/ 6 July 2008

Bling on the ANC ivy league

”Comrades under the trees and those in the sun, this is a command. Please move to the conference room to start the conference. That goes for the comrades singing there. This is an order, comrades,” shouts former ANC Youth League president, Fikile Mbalula, growing increasingly agitated as his initial calls go unheeded.

It’s the opening morning of the ANCYL national conference (part two) at Nasrec Expo Centre in Johannesburg and it appears some comrades have taken sections of the June 16 address by ANCYL president Julius Malema a tad too literally.

Last month, Malema — between ordering a slap-up orgy of human meat in defence of ANC president Jacob Zuma — called on the youth to ”jealously protect the fruits born of the tree nourished by the blood of those who laid down their lives so we could be free”.

It seems delegates — tired after finding no accommodation after 18-hour bus rides — were waiting for manna to fall from the tree in question.

Or perhaps they were guarding the ”fruits” of the revolution: a shiny line of Hummers, Audis, Beemers, Volvos and Mercedes-Benzes parked outside the conference hall.

If the ANCYL leaders were showing off their revolutionary morality inside the conference, nobody was left in doubt as to what was being shown off outside: gleaming conspicuous consumption.

Malema arrived in a snazzy Lexus with two bodyguards in tow. Secretary general Vuyiswa Tulelo preferred the Teutonic tailoring of a chauffeur-driven Mercedes-Benz CLK (starting price about half-a-million), while wannabe president Saki Mofokeng swished in behind the wheel of a top-end Volvo.

The immaculately turned-out ANCYL spokesperson, Zizi Kodwa, refused to comment on whether there was any connection between the business dealings of the league’s investment arm, Lembede, and the wealth of ANCYL leaders.

Kodwa, who turned up in an Audi A3 (starting price R566 000, with a transparent retractable panoramic roof for an additional R16 000) could only say that cash from Lembede was used to fund the running of the league, rallies and other ”revolutionary programmes”.

”The youth league members are allowed to participate in any business venture as long as it is legal — we don’t ask where people’s money comes from,” he said.

Lembede, with assets estimated at R122-million, has been criticised by Malema as the economic vehicle of ”a selected few”.

He has called for all its assets to be sold off because its business relationships are compromising the league’s political autonomy.

He also told the Mail & Guardian recently that ”if you do away with these activities, people will understand that being in the youth league does not mean you are going to be rich”.

Which was a bit rich, really.

For while the upper echelons of the ANCYL appear to be playing out premier league conspicuous consumption fantasies, the rank and file seem to be mired in the lower leagues.

Their whistling, clapping, stamping and serenading of their leaders (”Kill for Zuma hai, kill for Zuma, hai, hai”) suggests they were far from outraged.

Malema et al evidently embody their dreams of BEE deals, fat government tenders and Kebble-style schmoozing by the princes of capital, leading to designer labels and the discreet charm of the Hummer.

Trend analyst and fashion guru Dion Chang, of Flux Trend, says these examples of conspicuous consumption — where luxury brands and metallic monsters match egos — are by no means specific to South Africa.

”It’s a global trend in emerging countries — South Africa, Russia, China and India. The emerging middle class want to flaunt their wealth,” he said.

”We’ve just released a report which suggests that luxury brands like Gucci and Louis Vuitton are becoming as ubiquitous as [coffee] chains like Starbucks.

”They’re being consumed increasingly by the young with money to burn: footballers and their wives in England, politicians and their wives here.”

Unity was the theme of the Nasrec conference. In the evening though, some comrades drove off to their hotels in luxurious cars with airconditioning, others walked across to their buses in the parking lot.

There, curled up in blankets, they tried to sleep among fellow comrades who had discovered they had no accommodation after hearing the address by ANC secretary general Gwede Mantashe.

A shiny red Audi drives past, speakers blaring sound. Among South Africa’s fiery young revolutionaries, marques, rather than Marx, seemed to be the overriding theme.