A luta vagina
Yes, yes, I know. “We didn’t struggle to be poor.” Absolutely.
If there’s one thing democracy guarantees, it’s that to the victors go the spoils. Except, of course, most people in this country apparently did struggle to be poor—although at least they’re free and poor. And in a country where the average monthly income per struggle hero is around R3 375, we need as much free as we can get.
So fine. That’s just the way the world works. In 1994, the average monthly income was just over R2 000, so in a sense we’ve improved. But only in the gobbledygook government spin sense, alas. According to my usual source for matters economic, our jack-of-all-tirades Alistair Fairweather, “that’s actually not good at all unfortunately—in fact it’s pretty terrible. Even with a background rate of inflation of around 6% per annum, the per capita share should be R5 628. If anything people have, in general, become poorer. By comparison the UK went from R10 691 in 1994 to R20 512 in 2009. So they doubled, and their inflation rate is much lower [below 2%] so that’s a lot of real growth”.
But keep reading! This isn’t a column about smelly poor people and ugly numbers, no! It’s a column about hot blonde chicks with fabulous tits, about sex, sushi and champagne, about big swinging dicks and hos with fros. Because, comrade, “We didn’t struggle to be politically correct.”
As Penny Punani, the famous entrepreneur and feminist, plaintively says when people complain about Kenny Kunene sucking fish off a babe’s body while pouring bubbly into her bek, “Why is it that white people didn’t complain when apartheid ministers were chowing wors out of a hot boeremeisie’s cleavage, but now, suddenly, because black people are doing it, it’s wrong? Why?”
Very good point, very good point. Alas, the answer is simple. In apartheid South Africa we were ruled by morons, now we’re not (mostly). In apartheid South Africa, we didn’t have one of the finest constitutions in the world, now we do. In apartheid South Africa, the only women in government were the ones cleaning the spittle and baccy off the floor, now we have actual women ministers. To sum up—and this is going to come as a shock to Kenny Kunene and Julius Malema, the Mutt and Jeff of Japanese cuisine—I think Winnie Mandela, Albertina Sisulu, Helen Suzman, Lindiwe Sisulu and others did in fact struggle to be politically correct.
Who can forget that great struggle cry, “You strike a woman, you strike a piece of rock cod stuck to a nipple.” And the struggle goes on, comrades. As Julius Malema, that lovechild of Hugh Hefner and Che Guevara, said at the opening of ZAR—Kenny Kunene’s new club in Cape Town—we will not be victims of apartheid-era oppression. “Helen Zille will not close ZAR at 2am, like she does to other clubs in Cape Town. The ANC owns ZAR and we will party until the morning.” Man, that’s some inspiring shit. This is why I vote ANC. Thank goodness someone is looking out for our political right to party.
Do I have to write seriously here for a minute? OK. The sight of rich fat cats ogling delightedly as some moron uses a bikini-clad woman as a prop for his erectile-dysfunctional ego should make any South African sick. Well, any South African who believes that woman’s rights are, and should be, protected by the Constitution. Is Kenny Kunene any better or worse than sexists like Lolly Jackson, Andrew Phillips or “Lesbian” Lulu Xingwana? No, alas, he is exactly the same. That’s the tragedy of our freedom.