Malacoda from Malebolge

And as it come to pass, hard to believe, but nevertheless, there; in front of our eyes, deep in thought, the man given the mantle to stop the moral decay besetting our society, the man of whom is said; “The Lord Zuma’s favourite disciple”, sitting on his Harley, with his Prada gear and his diamond encrusted gold begging bowl, in front of the Herbert Baker designed temple of largesse, looming large and imposing against the southern slopes of Meintjieskop and overlooking the capital, Tshwane – capital of the country, governed by The Lord’s chosen political party and model of transformation – and ironically, like the great disciple Creepy McCrawley, on the brink of bankruptcy.

Mc Crawley, it is believed, came here to seek advice from his master, Lord Jacob, who told his faithful servant to be humble and not to be above begging. He related the story where he, Lord Zuma, by showing humility and no shame, managed to collect R 1.5 million from the poorest of the poor in one afternoon to fund his battle against the devilish forces of the judiciary and assorted and a mixed-grill of other assorted demons.

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The Lord Zuma, apparently, was overheard telling McCrawley, and I quote; “So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you”. Lord Zuma explained to the disciple that it was “African to beg and appear humble. He did however tell his faithful disciple not to allow donors to dictate terms explaining that there are some limits to humility after which Mugabe-style revenge is in order. This message must have been welcome especially after seeing himself as the man described by Leonard Cohen in the song that has been echoing repeatedly through his mind for days, the incessant, “I saw a man leaning on his wooden crutch, he said to me, you must not ask for so much”. Truly a harrowing experience.

Imagine the faithful disciple’s relief after Lord Zuma made it clear that he should not compromise his lifestyle. He explained that McCrawley was given the role as moral guardian because he had the class and “Bling” of a Yengeni, Cele or any other “natty” dresser in the Broad Church and, after all, they would not want spiritual advisors looking like John the Baptist after 40 days in the wilderness.

At the end of the day McCrawley came out of the meeting with a spring in his step. He had the reassurance that the Presidents office will sponsor any shortfalls left, after the church paid their share of the Prada, Blue Label, Meerlust and restaurant bills. He had Mantho’s telephone number, who will ensure proper botox treatment and the odd snip-snap for Mrs. McCrawley, who, as we all know, firmly believes, and rightly so, that it is Gods wish and the will of Lord Zuma that she looks good. The last thing we want is for madam to look like the Witch of Endor or some other demon straight from Malebolge.

He also had the telephone number of a financial advisor, a financial wiz from beyond the grave with the ability to cheat the astute officials of the department of correctional services, many medical specialist and even death. Armed with the number than the assurance of Lord Zuma that, if he believed, this man, Shabby Shaik – a man who is not only good at providing financial independence but also has enough knowledge of Voodoo to give the faithful McRawley the gift of eternal life he has been preaching about – will take care of McRawley’s needs.  

Sitting there, McRawley was thinking, planning the big fund-raisers. Bigger collection buckets in church, an exclusive banquet for the rich and famous, a party of note, where business can meet the people close to the Lord Zuma. He may even have a foot washing session. Imagine what some will pay to have their feet washed, with Blue Label nogal, by the Lord Zuma’ favourite disciple. With his 60^th birthday coming up soon, what an excellent opportunity.