When disgraced author and political commentator Prince Mashele told eNCA anchor Sally Burdette he now owes ActionSA leader Herman Mashaba R12.5m, the costliness of anger became even more palpable.
The normally confident, some may say arrogant, Mashele made way for a meek, defeated character behaving like politicians when questioned about poor service delivery, his hands firmly between his legs. This was unlike Mashele.
But how does a man go from scoring R12.5m, being the envy of many award-winning authors, to self-sabotage so quickly? What is it, with R12.5m in your pocket, that could get you to lose your cool?
For many, it’s absolutely nothing. For Mashele, it’s arrogance and disdain for his former friend, Brutus Malada, apparently a strategist for ActionSA.
Mashele was angry that Malada spoke to his wife, Mpho Phalatse, a leader of the Democratic Alliance in Joburg, about the Mashaba sponsorship. Phalatse, being a doctor, offered unwelcome counsel on the ethics of procuring sponsorship for intellectual work and not declaring it. Not exactly Kantian deontology. Anyone who has done a smidgeon of research at a university would know the ethical implications.
Mashele, I imagine, felt Malada was an “ungrateful twat — how do you discuss our secret with Mashaba’s enemies in the DA? Wasn’t the R3m offered enough for you to keep your mouth shut?”
In anger, Mashele instructed Jonathan Ball publishers to remove a part of the credits where he mentioned Malada, who as it turns out, or at least in his version, contributed about 80% of the printed work.
The last five jobs Malada occupied, Mashele says, he negotiated for him. In other words, Mashele wants us to know he made Malada.
Petty move, Malada thinks.
But no, Mashele thinks R3m is enough to keep an intellectual junior’s mouth shut. I say junior, not because that is an established fact or not, but because of what Mashele then says about Malada. He, through Clement Manyathela’s show on 702, tells the nation he “made” Malada. The last five jobs Malada occupied, Mashele says, he negotiated for him. In other words, Mashele wants us to know he made Malada. When we see Malada not earning R350 from President Cyril Ramaphosa’s social security plan or perhaps not being part of AmaPanyapanya street-cleaning brigade of Gauteng premier Panyaza Lesufi, it’s because of Mashele’s largesse. He is the prince who saved Malada from hunger and a life of nothingness. How could he then fight his master?
Mashele then tells us Malada was attached to one member of the mayoral committee in his last job in the City of Joburg, a job he negotiated for him. What is implied is that had Mashele not gifted Malada a job in the Joburg Metro, Malada would probably have never met his current wife, a former mayor in that city. Decoded, this means, not only does Mashele find jobs for Malada, he gifts him love through this jobs. I know no bigger insult to a man.
Malada, justifiably angry, spills the beans, creates a situation where Mashele, not ready for interviews but perhaps going only on confidence oversupply, makes himself available to Burdette, perhaps hoping for a Andre de Ruyter-type interview on eNCA.
But she eviscerates him. She tears the arrogance out of him. He clutches on notions of a “black man writing a book about another black man”, but she schools him on the ABCs of interviews, reminding him, without having to say so, that when you are in a hole, you stop digging. You zip it. You say zilch, for you have nothing of substance to say unlike, say, Malada, who at least knows that lies have short legs. The triumph of the underdog.
All of this because of anger. A 20-year friendship blown to smithereens. Whoever negotiated whoever’s lobola now doesn’t matter. It wasn’t good enough for them to swallow their pride to negotiate like mature scholars. This reminds me of that well-worn Aristotle quote: “Anyone can become angry, that is easy; but to be angry with the right person, and to the right degree, and at the right time, and for the right purpose, and in the right way, that is not within everybody’s power, that is not easy.”
Those who have been on the receiving end of Mashele’s critical faculties will be happy and relieved that this scandal removes him from a list of credible commentators ahead of the 2024 elections. They will say every dog has its day, even if it means the opposite of what they intend to convey. Even if he stood up to say Mashaba is a great leader that ANC-weary South Africans must vote for, only his funders will believe him. His credibility is on the floor.
All because of anger.
Even in his attempt to be contrite, he is still angry with Malada. Mashele apologises to everyone but Malada, the very man he wronged. This is how anger becomes a blinds pot.
Our political firmament is replete with examples of people who, if they took one minute to calm the hell down, would not be in the mess they found themselves in. Not that the lie about an autobiography being an unauthorised biography should not have been exposed. But simply that there is so much that remains unknown about our politics because gentlemen’s agreements are respected elsewhere.
Anger, in the end, is costly. As Mashele calms the hell down, he will realise that his anger has cost him more than the R12.5m he owes. Poor guy!
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