Letters to the best man Chez Uhuru 228 Musgrave Road iThekwini
To: Dr Essop Pahad The Presidency Union Buildings Tshwane
Dear Dr Pahad, This morning I awoke in a bath of perspiration, emotionally exhausted after a nightmare of diabolical proportions. I have been so troubled by these visions from hell that I have been unable to think clearly. I fear that, in sharing my experience, I may precipitate trauma on your part, but as your trusted confidant, I feel duty-bound to forward all forms of intelligence to you as we weather the assault on our nascent democracy. As with most dream sequences, the events of last night were fragmented and I am uncertain of their meaning. The first image was truly terrifying … Chris Hani was not merely alive, he was the president! Our leader had been expelled from the movement as one who had sought to pass off co-option and enrichment of an elite as transformation. Having ignominiously left public life, our leader was running a finishing school, Renaissance Outcomes, in Sandton, assisting aspirant members of the patriotic bourgeoisie who needed tips on how to imitate the sartorial style and vocabulary of the international banking community. Trevor Manuel and Tony Yengeni were helping out as lecturers and role models. As in real life, your profile in the dream was indistinct and somewhat light on substance. What was clear, however, was that you had no place in the Cabinet. A familiar figure was running a clothing factory somewhere in the North West province, but I cannot say with certainty that it was you. The image of a peripheral character dressed in a top hat and tails does however remain etched in my memory. This character underwent a metamorphosis from, at one stage of the dream, being the Best Man at a wedding, to later on playing a role wearing the same garb in a Johnnie Walker promotion on the stoep of a bottle store in Schweizer-Reineke. Amid this pathos and the sobering sense that we had backed the wrong horse, the dream took a cruel twist, with our leader momentarily back in power, developing new paradigms and finding answers hitherto beyond the bounds of medical science. This momentary respite was, however, ruptured with the haunting image of our leader fleeing to the sanctuary of his new jet, pursued by the ghost of Nkosi Johnson and 80 000 Aids orphans. Our leader managed to get to the top of the steps, ahead of his pursuers. He turned back to explain to them that a virus cannot cause a syndrome, before flinging himself through the open door of the aircraft into the comforting arms of representatives of the World Bank, executives of European arms manufacturers and Nicky Oppenheimer. As the door was slammed shut on the fingers of those who had managed to reach the top of the stairs, my breathing became more relaxed. Aboard the aircraft the atmosphere was optimistic and genteel. As the jet took off over the wretched of the earth protesting on the runaway, the consensus on board was that the economy was in responsible hands and that the fundamentals were in place. Somebody who had recently secured a government contract suggested that another full-page advert in praise of our leader would be a good idea. The sense of relief was short-lived. As cocktails were served the captain announced that the aircraft was losing altitude. Moments before it crashed into the Union Buildings, exploding in a fireball, I saw our leader looking out at the mass of South Africans living with HIV who were clinging to the wings of his aircraft. The next ghoulish vision was of hell where our leader was being received by Mobutu Sese Seko, Nicolae Ceausescu, Tzar Nicholas II and Louis XVI. The torment continued. The nightmare returned to the horror with which it commenced and I found myself observing a Cabinet meeting with Hani in the chair. I recoiled in shock as I heard President Hani remind those present that, as provided for in Clause 2.2.3 of the Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP), “The central objective of our RDP is to improve the quality of life of all South Africans, and in particular the most poor and marginalised sections of our communities. This objective should be realised through a process of empowerment which gives the poor control over their lives and increases their ability to mobilise sufficient development resources, including from the democratic government when necessary. The RDP reflects a commitment to grassroots, bottom-up development which is owned and driven by communities and their representative organisations.” As an observer I felt powerless. Here I was, trapped in a nightmare in which those in power did not recognise the true value of liberation. It was unbearable having to witness the squandering of opportunities for enrichment. Unbelievably, the Cabinet was filled with people who slavishly stuck to electoral promises and who were naively trying to close the socio-economic divide. As I became increasingly overwhelmed by despair, my alarm clock sounded, and I was thankfully transported from PW Botha’s worst nightmare to the realisation that he need not have worried; our leader would keep the masses in check in a way Magnus Malan never could. I need to end off by expressing my concern regarding a thoroughly unwarranted remark to which I and many other patriotic South Africans were subjected on Sunday evening. George Fivaz was interviewed on e.tv after being hijacked. He had the audacity to suggest that it was inappropriate to criticise the police as, so he contended, the current levels of crime are to be explained by socio-economic causes which are simply not being addressed. This is yet another insidious attack on our leader and I expect nothing less than a declaration in Parliament that Fivaz is a racist. I must also mention to you that I have decided to write to others to engender their support for our leader and to deal with those who do not appreciate how blessed we are to have a person of his qualities at the helm. I will forward copies for your file. Yours for market fundamentals and a good night’s sleep. Craig Tanner