People have been coming up to me and saying, “Who is EFF?” Sometimes they say, “Who the eff are you?” but their kind is best ignored. You put it rather nicely in your manifesto: “The EFF is a radical, leftist, anti-capitalist and anti-imperialist movement with an internationalist outlook anchored by popular grassroots formations and struggles.”

That clears that up, then.

I predict that, before the end of the decade, Malemism will overtake Marxism as the predominant school of thought among a new generation of urban guerrillas. Compared to you, Karl Marx was a pussycat. Marxism is a theory. Malemism will be a fact. If anyone argues, have Shivambu stab them in the face. Oops. That was a Floydian slip. Have him talk some sense into them. An open dialogue is usually less messy than an open wound.

What ruined Marxism for me was the number of psychobrates Karl allowed in to the inner circle. Even though he was very bright for a white man, Karl made the mistake of encouraging other men with beards to get savagely twisted on Jägermeister and come up with all kinds of crazy things like dialectical materialism and economic determinism. The proletariat could barely spell their own names. No wonder Marxism never caught on.

Now that Dali Mpofu, the devil’s advocate, is a member of your merry band of brigands, your quota of intellectuals has been filled. Do not accept anyone else with a university degree. Too many revolutions have been ruined by some smartass at the back who puts up his hand and says, “But, commander in chief, if we are going to nationalise everything, throw farmers off their land and give everyone free health care, housing and education, where will we get the money to, you know, pay for things like roads and power stations?”

When the EFF takes power, you can do away with money altogether and use stones instead. This country has plenty of them. The Karoo could be the new Treasury, except there won’t be any security at the door. Or any doors. People could just drive out there, fill their boot with stones and be rich right away. Small stones could buy takeaways while rocks could be used to buy bigger things like tumble dryers and plasma televisions. A Mercedes would cost a small boulder, of which we have plenty.

It’s uncanny how much you and Marx have in common. Karl collaborated with Friedrich Engels. You speak Engels. Your insightful exchange of ideas with BBC correspondent Jonah Fisher in 2010, which included the phrase, “Rubbish is what you have covered in that trouser”, showed an admirable grasp of the subtle nuances of the English language.

Marx studied at the University of Bonn. You once drove past the University of Cape Town.

You sang ‘Dubula iBunu’. He sang ‘Lydia the Tattooed Lady’. No, wait. That was Groucho Marx. My researcher is drunk. I shall have him stripped naked and flogged at once.

By the way, I like your website. The colours of blood and canaries are very 2014. I also like your logo. A giant black fist dominating Africa, threatening Brazil with an assegai. Good for you. Those goddamn uppity Latinos need to learn that they aren’t the only ones who can cripple economies through poorly thought out socialist policies.

It’s also a smart move to invite people to donate R30 to the cause by sending an sms. Any idiot can send an sms. And I am nothing if not an idiot. I fired off an sms right away. Any chance of a receipt? When you finally deploy the 5th Expropriation Brigade, I want to be able to show them something that sets me apart from the neo-imperialist counter-revolutionary running dogs of capitalism that infest my suburb.

I see you are with FNB. Good choice. I like their slogan: “First National Bankie – How Can Weed Help You.”

I am also very impressed with your manifesto. Did you know that it comes from the Greek word ‘mani’ meaning ‘barefaced’ and ‘festo’ meaning ‘lies’? Of course you did.

I found it a tad long at around 20-thousand words, but that shouldn’t be a problem for your followers. By the time the economically disenfranchised have finished looking up words like heterodox and beneficiation, American helicopters will be evacuating the last of the capitalists from the roof of the Johannesburg Stock Exchange and the sangomas can move in. The fall of Saigon will seem like a stumble by comparison.

Nice touch kicking it off with a quote from Frantz Fanon, although one or two of your members might struggle to relate to a Martinique-born French Creole psychiatrist who dabbled in existential humanism on his days off. On the other hand, he did actively support the Algerian war of independence from France. As a result, Algeria today is in far better shape than France. And you, Julius, are in far better shape than Frantz.

The quote is, “Each generation must, out of relative obscurity, discover its mission, fulfill it, or betray it.” Or, in the case of the ANC, and betray it. Do you like that? Have it.

