Get political, or die trying

Whoever said I was a boring, old-fashioned man stuck in the Iron Age ought to think again. OK, perhaps some of these views on me are correct - like being boring, and the Iron Age thing. I guess the old-fashioned part would also be correct... alright, who am I kidding - I guess all the above statements are correct about me. But that is besides the point... Hoping to dispel some of these myths about me, I decided to check out what the Gobabis night life had to offer over the last weekend. The quest for 'emancipation' found me at a bar deep in the heart of Gobabis that has a name befitting what normally happens there - Dronklap Bar! I had barely made myself comfortable at a seat near the window (the entire pub was engulfed by cigarette smoke), when a group of friends showed up at my table. "You mind if we join you, comrade," inquired one. Wow, what are the odds! I had no idea the 'Aminuis Transitional Emancipation for Liberation and Hard Work Party' (AMITEFOLIHAP) had members in Gobabis as well. I mean, he called me a comrade! "Sure comrades, please join me," I said. As the night got older, the conversation around the table shifted to politics, with the ladies in the group - who all held post-graduate university degrees from institutions other than Unam - concluding that the country is going to the dogs. "Why can't Namibia learn from the developed world and improve the standards of living of most of its citizens living below the breadline," said one. "I agree, I mean it is really high time we stop blaming apartheid for everything and move on to develop our country," another lady agreed. At that point, a well-nourished man who had been eagerly eavesdropping on the conversation, and who I realised earlier during a conversation with a waiter had difficulty expressing himself in the queen's lingua, chipped in. "What do you mean when you say apartheid is no blame? Dat is de problem with you young people! Just because you drive 'be my wifes' and mashete, you think you can tell elders what to do. We in Swapo, including myself, died for this country." A member of the group, whom I gathered must belong to an opposition party, could no longer contain his disagreement... "That is exactly the type of politics that requires radical transformation, and taken to a wholly different school of thought and ideologies. We need to embrace Ubuntu, and take cognisance of the fact that it is virtue and not pedigree that characterises nobility..." Everyone, including myself, was seen going through the virtual thesaurus in our brains - none of us could make sense of what was just said. To break the tension, I asked if anyone wanted refills. "No comrade, don't go," said the group leader whom I had met first and pulled me down. "This man has it all wrong. What about all that money stolen by selfish people from government agencies?" he asked. Realising that her friend needed help, of the ladies attempted to offer help. "I guess what comrade 'AK-47' means is that people like himself and comrades 'Bazooka' and 'Shoot to Kill' over there really suffered and also want a share of the profits," she said. The conversation then dwelled on how the perceived feud between drivers of Mercedez-Benzes like yours truly and those driving those Rooi Oog BMWs has led to weakening of the yen against the US dollar - or something like that. By the time the night was over, we had taken over the VIP Pub, shaking our hips and doing the 'snake' dance to Ndlimani's 'Sema Oulipeni'. We even danced to 'Jaloers Bokkie', with my learned comrade going "...die levire is vor, my tlane lor..." (die riviere is vol, my trane rol). Well, we are one in Gobabis, as such we sing to all tunes - even those in Otjiherero. No wonder my friend Frikkie always has a toothache after a singing session - who said singing Otjiherero was a walk in the park! Ah, what a feeling it is to be at the people's parliament! So, next time you run out of reasonable conversations, you know where to go to have those 'meaningful' conversations. Until then... [email protected]