Africa-Press – Lesotho. UNCLE Tom has resigned as leader of the All Basotho Confusion (ABC) party. He announced his exit from politics as if he was delivering news of death. But if he expected people to mourn his departure, the reaction showed that he is painfully out of touch with the loathing he amassed over the past few years.
Instead of grieving, ABC supporters heaved a collective sigh of relief. A lot shed tears of joy. Some ululated while others immediately dusted their braai stands for all-night shindigs.
They were not farewell but GR (Good Riddance) parties. You know the parties organised for terrible bosses who are leaving. The ones where colleagues pretend to be sad that a boss is going but their hearts are almost leaping out of their chests with joy.
The resignation or retirement that gives you an orgasm. Only a few blindly loyal zealots were disappointed. Being fiercely apolitical, Muckraker was unmoved because it wasn’t news at all.
Uncle Tom ceased to be the ABC leader the day he got hitched to the Feselady. There is ample evidence that he has not been in charge of the party since 2017.
The deal was sealed when he stood beside that elaborate yellow dress at Setsoto Stadium and said: “I, Thomas Motsoahae Thabane do take you …” Anyone with an iota of grey matter knows that is when the cookie started crumbling.
That it coincided with his failing health hastened the Feselady’s capture of the party. From there on the old timer handed all the reins to the drama Queen who turned the party into her play thing.
The Sweet Sixteen shoved the ABC in her armpit and raced to the veld for a long session of ’mantloane. The result is the chaos that unfolded thereafter.
Left in the hands of an excitable blabbermouth who doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘shame’ the party was on a yoyo. So Uncle Tom didn’t resign last Thursday but in 2017.
Many sane minds will not miss Uncle Tom. He was an incompetent prime minister who thrived on delivering ‘sound bites’ rather than substance. True, he had a way with impressionable minds.
So charismatic that he could transform a funeral into a disco. He is a typical example of a man who was promoted to his position of incompetence. And boy, did he bungle as if his life and that of his Feselady depended on it.
His speciality was to disperse blame. It’s Metsing. It’s Mosisili. It’s Mahao. It’s Majoro. It’s the drought. It’s the criminals. It’s government officials.
It’s the ministers. It was always someone else’s fault, never his. When his government was a mess he blamed it on coalition partners and inept ministers.
When the party was crumbling he said it was factionalism fuelled by Mahao. When Mahao vamoosed, he said it was Mr Softie. Uncle Tom refused to accept that he was the problem sharing a bed with another problem.
So if you ask Muckraker how she will recall Uncle Tom the answer is simple: A man who opened his zipper and peed on the little legacy and credibility he had.
A 55-year career of nothing but farts. An overhyped political chameleon who stumbled into a premiership and worked overtime to undermine himself. The one who ended up ruling from a petticoat.
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