Turns out I’ve been labelled somewhat of a political slut.
My term as the 6th Zuma wife seems to be coming to an end. Apparently my kraal at the arse end of Nkandla has not been included in the renovation budget. And until the security budget gets cleared, I am taking what I can to sell. And now that Mampollie Rampacious is announcing her big news today, how do I stand a chance?
When I was released from the basement by Jacob, I got a glimpse of the news. It turns out that South Africa is not doing too well at the moment. I didn’t know that the Oscars got this much media attention in South Africa.
Don’t get me wrong, I clung. I clung to my man’s ankles like a middle aged woman clings to youth. I clung like local sport heroes cling to their dignity. I clung like a conservative to his ideals. I clung like cling wrap to Jacob Zuma’s face during role plays…
So I fear that my time as the umpteenth partner to the sperm donor of our nation, the commander in penis, the handjob that holds us all together, and apart, must now bid him a farewell.
Don’t worry about me though. I will be a-okay. I did not survive being the mistress to Mandela and attempted murder charges from Winnie Madikizela for nothing. I did not survive a night of passion with Julius Malema only to find out that he was fired the day before for nothing. Nope, nah ah, I won’t have any of it. I am no longer about that life. These are lessons learned and I shall grow from them.
So on I go to new and more exciting opportunities. And for those of you who have not yet acclimatised to the jawonthefloor lingo, “new and exciting” is code for powerful black man.
As a sassy black woman who is neither black nor female, I feel that it is my duty to continue this tradition. So, Cyril Ramaphosa, I’m coming for you. Then you can come for me. Then we’ll just plain come.
This is exactly what I need to take my mind off everything.
First of all, his initials are CR. This means nothing, really, but I needed an introductory point, and I’m a little short here. Speaking of short, he is not. I got so tired of sitting on Jacob’s face and not being able to see his feet. Ok, now I’m just being bitter. One does not break the bonds of the union like JZ and I had without at least a little animosity.
I love you JJ.
But back to my silly Cyril! Here is a man who was the chief negotiator for the ANC during the tense pre-democracy years. Now if there are a few things I know in this life, they are tense, pre and democracy. Well, maybe not democracy.
This is exactly what South Africa needs at a crucial time like this. While I fill a bag with silver from the main house at Nkandla without being detected, Cyril has spent millions, on himself. Now that is the selflessness that I need at this time. All Jacob ever bought me was a George Foreman grill. Classy, but cheap.
The fact that Cyril has written constitutional law textbooks does not bode well for our imminent divorce, but I’ll cross that bridge when I use it to flee from the security guards.
So here is to hoping for a better tomorrow. But for now I need stronger knee guards. This Ramaphosa guy looks like he needs a lot more coercion than my Zuma. Your wife will miss you, Jacob L
<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>