There go a few more million, this time in glamorous double-page spreads in the Sundays which, in glorious technicolour, revealed Kader Asmal’s plans for the future of tertiary education in South Africa. Not that Asmal would stoop to using such forthright language.
One of the most memorable moments on my return to South Africa in the early 1990s occurred when I was walking with my daughter, then nine years old, through the tumult of central Johannesburg towards the Market Theatre precinct.
The organisers of this year’s Comrades marathon are bracing themselves for a repeat of the pacemaking controversy that saw the women’s race at the recent Two Oceans Marathon descend into farce. In Cape Town at the end of March the winner, Natalia Volgina, was guided through every step of the 56km by the former Comrades champion Dmitri Grishin. It was in complete disregard for the rules laid down by the world governing body but the race referee did nothing.
Bafana Bafana should now start rebuilding after their tantalising World Cup performance, despite an early exit. The core of the national team that went to the World Cup –the likes of Jabu Pule, Delron Buckley, Benedict McCarthy and others –must be retained, while the likes of ageing defender Lucas Radebe, goalkeeper Andre Arendse and midfielder Thabo Mngomeni should call it a day.
There are half a dozen beds in the hospital in Cuemba. But there are no mattresses, so children lie on the concrete floor rather than on the bare metal slats. One little girl is curled up in the corner, coughing under what seems to be the only blanket available. Other children have nothing.
The African National Congress in Parliament on Wednesday rejected claims it was ”soft” on Winnie Madikizela-Mandela.
President Thabo Mbeki on Wednesday led calls for ”a heroes’ welcome” to be accorded Bafana Bafana on their return from South Korea.
Being a king is a tough task and you can’t even quit. A quick glance through history shows there are some awful ways to lose your job — most often by losing your head. But in the olden days no one questioned what you wanted to do.
If this marked the end of the road for boxing as a big-time global sport — and it just might — then the devilish old game went down in a blaze of something remarkably close to glory. As did its most devilish son. The morality tale took its course. Lennox Lewis, polite society’s instrument of vengeance, savaged Mike Tyson in an awesome, breathtaking fight last Saturday night to retain the world heavyweight championship as determined by pretty much anyone who cares or matters.
The definition of a true champion, it is said, is the capacity to come back and win whatever it is they’ve won already again and again. There are, meanwhile, those champions who have come back and made a real pig’s ear of it.