If we’re going down, let’s do it laughing like hyenas

With the help of social media, everyone in this benighted country has become either a comedian or a political analyst. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell the difference.

Fact is, there’s a rising groundswell of opinions on how to fix the broken things. Even those for whom the Dunning-Kruger effect was specifically designed are throwing their hat into the ring.

It’s with a mounting sense of alarm that ordinary people are wondering why the government insists on ignoring blindingly obvious solutions to our plethora of problems.

For instance, I was explaining the benefits of wind and solar power to my cat, an aspiring comic herself. She seemed interested enough, nodding along as I described how the tapping of alternative energy sources could go a long way towards taking the strain off Eskom. I didn’t want to risk upsetting her, but the truth needed to be told.

When I mentioned that Energy Minister Gwede Mantashe was stopping private producers from generating electricity, she hissed and sprang for my throat, as if it were somehow my fault that Mantashe is a coal-loving imbecile. Luckily, the lights went out at that moment and I managed to avoid an inconvenient tracheotomy.

You only have to spend a day trawling Facebook, Twitter and newspapers that aren’t owned by Iqbal Surve to see that we, the people, are brimming with ideas and workable solutions. Yet everyone is shouting into the void. Nothing but the echo comes back at us.

The ANC is like someone with no legs turning down a free wheelchair. I’m fine, thanks. Been dragging myself around for years now. Quite used to it.

Speaking of which, studies have shown that one in three South Africans suffers from a mental disorder. In other words, seven hundred thousand civil servants, 11 cabinet ministers and two of the ANC’s top six are experiencing a bit of turbulence in the upstairs department. No matter. We’ll just return our seats to the upright position and fasten our seatbelts.

Look, running a country can’t be easy. I couldn’t be trusted to run a spaza shop. But, as with everything in life, there are certain basic requirements to make a success of it. You don’t hire unqualified people for specialised positions. You fire incompetent employees and prosecute those who steal. You shouldn’t … ah, what the hell. We know all this already. I suspect even the president knows this.

For better or worse – and I have to say the scales tip heavily towards worse – we have a government that runs blindly and repeatedly into brick walls, instead of exploring ways over or around them. People way smarter than me are waving their arms and shouting, “don’t go down that road!” But they refuse to listen.

We are well and truly through the looking glass and down the rabbit hole. Look around. There’s Helen Zille, the White “Minority Rights” Rabbit. And David Mabuza, the guileful Cheshire Cat. The deliriously confused Cyril Ramaphosa can only be the March Hare while the dozy Dormouse is none other than Jessie Duarte. Who but Julius Malema could be the Jabberwock and, rounding out this toxic confederacy of dunces, Ace Magashule is the perfidious Caterpillar who will, one day, hopefully transform not into a butterfly but into inmate #439/20.

I suppose we could all eat magic mushrooms, like Alice, and just stop worrying altogether. Tempting, but probably not much of a long-term solution.

Whatever the government is doing is clearly not working. We need to turn everything upside down and give it a good shake. Then, using whatever falls out, we put South Africa back together again.

Let’s make a start with the health sector. The unemployed will be recruited to visit private hospitals across the country. Teams, paid with cheap wine, go from ward to ward dragging beds outside. Downhill races are held with the drivers, previously known as patients, being given unlimited pethidine if they win. Street parties continue until the drugs are finished. Survivors are awarded titles like ambassador of benzodiazapines, field marshall of sexually transmitted infections and so on, and will be free to form a government. Or not.

There are no rules or expectations in the new dispensation. While this may sound no different to the current dispensation, it’s not.

The mining sector will be open to anyone who has visited a mine, seen one on TV or bought anything that might have come from a mine. The word “mine” will be changed to “ours” and the state will provide free dynamite to anyone who asks nicely. Gwede Mantashe will be sent underground. Not to work in a mine. Just somewhere underground.

Education will be restructured to allow farmyard animals the opportunity to acquire skills. All animals will be considered equal with the exception of sheep. Classes will have a quota of five children, 14 goats, seven chickens and a cow. Quotas won’t apply in primary schools. Teachers will be expected to acquire a degree of fluency in Pig, a language understood by most animals, children and police officers.

Reforms in the defence sector will allow everyone over the age of seven to qualify for a free firearm and uniform of their choice. Controls will be imposed to ensure that no individual kills more than five people per month. You will need to put your name on a roster if you wish to invade a neighbouring country.

When it comes to communications, married couples will be forbidden from talking to one another after the first two years of marriage in an effort to bring down the divorce rate.

Since the quality of life behind bars will soon be better than outside, prisons will be advertised on Airbnb. Convicted criminals get first preference.

The department of trade and industry will have a flea market on the Union Building’s lawn on the last Sunday of every month. Bring your blood diamonds, unwanted children or what have you and trade for Thai prostitutes, bags of uranium or anything the department has lying around. Fun for the whole family.

The Treasury will be open to the public on weekends. People will be expected to bring their own bags. Trolleys will be available for the conveying of bullion.

Everyone who has not yet emigrated will be given the Order of Mendi for Bravery.

It’s worth a shot. At the very least, it will hasten the end. There’s nothing more tedious than watching your country slowly circling the drain.

If we’re going down, let’s do it wearing party hats and laughing like hyenas.

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