The ministers and others who dipped their fat fingers into the cookie jar of iron sheets are baffled. Efforts to exorcise the iron sheets out of their lives have instead invited premium public contempt.
They secretly wonder, “What manner of witchcraft is this and how can we get some of it?”
The supreme leader allegedly miffed about the latest debacle by his leaders, demands the buck has to stop somewhere. This buck in this lush and green land is the most tired of the land’s public institutions. Still, the buck, like a hound from hell, bays for blood and guts; the buck is relentless.
Not to be outdone, the leaders are similarly dogged. Their commitment to incompetence, their abdication of responsibility is a thing of harsh beauty. The leaders toss the buck back and forth – dizzying the watching people. The supreme leader who deems himself a simple man of the people’s revolution dexterously flicks the buck off anytime it attempts to land on his broad revolutionary shoulders.
A master of deflection in his natural habitat. The hellhound of a buck needs a sacrifice. The people need placating. The iron sheets minister seeing the people’s growing anger over the used and abused iron sheets makes a few apologetic noises and sympathetic whimpers.
The flaccid apology almost passes until the minister claims her abuse of the iron sheets was due to ‘lack of proper guidance.’ The apology self-immolates. The people who have used the iron sheets to sharpen their chipped and dull teeth demand blood. The iron sheets minister is slowly morphing into a sacrificial lamb. The supreme leader from his gilded hilltop fortress seemingly orders the state to do something – anything.
The lethargic state rouses itself, startling the people who have grown accustomed to lowering their low expectations of the state. The state hauls the iron sheets minister to court over the abused iron sheets. En route to court, the minister hides her face behind a cloth – a strange act. It appears only on the way to court does the minister feel the unexpected sensation of shame.
In court, the minister stands in the dock, unveiled. Resplendent in a bright yellow coat, she looks over her spectacles and pleads not guilty. Yellow is the colour of exuberance, of bright happy things. It might be a good dress choice for her court appearance.
There are also those who look at the yellow in the life cycle of leaves and whisper, “Yellow is also the colour of withering things, things slowly but surely descending to the grave.”
Yellow, in this land, is also the colour of a big unwieldy bus that will not turn corners without smashing the wonky roads and misshapen pavements. A lumbering bus fueled by oily patronage polluting the land. Under that yellow bus, will go the iron sheets minister.
Next to the yellow-coated iron minister, stands a man. He is a surprise offering; he is not one of the pampered leaders. He stands beside the minister, a lifetime of regret on his face. This ordinary-looking dejected man is the younger brother of the iron sheets minister. You, too, would be dejected if you found yourself in court facing criminal charges alongside your ‘gamba n’ogu.’
The minister in abusing the iron sheets honoured the regime tradition of clientelism. The tradition has gripped the people, too, permeating their perception of success in this land. Is it not the people’s expectation that when their person lands in things, it is their turn to eat?
Accordingly, the iron sheets minister roped in her close family. Iron sheets located themselves in the homes of her close relatives – even her elderly mother. Now, her brother is miserable in the dock while several of her close relatives hide.
Her court appearance sees the minister and her co-accused remanded to the national prison. The people seem taken aback, even ungrateful. Why only the iron sheets minister? Why her ordinary-looking brother? Why has the net only caught one bony fish? Where are the fat juicy ones? The state makes soothing noises, assuring the people that all the fish will be reeled in.
The supreme leader slides smoothly into his usual stance of deflection – empty sloganeering about corrupt leaders. The people will soon remember why the supreme leader dodges the buck, why he will not let it stop with him. The buck threatens the way the supreme leader operates his movement of resistance.
As for the eight protestors who publicly demonstrated against the leaders’ abuse of the iron sheets – yes, those protestors whom the police quickly disabused of their patriotic fervor. Arrested on charges of assault, the eight were remanded to the national prison. That prison that holds the eight protestors is the same prison that holds the iron sheets minister and her co-accused.
They are truly in this together. Perhaps in prison, they sit around swapping stories about how the talking iron sheets changed their lives, how they are scheduled to appear in court on the same day – April 12. Yet, which of these captives of the talking iron sheets will regain their freedom first?
The writer is a tayaad muzzukulu.
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