| S |
omeone should be sleeping on the job at Lesotho Television.
I am not talking about news bulletins which have improved, somewhat, with the advent of the chakalaka government.
I am worried about what happens after the news, I mean soon after the news.
As soon as the news presenter wishes us a good night, the weather report follows.
What worries me is the breakneck speed at which the “meteorologists” seem to want to get over and done with it without telling us anything. Hardly.
All that I normally pick is “Maseru 20 degrees Celsius . . . Butha Buthe 21 degrees Celsius. . . Mokhotlong . . . 10 degrees Celsius”.
I can hardly hear a thing from the coy young sisters, most probably on attachment at our sole television broadcaster.
It seems like these girls simply want to go through the motions, their sole objective clearly being to just to finish. How does Scrutator know these a young ladies on attachment?
Simple. Loads of stage-fright are always clearly written all over the poor girls’ faces, which faces they try hard to hide from the glare of the camera knowing full well their presentations are transmitted into thousands of living rooms where sharp-tongued Bo Mme like me will mercilessly undress their lack of skills.
The young sisters are always in a hurry to finish the task. Honestly, on LTV weather presentation is a painful ritual that some experienced broadcasters just thrust upon the poor girls.
Isn’t it cruel on the part of the seasoned hands to leave such an onerous task in the hands of underdone greenhorns while they rush to the watering hole? No consent. No questions.
It’s more like throwing a toddler into the deepest end of the pool without a life jacket and expecting them to swim.
Without the wherewithals, i.e, the rehearsals, the assurance and reassurance from caring old hands at the public broadcaster, surely the poor student broadcasters are doomed to fail before they even start.
It reminds me of the adage: What you fear is greater than you. Are we saying the task of presenting the weather report is greater than these young ladies?
Not really. Just that they remind me of bygone days when we used to herd livestock in Qacha.
Those who had that opportunity will testify to the following observation. If you try to drive cattle over a steep slope into some pool of water, they would apply natural “ABS” brakes to resist such a push and then at the earliest opportunity stampede out of danger to safer terrain.
| T |
his is the thing: The weather report presenters are so quick to wish viewers goodnight that you feel they have to make good a quick getaway lest they drown in a deep “pool” of ridicule and shame at the hands of the cruel, prying eyes of prime time viewers.
It’s a pity these media have not evolved to become interactive, for I can bet my last loti I would definitely have told my little sister on the screen to cool down the pace for me.
Na Ngoanana Qacha as her elder sister, I am not getting any younger so I need someone to take me by hand and lead me slowly into what to expect from the whimsical Mother Nature.
Particularly so when this season is known for gales of gusty wind which threaten to take the roof over my head.
The point is a weather report is a very important early warning sentinel for farmers, planners, travelers and home-owners with an unstable roof over their heads like me and many others in the Kingdom.
Every time a whirlwind passes my heart skips a beat.
I have been through this. About five seasons ago cruel Mother nature forcefully, and without warning ripped off my roof. I was living in Ha Abia at that time. Not only was the roof wrenched from me the way my angry mother used to grab blankets off our slumber or we would be late for school. I am talking about more than 30 Spring seasons ago in Qacha.
Our late mother, a tough, no-nonsense matriarch would bark orders as the cocks begin to crow and birds started to chirp to introduce a new day. “Bo ausi, none of you should be late for school.
The law is an ass.
This proverbial expression is of English origin and the ass being referred to here is the English colloquial name for a donkey, not the American ‘ass’. Donkeys have a thing for obstinacy and stupidity that has given us the adjective ‘asinine’. It is the stupidly rigid application of the law that this phrase calls into question.
| T |
he phrase originates from Charles Dickens’s novel Oliver Twist, 1838 in which one of the characters Mr Bumble, the unhappy spouse of a domineering wife, is told in court that “…the law supposes that your wife acts under your direction”, to which he replies:
“If the law supposes that,” said Mr Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, “the law is an ass — an idiot”.
This adage fits squarely into the question of prostitution in Maseru and Lesotho at large. Indeed our sacrosanct law defies logic here. It is common knowledge that prostitution is as rife in Maseru as in any other city in the world.
| J |
ust move around the CBD area after 7pm on any day at random and you will not miss the skimpily dressed young women soliciting for clients who usually get picked up by motorists in cars with tinted windows. These eager “buyers” just swoop on the sex workers the way an eagle grabs little chicks and flies away high up in the sky. Except the “chicks” in this case are supposed to be consenting adults.
The only problem is a cursory look at some of these “ladies of the night” with the aid of car headlights as one drives past will reveal some little girls with milk plastered lips barely out of their teens. But I digress.
The law is an ass in this case for criminalising commercial sex work.
According to the Section 55 sub sections (I) and (3) of the Penal Code Act of 2010, a person who engages in sex activity for payment or anyone who facilitates such activity to take place, commits an offence.
| S |
crutator thinks this law needs to be looked at in view of the daily reality on the ground. It’s a fact sex is transacted daily in our city. In this era of HIV and Aids, we need to introspect, honestly, lest we fall into the trap of denialism. Burying our head in the sand will only escalate our problems, not contain them.
Wishing this ugly reality away will not take it away.
Ache!
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