Let’s party: Sparks are flying and it isn’t only the fireworks for Diwali. The Democratic Alliance is making the most out of Enoch Godongwana’s mini-budget. Photo: Annice Lyn/Getty Images
Thursday.
Like most of my fellow South Africans, I’m wondering what is actually GNU about Finance Minister Enoch Godongwana’s maiden mini-budget on behalf of Mzansi’s first multi-party cabinet since the heady days of 1994.
We’re still broke.
And for all the promises Helen Zille’s lot made before the elections about dumping ANC economic policy when they came into power after 29 May, it appears that they will instead be implementing it in the various portfolios they occupy.
The social media graphics are already out there, claiming Democratic Alliance (DA) victories in Godongwana’s announcement that the private sector will be involved in infrastructure and electricity and an end to bail-outs for state-owned entities.
They’re also claiming that the government reducing its debt to a GDP ratio is their baby, as if Godongwana and the late Tito Mboweni haven’t been South Africa’s austerity twins since forever.
As far as they’re concerned, it was them who came up with the idea to cut the public sector wage bill, and not the ANC national executive committee, which has been talking about doing so since Thabo Mbeki was running the party.
They also claim it was them, and not Premier Panyaza Lesufi, who ended e-tolls in Gauteng and secured the agreement to settle the debt run up by the province’s motorists shortly before the elections.
All of which they have the right to do, but for all of their pre-election promises and post-election braggadocio, their effect on the first government of national unity mini-budget has been minimal.
Down here in the Kingdom, it’s vibing public holiday as it does every year when Diwali — or Eid — comes around.
It’s dead quiet and the streets are pretty much empty, just like they are on Christmas Day, or Easter, Heritage Day or any of the other official holidays.
Shops owned by those observing Diwali are closed, children are out of school and an evening of the Durban skies being lit up by the annual wall-to-wall fireworks display that comes with Diwali lies ahead.
So does the arrival of a plate of sweetmeats from my neighbour before the day is over and some lamp lighting in the garden by the neighbour’s children to observe the victory of light over darkness.
Their daughters get sent to every back door in the building — luckily for them there are only nine flats — to deliver the sweetmeats, and will hopefully be arriving shortly after I finish writing this. I can already taste the gulab jamun and barfi that are coming my way later in the day — jalebi as well — and the cacophony of flavours and tastes: rosewater, pistachio, saffron, syrup, all competing for the attention of my tastebuds.
I can also almost feel the sugar rush that will hit afterwards — a massive spike of energy, followed by the sweats and an equal but opposite plunge afterwards — the inevitable result of devouring a gluconic rollercoaster on a paper plate.
Every year I swear I’ll take it easy as I slide into a semi-diabetic coma on the couch, cursing my gluttony and the total inability to leave anything for tomorrow morning, or even for later.
Every year I don’t. The pig in me kicks in and the sweetmeats are hoovered up in a matter of minutes.
Most years, half are already gone before the sweet, milky tea to wash them down with is ready, inhaled, rather than eaten.
The rest de-materialise at a slightly less gluttonous pace — slightly being the operative word — as the realisation that they’re nearly all gone hits and I try, belatedly, to drag out the taste experience for as long as possible.
Once that’s done, it’s time for the couch — with a bottle of water to dilute the blood sugar — with all constructive activity for the day halted, or at least until I’ve napped my way out of my semi-diabetic coma.
That in itself is enough reason for President Cyril Ramaphosa to declare Diwali as a public holiday.
Ditto Eid.
It’s not just the fact that we’re never going to get much work done with a significant section of the population at prayer and struggling with the effects of auspicious day eating.
We’re a secular Republic, after all, so if we can show Christianity the respect of closing up shop on Christian holidays like Easter and Christmas, we should be doing the same for Islam and Hinduism.
Cyril also gave us an extra public holiday because we won a rugby tournament, so I don’t see any reason why he can’t do the same thing to those among us who observe Diwali and Eid.