5 days ago
Letter to Mahlamba Ndlopfu — this week you finally found your backbone
Ah, Chief Dwasaho! We do, indeed, live in interesting times, my President. This week, you finally found your backbone, possibly somewhere under the presidential mattress at Phala Phala Game Reserve, and 'removed' someone from your bloated Cabinet.
Hhawu, Matamela! You? Fire someone? And not just anyone – uGal herself! Minister Dr Nobuhle Nkabane, once the proud guardian of our nation's knowledge factories, is now reduced to a political footnote without a farewell bouquet.
Did you not know, my leader, that 'Brand' Nkabane was a lifetime in the making? A carefully curated blend of ambition, gloss and Instagrammable grace.
But alas, what the ancestors giveth, live television taketh away. I cannot unsee that fatal moment: the Honourable Minister's jaws in motion, chewing bubble gum with the vigour of a teenager bunking maths class, right there in Parliament's sacred halls. I am still flabbergasted.
No song, no victory dance
Sadly, my leader, the people of South Africa aren't exactly ululating in praise. No victory songs are being sung in taverns or taxi ranks. They murmur that you did not act with the urgency that the moment required. Clearly, they don't know you; Brand Matamela!
Let's talk about Andrew Whitfield of the Democratic Alliance (DA), shall we? You took four full moons – yes, four – to remove him from the position of deputy minister of trade, industry and competition after he went AWOL overseas, armed with nothing but a passport and without your presidential blessing. That's right; there was no leave, no permission, just right-wing vibes. And yet, you dithered like a man trying to remember where he last saw his iPad.
Seta saga
But when it comes to former minister Dr Nobuhle Nkabane – a whole black woman with a hard-earned doctorate – you moved her faster than a Gupta jet fleeing from Air Force Base Waterkloof en route to Dubai. Why the haste, Matamela? What did she do that was so egregious?
They say her great crime occurred last month when her panel, appointed to oversee the selection of 21 chairpersons and board members for the Sector Education and Training Authority (Seta) boards, wobbled under relentless public scrutiny.
And yes, the 'panel' disappeared quicker than bubble gum dissolving under parliamentary questioning. But really, was that her fault? All she did was remain on brand: deploy cadres and flood the state with African National Congress (ANC) acolytes.
In that regard, she followed the sacred text. Just like the Gauteng Department of Health, which has transformed hospital boards into halfway houses for ANC Youth League (ANCYL) 'leaders' with the so-called requisite experience – which, in plain British English, means they once handed out flyers at a branch general meeting four years ago.
Whitfield, who?
My leader, I hadn't heard of former deputy minister Whitfield before you pulled the trigger. I had to Google the poor chap to ensure he wasn't a backup flyhalf for the Stormers.
But Nkabane, now she caught my attention. Not her policies, her speeches, but her honourable reference to Brand Nobuhle Pamela Nkabane after the sirens muted and the blue lights dimmed.
I must admit that line stuck with me. It turns out she worked hard for her 'Brand'. A brand built, not on competence or clean governance, but on chewing gum, cadre deployment and curated photo ops. But hey, that is the core of the ANC Brand, right?
At least, my President, there's a little cheer in the room. The DA applauded your axing of Dr Nkabane and hastily announced their support for your 2025/26 Budget proposals. What a relief, neh? Baas John Steenhuisen finally gave you the thumbs-up – for now.
Perhaps this is what it takes: sacrifice a gum-chewing comrade on the altar of fiscal stability, voilà, and Budget passed.
While you're at it, my leader, please send more moola to Tembisa Hospital. It appears comrades there need urgent funds, not for scalpels or syringes, mind you, but for legal fees. Word on the street is some need money for protection from the 28s in prison. Kubi.
Theatre of the absurd
But what truly baffles me, Comrade Leadership, is the theatre of the absurd now playing out in Parliament's far-left corner – the uMkhonto Wesizwe party caucus.
