There was a real chance, what with loadshedding, schoolwork, an actual face-to-face meeting, washing the rest of Cape Agulhas off my car and cooking one of my awesome chilli con carnes for dinner, I might have forgotten to blog.
But there’s enough uncertainty in the world without that sort of nonsense.
And so here I am.
And talking of uncertainty, are we right at the end of “the strictest lockdown on the planet”?
It’s been… [checks title of post]… 140 days so far, and tomorrow will definitely be 141, but at midnight tomorrow, the National State of Disaster ends and with it, the National Disaster Act, upon which the lockdown regulations are founded.
That would end the lockdown.
But we’re still at Level 3 out of a scale of 5 to 0, literally not even halfway home yet, and still losing the battle with the virus in several provinces, so it seems highly unlikely that things will just stop tomorrow night. In which case, the government needs to act. And surely some form of action has already been taken, it’s just that we haven’t been told about it. They’ve had 6 weeks to prepare. But still: dololo. This would tessellate nicely with the ever increasing government twattery over the whole handling of the coronavirus problem. I’m not saying that it was ever easy, but I am suggesting that they could have done a whole lot better, even on the basic stuff.
The smart money is on a move to Level 2, bringing with it cigarettes and alcohol, inter-provincial travel and – probably – more virus. But apparently, no decision has been made. With 30 hours to go, they really need to get a move on.
Of course, they might have just had a busy day. What with loadshedding, schoolwork, meetings and washing their cars. It happens.
Their chilli con carne won’t be as good as mine, though.
They (the government) have launched a task team/commission/ministerial committee to root out corruption and looting of Covid-19 relief funds. But then you look at who’s going to be doing the rooting out and you just sigh. Let’s just say that they might not even have to leave their bedrooms if they have a mirror.
The other thing I was busy with was a GooseChase. Basically, a fun*, interactive series of challenges which the teams have to undertake and complete within a given time period. This particular GooseChase is for the Virtual Quiz Groups that got together over lockdown, and while we’re still not allowed to see each other in the flesh or go round each others place and do things, I thought I’d lob one of these together for our entertainment. There is an app, but holey-moley it’s expensive. And expensive in USD – I can’t even work out how much it would be in ZARs. Anyway, if you thought putting a quiz night together was hard work, wow. You ain’t seen nothing yet. An organisational nightmare.
But if it comes off, it has the potential to actually be quite cool.
Well, Garmin is half back. I was able to sync a bit overnight and although the interface looks (perhaps understandably) like it’s taken a savage beating and the cuts and bruises haven’t quite subsided yet, it is still breathing – just – and will hopefully continue its recovery. Amazing that it managed to find a ICU bed right now.
Talking of medical stuff, I need to go to a doctor’s office today and I’ve never been less enthusiastic about anything. It’ll be the smallest public space I’ve been to in months, and also probably the longest period of time I will have spent in any indoor public space all year. If you remember my Virus FAQs post, these were two of the things I suggested were best avoided, but sometimes, needs must. So I’m going to put on my Big Boy panties (and my Big Boy mask), take a deep breath (outside) and just do it. I’ll also have my Big Boy sanitiser along with me and won’t hesitate to use it.
Don’t test me.
I have been listening to The Lathums. They’re from Wigan, so the a is hard and harsh, just like all a’s should be (glass, grass, path, bath etc.)
Finally, some more news on our shit government. This is an image from part of Andrew Mlangeni‘s funeral yesterday.
A true giant of Apartheid resistance, a Rivonia Trialist and an ANC stalwart, it obviously attracted a lot of attention. Hands crossed on the left there is village idiot Fikile Mbalula – currently the Minister for Transport. Now I have nothing against a decent send off for Mlangeni: he certainly deserves it. But so does every other individual dying at the moment. So the question is, why are there so many people there? And why are they standing so close to one another? That goes against the regulations for funerals which have been rigorously applied for everyone else.
And then Mbalula turned up on TV this morning saying that the situation “had been exaggerated”. With advance apologies to my reading audience: fuck you, Fikile. I, like everyone else, can see from the footage that at least two of those regulations above are being ignored and that’s only out of three, given that it’s not nighttime.
Is it any wonder that the lockdown regulations are being so openly and regularly flaunted? The only difference is that there are fines, police brutality and criminal records for the general public. Fikile and his government chums get – at best – a gentle slap on the wrist.
It’s just another example of one rule for them, one for the rest of us.
Right. Rant over. I’m off to mentally prepared for this afternoon’s trip, and to see if I can sort out another couple of GooseChase challenges before lunchtime.
In a country where everything – everything – gets touched by the thieving hands of Government corruption, it’s good to know that someone is finally standing up and fighting corruption. That someone is… [checks notes] er… [checks notes again] er… apparently, it’s… The Government.
reminded me of [an analogy I decided not to use*] or the Pope encouraging people to come forward and root out Catholicism.
It’s literally everywhere (corruption, not Catholicism) (although…) from the President’s office down.
They say a fish rots from the head, but there’s smelly sludge all over the gills, fins and tail in this case. (Can you tell that I never did more than basic fish biology during my studies?)
R4.8 million for someone to go door to door and tell people about Covid-19 – R2640 per person. A cool ten and a half grand if there’s a family of four at home when you call.
There’s R29.7 million “missing” in KZN.
The R500 billion coronavirus fund was obviously just too good an opportunity to miss:
And I should probably just not mention the Eastern Cape Scooter Fiasco*.
These examples were not hard to find, at all. And one could argue that at least someone is documenting, recording and reporting them. But mostly, nothing ever happens about these cases, and even on the odd occasion when it does, the perpetrators are re-employed by their equally corrupt colleagues (and/or political party) soon afterwards anyway.
So where is the punishment?
So what is the point?
But then for the government – arguably the most guilty entity for both the enabling of and looting of public money – to tell us that “Fighting corruption is everyone’s business”?
I’ve honestly never heard such utterly hypocritical bullshit.
*100 words in was just too soon to invoke Godwin’s Law. ** I actually saw The Eastern Cape Scooter Fiasco on the Friday at Reading in 2007. Great drummer. Energetic performance.