Just imagine Jacob Zuma had held an open house at Nkandla two years ago, when questions were first asked, says Jovial Rantao.
As the rooster’s call echoes through the valley, a woman walks past with a stack of neatly packed firewood on her head. Boys laugh as they enjoy a kick-about after breakfast. It’s a good day in Nkandla.
Just after 9am, several cars, travelling on the newly built tarred road, make their way to the household of President Jacob Zuma. It’s the media contingent about to visit the presidential private homestead. As the vans from television networks with satellite dishes atop whizz past, villagers of Nkandla don’t even bat an eye. They are used to their little nondescript place of abode being in the news.
It all started on that fateful day when one of their own became president of South Africa.
Then big things started to happen. The Zuma household grew, with new structures added on. A new tarred road was laid and authorities would have us believe that it was all a coincidence that the road went past the president’s private home.
Zuma had called a press conference. Driven by the principle that he had nothing to hide, the president had called the media to respond to the many questions that were being asked about his private abode. He had had enough of “homegirl” Lindiwe Mazibuko, the leader of the DA in Parliament, trying to portray that the president had something to hide in relation to the taxpayers’ money spent on the Nkandla estate.
On arrival at the Zuma homestead, the media would be greeted by a team of police officers, dressed in combat gear and heavily armed. The media would be asked for their identification before sniffer dogs went through each bag and vehicle. The hacks would then be ushered into a large dining room. They would be greeted by the grey-haired former cabinet minister, the inevitable Mac Maharaj, who announces that the president will arrive in five minutes.
And in five minutes, bang on time, the president emerges, with his four wives in tow. He shakes hands with a few journalists, flashes his trademark smile as his famous giggle echoes through the room.
The president makes his way to the table and he and his entourage take their seats. The four wives – two on each side – sit supportingly next to their husband and he begins to speak.
The president then goes on to painstakingly account for each taxpayers’ rand spent on his house and, to boot, provides copies of receipts, proof that he and no one else paid for his portion of renovations.
He then offers a guided tour of the homestead, starting with the main house, past the pool to the four houses for the four wives, each one clearly marked with a special name. A tour of the bunker is ruled out of bounds, for security reasons, as is the president’s bedroom and the inside of the wives’s residences.
But we managed to peep into MaKhumalo’s spaza shop where the president jokingly announced that there was no special prices for the media. “Even I have to pay for everything…”
MaKhumalo’s spaza shop is right near the main gate and the perfect spot for the president to put an end to his exercise of transparency and accountability. He shakes hands again, flashes the famous Zuma smile, the giggle echoes through the valley and the media contingent departs.
Imagine if it were true. Just imagine if this happened two years ago, when questions were first asked about Nkandla. The president would have nipped the controversy in the bud. He would have yanked the millstone from around his neck and thrown it into the Tugela river.
He would have led by example and demonstrated to South Africa that he is a living example of a leader who believes in transparency and accountability. There would have been no investigation and no drama and a waste of taxpayers’ money by the security cluster ministers who tried to stop the public protector from publishing the report. There would have been no need to turn the public protector into a political football.
Zuma would be known as a president who leads by example when it comes to transparency and accountability, and not as the president whose cabinet would do their all to hide why millions of taxpayers’ money was spent on his private residence. Just imagine.
* Jovial Rantao is editor of the Sunday Tribune.
No comments:
Post a Comment