The controversial Great Wall of Bryntirion is not a R90 million import to protect the upper eschelons of our politburo against major crime. That as many tell us doesn't exist. It is now known as 'Redistribution and Culling'.I wrote this on 3 March last year, but I still want to share it with you, as so much of it is still relevant now. I was there when Chinese President Hu Jintao came to the Presidential kraal to have dinner with Thabo and Zanele Mbeki. It was a touch and go moment for me. I was supposed to be at my grandchildren's school where they were presenting a series of tableaux depicting the Groot Trek and the Battle of Blood River. Why they are still doing things like that I wouldn't know. I just remind myself that when I become President, we will look very closely at what our children are taught at school under the cover of truth. The legacy of apartheid history can be summed up in one word: all lies. Happily I was spared that school performance with my two black grandchildren as boere tannies, kappies on head and hands clasped in prayer. I was in Thabo's kitchen cooking the babotie for the President of China. He'd heard about it from that mad Kim Jong-il, who'd intercepted the recipe on its way to Pyongyang and the discussions regarding North Korea's nuclear threats. The whole of Asia seems to be fascinated by my recipe for reconciliation. I even sent it to the Congo peace talks with our Minister of Foreign Affairs, Nkosozana Dlamini-Zuma – but then she ate the recipe. It was at dinner that the Chinese leader presented ons eie Thabo with his official gift: a small brown Pekinese puppy called Madame Mao. It never stops yelping. At least they didn't call it Tony Leon! When the realization dawned on the party that this small creature might wander into the busy street outside and be mowed down by one of the speeding police vehicles, I ventured a suggestion. “What about a wall?” I whispered. I once tried to buy that Berlin Wall to put around Soweto, but the Germans had already broken it. Here was a chance to get the job done properly. There was a moment's pause and then Hu Jintao beamed. Through his translator he agreed with me. 'I will send you the perfect wall from China. We have lots of it left.' So not only will the Great Wall of China now snake around the Presidential Compound in Bryntirion at the cost of ninety million rand to the taxpayer, but little Madame Mao will feel very at home in her own forbidden walled city. Formerly known as Libertas and now, thanks to the need for adaptation and historical correctness, called Madiba-ungungluvu. WINNIE-ANTOINETTE IN HER VERSAILLES I took Pik Botha to see the film 'Marie Antoinette' last night. It was so beautiful to look at and while many people have criticized it for ignoring and trivialising the French Revolution exploding outside, I couldn't help thinking how accurate that attitude was. How many of us during those years of our Versailles of Seperate Development sat oblivious in our palaces and tried on new shoes, ate little cakes and giggled behind closed doors? My son de Kock thinks this film brilliantly encapsulates today's young generation who also have sealed themselves off from the facts of life through their internet, fashion, drugs and fear. Then Winnie Mandela is robbed of R4 million worth of jewelery! Suddenly we are back on the brittle kerb of reality. What is it with this woman? I will never forget how frightened we were of her during the height of her struggle and our tussle. When she ran away from her banishment in Brandfort and paraded around Soweto in contempt of her banning order, she was the most famous and visible representative of an underground tsunami we tried so hard to contain. And yet I always felt some feeling of admiration for this black cobra of liberation. I even sent her a birthday present to Brandfort in the 1980s. I knitted a toilet-seat cover in the ANC colours which, of course, were banned. If I had been caught putting the green, gold and black together, I would have been arrested and put in jail! So I hid in our toilet in Laagerfontein and knitted in secret. I managed to smuggle the package to her, thanks to a sweet-toothed security policeman who liked my koeksisters. She sent me a note. She liked the colours, but didn't know what the 'thing' was. It seems we'd banished her to a house without a toilet! Well, I hope Winnie finds her lost things soon again. Yes, it was her birthday last week. I sent her a R50 Woolworths voucher. I think she's got a toilet-seat cover by now. SKATTEBOL To Sister Terre'blanche somewhere in Limpopo, who heard me speak on radio last week and, because of what I suggested, has made it a reality. I want to put orphanages and creches into old-age homes. She has done it! She says all the old people have been reborn as instant gogos and the little ones have someone to hug. Love is the order of the day, and it costs nothing! HAIRBALL To all the troubleseekers who are trying to find reasons to use songs to overthrow the peace and tranquility of this country. Starting with Jacob Zuma and his umshini wami: when I am President I will send him to Somalia as the SA Ambassador. He will find more than enough umshini's there! And as for that de la Rey hymn? It's like 'Sarie Marais' during the Anglo Boer. Or 'Jerusalem' during the Falklands. Or 'Jou kombers en my matras en daar lê die ding' during Codesa. Sing and dance; don't sing and fight!
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