Loading ...The ego of a politician, I’ve decided, rests less on the size of the manaconda (as my colleague Niren Tolsi so eloquently describes the penis) than on the size of the convoy. For a full week now, we’ve been bullied off roads by minor pols with big convoys. You should’ve seen the dickheads on the perilous road from Polokwane to the Limpopo University, scene of this week’s revolution in the ANC.
They raced up behind, pushed minor cars on to the shoulder, blue lights flashing as they sped at probably double the suggested speed. I think my travelling companion must think me slightly mad as I kept up a constant stream of “fuckers” as the maniacs bore their VIPs to the conference venue.
Of course, most of the convoyed are now out of vogue, having been pushed off the ANC’s top leadership by the people in buses. There is justice in this world. By the end of the week, I’d worked out the convoy culture.
Less big dicks get the smallest convoys: one local traffic cop plus black sedan and blue light paid for by taxpayer. Minor provincial pawns like Ebrahim Rasool: one local traffic cop, three bodyguards, one side-car plus one X5 BMW paid for by taxpayer.
Ex-chief Thabo Mbeki: one local traffic cop, one lead-in fancy black car, one bulletproof presidential mobile, one fancy black ambulance, one very expensive side-car that travels on wrong side of road next to now ex-chief, another local traffic cop, and his boss in his own. All blue lights on high speed. All paid for by taxpayer.
And while you may have drunk the Kool-Aid and muttered to your friends about how new chief JZ is going to make us a country where the people shall govern, let me tell you that his is the biggest of them all.
One local speed-cop, an X5 with bodyguards, big chief’s fancy sedan. And another X5. And another. And another. And, yes, another. All blue lights flashing. I lost count of all those vehicles paid for by the citizenry. I detest convoy culture for what it says about how our representatives view themselves: as above the law, as VIPs and not servants of the people. They peer at us snootily through bulletproofed, stained windows. Occasionally, some wave; most just push their way past queues and traffic as if we did not put them in power. It is the most anti-democratic of cultures.
Give me politicians who cycle to work or even drive themselves, and they’ll have my vote.
On weightier matters. Blogger Graeme Addison says we are not giving enough foresight. See this week’s M&G for what the political future may hold, but here are some thoughts on the NEC list.
On the way to Polokwane, my colleagues and I were pushed to the side of the road by a large and fast-travelling convoy. However, we could not discern any politician we knew inside any of the vehicles. Then, we spotted it: a sizeable red coolbox stacked carefully between other, smaller pieces of luggage in the central car. Perhaps a spare organ or two on ice being rushed to Polokwane for the health minister?
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