The People have Spoken

For fifteen years, we the people of South Africa, have been told by our illustrious democratically elected Government that they represent the voice of the people. Yet, the people are not being heard.

Take the recent attacks of so called xenophobia, where the people are voicing their outrage at all the lay-about african foreigners who are transgressing established norms daily. Have the people not spoken?

What about the Kutsong debacle where the people wanted to be incorporated into Gauteng but were told by the Government to behave. Have the people not spoken?

Then there is Eskom. The people have on numerous occasions told the Government that Eskom must stop selling electricity to other countries, to put SA first, only to be told that the whole ‘crisis’ is the peoples doing and that they should behave. Have the people not spoken?

For years, the people have been telling the Government that they are not happy with the way that their tax money is being used. Dictums that have fallen on governmental deaf ears. Have the people not spoken?

The lists of public-outcries are long, and, given the modern state of parliamentary attitudes, will continue to grow exponentially.

The problem arises from the fact that no government can be seen to be loosing face. This scenario creates a sense of distrust amongst the voting citizenry which in turn can lead to anarchy; an administrative condition that no government can allow. Given the a foregoing, the present state of adversarial situations are doomed to continue.

Maybe the present conditions will force our idyllic Government to exude some form of political will and listen to the will of the people.

“Hegel was right when he said that we learn from history that man can never learn anything from history. - George Bernard Shaw”

From Lusitoland to Loserland

As a ardent patron of Lusitoland down Johannesburg south, my yearly sojourn ended miserably: the imposed drinking areas where one cannot hear the music emanating from centre stage made for a very sorry state of affairs; and the harsh imposition by grumpy ‘bouncers’ all over the place downplayed the supposed festive atmosphere. And the usual barrage of Metro Cops was nowhere to be seen, that is until one hit a radial arterial where ‘spot’ fines where being dished out in the hope of garnishing a few measly Rand off-the-books.

The joys of wandering around savouring the wares and sights on offer with a ‘Caipirinha’ in hand seems to be a thing of the past. One now has to sit, or stand, in designated areas chugging down the savoury drink before being allowed to move on to the next row of stalls. Needless to say, it is just not the same. The customary visible looks of joy were nowhere to be seen, instead one was confronted by grumpy strollers, or shoppers, reminiscent of a daily trip to the local mall.

As a matter of fact, what hit me the most was the absence of the usual throngs of patrons at the ticket stalls, something to which every year I braced myself to endure. This year, I walked straight to the ticket office, purchased my wrist band and walked in without ever having to jostle for position with fellow patrons.

To add injury to injury, I took two new inductees to the exhibition only to be faced with “is this what you’ve been bragging about!?” Talk about a slap across the face.

Ok, maybe there was a reason for the change in modii operandi, but given my vast experience with Lusitoland, whatever the reasons were, the changes did not bring value to the vaunted exposition.

Fortunately we found a dear little eatery in Rosebank where we spent the rest of the evening exchanging quips, stories, jokes and exaggerations to our hearts content. A cheerful conclusion to a dreary experience.

Here’s to next year; or maybe not.