Nothing Personal: “Did Marie Antoinette know she was losing her head?”
It’s that silly time of the year, when all is hectic before it finally winds down.
That final, exhausting push before we can all just slow down, switch off, recharge and try again next year.
Good or bad, we can all be pretty sure that what happened this past year, will meet us again in the next.
Now imagine planning the much anticipated rest and inevitable return thereafter, if you were the president.
Would you be worried about losing your head, or keeping it? I wonder if Marie Antoinette knew
If all goes well, it will be business and other stuff as usual. 2013 will greet him, on a Tuesday not far from now.
If he survives Mangaung and I could only imagine what would be an expensive, gluttonous family Christmas in the freshly built Nkandla family home, he will be welcomed back with a plate full of friction: e-tolls resistance, Eskom-increase resistance, Labour unrest,
The Secrecy Bill, The Economic melt-down. So many people wanting so many things! Who would want to return to that willingly?
Maybe if you build the walls high enough, you don’t hear the screams?
The Château de Versailles had an expansive garden between it and the gates.
The people really have to scream and protest creatively to be noticed on the inside.
I’ve never been to Nkandla, but those who tried were blocked some distance away ...
But, then there are the other things: Spy Tapes, Nkandla, The Arms Deal and so on.
Could it be that holding the key to the top-office is the only way to cover-up, shut-up, pull and tuck and smear, turn a deaf ear, where needed?
Will all the skeletons come a-tumbling once the lock on the seat of power is broken?
Could it be that holding on to power is the only way to hold on to the benefits that far outweigh those associated with the job of top public official?
Could it have nothing at all to do with leading the country and building a better life for all and everything with the other stuff?
Why would anyone in his right mind, sign up for another term of indecent exposure? And, for how long will the people carry the can?
I can’t shrug the image of Marie Antoinette in her palace, stuffing her face with Pâté de Foie Gras and Petit Pour off golden plates, brushing off the protesters banging against the palace gates begging for bread, with a “let them eat cake” comment.
I wonder if she ever really believed that her head would land in a basket, until the blade finally fell and it was too late to think?