With the national and provincial elections just around the corner, I feel more and more like I’m being forced into an arranged marriage.
To be honest, I know nothing about arranged marriages other than what I’ve seen in the movies.
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But in this movie, I feel like the groom being forced to marry some butt-ugly, toothless woman three times my age.
No really. This is not a romcom. It’s more like a horror. It seems to me that no matter which party I’m going to vote for, I will end up with some coalition bride chosen for me by my political parents.
The arranged marriage being negotiated for all of us is purely so that our political parents can be in charge of the family fortune.
Looking at the candidates, I think my best option would be to scream and run away. Immediately.
What if I’m paired up with some radical, red kopdoek-wearing rebel who only sings half of the national anthem?
I wonder if she will be wearing red underwear under her little red riding hood outfit? Mmmm? No, let me not get sidetracked. It will be a disaster.
What will we talk about at night when we are home all alone? She will probably want my advice about which farms are the best to expropriate. As if I would know.
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Just because I’m a Boer, doesn’t mean I know anything about farming!
But what if some gangster chick is chosen for me – one whose father hides his cash stash in his couch?
I’ve seen gangster movies, too, and they don’t take kindly to infiltrators. Imagine having to count the money hidden under the mattress every night before you’re allowed to go to sleep?
And one day there’s a few notes missing. It’s happened before.
When gangster chick hands me shovel at midnight and says to start digging because she also wants a firepool, trust me, I’ll leave a very visible trail as I run for my life.
Ja well, I suppose arranged marriages will be the way to go in future. One has to change with the times. In the movies, the bride and groom sometimes do eventually fall in love.
As for me, I’d much rather prefer to stick with my boerenooi.
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