It wasn’t the alleged infidelity that shocked me but the price that had to be paid; the sad unsuspecting goat that had to pay with its life for the alleged sins of one woman.
According to reports, when President Jacob Zuma’s wife, MaNtuli, was allegedly busted for stepping out on the president, her family had to present the affronted Zuma ancestors with a goat as appeasement. It would then be slaughtered as a sacrifice for the sins of the wife. Poor goat. It was the only innocent party and it paid the ultimate price.
I’m afraid I’m with the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals on this one. Why should the good Lord’s meek and mild animals suffer for the sins of the flesh? Someone please dispatch an animal rights team to Nkandla to be on the lookout for any further unnecessary bloodshed. Imagine if every time a husband was cuckolded, an animal was sacrificed — the sheep, cattle and goats of this country would be endangered.
I have the utmost respect, appreciation and understanding of the right of people to slaughter when a sacrifice has to be made to their ancestors or for whatever mandatory family offering or celebration is taking place. This, however, is not one of those times.
As salacious and entertaining as this gossipy sex scandal may be, I don’t much care for it. My view is that people who enter into polygamous marriages do so fully aware of the inherent dangers of these multiple love partnerships, such as the inevitable jealousy, emotional insecurity and sexual infidelity they bring. Let the chips fall where they may and leave the livestock be.
But the beauty of the World Cup being on our shores is that it has taken our weary minds away from the shenanigans of the first family and diverted our attention from the other vexing and perplexing issues facing the country. Over the next few weeks I’m sure very few of us will care who the father of MaNtuli’s baby is or who exactly Cope’s president is (this week). We would all rather focus on the feel-good factor and right now that is the World Cup and the thousands of visitors here for the party.
Personally I’ve wasted no time in soaking up the atmosphere, which has been electric, particularly in the run-up to Bafana Bafana’s first game against Mexico. I’ve even taken to dancing and singing along to Shakira’s truly abysmal World Cup ditty, Waka Waka. It’s very catchy isn’t it?
While Sandton and Rosebank’s hotspots have been teeming with international visitors, I’ve been fascinated by observing relations among South Africans themselves. It is they who are interacting with one another like long-lost lovers. It seems as if we are re-discovering one another as a nation, with surprising and heart-warming results. I’ve been watching South Africans of all hues and backgrounds approach and engage one another with a renewed interest. The World Cup seems to be our stage and the vuvuzela our soundtrack. It really warms the cockles of the heart.
In the past few days I’ve found myself in impassioned conversations, one with two domestic workers about Lionel Messi’s merciless and relentless presence on the pitch against Nigeria. During the opening concert, an elderly Indian gentleman and I were debating with great awe, wonder and dare I say, envy on my part, how Shakira manages to gyrate her waist and hips in the manner that she does.
These are not conversations I would generally entertain or company I would court, but there is something about the mood in the country that has allowed us to open up to one another and it’s incredible.
It saddens me, though, that it has taken a global sporting event to allow us to reach out to one another. What happens to us when the Fifa-induced party has ended and we are left with a massive hangover? Do we go back to our insular, linear ways? I sincerely hope not.
So how do we capitalise on the sense of unity and renewed common nationhood engineered by the World Cup?
I wish we could bottle the sentiment and remember it many months from now when we once again have to tackle some of the challenges brought about by the structural economic disparity that faces us. The jury is out on whether any of the economic gains which were promised by the World Cup will actually materialise, but at least we can be grateful that, for a month, we appeared to be one, and that is priceless. And that would be a good reason to slaughter an ox.