The first point in your preamble reads, “Our decision is to fight for the economic emancipation of the people of South Africa, Africa and the world.” Nothing wrong with aiming high, comrade. But the world? I hope you have a passport.

One of your seven pillars for economic emancipation is to “build government capacity allowing the abolishment of tenders”. This is brilliant. Nobody need rely on the government for work because everyone will already be working for the government. Thirty million civil servants should get the job done in no time at all. Who cares if the economy shuts down over lunch every day? It’s a big, hungry thing, the economy is, and it can’t be expected to go all day without so much as a smoke break.

I love all the free stuff mentioned in your fourth pillar. Education, health care, housing, sanitation. I would go further and offer free booze. Having a roof over your head and knowing the square root of twelve would feel so much more satisfying if it came with a box of beer.

Pillar number five says there will be “massive protected industrial development to create millions of sustainable jobs”. By protected I expect you mean that once the workers are inside, the factories will be sealed off with bladewire and minefields. Don’t let the bastards out. Ever. You didn’t say they would be paying jobs. Clever, that.

Your second pillar calls for the nationalisation of banks, mines and other sectors of the economy without compensation. You might need heavy artillery for the banks. I have been trying to get an appointment with my branch manager for months. You are going to have to winkle the swine out with howitzers.

The manifesto also says, “It is a crying shame that in the 21st century we are presided over by an elite system of power where only 400 members of the national assembly govern over 50 million people. The EFF shall agitate for the transfer of power to the people.”

You need to have teams visiting every home in every town. If the person who opens the door can sing the first stanza of L’Internationale and answer three questions about, say, the Babylonian revolt against Assyrian rule, he or she gets to make a new law right there and then. Parliament can be converted into a vegetable market.

And you say house repossessions will be illegal? Yeah! Fuck the bond. What are you going to do now, Sheriff? Shoot me? Oh. Okay, wait.

You also want to see “the scrapping of criminal record statuses of ex-convicts who were convicted of certain schedules of crime”. Nothing wrong in thinking ahead. That’s the mark of any good leader who might one day go to jail for certain schedules of crimes. Like tax evasion. Or money laundering. Or racketeering.

You warn that your policies might cause an “imperial backlash”. I wouldn’t worry about that. When the Mau Mau did their thing in Kenya, the imperial backlash extended to the madams of Happy Valley firing the servants and pouring their own gin and tonics. I expect our imperialists would do the same – right after they have shut down their multi-billion rand investments and repatriated the profits.

I like how your manifesto separates the race groups. It does away with all that simunye nonsense. For instance, you talk of the “Coloured question”, saying that the EFF will come up with revolutionary programmes to guarantee them fishing rights. I don’t know when last you were in Cape Town, but you should know that not all of them are fishermen. Many have diversified into the narcotics industry. It’s an important demographic. Don’t neglect them or they will be at the throats of the fishermen in no time at all and you will be to blame.

Still under the section titled “The Coloured working class”, you say, “The wine farms in the Cape should be expropriated and redistributed to the farm workers.” This is an excellent idea. Who cares if the chief financial officer of Spier has no front teeth and a touch of the old foetal alcohol syndrome? I certainly don’t. And I am all for buying cabernet sauvignon in five-litre plastic containers.

Under the “Indian/Asian working class”, you question whether Indians should be classified as a historically disadvantaged group. Should they benefit from affirmative action? You seem unsure. I tried asking around but the thing with Indian fellows is that you ask them one thing and they tell you another. And another. And before you know it the whole day has gone by and you’re lakka goofed and dronk.

When I came to the “White working class”, my sphincter snapped shut. I was expecting terrible things. But all you said was that white people who didn’t own land and the means of production would be allowed to live. Ha ha. Not really. Instead, we would benefit from the EFF’s struggle. Yay for me. I don’t own much more than a car and two surfboards, so I’m safe. Right, comrade? I am safe, aren’t I?

One thing is certain – the poor will send you to parliament next year. That’s R70 000 a month in your pocket right there. Sure, this is peanuts compared to what you are accustomed to, but it’s a start.

Anyway. Good luck, commander. If your dreams come true, we will all be living in one hell of a state.