Honourable Mr. President

I was at the gym the other day, staring at the floor, hands on exhausted hips, trying to recoup from a treadmill experience. A pair of Takkies walked into my gaze. A pair of White Takkies caught my attention for some obscure reason? These Takkies had tasted and toiled the South African ground they were not reserved for gym escapades alone. They were not unkempt just worn. Proudly. Shamelessly. They had been washed one too many times as the fraying edges told the story of been beaten in the washing machine. They were not branded, probably a Mr. Price version of Nike, but what retrospectively caught my attention was how humble those Takkies were.
I glanced at their owner – a stocky proud African man. His rounded tummy snuck out of his stretched shirt, he kind of made me think of a black Winnie The Pooh, he looked very cute and had an air of hug-ability about him. He held a very used old Energade bottle on which I could see the remains of the day on the label as white sticky sediments of whatever flavour that Energade was. It was humble, Sunlight liquid had tarnished its appearance, but it indeed worked. The owner had a chilled yet confident expression on his podgy wholesome face. He was in no hurry to complete the circuit. He sat on the bench of one of the arm apparatus machines and checked the people fiercely carrying on with their individual battle to bodies. His battle did not seem as inflexible as the others – it seemed to me like whether he did 10 or 2 push ups he would still see himself as having accomplished a milestone. He was at gym. He was honestlty trying. That was the landmark.
I tried to fathom why the Takkies of an African Winnie The Pooh had such an impact on me? Then it came. Sunday night on Carte Blanche they interviewed Mmusi Maimane, the brand spanking new Democratic Alliance Leader and I saw what was hugging onto me so. I had heard that Mr. Maimane had taken over from his predecessor, Mrs. Helen Zille, but didn’t know much else. I didn’t care much else either, I had lost hope, I was grieving the pride I once felt when Mr. Mandela was leading us out of Egypt into our Promised Land, which has now sadly become Tarnished Land. I got to the place of total dissidence, what was the use in actually bothering to vote anyway? I was first shocked then moved as I watched this epiphany, Mr. Mmusi Maimane make his landmark.
This was it, I understood what the gym incident had tried to portray and wanted me to see through those dear White Takkies (bless). I saw a picture of a hard working, honourable, ethical and humble African doing what he can with what he has in order to slowly but surely shed the arrogance from the fattened calf, Mr. Zuma. He was shown in parliament addressing President Zuma, it was a bold reformation to behold. He said “Honourable President, when I use the term ‘Honourable’, I use it out of respect for the traditions and conventions of this House but please do not take it literally. For you, honourable president, are not an Honourable Man……Lead the way or step aside”.
I say to you Mr. Maimane, lead us! Walk South Africa into its predestined triumph, we have tasted it before. Mr. Mandela lifted an Honourable staff and the sea parted, now walk us through it. White Takkies, black feet.

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