By golly, there will be more discipline if you let the entire Diepsloot Primary loose in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory for a week.
Pictures: Social media screengrabs of SANDF members forcing lockdown breakers to do push-ups, rolling in the dust.
I have never seen such ridiculous behaviour as the “deployment” of the military to assist the police during the lockdown. Officers and troops toyi-toying in the streets where they are supposed to maintain discipline during a very trying time in our history while General Skop, Skiet and Donner thinks he’s Chuck Norris’ big brother. What a bunch of clowns. By golly, there will be more discipline if you let the entire Diepsloot Primary loose in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory for a week. This disastrous deployment reminded me of a trip down memory lane I mistakenly took a few years back.…
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I have never seen such ridiculous behaviour as the “deployment” of the military to assist the police during the lockdown.
Officers and troops toyi-toying in the streets where they are supposed to maintain discipline during a very trying time in our history while General Skop, Skiet and Donner thinks he’s Chuck Norris’ big brother.
What a bunch of clowns. By golly, there will be more discipline if you let the entire Diepsloot Primary loose in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory for a week.
This disastrous deployment reminded me of a trip down memory lane I mistakenly took a few years back.
By chance, I found myself in Thaba Tshwane, formerly known as Voortrekkerhoogte. Having not been there for decades, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to visit the officers’ quarters where I once resided.
As I approached the building, I couldn’t help noticing that a two-man tent was erected at the gate. In my time there was a guardhouse, manned 24/7 by armed troops, who had to check the military ID of anyone entering.
As I got closer, the tent began to move. Then it stuck up a hand. It was a 160kg woman in browns.
Before I could explain the reason for my presence, she waved me past the open boom, using a chicken drumstick as a baton.
As fate would have it, “my” parking space was open.
What a sight greeted me! The beautifully manicured gardens had made way for sheets of KFC and Nando’s plants in full bloom; the remnants of months of takeaways callously thrown out the windows for nobody to pick up.
Laundry was hanging from every balcony. It looked like a squatter camp.
I ventured into the building where I once lived, but I couldn’t quite make it to the second floor. The stench was proof that the plumbing, like the pride and discipline, was no longer shipshape.
On my way out, I stopped at the still open boom.
I shared my surprise and disappointment with the talking tent.
Her response was to the point: “We are soldiers, not cleaners.”
Judging by last week’s deployment, pride and discipline are still AWOL.
Danie Toerien.
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