'Neither of you turned out the way I hoped you would.'
Last week, axed Finance Minister Pravin Gordhan unashamedly called for mass mobilisation. Whether drunk or under the influence of a dagga, I’m not sure the masses are exactly sure what he meant.
I, for one, am not sure whether it’s a call for arms to be waved, to stomp up and down my apartment, sing Kumbaya outside Parliament or move my finger over my mouse to support Black Monday.
Diligent citizen that I am, I aim to follow National Assembly speaker Baleke Mbete’s example and will carefully assess my motion of no confidence with a sitting over a cup of coffee.
It appears to be the course of action stipulated in the rules in Parliament which is, ironically, in stark contrast to the country’s leader.
To be honest, that last bit did stir some emotion and I feel the need to criticise the man. But who am I to fault a black Fred Astaire able to dance in takkies and traditional wear while wielding a spear. I am but a Caucasian: very good at turning simple patterns of movement into complex matrices of motion where all the moving parts conspire to defeat the original purpose.
Cases in point: the three-point turn, the one-handed catch and the two-step shuffle. The latter – a line dance from Texas adapted for couples to use at South African sokkies – is the simplest of shuffles performed by my peers during high school.
The dance requires you to take two steps to the beat of the music, basically putting one foot in front of the other. It’s easy enough if you apply yourself – almost like a march – and the closest thing to mass mobilisation I’ll be able to muster with a little practice.
For that very reason I don’t mobilise when the garbage pick-up is late; I definitely don’t move – in every sense of the word – when home affairs department staff take lunch; and swiftly move out of the way when the flashing lights of a blue light brigade ask me to do so.
My modus operandi these days is to sit still and let corruption take its course; to accept my fate at the hands of a dysfunctional government.
I like to think of it as a series of Gandhi moments: passive resistance to the point of paralysis which – like a cockroach under a mushroom cloud – gives me inner peace, regardless of the chaos around me.
And it’s been working wonders this past week.
Every time a WhatsApp comes through asking me to sign yet another petition, I block the sender and remind myself that everything is awesome – a sentiment echoed by ANN7, which I now have on for most of the day.
I’ve resigned myself to the fact that Zuma will see out his term and admire him for his resilience. I’m grateful for the new Cabinet and even thanked Standard Bank’s card division when they picked up the phone.
For all intents and purposes, I’m a diligent citizen happily carrying out my civic duties.
I unashamedly call on you to do the opposite.