| R |
emember those vinyl records that were pushed into oblivion by cassettes which were later killed by CDs (CDs are also on their way to the technology mortuary).
Those were the days when music was music and it meant something to own a record.
Scrutator’s family owned quite a few vinyls and they were such prized possessions that they were kept locked away in the cabinet.
Only on rare occasions would that cabinet be opened to bring out those vinyls and the good music they carried.
Then we would dance all night and make merry.
The only problem was that the vinyl has a terrible “habit”: Just when your favourite song on the album was about to get to the climax it would get stuck.
In that three-legged cabinet my mother loved so much was Yvonne Chaka-Chaka’s vinyl that fate had decided should start “jumping” right at the beginning of my favourite song: Thank You Mr DJ.
Just when Scrutator was about to get down on the dance floor the vinyl would get stuck.
“Thank you Mr DJ. . . Thank you Mr DJ. . . Thank you Mr DJ. . . Thank you Mr DJ. . . x10.”
If no one was there to push the “needle” forward the vinyl could repeat those words for the whole day.
Scrutator was reminded of those misbehaving vinyls when she reflected on the ongoing monkeyshines within the ruling Lesotho Congress (confusion/commotion/chaos) for Democracy (LCD) party this week.
The LCD was born when the vinyl was on its way to the grave but its leaders seem to have learnt something from its ability to get stuck when it matters most.
It is therefore not surprising that the LCD people sound like a stuck record when they talk about the two factions that are tearing apart their party.
“Nyoe-nyoe-nyoe- nyoe-nyoe-Lija-mollo-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe . . . x100 000 000 000.”
If you push the needle a bit forward the LCD’s stuck vinyl will go: “Nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-Litima-mollo-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe-nyoe . . . x 100 000 000 000.”
Because no one is there to push the needle this LCD vinyl has remained stuck on those two verses for more than three years.
We are going to be stuck with this vinyl for a very long time and it’s not funny at all because there is really no melody in those two verses.
And there are no other songs to look forward to when you skip these terrible verses: Its either you listen to the Lija-mollo or Litima-mollo verse or nothing else.
| T |
he names of the factions in the LCD are embarrassingly unimaginative. You get put off by just mentioning their names.
What political animals are Lija-mollo and Litima-mollo?
Do they have horns like cows?
How do they reproduce?
Do they eat grass or meat?
Scrutator asked herself these questions when she tried to understand what Lija-mollo and Litima-mollo represent politically.
So far the answer, according to Scrutator’s assessment, is that those two factions represent nothing substantial.
Particularly disappointing is the fact that apart from their pursuit of power these two factions do not seem to have real values, policies and ideologies.
No one can pinpoint the policy issues that have made the power struggles so acrimonious.
This whole Lija-mollo and Litima-mollo bunkum is based on nothing but personalities seeking power for the sake of power and a chance to loot the government’s coffers which are apparently already depleted.
In other political parties, unfortunately very far away from Lesotho, political differences are about substantial issues.
Politicians talk about how extensive the austerity measures should be and how deep the tax cuts should go.
They talk about economic, health and education policies.
They spend hours debating what will happen to their countries in future.
Politicians in Lesotho’s ruling party spend most of their time squabbling over power for the sake of power.
| I |
t’s all about personalities and a bunch of fickle-minded politicians whose careers are defined by who they support and never what they represent.
Such politicians have no ideals of their own.
They survive because they are with someone and not because they stand for something.
They will never ask what value the two factions will add to this country if they take control of the ruling party.
Such a pertinent question is not important to them because what only counts are the crumbs that will be flung their way when their political godfathers take over.
It’s such a sad sight watching bearded men and breasted women literally worshipping mere mortals in the hope that when power eventually comes into their camp they will get a “little something”.
Many of them have been repeatedly disappointed by the same politicians but, for some reason, they keep hoping that their turn to dip their mouths into the feeding trough will arrive.
But for the majority of these kowtowing politicians that day will never come for they will always remain on the fringes.
To those in power such politicians are just what they are: useful and low-maintenance political tools.
The best the godfathers can do for such people is to give graveside eulogies at their funerals.
“Blah, blah, blah was a committed party cadre who worked hard for . . .”
| S |
o how did we come to have the Lija-mollo and Litima-mollo factions in the ruling party?
Well, Scrutator has a theory.
My take is that both factions have realised that government resources are too few to be shared generously.
You see, the future just doesn’t look bright at all as far as looting is concerned.
Government tenders are fast running out.
Opportunities to parcel out jobs to their kith and kins are now scarce.
The government coffers are now always half empty because Sacu is not bringing as much as it used to.
So when the cake to loot is too small the best solution is to eliminate competition.
The Lija-mollo and Litima-mollo factions are part of the ongoing battle for supremacy and proximity to the national purse.
Initially they were just small camps of likeminded politicians that shared similar grievances and a bit of ambition.
But as the word spread they were joined by mobs.
The factions grew bigger because this world is teeming with poor people who are more than willing to fight for the rich and not against them.
This country has no shortage of rent-seeking politicians.
In fact Scrutator thinks it’s high time we started
exporting some of them to earn the much-needed foreign currency.
| S |
crutator did not know whether to laugh or cry last Friday after reading a shoddy piece that masqueraded as an editorial comment in that other weekly.
The subject of the editorial was the clean-up exercise that was organised on Independence Day last Tuesday.
Instead of seeing the clean-up as a necessary exercise in a country where people just pee and throw trash everywhere in the city with no tinge of conscience, the paper’s editor just lost it.
That King Letsie III in his infinite wisdom saw it fit to take part in the clean-up exercise was seen as an affront to his dignity.
The editorial was headlined: LCD reduces King to a garbage monger.
“Tuesday was Independence Day and instead of celebrating the historic event with his people, the ruling LCD ridiculed our King by making him pick trash in the streets,” it began.
“Who knows, maybe that’s another way of trying to safe (sic) the party’s dented image . . .
“On this day, however, our King was made to dedicate his royal status to a struggling political party whose house is in shambles . . . his profile to shine upon those who made the supreme sacrifice and upon this land and the ideals for which they gave their lives was observed by collecting dirt.”
Scrutator sees nothing wrong with the King setting an example in ensuring a squeaky clean Maseru.
Don’t they say cleanliness is next to godliness?
The whole idea behind that exercise was the gesture but the message was lost on the editor.
He fumed, fumed, fumed until he could fume no more.
Question: Which one is shallower, the editor’s mind or a tea cup?
Send your answers to a newspaper somewhere in Old Europa.
| L |
astly, Scrutator has heard that after her instalment last week there are some LCD youths who are itching to pummel her.
Well, Scrutator has never been one to dodge such challenges.
Those youths just have to formally invite Scrutator to a proper venue for a proper fight.
But before they invite Scrutator they must first meet six conditions.
First, they must put the MKM Burial Society on standby for they never know how hard Scrutator might beat them.
Secondly, they must send their medical fitness certificates to Scrutator because she has no interest fighting weaklings.
Third, they must get the police to accompany them to the fight just in case Scrutator beats them to a pulp.
Fourth, they must hire an ambulance that will be present at all times during the fight because Scrutator has dangerous kicks.
Fifth, they must get a prosecutor from the Director of Public Prosecution just in case the matter ends up in court.
Lastly, they must submit three-month bank statements to prove that during that time they have been able to properly feed themselves for Scrutator hates fighting hungry people.
These conditions must all be met without failure if those youths really want a fight.
Scrutator is tired of people who think they have a monopoly over violence.
Scrutator too has a little thug in her.
She can fight.
Oh, she can fight.
Ache!
Scrutator29@gmail.com
