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6th Zuma Wife says goodbye, sort of: South Africa, I wish you luck.

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>


6th Zuma Wife discusses the Olympics

With all this Olympic fever, I was inspired to write about my own Olympic God and the games that are the life of the 6th Zuma wife.

As a wife to the first citizen of this mildly average nation, I was as caught up as everyone else when we won those golds and silver. We are currently number 13 in the world, which made Jay-Zu a very happy man indeed. He let me out of my kraal for the night and we went for gold ourselves.

This is a momentous time for South Africa. As a woman of grace and splendour, and also as a man, I am honoured to be holding the spear of the nation up and keeping the flame lit on this side of the equator. Someone has to do it and I am partially grateful for this accomplishment.

Many judge us and our lifestyle. However I do want us to move forward as a nation and forget about our interesting relationship. As I have said on this blog before, it is hard work to keep it hard. Do not judge us until you can walk a metre in our shoes.

The wives, Jakie and I were supposed to travel to London together and revel in the games. But you know men, JJ got a little nervous when I saw those five rings and wanted five rings of my own.

So I’m still at home, trying to escape to the main house. The recent renovations have left me relegated to a kraal even further back in the compound.  At least we get a taste of our own Olympics over here. Angie Moshoeshoe, Minister of Education or something, proved that we don’t do anything in half measure is this country.  And with all the wet weather, there will be a lot of new swimmers for the next Olympics.

Just looking through the bars of the compound, I saw about 300 refugees swimming upstream in the river. Minister Dlamini-Zuma, that bitch, better not neglect her duties over here now that she’s in charge of the AU.  It’s bad enough that she’s the original “first wife”, making the rest of us look bad. Bronze medal for her.  The least she can do is get these immigrants registered asap so we can use them for something other than building our new security wall.

Julius gets the gold in my books for tenacity. He tried competing with the kids in a little mini-Olympics on the front lawn of the compound and the poor dear ran out of steam after the first event. He placed 35 out of 36. I think Jacob let him win, or he also collapsed from exhaustion.

Let’s hope that SA can keep flying that flag high. We are all proud of you.

PS: if any of you are interested, the Zuma household now welcomes new applications. We are set for a new wife.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>


The Oil and Glitter of Politrix.

Warning: this could get really convoluted, but there’s logic in here somewhere.

So earlier today, my husband fired General Bheki Cele and replaced him with new police commissioner Mangwashi Phiyega. It was suitably dramatic and I know when he gets home later there will fireworks in the bedroom. But it got me thinking…

Recently I attended the Franschhoek Literary Festival. I didn’t have anything to report back at the time because, while it was amazing for a young writer, I didn’t feel there was anything worthwhile for anyone other than myself.  Then I thought back.

So I got the amazing opportunity to attend the talk on the second day of the weekend and it was called “From Page to Stage” hosted by director Janice Honeyman. It was a talk with Pieter Dirk-Uys, Craig Higginson and Mike Van Graan, three acclaimed South African writer-directors.

What got me thinking about this was, like it always does, the state of our nation. For those of you who don’t know (and shame on you for that) Dirk-Uys is the country’s most famous drag queen, although many would dispute this. This is so simply because Tannie Evita Bezuidenhout has such a personality of her own that even the most butchest of Afrikaner men would call her “Tannie” (for those of you who don’t know, this is a term of endearment for older women, translated means “Auntie”)

He dresses up (sometimes even on stage like when I saw him in Oudshoorn for his show “The End is Naai”) and transforms into a whole new person. Now this is nothing new for drag performers; however Pieter is one of the best satirists we have. And the way he transforms himself into herself made me realise that, whether he intended to or not, he is taking a dig at politicians who dress up themselves, for the benefit of the show.   I do not only mean outward dress, but way of speaking, mannerisms and all the pomp and glam that go with leading the people.

Whenever I see a politician on TV, I wonder how they are at home. As the sixth Zuma wife, I can tell you that Jakie is as charming and eloquent in bed, I mean home as he is in the public eye. Of course he makes us all call him Mr President and “better than Thabo” but that’s standard procedure, right? Just doing our bits for the bits of our nation.

And these guys sure do put on an act. One minute partying with their comrades, the next dancing with the locals, always dressed appropriately for the part, of course.  So why do any of us, not just the stupid general public, bother giving these chameleons the time of day?  Because we like a show, that’s why. We love watching someone try to woo us, we love the lights, the romance, the action, the melodrama, the glitter, the balls, the testosterone, the duels, the speeches, oh god do we love the speeches. Haven’t we all been wooed by someone before with sweet talk and tears, strong words that make us weak at the knees and obvious lies that impress us with their passion?

In a way, their lives are from the page, to our stage.

I’m sure most people have seen the “wrestling” of the WWE. There is a reason why this particular “sport” has not been admitted in the Olympics. No, not because of the steroid consumption and overacting, but the oil budget would be through the roof. These guys are no different from politicians; they put on a show, they jump around, flex their muscles, talk some trash.

Malema would not be where he was today if not for that fiery irreverence that kept us all glued to his moist lips. If he were level headed and rational while saying the foolish things he said, do you think we would give two shits? NO. Hitler would not be what he was without the frothing and the arm flex. The same way go-go dancers would not be what they were without the flexing legs and frothing… personalities. Let us all now see this world for what it really is- one big production. And a 5 6 7 8!

You were warned.


<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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