Fantassey, WWF, gqom (and policies)
SHEEP & SAVIOURS
The Mail & Guardian’s series of first-hand accounts of the ANC’s national conferences through the eyes of insiders continues with another delegate update, this time from ANC Youth League member Tiny Tshabalala
There is a generational long-drop in the ANC that is set to leave the organisation with a broken nose — and I don’t mean those Young Lions who will head-butt Cyril Ramaphosa for a R29 airtime voucher and a bottle of Hennessy from the Gupta family.
ANC Youth League conferences are known for their quick grasp of the issue of policies. This allows us more time for the issue of fun and games so that things are kept fresher than the latest gqom mix.
Oh, who could forget the probing revolutionary discussions we had in 2008, when we played bare-bottom brigades while electing that cotton-bud-in-a-beret, Banting-dieting sell-out who went off to form the Economic Freedom Fighters. Weight Watcher must fall bandla.
I don’t know if it’s colder outside the ANC, but we are certainly feeling the heat inside it, because of Juli-ass and his merry band of rejects.
That boy with the red beret is anti-African and counter-revolutionary for losing weight. Makulu indunas must show they are leaders by the girth of their bellies, not the breadth of their intellect. It doesn’t matter if you are shaped like a parking bay, what did you park?
Just one look at Comrade President Collen Maine will strike fear into the hearts of the white monopoly capitalists. If the weight of our arguments can’t win over the ANC delegates or the defenders of white monopoly capital, then we can just sit on them — after doing one of those World Wrestling Federation helicopter moves.
Actually, on second thought, scratch that helicopter move. I may rip my Prada shirt. We’ll just sit on them until they squeal “uBaba”.
Comrade Collen has been leading from the front at this policy conference, his belly always a few metres ahead of the rest of the delegates.
Like a drugged walrus, Comrade President Maine surfaced on Friday ready to push radical economic transformation in our lifetimes. His beady, swollen eyes, exhaust pipe voice and bulging golf shirt underlining his literal commitment to the cause: he must have been hitting the Fantassey (a combination of Fanta Grape and Hennessy) pretty hard judging by the condition of both himself and his shirt.
This generational gap has been underlined by the issue of a lack of fun sideshows to keep the Young Lions interested. We’re turning into people who may have eaten too much Hungry Lion chicken with a side of pap; because the elders of uBaba’s generation are appearing intransigent on the issue of wanting to actually go through the policy documents instead of merely dropping a Black Coffee track and humming along to a pro-Jacob Zuma song.
Now that Fikile “Mbaks” Mbalula has waddled off to join the elders, there are few youths to drop the mid-tempo beats (and the level of intellectual engagement) at this conference. Even the maskandis from KwaZulu-Natal are getting tired with their song-and-dance routine — they have yet to realise that house music is a movement.
The less said about the even older veterans that uBaba has allowed into this conference to create the veneer of inclusion, the better. Imagine if the “so-called veterans” had been allowed in: Yawn, Young Lions! Yawn!
Then these comrades start actually arguing about the issue of whether to adopt white monopoly capital in the plenary sessions. Did they not get the memo on the back of the cheques the Guptas have been signing faster than Zodwa Wabantu losing her panties at the Durban July?
But, eish. This radical economic transformation better happen very soon. It’s already July 4 and my e-wallet hasn’t arrived from the Guptas yet.
My comrades have been flashing the R200 notes at Sakhumzi on Vilakazi Street and Taboo in Sandton as if Malusi Gigaba decided to start printing more money, like, yesterday. But I’m still waiting for that text message notification.
How am I supposed to determine radical economic policy for this glorious movement without a hangover and paid-for “pick-me”?