Jonas, the guardian of the people
IWAS watching the live streaming of the first day of the state capture hearings chaired by Deputy Chief Justice Raymond Zondo because, like all South Africans I suppose, I really wanted to know what actually happened.
The first day was a bit boring because they discussed terms of reference and the first witness offered some understanding of the government’s tender procedures, but the revelations by Mcebisi Jonas just took my breath away.
I mean, I knew already what happened at the meeting at the Gupta’s house in Saxonwold but his testimony fleshed out the episode in painful detail. It showed how ruthless and conniving the Guptas seemingly were and how they allegedly infiltrated and influenced the once proud liberation movement, through their control over the ex-president.
The revelation that the Gupta brother threatened to kill the deputy minister of finance, if he disclosed details of their meeting, was shocking and frightening – and showed the lengths that the crooked would go in order to enrich themselves.
I must have dozed off during the lunch break (It was almost midnight when I watched it on live streaming) and started to think about a time when things were so much simpler.
One of my most enduring childhood memories was being snuggled up in bed and listening to my father telling us a story. He had a way of dramatising the story that made the characters come to life in my imagination.
I would be enthralled as he squeaked like a mouse, whispered like a princess and boomed like a giant as he weaved his way through the story – with his sound effects for the wind whistling through the icy mountains and the tumultuous thunderstorm exploding over a fragile wooden house somewhere deep in the forest.
He would take a usual story and then subject it to his own unique treatment because the storyline remained the same – but he would inject new and interesting characters and twists into the story. All his stories had some life lesson embedded somewhere within the drama and he would expect us to ask questions.
Of all the magical stories, one still resonates after all these years. Now I know the original story, but I preferred his version.
It was about this honest man who lived a simple life until one day he saved the life of the queen after she fell off her horse and tumbled into a flooded river.
The queen went back to the castle and told the king what had happened and the king decided to reward this man.
So the man was invited to the castle to see the king. Everybody cheered him along his journey until he reached the gates of the palace. The guard greeted him and then told him that the king was going to reward him handsomely for his bravery.
The man was a bit uncomfortable with the idea but then the guard threatened him and told him that he must give him half of what the king gave to him. The man reluctantly promised and entered the castle.
The queen was so happy to see him and the king thanked him and told him that he could have anything he wanted. The guard licked his lips at the prospect of getting half of what the king gave the man.
The guard’s face fell as he heard the man thank the king and say that he didn’t want a reward. The king saw that the queen was disappointed and, because he wanted to make his queen happy, insisted that the man choose a reward.
The man thought about it for a few moments and then said: “I would like 100 lashes across my back!”
The king threw his head back in surprise and explained that he wanted to reward the man and not punish him. The man insisted that he get 50 of the 100 lashes and the guard should get the other 50 because of his promise. Then my father would have one of his dramatic pauses and my brother and I would anxiously ask him what happened next.
He would say that he would continue the story the next evening. We would pester him to continue with the story but he would not relent.
“What do you think should happen next?” he asked.
I know that sounds like an innocuous question, but that’s how we became immersed into a discussion about morals and human nature. More important than that, however, was the lesson that we had some control over the stories and the effect that they had on our lives. This was an invaluable education.
Then came the question: “Which character would you like to be in the story?”
Now remember that we were hardly old enough to go to school at the time, so our critical faculties were hardly developed. I knew nothing about philosophy so I couldn’t engage in a discussion about ethics or even free will versus determinism – but that didn’t stop me from choosing to be the honest man, even though he would probably receive 50 lashes in the process.
I suppose it’s easier to make such choices when there aren’t any real consequences to the choice. But watching Jonas deliver his testimony about being offered R600 000 000 to become the finance minister of the Guptas and a cash incentive of R600000 in a packet, I had to wonder what kind of man would turn down such a lucrative offer.
Well, little did I know at the time that the man who was telling us the story had faced a similar decision.
You see, my father had left teaching to take up a job as the regional organiser and inspector for Natal for an insurance company that sold policies to non-whites.
After a few months, he realised that it was a crooked scheme and he decided to report the company to the police.
The bosses of the company approached him and offered him a substantial amount of money for his silence as well as a promotion. He refused and persisted until the bosses were brought to justice and sent to jail. The case was prosecuted by Dr Percy Yutar and made the newspapers and the Drum Magazine in September 1960.
I’m not sure how these state capture hearings will eventually pan out, but we should never forget that politicians are guardians of the people. They are, ultimately, public servants and what some of these public servants are doing is treason – deserving of the ultimate punishment. Still, people get the government they deserve.