It’s a right bloody snickersnee in the ANC! A veritable battue!
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Oudtshoorn. 13 July 2012. 07h15. Ye gods and faeries!
When there is dissent, everybody splits!
The ANC is coming apart at the seems.
Not that the cadres will not stick together come election time, though.
Last week the Bitou stalwart, Lulama Mvimbi, a longstanding Councillor and previous Mayor, was unceremoniously dumped by the ANC in what was dressed up as a resignation.
Mvimbi’s ousting is seen as the result of the ANC moving against people perceived to have cost the party in the 2011 elections and a general clean-up of Zuma nonaligneds before Mangaung.
But Mvimbi’s cardinal sin, apparently, was not rising to Jacob Zuma during a recent meeting, when he remained seated, in the front row, nogal, punching away on his cell phone when His Travesty entered.
The ANC’s Regional Secretary, Putco Mapitiza, has already failed to defeat motions of no confidence in Oudtshoorn and George, and it is expected that he will also not survive a similar motion in Bitou this weekend. Putco, apparently, is bussing out.
On Monday night the former Oudtshoorn Councillor, Wilton Kawa, and representatives of nine ANC Ward Committees were refused participation in the election of an executive for Oudtshoorn.
Factions within the ANC are furious about claims that the Mayor’s Office Manager, Vuyiso Forplay, apparently ordered particular tenders to be awarded to specific individuals.
The appointments of Nella Philander, Cathleen Goliath, Jack Mbo, and Nomsa Jaxa in the Housing Department, are seen to be moves by Forplay to consolidate his power base in the Municipality.
Even Mcebisi Skwatsha, and Max Ozinsky, so the deafening whispers sound, are forced on the plank…
No greater story was ever told than Macbeth, I say! The Bard at his unquestionable best:
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
Thou marshall’st me the way that I was going,
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o’ the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest. I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There’s no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o’er the one half-world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain’d sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate’s offerings; and wither’d Murder
Alarum’d by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl’s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin’s ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives;
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. (A bell rings.)
I go, and it is done: the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. (MacBeth II.ii.41-72)
Beautiful, ain’t it!?
Snickersnee, n. Fighting with knives
Battue, n. Indiscriminate slaughter.