Take your Bhibiza!

February 28, 2010

Because it is my culture!

Filed under: Blogs of Olde — Dave Sowden @ 9:03 am

Being a Zulu seems to have some perks that being male and pale I don’t benefit from. If I were a Zulu, I could marry every woman I saw, and make them sit on the floor, possibly even have a routine beating session, I could even have sex with an HIV infected 14 year old next-door-neighbour, because it would be in my culture to do so. If we are willing to let the Zulu’s do their own thing, because of cultural and traditional reasons, then what can the rest of us do, that would normally be frowned upon,  but would be excusable because of cultural beliefs?

The Indians and the Chinese should be allowed to light up the skies, and often themselves, with fireworks that border on explosives just about every second day, as their culture uses pyrotechnics as a form as celebration. Much like the slaughtering of a cow in the Zulu tradition. Just recently the slaughtering of our bovine friends was brought into the media spotlight, as the SPCA and bunny-huggers alike felt that the way in which the steak-on-legs was slaughtered was inhumane. The middle part of that word is “human”. Does this mean that however the cow dies; you wish it to be given the same dignified death as us humans? Should it be allowed to live to a ripe old age before having to cart a drip around an old age home for cattle, and then be buried in a T-bone steak shaped coffin? I think not, that would mean there would be a lot less fillet for the braai if that were the case. But that is an argument for another day. What we are talking about here is the tradition in the Zulu culture that needs Buddy the Bull to be tied down and have his throat cut, with a sharp knife. The court interdict sought to prevent this was over turned, much to the joy of the Zulu’s who were afraid they might lose an essential part of the culture. So Mr Wang, and Mr Naidoo, please come set my garden alight with your beautiful explosives, because I like that part of your culture.

Actually Mr Naidoo, I would like to buy your daughter, I know she is only nine, but I think she will one day turn into a beautiful wife. And if she doesn’t, I’ll just make her dress head to tail in a black pillow case. I can hear all you other pale skinned fellows saying SIES… You need to hold your tongues, because anyone of European decent has the same right. Back in medieval times, you bought into a family’s title, by selling off your daughters to noble families, or made your sons marry Little Miss Piggy, because her father was the Duke of Arsehole, or wherever. And age was no problem either. In which case; you youngsters who think your best friends sister is quite nice, get your fathers talking, she could be yours before the end of the week. And while you’re at it, how about marrying three or four of them? You can show off just how wealthy your family is. The Zulu’s can, so take a Zulu name, something strong like Themba or Goodwill, and get your orgy going.

Court cases and stupid squabbles about whose wife is whose, or who saw my daughter first, would be a thing of the past. My culture allows me to fight my foes to the death, whether it be like the Zulu’s who do it with a knob-kerrie, or with a sword like Masseur Le Petit Bit Frenchman used to do it, or maybe even with a musket like the English used to… Ten paces and then I am going to turn around and shoot you in the face with a bazooka, because that is my culture, and traditionally disputes were settled in this way.

If you don’t feel like doing the garden, off to the slave market we shall go. We can buy a slave for the garden, one for the kitchen, and one to look after the children. This was common practice throughout the world for centuries, and still goes on in some places. I’m fairly sure Sheik Al Mohammad in Dubai has an entire army of slaves. For us Africans it’s just that much easier, as our biggest export back in the day before minerals were discovered, was anyone weaker than you, as you could then drag him to the market to be sold as a slave. So go knock on number 23’s door, claim his daughter as your wife and the rest of his family to come slave in your home, because your culture has definitely done it to someone else at some stage in human existence and so it should be your right to do so too. Unless it is your culture that has been chosen to be made into slaves, in which case you should sell your belongings and report next door for duty, and save yourself the hassle.

These are just some of the nicer traditions, how about some of the more macabre ones? Like hunting Aboriginals, the Aussies did it, and sounds a lot easier to shoot an “abbo” than a leopard who can hide quite well, and may hunt you if he sees you first. Or how about eating people, invite your mother-in-law round for lunch, and then serve her as the main course, with a couple of the noisy neighbourhood dogs as the entre. And if you were late, then I would have you killed, as Shaka Zulu himself used to do, in essence African-Time didn’t mean when you felt like, but rather be there five minutes early, to make sure you didn’t have to swallow the end of an assegai. These are all part of someone’s culture, so therefore they have merit.

We cannot forget the more modern cultures. Let all the Cape coloureds out of jail, because it has become part of their culture to rape, murder, steal and be general all around baddies. So let them go, because it is now part of their culture. And if you are of old South African Afrikanerdom, then pick up the closest non-white by the ear, toss him in the back of your bakkie, and make him your house boy, as this was part of your culture until a few years ago.

You can now see where I am going with this. Cultural beliefs are generally the bit of the slaughtered bull that you put on your roses, to make them grow nicely. And the few that still exist are hard fought for, because they are not part of the singular modern culture that everyone follows. I feel it is either all or nothing. And if we were to go with all, then everyone should be allowed to do it.

So, this Christmas, while my house-boy helps the slave in the kitchen, and I sit in my perfectly manicured garden that another slaved has toiled over, I the Duke of Poephol, will have a Zulu with a strong traditional name like Ngegozi, tie one of my many teenaged wives’ mother to a tree and have her humanely slaughtered for the Potjie, then I will set my house alight with fireworks, as yet another slave rounds up the neighbourhood dogs for a bit of a braai. And then I wish to hear Mr Goodwill Zulu take his Bhibiza. Considering they invented it, I expect the sound of his big lips smacking the back of a hand will ring loudly in my ears. Anyone fancy some Grandmother for lunch?

