Dear President Kgalema ”Mkhuluwa Mr Wizard” Motlanthe,
Greetings are in order. And congratulations on your appointment as the Number One citizen of my beloved country.
You are probably going to suspect that this letter is motivated by sour grapes on my part but, let me assure you, I am perfectly fine and I’m not holding it against you that you did not see fit to call me to serve.
I watched you on the day you stood next to Chief Justice Pius Langa in his green frock and then I watched you on the goggle-box when you addressed your people two Saturdays ago. Frankly, I was not impressed.
Mkhuluwa, I know you are a leftist activist and unionist by grooming, but when we are appointed president — even if it is for the street committee — and we suddenly have to be on prime-time TV, something tells me we have to be slightly, shall we say, more appealing.
As someone who spent part of his life in Meadowlands and Alexandra townships, you know as well as I do that Jewish — as we call clothing in those areas — is very important. Even your predecessor will tell you that. Remember how scrubby he looked when he came back from exile? Those days in early office when his pipe stuck out from his unkempt beard like a quail hunter’s shotgun sticking through a bush?
Even though I wasn’t fond of those two-tone shirts that became his trademark, at least someone advised him to look the part. He even trimmed his beard and hair. At least you are not challenged on the hair and beard side. That’s a good start.
But I know I speak for the most important half-a-million South Africans when I say there is work to be done. There has to be a difference between you and the secretary general of the party that deployed you to the West Wing of the Union Buildings.
Remember as President of the Republic you speak to all 48-million South Africans, from Thokoza to Ruyterwacht. And you should know better than those guys who spend their hard-earned R2 on daily tabloids and take their dress seriously. We cannot dismiss them just because they live in shacks and don’t read the glorious Mail & Guardian. These are the folks who park their German luxury sedans outside their shacks and are on first-name terms with Hugo Boss.
Imagine the shock of many South Africans when we all dropped our weekend duties and drinks to watch you on the telly that fateful Saturday and you were wearing what looked like a button-down shirt. Button down, Mkhuluwa! Not in 2008, and certainly not in front of the presidential seal. Not on your first address to the nation. The last time I wore a button-down shirt with a tie was in 1990 as an intern. And then you top it off with a tweedy jacket. Have you heard of cotton? I shudder to think what pants you were wearing. Just as well we could see you only from the waist up.
In fact, if it were not for your need to heal the fractured ruling party, I would tell you to fire whoever told you that you looked good on the day. Do yourself a favour and look at the tape again and I promise you, after watching, you will not remember what you said, like most of us who were utterly shocked by your choice of clothing.
I can think of many of your counterÂparts you could learn from. For example, have you ever noticed how never-say-die Robert Mugabe does his thing? I’m not suggesting you should fill your wardrobe with fashion that costs half your country’s GDP, but we could all take a leaf from his closet.
Closer to home, you could learn from Tony Yengeni, the former MP turned state penitentiary guest, turned parolee. Let’s face it though, he does not come from Jozi like you and I. Tony knows he is Jewish. Of course, as president of the country, I wouldn’t advise you to copy everything from him. I mean I can’t imagine my president wearing a yellow belt and shoes. But I am sure the Gugulethu lad can teach you a thing or two about how to look in public (or even in the dock, should you ever end up there).
If former Gauteng premier Mbhazima Shilowa’s hilarious dress sense could almost be rescued, I am sure the task won’t be that hard for a president from Meadowlands and Alexandra.
When all else fails, I am a phone call away.
Regards,
Rams