Bell Pottinger, having greedily grabbed the Guptas' grubby millions - more like a python that has swallowed an unusually gargantuan prey - is now thankfully in its death throes. There will be no mourners at the bonfire. Some may turn up only to convince themselves of its demise, and to do a little jig around the pyre.
KPMG, still averse to attending the confessional, is furiously throwing sacrificial lambs overboard instead. But that looks unlikely to satisfy the baying mob. Mea culpas without full disclosure won't wash. Tom Moyane - a pitiable character behind this tawdry saga - feels a bit hard done by, the justification for his shenanigans cruelly snatched from him. But unusually for a dissatisfied customer, he's not asking for his money back. Just a word, an assurance, that he hasn't been sold a dummy. KPMG unfortunately has moved on. It has bigger fish to fry.
McKinsey, meanwhile, is still in denial. Give it time. Be patient. It'll come around. As they say, denial is often the first stage of confession. Reality will catch up with it.These companies which came in - like thieves in the night - to do us harm, have fortunately been stopped dead in their tracks. South Africans should be mightily pleased with themselves for pulling off such a feat. And they did it by themselves, without the aid of their government or its institutions. In fact it is their government which invited in the enemy. The government is the enemy.
That's what so maddening and infuriating about the whole thing. That we're being stabbed with our own weapon. That our government is not only in cahoots with the enemy, it is in command of the enemy, directing and facilitating machinations. It is our money and resources that are so liberally and gleefully expended to put us in such a pickle. It's an unconscionable act, the sort that, in other countries, can get one jailed for treason.
That South Africans have risen up against such odds to frustrate these machinations is a feat worth celebrating. The battle is not won yet, but there's a small glimmer of light at the end of this dark tunnel. Given the trials we've been through, it's worth raising a glass in celebration.
And this being the month when we remember that we're a polyglot nation, we're entitled, I suppose, to go out and do the jitterbug, the tiekiedraai, indlamu, or whatever takes your fancy.But this also calls for some deep introspection. Why do such things always happen to us? Why do people come here (when they want) to do wrong? Why do they come here to engage in the sort of criminal acts that they wouldn't even think of committing in their own countries?
When Anni Dewani was murdered while on honeymoon with her husband, Shrien, in Cape Town seven years ago, the immediate reaction was of course one of sympathy and horror. But there was also surprise that the newly married British couple could have chosen South Africa, of all places, for such a happy occasion. South Africa and happiness just didn't seem to go together.
Social media was unremitting in its criticism of the country's pathologies, especially from expatriates. Surely, people said, the couple should have known of the dangers lurking around every corner in South Africa. It was only later that it emerged that this was in fact a premeditated kidnapping and murder. Three men were found guilty of Anni's murder and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment. The husband, who was alleged to have ordered the hit, got off, some say, because of the prosecuting authorities' incompetence.
And by the time the truth ultimately emerged, the country's reputation had been dragged through the mud. But Anni was killed here because a murder is nothing unusual here. It wouldn't have looked normal in pristine Bristol...