Cronin, the messiah, has arrived

“A voice cries out in the desert: ‘Prepare the way for the Lord! Make his paths straight!’ ” — Somewhere in the Good Book.

The Mayans said the world would end in 2012 and we laughed them off. Then we started having all these fulfilments of end-of-days scenarios. All manner of evil upon the land; skinny jeans, Kurt Darren, load-shedding and major roadworks on Gillooly’s. Inexplicable weather phenomena, snow in Lesotho in November? Durbanites sleeping under blankets two weeks from December? Pirates, Chiefs and Sundowns all won matches on the same weekend, yet none of us took note.

The Good Book foretold it. Floods (in the wonderfully named Cockermouth), famine, war (including AfriForums fatwa against the very name Tshwane), son (Mbalula) turning against father (Mthethwa), false prophets proclaiming fake messiahs (Pastor Ray and his fawning over our Great Musical Conductor). A nation thrown into strife as prophesised. Crying out for redemption that had failed the false starts that came before.

Then as all hope was lost the lone voice cried out from the wilderness (of his mind?) and proclaimed the coming of the rider on the white horse as foretold in that massive acid trip known as the Book of Revelations

Himself resplendent in white skin and like the First Coming he came from amongst us, unassuming and humble, Jeremy Cronin, the white messiah to salvage SA. Proclaiming a message of equality and unity, misinterpreted as Marxism by the uninformed. A master whose verse and metaphor was understood by few, derided by many.

The young naysayers raged, crying heresy, racism and all manner of sins against our Sentinel, then as if on cue, celestial confirmations, a star glowing in the dark, in the wasteland deserts of the East Rand, dazzling the ignorant, throwing non-believers into a frenzy and his Coming was confirmed.

All hail Cronin, lord messiah sent from heaven.