kagablog

I put a tie on my khaki suit, take off my jr hat, ponder for a little while, put it on again, wear my HIV\AIDS ribbon, loudly singing the English , Isizulu and Sesotho parts of the national anthem, and saying aloud the greetings in these languages to see how far I’ve gone with working on my accent. For the first time after forty years of its existence, Orange Vaal Kultuur Fees will be open to all cultures and races and I am the master of ceremonies (these days it is called program director). Mine is a task insurmountable. The folks understand the realities that it is mission impossible to sell the orange that is an all white cultural festival to the emergent rainbow nation that has become a part of the global village. They realize that a multiracial festival will be more sellable and that we need few black faces to be able to court corporate and government funding. Yet I still need to assuage their fears that our culture is about to be thrown in the dumping grounds of history. On the other hand I need to make the whole country believe that ours is not token transformation. My own personal image is at stake here. I have to assure the guys that I’m still worth the salt and at the same time show the government and the international community that the Orange Vaal Kultuur Gemeenskaap -the name change debate is still coming- is committed to transformation. I definitely need to master the art of uttering statements with a multiplicity of meanings and saying things that mean different things to different people depending on where they stand and what blinkers they wear.

I really have to dress up for the occasion and be everything to everybody. Thus far I’ve been equal to the task. The khaki is for the folk, the hat is for the crown-as you know we are back in the commonwealth and the sun shall never set on the British empire- the tie is for civility, the ribbon is a political statement, the singing of the official national anthem is as right a thing to do as paying your television license and the multi-lingual greeting is as politically correct as they come. I can handle situations like this because I am a practical man for whom convenience is the only dogma and existential conditions the supreme reality in life. For me the world is my place as long as I am able to be the right person for the right moment and assume the correct role at the right place in time. I have seen and done it all and like a cockroach I have survived earthquakes and all sorts of storms. In South West Africa I was Mr Government, in Angola I was a hired gun, in Mozambique I supplied the guns, at Quito Cunavale I was the fuel, in Kwazulu-Natal I fuelled the fire; in Boipatong I provided the fuel. Tonight I am the program director. My goal is reconciliation; my message is to forgive and forget the skulls in the closet to bury the past and its woes to celebrate the present and its scandals to be ready to feed on the carcass tomorrow. For me the man of all times and citizen of the global village there are no fixed roles and rigid rules but the universal law of convenience and gain, or profit as it is called today. I ask one and only one question-what is in it for me? The choice to be a trouble-maker or trouble-shooter depends on my gain\ profit \ convenience \ comfort\ security. I have been a dove in times of peace and a hawk in times of war and I have been a hawk in peace times and a dove in war times. What is convenient and profitable for me at a particular point in time and place informs my decision to choose whether I should make peace or war.

Today I am in my jeans and takkies and clad in one of the Dashikis I bought in the DRC the other day. I have made sure that I choose the one with the gold and black colors, and fit it with a green polo-neck jersey. My appearance must make a statement, even before I open my loud mouth to make a presentation to the local government on why my Afrique Events Company should be awarded the tender to host the official Ten Years of Democracy Celebrations. Everyone knows I am the most appropriate guy for the job. I provide all the freebies at the main rallies and events of every important political party, community organization and professional body known in this province, print free T-shirts for them, and generously contribute to the election drives of all the major political parties- off course, anonymously. I know the rule of this business my man. Flexibility, versatility, ambiguity and anonymity are the triumph cards. Fixed identities and grand master plans do not work here. I know this game like the palm of my hand because I’ve been through rainstorms, thunder and dust and bullets storms and all sorts of cataclysmic explosions as I traversed desserts, plains and mountainous areas in line of duty. In Biafra I was underground, in New York I am undercover, in Zaire I worked with the government, in Congo Brazzaville I was with the rebels, in the Democratic Republic of Congo I was in all sides, in Rwanda I was behind the scenes, in Johannesburg I am a poet, in Paris I am a pimp, in Kabul I am in the oil industry, in Somalia I was a peace-broker, in Baghdad I am a constructor and the future for me is as clear as clouds, in Zimbabwe I was in transit, in Equatorial Guinea I was into mining, and tommorrow I am going to Lebanon in transit to Israel as a road map consultant.