Sometimes satire is the only way to deal with a reality so convoluted it makes your head spin.
All hail Dr Amai, Grace of the house Mugabe, Khaleesi of the Great Dairy Farm, Crusher of Mazowe, Queen of the Highlands and the Doctorates and the First Men, Prophetess of the Mountains, Breaker of Chains, the Soon to Be Burnt, Defender of Virginity, and Mother of Dragon purses made in China.
When presidential politics starts resembling the reruns of a low budget 80's series that was taken off air because the network executives thought the storyline was too unbelievable.
When Julius Malema starts looking as if he is a graduate of Havard Law School compared to the mad rantings of a certain recently minted PhD graduate.
Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe I will wake up and find out this all never happened. That they didn't take away my knighthood and my appointment for tea on the lawns of Buckingham Palace with Lizzie Dear was never cancelled. I'll wake and up Mandela will still be my bestie who calls me every night before I go to sleep and maybe Grace will still be typing away in her office and not in my bed.
Be sure they are all watching us and laughing their lungs out. Phoning each other at all hours of the night to read the headlines and laugh some more. The NSA probably has a live feed of her SMS's and her email inbox by now. And even they are laughing.
Meanwhile those who fought with all their strength and breath and sinew, those who gave their lives so that Africans might hold their hands up high in the world. Those whose every breath brought quiet dignity to Africanness, those whose very heart beat in rhythm with Ubuntu; meanwhile they turn in their graves and wonder what it is all going to become.
"When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers". - African proverb