His Worship – sorry, my bad, he now prefers the minimalist title, Dr Mandlakayise John Hlophe – is lobbing fireballs from the backbenches. He's throwing everything but the Nkandla kitchen sink, demanding your removal as if you'd misplaced your oath of office behind the Phala Phala wildlife sofa.
And why? Because you had the gall to discipline a minister who got caught being clumsy. I mean, how dare Nkabane get caught? The problem was never the panel; it's that she failed to make it disappear properly.
Meanwhile, Honourable Hlophe, a man well versed in being removed, has resurfaced with fury. He wants to know why you haven't also thrown the 'on-leave' minister of police, Senzo Mchunu, to the wolves. He said axing Minister Nkabane was nothing more than appeasing your favourite fiscal gatekeeper, DA leader Baas John Steenhuisen.
Is this what we've become, Matamela? A democracy of musical chairs? You remove me, I remove you, and then we all fall. A festival of removals, funded by taxpayers and staged in press briefings and parliamentary plenaries?
The poisoned chalice
My leader, tell me – did another black woman with a doctorate sip from the poisoned chalice this week? Or shall we say, benefit from it? Was she not mentioned in the great Seta Saga not too long ago? The optics, Matamela, are terrible – like fishnet stockings at a funeral.
You removed a black woman, Minister Dr Nobuhle Nkabane, ostensibly for deploying ANC acolytes to the Seta boards. Yet, you turned around, straight-faced, and did the same, just with different comrades and newer name tags.
Of sins, PhDs and Buti Manamela
And the real kicker? You replaced a woman who had curated an entire political 'brand' with a man with a funny name, Buti Manamela, a wannabe communist. If his ancestors wanted him to be minister, they could have given him a better name, like Manamela Manamela. See, it got groove.
But not just any man – a black man, yes – but then you tossed in Nomusa Dube-Ncube, a doctorate-wielding woman, red regalia and all, into the role of Deputy Minister. Are you for real, Matamela? A whole PhD holder who reports to a minister, who answers to a Cabinet, that you only occasionally control?
What is this? A Game of Thrones spinoff sponsored by National Treasury and shot in downtown Johannesburg? You axed one for alleged sins and rewarded another despite the same allegations clinging to their robes like stubborn chewing gum. So, who's fooling whom here, Comrade Leadership?
Murder scene mentorships
Honestly, my leader, you've had a far better week than the self-styled Sushi King, Patriotic Alliance deputy president Kenny Kunene. The former prisoner turned 'businessman' turned politician found himself – wait for it – not in the Johannesburg Council Chamber, not on a panel, but at the plush Sandton residence of one Katiso 'KT' Molefe, the alleged mastermind behind the murder of DJ Sumbody, real name Oupa Sefoka.
The timing couldn't have been better: as Kunene arrived, the police swooped in to rearrest Molefe.
Netflix dreams and empires
Now, you'd think most public figures would have the good sense to socially distance themselves from murder suspects. But not Comrade Kunene. No, he embarked on an unbothered, unrepentant media tour, armed with a bold story that deserves a Netflix deal.
According to him, he was accompanying a young journalist – a prodigy, no less – who's set to inherit his entire publishing empire, African News Global. This bright-eyed scribe, we are told, needed to interview Molefe, who, by the way, is awaiting trial in another murder case. The goal? To give 'Mr Sandton Businessman' a fair chance to respond to the allegations.
I must confess: I, too, hope to have a mentor like Kenny Kunene one day. A man of means, morals and murder-scene meet-and-greets. A comrade who will hold my hand as I interview alleged killers. How tender.
Not my chommie
And to be clear, Kunene doesn't know Molefe. They're not friends, not associates, not comrades. Sound familiar? Just strangers in a lounge where the bloodstains are still fresh in the air. Nothing to see here, folks. Aah Leadership, July is the longest year since the Gregorian calendar was invented.
Till next week, my man. Send me to Sandton to interview a murder suspect. DM
