John Langalibalele ka Dube, the founder of Ilanga lase Natal, the first Zulu newspaper in South Africa, published the historical novel UJeqe Insila ka Shaka in 1930. It is a fictionalised account of an actual historical figure, Jeqe of the Buthelezi clan.
Jeqe was King Shaka’s insila (body servant), who went everywhere the Zulu monarch went. The literal meaning of the word insila is “body dirt”; the scum you see around the bathtub when you let the water out. It doesn’t take too much imagination to appreciate the obvious benefits and privilege of the position. The only drawback was that, according to Nguni custom, when the king died, the body scum would also be “put to sleep” so that the king’s body could be placed on top of him. This practice is called ukundlalela, the literal meaning being to act as a mat or bed sheet.
Jeqe’s ancestors were vigilant because they apparently came to him in a dream on the eve of King Shaka’s assassination and commanded him to bid an expeditious farewell to Zululand, in the direction of eSwatini.
This recollection is inspired by the recent resignation of White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt to “spend more time with her family”. More cynical observers have noted, with mischievous glints in their eyes, an interesting “coincidence”. You see, during Trump’s recent trip to Türkiye in July, he reportedly had to be whisked off Air Force One amid a serious security threat to his life from his current numero uno sworn enemy, the state of Iran.
Where it gets interesting is that Air Force One still took off with members of the press, staff, secretary of state Marco Rubio and Ms Leavitt still on board. The incident has been seized upon by Senate minority leader Chuck Schumer, who has called for a congressional briefing on whether Air Force One was used a security “decoy”, potentially putting those on board in danger.
If I heard a balloon pop anywhere within a 200m radius, not only would I shriek in a falsetto that would put the Bee Gees to shame, I would end up before a court martial explaining why I grabbed the president and used him as a human shield
Look, if something had happened to the 28-year-old mother of two, she wouldn’t have been the first press secretary to take a hit on behalf of her political principal. James Brady took a bullet for president Ronald Reagan during the foiled attempt on his life by John Hinckley Jr. Contrary to Schumer, comedian Anthony Anderson dubbed Trump’s escape inside a catering truck “Operation Pig in a Blanket”, enquiring rhetorically: “Do you know how hard it is to sneak a pig out of Turkey?” Ouch.
Humans of higher social standing, such as kings and queens, have used commoners and servants as their human shields since the beginning of time. I bet that long ago some royal goat herder named X!xotum$sam was promoted in some kingdom between present-day Kuruman and Kakamas. And I bet his mother would brag about how her son X!’s stock had risen in the royal household. Fast forward to the 21st century, and each time you see politicians at a rally at Moses Mabhida, there is a version of young X! hovering around them, presumably ready to use his own flesh and internal organs as the last line of defence against would-be assassins.
This calls to mind a clip that went viral a few years ago. A father is in the stands during a Major League Baseball game with his daughter, who can’t be more than seven years old. A mishit ball comes flying in their direction at Nasa-rocket speed and the man instinctively hides behind her, inadvertently making her his X!. This, effectively, is what some commentators are suggesting is at the root of Leavitt’s resignation: she’s disgusted the Don used her as his X!.
I get where both Jeqe, Shaka’s bathtub scum and Karoline Leavitt are coming from. I would make the lousiest Presidential Protection Service agent in history. If I heard a balloon pop anywhere within a 200m radius, not only would I shriek in a falsetto that would put the Bee Gees to shame, I would end up before a court martial explaining why I grabbed the president and used him as a human shield.
And our cupcake president is significantly more lovable than the pig in a Turkish blanket.
And this is why I have personally never held Simon Peter’s trio of denials of the Lord at the high priest’s house — as chronicled in all four canonical gospels — against him. I would have pre-empted his own words: “Mea culpa, but I know not what I am doing, Maestro. But I have four children, you understand.”
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