All we the people yearned for a pause,
From the Big Men of blah blah blah’s cause.
Jacob-the-Victim, shedding buckets of tears,
Filling his fire pool, yearning for his Umshini Wami yesteryears
Cyril the faint-hearted, in a puzzling trance,
Millions of dollars found in his sofa by chance
But the joy-sucking Commissar takes the cake
With his fiery red beret, and his words of hate.
In February he began with a stunt,
Storming the stage at the Sona, wyd kant.
Desperate for relevance, he used red rage to show his rise as the King of Woke.
Sadly we saw it for what it was: an attention-seeking joke.
But Julius, undeterred by facts or reason,
Ordered a shutdown, a rebellious season.
March 20th it was, with a goal quite dramatic,
To oust President Ramaphosa, a plan erratic.
Yet, how embarrassing, when none joined his chorus,
His call for rebellion went unnoticed by us.
In May, with a claim, hysterically bold,
He predicted a grid collapse, a story untold.
And who to save us? Oh, the irony’s rich!
Molefe and Koko, both accused in a glitch.
Part of a scandal, a corruption case vast,
Yet Malema saw them as saviours, unsurpassed.
Come July, in a move of power and might,
Malema confirmed a decision, under the spotlight.
Two hundred and ten of his own, shown the door,
For failing in tasks, they were part of no more.
Yet he, in his glory, on a podium raised,
Confetti around, as if he should be praised.
A messiah, a saviour, in his own fancied dream,
But to the onlookers, it was a cringe-worthy scene.
Attacking judges, threatening peers in his party,
Praising a tycoon, his actions not hearty.
But the grinchiest moment, oh, it takes the cake,
Was his call against the Springboks, a shocking mistake.
Claiming they stood for supremacy, white and stark,
His words, not just harsh, but missing the mark.
So here stands Malema, in this tale quite real,
A tin-pot tyrant, with a grinch-like appeal.
A cheer-sucker, a limelight seeker, in actions and voice,
In a world needing unity, he made a divisive choice.
Thus ends our story, in Seussian rhyme,
Of Julius Malema, in 2023’s time.
A character, complex, in South Africa’s vast play,
A reminder of choices we all make each day. DM
By Heretic, with a little help from an AI bot who says she’s resigning from rhyme after this foray into human madness of the South African kind.
This story first appeared in our weekly Daily Maverick 168 newspaper, which is available countrywide for R29.
