Ndumiso Ngcobo thirsts after parliamentarians

Something weird, wonderful, and simultaneously tragic has happened in recent years. The average South African is watching more parliamentary sessions and other political proceedings on the telly than ever before. If it’s not a commission of inquiry probing shenanigans, it’s a special sitting or a parliamentary portfolio committee grilling a cabinet minister.

I call this relatively new development “tragic” for a reason.

Before I watched our politicians and other political appointees being grilled live on television, I used to suspect that they were, generally, an inept, unimaginative lot as dull as a packet of Cheese Curls. The tragedy is that through all this direct exposure, my suspicions have been confirmed.

The dullness of political figures is the reason I often find my mind drifting instead of listening to them evading questions. For instance, during former president Jacob Zuma’s long, dry “What have I done?” session with the SABC’s Mzwandile Mbeje, I found myself looking at his clean-shaven skull and mug. Not even a hint of a follicle. And this has been the same for years. Did he have a live-in barber at Mahlamba Ndlopfu who shaved him every morning? When he’s travelling abroad, does the barber come with? Or does the former president use hair removal cream in the shower? If so, which one? No Hair or Veet?

I thought I was the only one. These days I spend my Monday to Thursday afternoons co-hosting Kaya FM’s drive time show Uncaptured with Kgomotso Matsunyane. One afternoon she’s staring at the TV screen during some briefing by suspended SARS commissioner Tom Moyane. In a very quiet, disinterested voice, she remarks, “That man has one of the thinnest necks I’ve ever seen.”

A few days later I see Minister Nosiviwe Mapisa-Nqakula on the same screen. I hear these words escape my lips in the same demure manner Kgomotso’d used: “I’ve never really noticed before just how beautiful this woman is.”

Kgomotso bursts out laughing because, apparently, she had been thinking exactly the same thing.

This developed into the idea for a call-in where our listeners could share which public office bearer they have a crush on. Like every idea on radio, you go into it not entirely sure if it will work. After all, for the longest time, a culture has been forcefully shoved down everyone’s throat that our public representatives are beyond reproach.

We needn’t have worried. Apparently, radio listeners have huge boners for public political figures. We nearly broke the Kaya FM phone lines that afternoon in response to our question “So who would you totally do?”

It didn’t take too long before one Mcebisi Jonas was galloping ahead of the pack — by a long mile. And he never relinquished his lead. The recurring theme was his suave, “clean” look. It was fascinating, therefore, that the second highest number of votes went to the EFF’s Dr Mbuyiseni Ndlozi, who is anything but suave and “clean” looking. In fact, he seems to revel in the deliberately unkempt look made popular by Ché Guevara and Castro.

There was also a collective sharp intake of breath in the room when someone submitted the name of former DA MP Tim Harris. And then some fellow called to submit the name of another DA leader, Phumzile van Damme.

What were my submissions, you ask? Well, one of the occupational hazards of being a newspaper columnist and a loudmouthed social commentator is that moment when you run into the subjects of your commentary.

It happened some years ago when I had to interview former president Zuma on radio after commenting about the shape of his cranium.

All I can tell you is that the objects of my political crushes share one thing; the X-factor.

As I said on radio, there is something wild in Dr Makhosi Khoza’s eyes. But there’s a good chance that I will run into her one of these days and I might have to go hide in the bathroom.

During the ANC conference in December, I remember going on and on on the radio about Baleka Mbete’s apparent makeover that had taken 20 years off the speaker of parliament. That evening, while on a walkabout in the Nasrec precinct, I ran into her. You have not seen a grown man stare at the floor as sheepishly as I did.

In a very quiet, disinterested voice, she remarks, “That man has one of the thinnest necks I’ve ever seen”