Anatomy of an affair
How did Malusi escape the blame, asks Sue de Groot
ANUCLEAR battle between two glamorous women dominated social media this week. In an interview aired on eNCA on Sunday, Nomachule Gigaba, also known as “Norma” or “Noma”, defended her public attacks on Buhle Mkhize, former mistress of Norma’s husband, Finance Minister Malusi Gigaba.
Buhle bit back, and in the ensuing fallout details of how the two women fought for Malusi’s affections were dredged up and consumed with alacrity by those who thrive on gossip.
Apart from a request for the press to leave his family alone, Malusi has remained wisely silent as the storm rages. He and Norma have displayed their solidarity by eating sushi together in Cape Town.
Perhaps he is filled with shame and regret, but a small part of him might well be enjoying this different role — the big man desired by two beauties. It must make a change from having to answer awkward financial questions.
Whatever his feelings on the matter, the focus of the firestorm has been on the war between the two women. Very little has been said about the actions of the man who caused all the trouble in the first place.
The timeline of the complicated affair can be somewhat confusing to anyone who missed the first round of hostilities.
In a nutshell: the Gigabas got married in August 2014, a few weeks after Buhle, also known as “Boo Slayer” the minimally clad Instagram queen, claimed to have begun an online affair with Malusi. Malusi later denied the claim. Buhle got mad. Norma retaliated. Buhle apologised but, according to her records, carried on carrying on with Malusi.
Norma got madder and called Buhle a prostitute. Buhle stopped apologising and got nasty. Norma stood her ground and, eventually, Buhle went away and everyone forgot all about it.
Until now, because one of the questionable advantages of sharing your private matters on public platforms is that anyone can access your past at any time.
Malusi’s promotion to a senior post in President Jacob Zuma’s cabinet has inevitably brought scrutiny to bear on those closest to him.
The purpose of Norma’s televised interview last week was to give her the opportunity to answer queries about the influence she wields over her husband and whether public money is spent on her expensive habits, among other things.
When asked about Malusi’s affair and why she had so viciously attacked his mistress on social media — a question prompted perhaps by her Instagram post weeks earlier, in which she wrote “Betrayal is the most painful thing and it takes the longest time to heal and to be able to trust again” — she replied: “This was my husband. I’m the one he made vows to and I had to take care of the situation.”
And that’s how the second war began. A volley of tweets from Buhle tore Norma to shreds on all fronts. It questioned Norma’s qualifications and hinted that she has links to the Guptas. She accused Norma of lying and called Malusi a “very black frog”. A Facebook post, which Buhle subsequently claimed to be false, threatened to reveal his private parts.
In November 2015 Buhle posted a letter on gossip site justcurious. co.za that sent social media into a spin. Her vitriol in that lengthy defence of her conduct was mostly directed at Norma, but if there is any veracity to this version of events, Malusi was the catalyst for all the unhappiness, as a weak and greedy waverer who tried to keep both women for himself while keeping them apart from each other.
There are, of course, three sides to this story, and Buhle’s is only one of them.
The love triangle is an ancient institution upon which countless dramas are based. When it plays out for public entertainment, the audience reaction differs according to who occupies which of the three points.
When two men fight for a woman’s affections, the woman is all too often branded a slut, a tease and a faithless flibbertigibbet. The men are simply following their hearts, and to the victor the spoils.
When two women go to war over a man, the scorned mistress is often seen as a brazen hussy and the wronged wife as a slightly pathetic creature. The man is just the man, sometimes even pitied for the difficult position in which he has somehow found himself.
In the Malusi-Norma-Buhle contest, all eyes are on the catfight and both female combatants have been showered with contempt.
After her interview, Norma was trolled for her lack of erudition and her ill-advised remarks about an envisaged rebound of the rand.
When Buhle, or whoever was claiming to be Buhle, entered the fray, social media trained its guns on her instead, deriding her apparent attempts to bring down Norma and prove her own desirability. Many voiced sympathy for Malusi as the furies of hell rained down on him.
It is easy to ridicule Buhle. She’s a social media cipher, all breasts and bottom and bad-ass attitude.
She has not gone out of her way to demonstrate any depth of character but she is still a real person, and if even half of her 2015 account of what happened between her and Malusi is true, the picture of a moneygrabbing, fame-seeking siren is tempered by glimpses of an emotionally vulnerable woman exploited by a powerful man.
According to Buhle’s essay, titled “The Affair”, she began flirting with Malusi on Instagram and later through private SMSes a few weeks before his wedding. She admitted to being involved at the time, but said Malusi made no mention of the fact that he was engaged. She discovered this when pictures were posted on his wedding day.
In the narrative, Buhle claimed that Malusi continued to pursue her after the wedding and convinced her he deeply cared for her, hence her outrage when his wife discovered this liaison and Malusi claimed Buhle had been the pursuer.
It was a case of she says, he says. There is no proof either way, but as an advocate might say: the letter goes to state of mind, my lady.
There are some entertaining parts in Buhle’s confession, “Please note that I have both a telegraphic and photographic memory”; and much that is sordid, “I went ballistic when I felt as though Malusi was throwing his marriage on my face”; but some of it is profoundly sad.
“I didn’t care but I cared,” concludes one paragraph, and another: “To be honest I sort of felt badly and wanted out.”
The incident where Buhle and Norma spoke on the phone is filled with pathos. “I told her everything and finally communicated woman to woman . . . She pleaded with me to break up with him and I promised I would.”
Buhle claimed to have received a substantial “gift” to stay away from Malusi. “He didn’t call it that or a bribe,” she wrote.
“He claimed he was just giving me a gift because he felt badly that I’d lost someone I love and went through
❛ She pleaded with me to break up with him and I promised I would ❛ I’m the one he made vows to and I had to take care of the situation
so much because of him . . . his verse was now how much he loves me but must do what’s right, the usual married man crap.”
In a subsequently deleted public post, Malusi said Buhle had an unhealthy obsession with his family and that he regretted involving himself
with her. Which sounds eerily similar to lines spoken by Michael Douglas in the 1987 film Fatal Attraction, another story in which a woman is demonised for events set in motion by a man.
All this may seem like nothing more than an idle distraction from more important matters.
But, taken as an allegory it becomes more sinister.
If the country Malusi has sworn to serve is his wife, and those whose actions destabilise South Africa are his mistresses, to whom will he ultimately be loyal?