Londi Gumede
Ah, the Government of National Unity (GNU), or as I like to call it, “South Africa’s Great National Experiment in Group Work”.
A few months have past since the GNU was formed and while the rest of the country is trying to figure out whether this was a stroke of political genius or the longest-running episode of “Survivor”, we, journalists, are still scratching our heads in confusion. After all, it’s hard to report on something when half the time you’re not sure if you’re watching a parliamentary session or an improvised comedy show.
When the GNU first kicked off, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. Politics is where the real stories are, right? I imagined myself covering high-level debates and watching ministers strategise like chess grandmasters. But what I’ve witnessed is a game, all right, more like a slapstick routine, with inexperienced politicians tripping over their words (and sometimes their feet), ministers getting their portfolios confused and, most hilariously, backbenchers from parties who seem to be pinching themselves to check if they really are ministers and MECs.
The Government of Provincial Unity (GPU) in KwaZulu-Natal is a whole different circus. I’ve spent more time trying to figure out who’s in charge of what than I have been writing. You see, one minute we are in a media briefing with the MEC for Transport, and the next thing, the MEC is explaining the intricacies of human settlements and worse, health-care policy. Talk about a job rotation system! Is it versatility or plain confusion? The jury’s still out.
The problem is that many of the politicians never expected to find themselves in these positions of power, especially the IFP and the National Freedom Party. They were once the backbenchers of minor political parties, content with simply occupying their seats and collecting their salaries. Then, boom! the GNU dropped them into government roles for which they had never been trained. It’s like watching someone who’s never boiled water before trying to host “MasterChef”. But certainly, something is up in this province of King Misuzulu.
I once sat through a speech where a minister spent 20 minutes explaining the importance of “digital infrastructure” by which they meant fixing potholes. Another time, a newly-minted MEC asked why “cordless phones” weren’t being considered in the province’s rural development plan. I mean, bless their hearts, they try, but sometimes it feels like we’re being governed by a group of well-meaning, but hopelessly lost, tourists. Hello Big Five, Where is the elephant going?
Of course, the other funny side effect of the GNU is the exodus of journalists into government communication roles. Maybe they wanted to be closer to the action. Or perhaps they figured: “If you can’t beat them, join them.”
Those of us left have to fend for ourselves. We’re like the last survivors in a post-apocalyptic newsroom. Our colleagues have traded their notepads for ministerial briefing books, while we’re here trying to decipher the political equivalent of hieroglyphics.
And then there’s the clumsiness. Oh, the clumsiness. I’ll never forget the sight of one politician – new to the grand theatrics of parliamentary debate – attempting to quote Shakespeare in his speech. “To be, or not to be,” he began confidently, before trailing off. “Uh … what was the rest of it again?” He turned to his fellow party members, only to receive blank stares. A helpful aide finally rushed over with a piece of paper, but by that point, the damage had been done. The opposition benches were howling with laughter, and so was I.
There’s also the matter of trying to keep a straight face during media conferences. When one politician recently confused the national debt with the national diet (yes, really, it’s our time to eat, mos), I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. And don’t get me started on the one who mistook “infrastructure development” for “insect preservation”. Look, I’m all for saving the bees, but I don’t think that’s what the voters had in mind.
At the end of the day, the whole government set-up feels like watching a school group project unfold. Everyone’s scrambling to do their part, but no one’s sure what the project is about. Don't get me started with the principal, okay, I quit that. Some are showing off, others are winging it and a few are hoping they don’t fail spectacularly.
But maybe that’s the beauty of it all. In a weird, twisted way, the GNU shows us that politics doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom. It can be, dare I say it, funny. Even if it’s funny in the way watching someone slip on a banana peel. Until I either join the exodus or succumb to the madness, I’ll keep writing and reporting. After all, who needs late-night comedy when you’ve got the GNU and Donald Trump across the Atlantic?
Londi Gumede is a freelance writer and journalist covering politics, economics, sports and travel.