In my book I have a chapter entitled “Let the masses eat pap” in which I publicly declare my voting record since 1994 when FW de Lincoln said people with my melanin content could. My rationale for revealing this great secret was based on two observations:

1. Figuring out that a black male who grew up in an urban township (even in KwaZulu-Natal) votes ANC doesn’t need great deductive powers. Especially when they don’t walk around carrying traditional weapons in leopard-print vests. (I’ll give you an update on how many people will get upset and claim that I said IFP members are violent.)

2. There is nothing of any value in the thought process anybody employs to decide who they vote for. Only delusional people think their method is sophisticated. In the book I likened keeping one’s voting record to two F-students sharing a desk during an exam and hiding answers from each other.

Some people got really upset with me and called me by impolite names on email using bogus email accounts. (Don’t worry; my friend Billy Masetlha has lots of time on his hands and is looking into that situation). The method they employed to arrive at the party of their choice was informed by deep moral convictions, they insisted. Semantics, I say. What you call deep moral conviction I call regurgitating the contents of an election pamphlet.

I’m going to continue in that tradition of great transparency by publicly declaring who it is that I’d like to be the next president of the ANC and, by default, the country in 2009. That last sentence clearly rules out Mbeki who, as regular readers of this blog know, is a man I admire greatly. Two terms is more than enough for any one man, no matter how good. Whatever he didn’t achieve in 10 years he must jot down in his “Jeez, I screwed that shit up” list. Moving right along.

And I will share with you the rationale I employed in arriving at this individual. It’s not at all complicated. I will, however, offer the bullshit, politically correct version of the rationale that I would use if I wanted people to think I was a sophisticated analyst with great insights, right at the end. Here goes:

I am a chauvinistic Zulu male. That pretty much means that I think Zulu people are the greatest people on Earth and everyone else should be grateful we haven’t Mfecane’d them off the face of the earth. You’re most welcome. It doesn’t take a genius, therefore, to figure out that my preferred candidate will be Zulu-speaking.

Why not vote IFP then, you ask? The sophisticated, BS answer would be along the lines of “I don’t to waste my vote”, yaddah yaddah. But I respect Thought Leader readers too much to do that. The honest truth is: my obsession with facial hair rears its ugly head again. When I was growing up, the IFP was shoved down my throat by generally very … uncool, unkempt people. (Refer to Fred Khumalo’s Touch My Bloodfor a more lucid explanation.) I’m anal about facial grooming, and that whole Shembe look (untrimmed hair and beards) just doesn’t gel with me. I hope that clears that one up.

So back to Zulu individuals with a realistic chance of ending this whole Xhosanostra abomination. And I’m well aware that Motlanthe, Ramaphosa, Sexwale, Netshitenzhe and Manuel are perfectly capable individuals. But let’s all agree that a highly competent Tswana guy is still not as good as a so-so Zulu guy.

And I didn’t accidentally leave Lekota out. Let’s ignore for one second that there is nothing presidential about the name “Terror”. I just think Lekota needs to work on his anger-management skills. I can easily see how the Rooivalks might be circling over Harare two days after the inauguration over an innocuous last-remaining-pork-chop-at-the-buffet-table altercation with President for Life on our northern border, for example.

That leaves only two realistic candidates then. The Zumas. Now, I have gone on record that I believe former deputy president Zuma is more than capable of running this country. Only people suffering from advanced cognitive dissonance perpetuate the Zuma Gevaar nonsense.

The CNN talk-show host Larry King once asked Mike Tyson: “So what happened that night, Mike?” a few weeks after Tyson snacked on Holyfield’s ear during the infamous fight. Tyson responded with an honest question: “Which night, Larry? There’ve been many nights.”

By my simple rationale, the testosterone version of Zuma has been ruled out. To paraphrase Mike Tyson, there’ve been too many nights, JZ. And I say that with a heavy heart. It would have been awesome. The other high-calibre individuals who believe, like I do, that JZ is suitable for the job might kill me for this, but I think too much damage has been done. Whether or not he was the victim of the greatest conspiracy in recent history is neither here nor there. Sometimes a man just needs to cut his losses and move on. If for no other reason, then just to expose Zapiro as a one-dimensional cartoonist. Let’s see if he can make a living without making showerhead-on-pointy-head doodles every other day. Once JZ is out of the running, newspapers will reject JZ cartoons, surely?

That leaves Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma as my preferred candidate. She is a smart, shrewd and well-respected senior member of the ruling party. Even her most vicious critics have to admit that she has, at worst, done a decent job during her stint at the Foreign Ministry. She has built up a rapport with leaders on the continent and the world over. Our masters and gods, the West, will react positively to her. And isn’t it time we put our money where our mouths are with regards to empowerment of women?

I think Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma is our man. Who’s your man?

(I will return to this post within two days to insert a one-line edit of what the point of this rambling post was. But more than anything, I look forward to what everyone thinks was the point.)

This should be fascinating.

[Edit: These were the main points I had hoped to convey in this piece:

 In general, human beings are idiots. I should know; I am one. We all have an incredible capacity for rationalising our bigotry.
 It is mind-boggling just how much we still scurry inside our racial, ethnical or religious enclaves in the 21st century to make up our minds about serious matters that will have far-reaching consequences for our collective futures.]

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  • Once upon a time, Ndumiso Ngcobo used to be an intelligent, relevant man with a respectable (read: boring-as-crap) job which funded his extensive beer habit. One day he woke up and discovered that he had lost his mind, quit his well-paying job, penned a collection of hallucinations. A bunch of racist white guys published the collection just to make him look more ridiculous and called it 'Some of my best friends are white'. (Two Dogs, ISBN 978-1-92013-718-2). Nowadays he spends his days wandering the earth like Kwai Chang Caine, munching locusts, mumbling to himself like John the Baptist and searching for the meaning of life at the bottom of beer mugs. The racist publishers have reared their ugly heads again and dangled money in his face to pen yet another collection of hallucinations entitled 'Is It Coz 'm Black'. He will take cash, major credit cards and will perform a strip tease for contributions to his beer fund.

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Ndumiso Ngcobo

Once upon a time, Ndumiso Ngcobo used to be an intelligent, relevant man with a respectable (read: boring-as-crap) job which funded his extensive beer habit. One day he woke up and discovered that he...

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