Gangster's paradise in the ANC ahead of Limpopo?

Here we go again with the “political posts”. Blame Thought Leader if you find my “political posts” crappy. You see, I’m much more of a Thought Leader consumer than I am a contributor. Of course, the more astute have already figured out that I never write about politics per se, but rather about some of the more interesting observations about people’s behavioural patterns in politics.

Take this whole Zuma-versus-Mbeki travelling circus. Not even Tom Clancy could have come up with this political soap opera. If the pundits are to be believed, there is an impending showdown in Limpopo where Muhammad Ali over here will square up against Joe Frazier over there. I’m shivering with excitement just thinking about it. I can’t wait for the drama to unfold for my own amusement.

The rumour mill is churning them out machine-gun style. Will Mpshe sensationally charge Zuma a week before the conference? Will the Tokyo machinery make any dent at all on the proceedings? Will Cyril Rama-poser (will he, won’t he?) enter the race spectacularly? Will Madisha reappear from his mysterious hiding hole to flight footage of Blade dragging a suspicious-looking bag on the eve of the elections? But I’ll leave the speculation to the ~~star~~ ~~gazers~~ analysts, even though those guys with crystal balls are all over the map on this one. Incidentally, I think there’s too much pressure in that term — analyst. I think we should just leave it at commentators.

I must confess that my obsession with this whole Mbeki-Zuma “factionalism” is informed by a bit of fuzziness inside my brain. You see, I have never had a satisfactory response to the question: “What are the fundamental ideological differences between Mbeki and Zuma that make this choice so important?” I have posed the question to many super-smart intellectual types, some of them being ~~palm readers~~ analysts who contribute articles here on Thought Leader. Allow me to sum up the most popular responses I get:

1. Zuma is perceived to be more left leaning.
2. While Mbeki has concentrated power in the Union Buildings, Zuma will certainly take it back to Luthuli House.
3. While Mbeki certainly does remind one of BJ Vorster, Zuma will grow a Hitler moustache, pick up effeminate gestures and get an unquenchable thirst for farms.
4. Don’t you have posts to write about guzzling women’s bathwater on a podium?

(As you can tell from that last response, ~~doomsday prophets~~ analysts are an immature lot.)

Let’s all agree that these so-called differences are no fundamental differences at all. If you’re going to be nit-picky about leadership styles, you might as well throw in the fact that the one guy is bearded and the other one not. But, of course, leaders have personality differences and one will place more emphasis on this rather than that.

I have yet to detect a trend that suggests that a Zuma presidency would depart perceptibly from the Mbeki presidency when it comes to policy. Granted, where Mbeki was a natural flyer in the economic arena, Zuma might lean more heavily on the experts. By the same token, Mbeki seems to have a heavier reliance on advisers when it comes to dealing with the concerns of the ordinary man in the street, whereas Zuma seems to be a fish in water with the rank and file. Are these really the battle lines that separate the missile-throwing sides? Or am I missing something yet again?

All this heavy thinking always leaves me rather parched, and then I grab a misty mug and start coming up with far-fetched theories. It is not a secret that I think that human beings have a more advanced herd mentality than, say, sheep. Sheep just get a bad rap because of that whole woolly uniform look they have going. Slap some stilettos on a ewe and sling a Gucci bag over her shoulder, and you won’t be able to distinguish her from the average Sandton City serial shopper.

People love nothing better than to pick a favourite crowd and blend in. Anyone who stands back and says, “Hang on, I think Zille is spot-on when it comes to crime but, shuu, that Mbeki seems to have batted down that whole fiscal policy thingy,” is always ridiculed. And then the names start. Wishy-washy. Fence sitter. Spineless. Appeaser. Weasel. Bat. No, we can’t have that. One’s gotta make a choice.

Back in the Eighties I lived in a violence-engulfed township where everybody had to choose. ANC or IFP? Even in that dangerous environment some people still found the humour in the situation. Apparently one woman, accosted by a bunch of thugs masquerading as self-protection agents who asked her “Are you ANC or IFP?” responded: “Neither. I’m Moroka Swallows.” Good one, auntie.

The list of ridiculous choices we apparently have to make is endless, of course. Kaizer Chiefs or Orlando Pirates? Why can’t I like both Simphiwe Tshabalala and Teko Modise? (Read and learn, my white sheep.) Where is the mutual exclusivity? Chicken or beef? Rugby or football? Brenda or Yvonne? Generations or Isidingo? Kwaito or hip-hop? Boxers or briefs? Mbeki or Zuma?

