This and that with Mal'phosa - It's all fake

Hey, happy new year everyone. I wish you an awesome year; wealthy and healthy, I mean, really wealthy, not fake wealthy. How did you manage gifts for your loved ones under these trying economic times, especially with the advent of Mr. Bearer's Cheque The Second, called bond something? I mean, really, even the most worthless currencies in the world have names, names that sound like money names, that sound exciting and attractive and lucky - names that will tell you, you are counting - like 2 pula or 40 kwacha or 500 metical or 1 dollar or 25 shillings or 5 huang whang, names that will tell you how much you are worth - your real worth, not fake worth.

And, how did you manage those difficult friends and relatives who think you owe them and every year you must pay for being in a relationship with them? Three weeks before Christmas I started receiving reminders - Xmas box phela sbali or bhudi or mzala. I did not answer; I only changed my 'Whatsapp' status and put a prayer instead; "Help me oh god not to think of what I can get but what I can give." This, it seemed, did the trick. All I got afterwards were merry Christmas and happy New Year messages, something that cost me very little.

One very interesting merry Xmas message came from a friend I was with at primary school. He was, according to the teachers, a very slow learner. What others leant in a year, he would need two years to do. Hence it took him fourteen years to complete his primary school education.

But he had a way of compensating for his slowness; he was aggressive stubborn, rude, angry, warlike, and laughed louder longer and rougher than anyone should one of the 'bright' ones give a wrong answer in class. If he gave the wrong answer himself, as was always guaranteed and someone else laughed, the guy would wait until the teacher went out for some reason or other, and he'd descend on the whole class. The teacher would come back to whiffs and sighs and tears. No amount of punishment or reprimanding would stop this hooligan. Further, he'd vala ngawe on the day schools closed. He would traverse full cycle, covering every path from school making sure all who owed him paid their dues. We got home with swollen eyes, scars, scratches, loose teeth, bleeding noses, cracked lips, lacerations and general body pains.

His message showed he was grown up a bit and had developed some sense of humour too over the years - that is, if he was not joking. In his message he said to me,

"Malphosa, am invited mself to you plaice this hapy Chrismast and mary knew yearl. angidli kakhulu mina - two loafs of bred with jem and rama and and 12 egg two liter of melk and sex mags of tea and two fool shicken and tree plat of ryce and tree kg of biff and tree two litre of black coco cola and two litre of green coco cola le tree tins of Koo bins (sic)." Lack of punctuation here made me think; these goodies will be gormandised in quick succession indeed - may be even in record time.  He continued, "Ones I have eat this, inhliziyo izoba mnyama one tyme." He didn't visit, luckily. I wondered if he wanted to sell or distribute to the needy, like Father Christmas does, or it was just a fake list. 'Ngiyatwala ngembambo konke gazi', that was his answer when I asked what he was going to do with all this grocery.

Of course, there are some people that never change; like this girl from Dlawe. She was a tough cookie even in class and would make many boys look like mere sissies. She used to be the slowest learner in her group, group six. Siguga lamaxolo aso (isalukazi?). She has grown up to be that still arrogant, disrespectful, warlike, rude, heartless, intolerant, unfeeling, unsympathetic woman that everyone attending Mbuma Hospital would love to hate.

Miss Ndlovu was my junior at primary school but still she acted like the most senior, moving from classroom to classroom, terrorising other students and leaving behind a trail of tears and scratches. Fast forward to the 90s, and she is a 'Nurse' at Mbuma Hospital, with no formal training at all. I gather that she went as far as form 2 with her education and did some Red Cross course of which she failed the Practicals. But she calls herself a nurse - not even a fake one. Rumour has it that she sweet-talked her way to 'promotion' - by telling the good white doctor, Dr Snoop, that, ngiyabazi abantu bakithi - let me deal with them - I will make them pay! Well, not in such good English because even now she can't construct one grammatically correct sentence. Her English language, as some would say, is fractured in many places. But then, this is not about English or lack there-of - but how she treats her own people.

The last time I saw her she was a general hand, 'umathanyela'. Now she consults and prescribes and gives injections and medication. Of course, just like when real things like money decide to leave and fake money takes its place, qualified nurses left too and many fake ones mush-roomed. Little knowledge is dangerous – and it is this little knowledge that has continued to mould Ms Ndlovu into this ogre, determined to make the community pay. Still, it is this little knowledge and desperate times that have put the lives of our people at risk. But, do they have a choice?

I was there over the holidays and I saw her chase away a number of seriously ill patients because they had no money to pay. "Liyazenzisa! Ngizalisotha mina!" She embarrassed an 86 year old man because he had no money to pay for consultation. "Lifuna izinto zamahara! Wena khulu, ubudala buyelatshwa? Ufuna uku westa umuthi nje mahala!'  
It saddened me to see one of the most senior citizens of our district being wheeled away on a wheelbarrow, humiliated, helpless, and with the 'nurse's' insults pursuing and propelling the wheel barrow towards the gate. All present stood transfixed: shocked, helpless, scared.

Many avoidable deaths have occurred around her catchment area – and all of them blamed on her by the community. If she had done this or that, or, if she had not done this or the other, so and so would still be alive! This is a chorus all too familiar in Mbuma and surrounding areas. If only she had - - - or had not - - - but she remains steadfast in her dream to make the people pay.

And if you are so unlucky as to have umntwana ose Goli, you can almost smell the bitter jealous; "Lidla ama rice lama salad but alifuni ukubhadala esibhedlela', as if it's her own private practice.

Many are longing for the good old days when the likes of Dr Marry from Scotland and the likes of Mampisa and oma Moyo labo Ma Siziba made the hospital a small paradise. This was before all these went away, ushering in the nurse form hell. When I saw the numerous complaints on face book over the last few months of 2016, I was hoping the authorities would take action to remedy the situation. Nothing has been done, and the pain and despair continue, and the people continue to pay!

There are so many fake little dictators in our midst, so many it would take us a century to uproot them all! But then all dictators are fake – fake speeches fake smiles fake promises fake elections – all fake!

If I may ask why do we treat our kith and kin like we are demi-gods to be worshiped? What happens to a sponge once its work of sucking out the dirt is done? Ngiyabonga mina!