I think I might need to find religion or some inkling of faith to get me through my latest hangover. This time it has nothing... no wait, it has very little to do with an excessive intake of alcohol (I actually needed to steal a quick, yet healthy swig from my hip flask to get through this blog). A hangover is defined as "The unpleasant physical effects following the heavy use of alcohol". Although my current physical malaise is better defined along this explanation: A letdown, as after a period of excitement".
So, there I was, readying myself in front of my radio this past Saturday, awaiting an ANC press conference where the fate of one Julius Malema and his merry bunch of morons was going to be announced. In case you've been living in a cave (which I would perfectly understand considering the the potentially nauseating affect this constant overload of Malema can have), here's a very brief summary. Last November Jules and some of his league management were hauled over the coals... no wait, punished, mmmm, okay, they were given a stern talking to and stripped of their illusions of grandeur following some misguided comments on Botswana and barging in on a meeting of the ANC's top brass. While the illusions became delusions, complete with toddler-esque petulance and adolescent-type hormonal rebellion, Malema and Co. appealed their suspensions, which at that stage already seemed nothing more than window-dressing. The doughy- torsoed one held his breath and insisted, " The gloves have now come off." He pointed out he's still the head tender bender, commander-in-chief(s) and head comrade at the ANC kindergarten, while his appeal process is underway. And so as journalists we were left debating and brain-storming the correct title for Malema when writing news stories related to him, he apparently carried on with his duties (whatever these may be) as league prez. Was it suspended Youth Leauge president? Was he still the official leader, despite his 5-year suspension? If you cared enough, this type of bull twang bothered you, especially in newsrooms. We had little choice but to care, just a bit, sometimes purely because he was newsmaker in 2011. Love him or hate him, the public's affections and dislike, in equal proportions, ensured he secured as many as possible headlines last year. Unfortunately, nothing has changed in 2012.
Okay, so now we can fast-forward to the 4th of February 2012. A delightfully distinguished Cyril Ramaphosa, effortlessly filling the shoes of a president-like figure, announced to the country (as it turned out many of us actually do still give a damn!) that Malema and his collective of idiots had failed (he delightfully used adjectives such as 'ridiculous' and 'absurd' to emphasise the degrees of failure) in their appeals. If that moment had been out of a cornball movie, some twit in the enthused and sweaty hack pack of journalists at Luthuli house would've started a slow clap. One sentence after the other must've seemed like a salvo of canings meted out by a sadistic teacher to a once-bolshy school boy, as Ramaphosa quite literally read out the riot act. A muted cheer exploded over much of the country (why muted, you'll ask me, read on).
I let out a breath of relief. Finally, we can move on from this man and his ego. Finally, we can start focusing on real issues, real news. I silently rejoiced and even commended the ANC's seniors for delivering what seemed to be a decisive bitch-slap to Jules and his power-intoxicated delusions. Boy, was I wrong! The Monday after the outcome of the appeals process was made public, headlines reading, 'Malema ANCYL leader - for now' greeted the country. Good thing, I was met by this news in the early hours of that Monday morning, always the appropriate time for a hangover to attack. The nausea soon settled in. My head started spinning. My brain contracted and ached, my bowels flipped and rolled. Of course the ANC's disciplinary code and constitution conveniently allowed for the the mitigation of Juju's sanctions, almost an escape clause. ANC national spin doctor, Jackson Mthembu, explained it like this, "You will know that the NDCA [national disciplinary committee of appeal] said that they have a chance to go and mitigate so until such mitigation has taken place the sanctions will not kick in." As I dry heave over the toilet, let me try to understand this. Malema was then always ANCYL leader, even though he was suspended last November, despite an earlier suspension for another 'offence' dating back to... I can't even remember, and even though his appeal was unsuccessful, meaning his punishment should stand, it won't, at least in its original form, because now he can fight (and boy, will he fight seeing as though his gloves have been removed along with his muzzle) for a lesser sanction! Is anyone feeling dizzy, light-headed, sick and freakin' tired of this permanent hangover called Julius Malema?!
Choose any scene out of the movie, The Hangover, and you could adequately apply it to the reality many of us Malema-fatigued have been abiding for months. Maybe you can relate to that scene in the film where Bradley Cooper, Ed Helms and Zach Galifianakis awake from their night of abject debauchery. The scenes of chaos and madness around them are the only reminders of their booze-fulled behaviour from the previous night. People of South Africa, I hate to remind you, we've been suffering from similar hangovers, brought on by months of being force-fed a noxious cocktail of head-tearing, gut-blasting news relating to Malema, his arrogance, the endless tales of his blatant power-debauchery, the ear-numbing sound bytes of him 'declaring' war on his daddy, Jacob Zuma, 'Shooting the Boer', espousing nationalisation and showing sympathy for the likes of Robert Mugabe and Muammar Gaddafi. And as the distinct taste of carrots (I don't remember eating carrots) enters my mouth, the forerunner to Juju-induced vomiting, I scowl and curse at the thought and dread of this hangover never abating, much like Malema.
