Che Gigaba teaches ANC comrades tricks of the trade

Comrade Che Gigaba lit up a pungent joint and blew smoke rings into the air before checking the Breitling watch on his wrist. 10.30am. It would be about another half a hour, he reckoned, before the branch members began arriving for the start of the 8am class on Dialetic Materialism.

He looked around at the two, two-room prefabricated buildings and one former shipping container which housed the ANC Political University and thought: What do you expect for just R320 million?

The most important part of the complex was the carport, under which his Range Rover was parked. That was an extra R15 million on that Public Works tender, so he wasn’t complaining because his company did all the work. Actually, his brother-in-law the taxi driver and six guys he found next to Malibongwe Drive did the work … don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?

At 11.15am, most of the comrades were there, so he said: “Let’s sing our anthem!”

When one of the bunch launched into Nkosi Sikele’ iAfrika, Gigaba shouted: “Not that one! The real one!”

All present joined together:

“Money, money, money,
Must be sunny
In a rich man’s world!”

It was apt, Gigaba thought, that a singing group from socialist Sweden could so accurately sum up ANC socialism.

“Comrades, please place your R100 notes into the brown paper bag which is being passed around. This is not only my tuition fee, it is important for you to know how to handle brown paper bags and make them look like they contain your shopping and not money…”

He then handed out a sheaf of papers – the marked assignments for the end of the first module: Tenders 101.

“Comrades, you have done well on this. I can see a number of you have relatives in Eskom. But, there are a few things to note.

“Some of you have inflated amounts by only 30% to 50%. That will instantly arouse suspicion! It is much better to start at around 400% … then all of the officials will know they will be taken care of because there will be enough money to go round.”

He shook his head: “There is also an unacceptably high level of mistakes in the fake companies you are registering. Please take these cards, from one of my friends at KPMG. They offer really good company advice.” (And another commission for me, he thought.)

“Next Module: Public Relations.”

“Firstly, apply the Nkandla Fire Pool Rule. Deny, deny, deny. Secondly, blame Apartheid. Third, play the race card. Fourth, accuse any journalist of being Stratcom and being paid by White Monopoly Capital.”

Gigaba looked again at his watch. Time for class to dismiss. That was already more thinking than the comrades had done since matric and they were looking tired.

As they filed out, one piped up: “Comrade Che, can we catch a lift with you?”

Gigaba shook his head. “Guys, guys, guys. This is the one place we don’t do handouts. You have to learn to loot yourself. Once you do, it won’t be long before you have your own Range Rover.

“Remember, guys – eyes on the prize! If you don’t forget that then it will be a better life … for all of us here.

“In the meantime, take a taxi because that will make you appreciate your victory.”

Brendan Seery

For more news your way, download The Citizen’s app for iOS and Android.