Letters to the best man
Chez Uhuru
228 Musgrave Road
iThekwini
To:Dr Essop Pahad
The Presidency
Union Buildings
Tshwane
Dear Dr Pahad,
I’ve been doing some research and am convinced, now more than ever, that given my ministerial aspirations, the Best Man route is the way to go. The alternative of building popular support simply carries no guarantees. Let’s take Pallo Jordan, for example. At the last national conference of the African National Congress in 1997, Jordan came third in the election to fill the 60 places on the national executive committee (NEC), maintaining his profile after being placed fifth in 1991 and second in 1994. What, we might ask, have all the years of organisational activity and his consistent popularity among the membership achieved? Let’s be real! The Cabinet is chosen by our leader not by some undiscerning lumpen mass. The trouble with Jordan is that he is too clever for his own good. How can it possibly be in the national interest for the authority of our leader to be compromised and for the correct balance of our Cabinet to be upset by the introduction of a person of Jordan’s intellect? I trust that these days, when taking stock of your ascent, Jordan reflects on those times in England with you and our leader, and rues his failure to follow your more dutiful example.
I note that your name does not appear among the 50 persons elected to the NEC in 1991. In 1994 you were placed 54th out of 60, with fewer than half of the votes secured by Jordan. Needless to say, our leader did not allow himself to be distracted by populist sentimentality when motivating the appointment of his Best Man to the newly created post of Deputy Minister in the Office of the Executive Deputy President on August 1 1996. I am pleased to see that following your elevation you made significant progress at the next NEC elections in December 1997, securing 45th position, a mere 42 places behind Jordan.
Thankfully, the constitution of the ANC was changed at that conference, ensuring that NEC elections will now be held every five years instead of every three. As encouraging as this amendment is, I really do not know whether I have the character to subject myself, even if only every five years, to the humiliation you have had to endure at the back of the field.
Surely, if the leader’s Best Man automatically qualifies for a Cabinet post, it is not necessary to have to periodically subject oneself to the indignity of the NEC bun fight.
To use a soccer analogy, you would not even take the field as a member of the first 11 if team selection were to be based on the fickle preferences of the fans. You would have ended up in the fifth 11 for the past six years. Fortunately, in soccer, the team is not selected by the fans, but by the coach. I am sure you agree that the Bafana Bafana line-up should be the prerogative of the coach (even a Portuguese one) as opposed to what mob rule from the terraces might dictate.
Why should the filling of Cabinet posts be any different?
This past week I have been working on my Best Man credentials and practising for the stag night. I bought a case of Johnnie Walker Black Label not the Red Label, entry-level stuff. As with marathon running where a rigorous preparatory regime is essential, I have set myself a weekly training programme with an aggregate of 10 litres as an interim goal.
I must confess to feeling on the weak side as I write to you. I fear I may have been a little ambitious in my initial training efforts but there have been some invaluable ideological revelations. Last night I lined up three bottles of the tried-and-tested and set off further along the path to power. The first half-hour, which involved four doubles, was not particularly remarkable, apart from a measure of physical arousal at the thought of certain female Cabinet members, the wives of a couple of others, and the wife of one of the provincial premiers.
About one hour into the session, by which time I had put back three-quarters of the first bottle, I began to sense that I was entering a higher state of consciousness. It started to become clear to me that there is no adequate proof that Aids and HIV are related, and I began to wonder whether one should uncritically accept that cholera is water-borne. Into the second bottle, I realised the fallacy of the counter-revolutionary myth that the state should employ anybody, and it dawned on me that the socialist stage of our national democratic struggle is premised on the withering away of the state and the transfer of all national resources to the patriotic bourgeoisie.
As I approached the end of the second bottle I experienced a rush of excitement about the way Robert Mugabe was managing to engender a more responsible attitude on the part of the media and the judiciary across the border. One of the last things I remember before lapsing into a coma, was that I became overwhelmed by paranoia and a sense of insecurity, although, on the positive side, I do recall feelings of admiration for Nicky Oppenheimer and a comforting sense that he was happy with me.
I must give you a call to get your advice about how to choose the venue for the reception. I have always liked the Kerzner resorts. Perhaps we could even get him to build something with a renaissance theme for the occasion. Would you speak to Stella Sigcau to find out what the right protocol with Kerzner is; I understand that he actually pays us and not vice versa.
Yours from the back of the field to the podium.
Craig Tanner