Humour

ANC of Thrones: imagine the spicy resignation letter Zuma could've sent

Yolisa Mkele dreams up what former president Jacob Zuma might have angrily written in his resignation letter, before diplomatically going back to the drawing board

16 February 2018 - 09:48 By yolisa mkele
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Former president Jacob Zuma. (File photo.)
Former president Jacob Zuma. (File photo.)
Image: JACKIE CLAUSEN

Jacob Zuma anti-climatically tendered his resignation as the president of South Africa on Valentine's Day. Given the build up that had preceded it; many of us had hoped that he would throw up a middle finger to the ANC and turn the whole thing into the season finale of ANC of Thrones. Instead he went gently into that good night.

The fantasist in many of us, however can imagine him stewing as he crafted the first draft of his resignation letter. Errant thoughts about the flame and damnation the honourless thieves he had once called comrades must have accidentally made their way onto the page, only to be diplomatically scratched out.

Perhaps, in the original draft, he saw himself a Jacob Ceasar, cruelly betrayed by Brutus Magashule and a cowardly Senate. The first few paragraphs undoubtedly started out magnanimously enough, probably with some platitudes about being honoured to have served the people, his love for the country and his love for the organisation. At this point Zuma’s convivial charm would evaporate.

Quoting his namesake and illustrious street poet, Jay-Z, he would say “I’ve done made more millionaires than the lotto did,” seeing the faces of many of the beneficiaries of his friendship as the words left his pen. The face of Judas Duarte would loom particularly large.

At this point, he would insert ellipsis, inhaling to increase the air of drama in the room, before unleashing a torrent of information detailing the various misdeeds of all his ministerial partners in crime, pausing only to throw in the odd expletive and few un-analogous analogies.

Finally, just to show that he was in touch with social media pop culture, his parting shot would be a simple sign off: #Nonke. He'd then apply his signature with a flourish.

One last fleeting image of journalists and his co-conspirators scurrying probably brought a smile to his face before he set fire to the original, and then wrote the thoroughly mature, though deathly boring, resignation letter that found its way to Baleka Mbete.


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