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The Sbu 500

Filed under: Blogs of Olde — Dave Sowden @ 8:58 am

Every now and again I’m offered lavish gifts for the services I render to the fair people of this fine country. When I say every now and again I mean at least once a month, the lavish gifts are speedings tickets and the fair people are those varks from the traffic department, for the speed I use the roads built by the equivalent of the Vukuzakhe project in the Cape… But this is beside the point. I often wish I could return these presents, but Yaakop Zoomer insists I keep them and instead pay the people who send me these gifts back in cash.

Sbu Ndebele was given a Mercedes Benz S500, or what I now call a Sbu 500, by the 30 000 contractors who benefited from the Vukuzakhe project in KZN while he was the premiere. He is now the new Minister of Transport in Big J’s new cabinet. And therefore it is fitting that he be transported in something luxurios and expensive… Unsure of what to do he spoke to the BigBoss about what to do with these gifts. He was told to use his discretion and if he wished to keep them, that they must be reported as gifts to parliament.

So he gave back the R1.2 million Sbu 500, as well as the other gifts. Now I can understand why he would give back the huge plasma TV and the wine glasses, as he probably already has those… And the car could be considered a little too lavish to be JUST a present… But the two cows given to him by the taxi business’s, why would he give those back. Traditionally cows are worth more than money, more than cars, more than anything. They are worth sex! A man would traditionally buy a wife with cows, so he could enter her Garden of Eden. How could he be expected to give those back?

The best part of this story is, Mr Jesus Zorba did not set the tone for his term as President by saying “we as the Cabinet will not accept gifts for good performance”. The reason for this is he doesn’t expect to recieve many gifts for good performance, so take what you can get… If the cows were given to Jacob, he would have bought another wife and driven her like a Sbu 500.

Is this a sign of things to come? If so make me a minister, shower me in gifts and I will work my bum off! Or maybe this is how the government is going to rescue the economy, by insisting that good service delivery is rewarded well. I guess that means that those offering no service delivery will be paid none-the-less, but shouldn’t expect any gifts. To the varks at the Traffic Department, keep sending me your presents, I will not be returning a thing, not a cent, regardless of your service delivery!

Squeaky Clean, a new “sham”poo from Julis Malema

Filed under: Recent Bhibiza's,The Malema Dilemna — Dave Sowden @ 7:15 am

Standing in the shower this morning, I was comparing my new bottle of Sanex shower gel with the old empty bottle. The new bottle has Dermo-Active 3, compared to the old one which just had plain Dermo-active, whatever that might be. So I read the ingredients on the back of the bottle, and they are identical. Now to a non-chemical engineer, I don’t know what most of these things are, apart from aqua, which I am told is water. How can they call water an ingredient when I have to add water to my hair before I applying the shampoo. So surely water is a prerequisite, that exists outside of the bottle of Head and Shoulders? But I digress…

 With a little research on the internet, I found out that “Ammonium Lauryl Sulfate” or the gentler “Sodium Laureth Sulphate is used in most shampoo’s and shower gel type soaps. According to jasoncosmetics.com, this stuff is used in clinical trials the world over as a skin irritant, and as a detergent can get into your heart and liver and stuff. Now the only shampoo I would consider drinking is the Body on Tap, with beer extract or what not in it. It tastes horrible though. So I’m guessing this stuff isn’t getting to your heart and liver and stuff through your stomach, but rather through your head.  They need to do some studies into whether it has an effect on the brain, especially the Hypothalmus (which controls sex drive), as I am lead to believe both tiger and JZ use the same shampoo.

But the latest shampoo is called “Squeaky Clean”. It was developed by Julius Malema’s company called Sum1 Els Ideas, based in Limpopo. It is made specifically for those with little or no hair, attached to a head with little or no brains. The active ingredient is called “Loudia Mouthium”, which produces a rich and powerful leader, sorry I mean lather. The slogan is “Powerful enough to get mines and yours for everybody in the country!” . Apart from this slogan not making any sense, it also smacks of mine nationalisation, but I’m sure the leader of the ANC Youth League would keep the things he does in his personal capacity separate from the political sphere.

This new shampoo is remarkable, as it also does not need the other ingredients that any of the other soaps needed to get passed by parliament, such as “processed dew”, which is essential for any other detergents to be considered for daily use by people as high up as our dear president Jacob, or the minister of Police, Nathi Mthethwa. It is a dew process, that is completed by the relevant leaders in the relevant fields, to make sure that there are no impurities or mistakes. So that when it is eventually put onto heads, by everyday people, as well as those in parliament, it does not create the wrong impression or cause any major fall-outs.

Julius Malema, this isn’t your first bhibiza, and it certainly won’t be your last! There is a process everyone has to follow, if they want to get things done… You cannot bypass this process just by shouting louder than anyone who opposes what you say. Your “sham”poo company, I hope you are not the director… This would only cause more grief in your own life. With a rise in the amount of people losing their patience with you, I suggest you keep your mouth shut, or accept that your lips are going to be sore from all the bhibiza’s you take!

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