This whole notion that one’s gotta choose a side is preposterous. Based on what? Why can’t I like a little bit of both? What prevents me from admiring Mbeki’s grasp of economics and Zuma’s exemplary ability to connect with the average Diepsloot resident? Of course there’s a name for this type of thinking that sends people into closed enclaves to protect identities that have no significant value.

It’s called gangster mentality.

One of the most notorious gang rivalries I have heard of is the whole retarded Bloods versus Crips street-gang nonsense. I’ve borrowed the analogy from that intellectually imposing part of the world called the US of A. From what I can tell it seems that there is nothing that differentiates these gangs in the way of philosophical/ideological outlook. And I would have been surprised, too, if there had been any discernible differences.

The one lot was founded by a 15-year-old — who was presumably on crack cocaine. Both gangs are a drug-trafficking, murderous lot — with hand signals and the colours they wear (red and blue) being the major differentiator, it would seem. Yet they have mowed each other down for decades. “Oh no! Not red sneakers! Wait here while I get my Uzi.”

Sounds familiar? The entire Democrat/Republican circus bears the same characteristics. Other than a few fringe groupings (ultra-rightist in the mould of Pat Buchanan and pinko-liberals in the mould of Ted Kennedy) the differences between the middle 90% is what can best be characterised as much of a muchness. Yet the rivalry is as acrimonious as ever. These are street gangs fighting turf wars over whether a president got blown in the Oval Office or not.

Billions of dollars are spent on these great matters of principle. On the other side of the Atlantic, for instance, morons in white jerseys will viciously assault anyone wearing an orange jersey after an England-Netherlands game in the middle of Amsterdam.

We’re not too far behind, of course. Take a walk with me to Pollsmoor Prison where the 26s and 28s are also fighting turf wars and gouging each other’s eyes out over nothingness. OK, so what (I’m told), the 28s have a penchant for a little lovin’ as evidenced by a large proportion of their members with wide ease-of-fellatio passion gaps? It’s a free country. Is that worth all the fighting? But back to the street gangs of the moment.

The ANC is an organisation that has always been characterised by in-depth, meaningful and quality debate about real issues. There is ample evidence of this: policy document after policy document. The coverage of these rich discussions hardly makes the news, of course. Quality debate is perhaps the richest of these mystery-wrapped-up-in-a-riddle animals called “ANC traditions”. Forget about that other phantom ANC tradition that declares it the eighth deadly sin for individuals to harbour and express any personal ambitions. Give me a break.

Yet I fear that some form of mad-cow disease seems to have blindsighted some street gangs within the party to these real issues. As fellow blogger Zukile Majova pointed out so eloquently, we have branches/groupings that don’t have the current ANC president in their top six nominees to the NEC and others without the current deputy president.

To paraphrase him: “What are these 26s and 28s smoking? Tik? If so, why are they hogging da bong?” This seems to me the height of gangster mentality; that is, as long as you’re not in my gang, no good could possibly come out of you. A case of “no good could ever come out of someone wearing red sneakers”.

The reason I have honed in on this is due to an experience I had on a recent trip to Durban. One of these gang members cornered this lowly blogger at a gathering of friends at the beach. Why did I, as a self-respecting Zulu, not write “the truth about our leaders” on a platform such as Thought Leader? I weaselled out of this corner on the following technicalities:

1. I am not and have never been what anyone could call “self-respecting”.
2. Strictly speaking, my “expertise” lies in writing about human rodents and why men have nipples. There are far more knowledgeable contributors better suited to writing about “truths”.

I have a recurring nightmare. I dream that as delegates walk into the hall on the first day of the conference that will produce the next president of this country, they will be met by Smuts Ngonyama at the door, smoking cigar in one hand. He will have a shiny coat on and spot an electric-shock hairdo reminiscent of flamboyant boxing promoter Don King, complete with wide fake grin.

As each delegate files in, he will beam at them and ask: “Bride or groom? Gotta make a choice. Only in Limpopo.” In my nightmare, the conference hall is set up in two rows of church pews — the groom’s side and the bride’s side — and the rest of the conference degenerates into a Church of Mbeki versus the Church of Zuma farce. Meanwhile, the real issues get skimped over. What issues, you ask?

1. Poverty alleviation.
2. Job creation.
3. Reduction of social welfare dependence.
4. Tackling HIV/Aids.
5. Crime eradication.

The list is much longer. And no, Zim would not have made it into the top 10, my Pavlovian canine friends (thanks, Suresh Roberts). Like Martin Luther King, I have a dream. I dream that sanity prevails and petty differences are set aside.

I dream that the Bloods and the Crips will prove me wrong.

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