Once upon a dream

Once upon a dream, By Rudzani Floyd Musekwa


I am not a big dreamer (at night in my sleep, I mean), actually when I do it is about half naked women I usually fantasise about (Girl friend, look away). But recently I had a dream (Nothing of the Martin Luther King Jr sort). Mine was a horrendous one, futuristic to be precise. Jacob Zuma was a president of the country, can't really tell if it was from behind bars, or if he actually occupied an office in the Union Buildings, but he was anyway.

All prisoners were out on presidential pardon, with Shabir Shaik suddenly 'healthy,' smoking cigars straight from Cuba, sipping the most expensive fermented liquids on offer (Babylon waters as we, the rastas, will call them), with beautiful half naked young thangs on sight (the kanga wearing type). NB: I said kanga wearing type, and not kangaroo court, as there is a court by that name, according to young militants.

Thabo Mbeki, he of the 'I am an African fame, was now living in Harare, Zimbabwe. South Africa was now a safe haven for corruptible human beings under the name tag, politicians. Remember the Modise guy who cost Willy Madisha his presidency? He was now a prominent man in the ANC circles, now donating money in orange bags, and groovy times were suddenly here. Animal groups like the one that almost gave Tony Yengeni a tough time were now non-existent as animals were now being killed at an alarming rate as a form of celebration of the better days to come.

The national anthem had been changed to El Presidente's favourite Nguni song of struggle and it was strictly sung by young women wearing only a kanga. There were no longer strikes as the likes of Vavi, Malema, Nzimande, and Phosa were always out of the country accompanying the Prez, and how do I omit Mantashe there. Oh, now I know whether the Prez was in orange uniform or not.

In the media front, the Bulgarian intellectual aka Snuki Zikalala was now the official Group Chief Executive of the so called public broadcaster. He had just been sworn in with Julius Malema as the guest of honour. All news by the public broadcaster was now in Nguni languages, particularly the one widely spoken in the Kwazulu Natal Province of king Shaka. It was 2009, towards the 2010 FIFA World cup, and there were serious talks over the naming, and renaming of soccer stadiums, with the FNB, the biggest stadium that will host the first and the last game of the world cup about to change its name to Julius Malema stadium, a development young Jules was not very happy about as he fencied an airport to be named after him at least, the Cape Town international as his personal favourite, but the Prez had other ideas for his Jules, lucky moron, I thought as my dream proceeded.

Judge President Pius Langa had now made way for the honourable John ''the wine maker'' Hlophe. The scorpions were now a thing of the past. The high courts were such low key that their only function was that of dealing with those who were pushing for Zuma to be tried, very few since most of them were now living in foreign countries like Botswana and Mauritius. And by the way, the former youth league president, Fikile Mbalula, was now an honorary Chancellor of Stellenbosch University, an effort by the organisation of comrades to transform the institution that housed such house hold Afrikaans names like D.H Malan amongst its most prominent ''studente.''

Fraud, corruption, 'killing,'' was not as punishable as criticising Malema in a daily newspaper was. Blatant corruption at municipal level was the order of the day, and was regarded as an understandable error by a comrade. Villages had no reliable water supplies, nothing new there. More and more educated people were moving abroad, with Australia as the most likely destination, and a few extremists even went to countries like Afghanistan and Iraq, and my family was reiterating a move to Cambodia, grand pa's wish for his 90th.

Now my sleep was becoming really uncomfortable, and I woke up, dripping in sweat. Now, looking at that dream, all those things are possible looking at how much of a cult hero Zuma has become. Dictators, as a former professor of mine once said ''are the most likely to become cult heroes because of the fears people around them have, Zuma is a cult hero, only of a certain kind. It doesn't matter what they do, to their supporters they are always right.

Dangerous.

Mugabe, anyone? What is currently happening in Pietermaritzburg is a shame, prominent politicians dancing and making those crazy statements about ''the president of the ANC.'' We have reached a point as a country were the supposed defenders of the law have become the aggressors of it.

Who could have thought that Matthews Phosa, one of the authors of our potent constitution would stoop to such lows? What of Gwede Mantashe, a former voice of reason when it came to the most important things affecting our people would go to such lows? Supporting Zuma is one thing, but disrespecting the courts like that should be seen by all as a crime. It seems like we have more criminals trusted with public office than we actually do at our already full prisons. I am officially afraid of where this country is headed. Have we reached a point of no return thanks to the ANC as a commentator once said?

NB: Once upon a dream was written in mid 2008 before Zuma became a President of the Republic of South Africa. You only have to look at what has since happened since then to understand, and to a certain degree, appreciate South Africa. No newspaper published it.