JUST as well that the proud ANC stalwarts like Oliver Tambo, Walter Sisulu, Nelson Mandela and Ahmed Kathrada are no longer here to witness the trashing of their once proud liberation movement. And, primarily, their beloved country. They had high ideals and their dreams were vast. If they were to awaken now, they would find themselves in the slimy pit of a horrific nightmare.
Today hundreds of thousands of South Africans left their homes with heavy but willing hearts in which hope, by now, arguably cannot but merely flutter – to raise placards and voices against a seemingly victorious dictator who has thrown his proud country to the dogs. Those in his inner circle who had felt, just a few days ago, that there was NO way the reckless and destructive leadership style could be tolerated any longer and had proclaimed this to the world, were sadly but obviously nowhere to be seen or heard today. In fact, they had demurely and pathetically reversed their erstwhile outspoken irrepressible disapproval of the atrocities and declared like spineless, spellbound puppets that it had all been a misunderstanding.
The sacking of Pravin Gordhan due to the “irretrievable breakdown of the Zuma-Gordhan relationship” – as cited by the man in question and his slavish supporters – has enraged South Africans of all political convictions: the minister had been performing his duties laudably and impeccably. But – he had been preventing the princes of darkness and the Mammon subordinates to uninterruptedly perform their callous capture of the state.
He simply had to go. Overnight. And with him – all other individuals in government who were as much as murmuring resistance or posing a threat to the murky plot(s)-in-the-making. They were… simply replaced. Reshuffled. Like cards. Like pawns. And that was that.
MORE DEFIANT THAN EVER
Not a faltering word or step from the perpetrator. Rather the opposite: more defiance than before; more mindless calls for the impossible drastic; more indifference than ever. Unblinkingly. Unflinchingly. As though underworldly bionic.
Across political boundaries there are and have been voices of reason. Even from sources within the fold, where the stench of rotting has clearly and understandably become too much to bear. These latter voices, of which some are also notably authoritative, are loud and unequivocal. Unambiguous. Some of them are virtually shouting out the demand that cannot be misunderstood: Go NOW! Step down! Relinquish!
Yet they might as well be bashing their heads against the Great Wall of China. Or the Berlin Wall of old.
The day is grey and sullen. Windows are messy from dust and seaspray mixed with raindrop spatterings being plastered in layers of visual obstruction. The wind from the arctic regions is unceasing and cold and not friendly. Sunlight is tucked away deep. The voices of a country infused with anger and disbelief and determination and patriotism echo and reverberate on the sulky winds across the land.
Somewhere… someone laughs loudly and horribly. Incessantly.
Yet: Cry NOT the beloved country. Especially not now. Not while the malicious and greedy tyrant-on-the-precipice laughs.
“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12 v. 21)