The 2004 version of the Olympics is upon us, and to think, we could have been hosting it in Cape Town! Ah well, at least we had the J&B Met.
And there were huge advantages to this latter event. Like minimal interruption to traffic flows. We didn’t have to build a new stadium or 12. And Parliament saved huge amounts on travel vouchers. Although a few vouchers may have been exchanged for placing bets on different horses (Travel Agency came in at seven to none and Transparency still has to come in), the cost was still nowhere near what it might cost for luxury accommodation on board yachts in the Mediterranean for those MPs whose contract with the people included some very small print that just never got read out at any election rally.
The Greeks are obviously not a superstitious bunch, or they wouldn’t have thought of hosting the Olympic opening ceremony on Friday the 13th. I suppose there’s a feeling that if anything would go wrong, it’s been in the build-up to the event with nobody expecting anything to be ready in time or within budget. Much like a rehearsal process for a play when everything seems to conspire against the success of the play, and then somehow on opening night, the gods — and, historically, Greece has had a lot of them so they must be feeling lucky — give it their nod, and magic happens.
Our Olympic team has left for Athens, a bit beyond the pale for some, but this will pale into insignificance if they happen to bring back a few rainbow colours like gold, silver or even bronze.
Fortunately, we will be able to balance the demographics of the team with a few hundred administrators, some of whom may even have partici-pated in Olympic sport equivalents at some stage in their previously disadvantaged lives. Like sprinting from rubber bullets or doing the long jump over gutter education to be where they are today.
Depending on how well the team does, a few administrators no doubt will be in line to receive huge bonuses, payable when the Olympics come to Africa (or before then, if the sponsors are not looking). And the athletes will get a slap-up dinner. At Nando’s.
It has been a rather depressing fortnight with the investigations into the multiparty parliamentary travel scam, and one wonders whether corruption in our society is on its way to Olympian levels. We could easily have a corruption decathlon to coincide with 10 years of democracy. There would be the cross-country race using 4×4 vehicles procured cheaply through the arms deal; golf played on estates paid with bribes to dying political parties; a version of television’s most amazing race using parliamentary travel vouchers; a soccer tournament where the referees are auctioned before the start of each game; a race to build the largest holiday homes for those who decide about tenders; bookkeepers in the private sector would compete in the Enron-sponsored archery event where they would try to score bull; prisoners will spar with each other with home-made javelins and they will not have to undergo tests for the dope sold to them by warders; crime dockets will be cycled and then recycled until they disappear completely; shadowy oil companies will empower the athlete’s foot on the pedals of luxury vehicles and whistle-blowers will be in for the high jump.
If the tide of corruption feels like it is drowning our young democracy, do not fear. Moral regeneration is only a bribe away.
What does this all have to do with the arts? Nothing really. Except that every major sports event has an arts and culture component to provide spectators with something to do when they’re not donating their voices to patriotism. And so, the corruption decathlon will have the anthem sung by a real artist. All artists will be invited to tender for the job, but only after it has already been decided to whom to award the tender.
And the winner will get a free tracksuit from the National Arts Council.