Politicians are famous for saying nothing with many words.
But where do they get their verbosity from? It takes a special gift that is honed by years of training. Saying things to please people is an art that should not be sniffed at. I mean, only a genius could come up with ‘we are unpacking a new constitutional deal for our people in terms of rolling out new initiatives for stakeholders within a framework of development’.
By now we have unpacked so many developments, I reckon we have run out of boxes.
Deep somewhere in the political jungle lies a school for oral training for aspiring politicians. Entrance is free, of course, thanks to JZ’s rallying cry for free tertiary education.
Behind the school there is an underground garage where students can safely park their bling vehicles – because remember, free education is supposed to be only for those who are still in the struggle of obtaining their first SUV.
Classes are intense and students have to remember reams of long words, such as marmalade, and then string them together to form a kind of Abraham Lincoln type of speech.
It is not easy learning to bluff all the people all of the time.
But it is a sacrifice worth making with the prizes blinking in the political sun at the end of the finishing line – those swollen tenders, double cabs plus a few firearms to keep the dogs at bay. A bodyguard or six and even a chance to win a tender for both the municipality’s security arrangements and the running of the landfill site (known in a previous life as the dumping ground) are also on the wish list – so students are quite happy to pour over their Thesaurus and Oxfords.
Extra classes are given so students can learn to dodge political bullets – figuratively and literally. I mean, getting fired from a municipality on 54 charges including one of rendering the place virtually powerless and paralysed and then to re-invent one’s career to calmly get appointed at another municipality, takes special skills. Headboy stuff.
The system encourages the recycling of students who move from one municipality to another, leaving behind a carnage of court cases, busted budgets and in most cases irate ratepayers. Now that the Treasury has announced a moratorium on Mayor’s vehicles – these should not cost more than R700 000 – wow – it is only hoped that Cyril and Co. will do more to close down that political school of misfits and turn around local government in South Africa and make it something that the citizens can finally be proud of.
