Zuma, Magashule and Niehaus need Casey’s pen

It was while culling books from a sagging shelf that I spotted a tiny booklet squashed between two heavy tomes. Like two bouncers protecting a VIP.  In fact, they’re rubbing spines with a gem titled Casey & Co.

As I fondled the treasure, now beginning to show signs of old age, memories flooded in of a bygone era during which black people suffered at the hands of a cruel regime.

The writer was Casey “Kid” Motsisi, a journalist in the ’60s who wrote columns for Drum magazine and The World newspaper (now Sowetan).

In unique style, overflowing with quirky humour, his writings accurately reflect wretched times when residents of Sophiatown eke out a lowly existence.

Another prolific writer, Mothobi Mutloatse, helped produce the book for Ravan Press in 1983. Presumably the book is out of print.

Casey’s characters were real people with whom he fraternised – mainly in shebeens he endearingly called taverns.

Readers got to know about Kid Hangover, Kid Soprano and numerous other characters. The incidents almost always took place after a visit to what he called sipping sessions, ending up with hilarious, if not tragic, consequences.

Casey would’ve torn Kid Ace, Kid Jacob and Kid Carl apart. I got to know Casey while working on The World as a fledgling sub-editor.

I couldn’t wait to get into his copy that inevitably arrived late on Monday mornings and delivered in person by a suffering Kid, nursing a heavy hangover. And it’s thanks to his zany contributions that the column bug bit me.

But I’ve never come close at painting verbal pictures like Casey. One incident summed up the man to a T. Evidently a reader of his column took exception to something he had written about, demanding to see the editor.

Fortuitously, Casey was the only person at reception when the irate reader arrived. Not recognising Casey he spelt out his grievance.

“No, problem”, said the wily writer, “I’ll tell the editor you’re here. Just one thing, though, he’s stone deaf, so you’ve got to shout.”

Casey conveyed the same lie to the editor. What ensued was a shouting match echoing throughout the building.

It ended with the two screamers going off in a huff. The gem goes back onto the shelf with its bouncers.

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