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Episode V
Load-shedding permitting, I shall do my best to bring you the saga of Sir Erec Geraint in this episode. Erec was the son of King Lae Lac, of Ester-Gales from the far-off kingdom of Bronkhorstspruit (25º48.602’S 28º44.138’E), originally called Kalkoenkransrivier, as you well know.
King Lac was a sensible king who ruled his household and country wisely. He had one wife and two children. He taught his son, Erec, and his younger sister, Edwina, to live frugally, spend money wisely, and to breed parsimoniously.
“Money doesn’t grow on trees, children.” King Lac used to say. “It comes from hardworking peasants who pay taxes from the earnings gathered in the sweat of their brows.”
“Read this, my son, and let it be a lesson to you.” He called little Erec over, and handed him a copy of the Ester-Gales Times.
“Gladly, sire,” said little Erec, who was only in Grade 2, but, because they didn’t have a 30% pass mark in those days, he could easily read the news report.
“King Badwill Sellaweenie, of the KwaZulu-Nkandla kingdom, who gets R54.2m a year for mahala from the government, is so broke that he cannot even buy groceries for his household of six wives and twenty-seven children. And to crown it all, he doesn’t even have to pay taxes,” he read aloud.
“The fool!” said little Erec, “Why do the peasants allow King Badwill to get away with wasting their money? Surely, this is wrong?”
“Little Erec, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: don’t call me Shirley. You can address me as “Sire, your Majesty, your Royal Highness,” or “King Lac,” but never as Shirley.”
“Just because I wear a silken G-string, a purple dress – with frills around the neck and sleeves, powder my hair, use lip-gloss, and simply adore Chanel Number 5, doesn’t mean that I’m a closet queen. Now off to the stables with you, my little dahling, and go learn about horses and manure.”
“I beg your pardon, sire,” said the castigated little Erec, as he wandered off to the stables.
In his father’s stables, he was cheerfully greeted by the Master of the Horse (Moth): “Morning, I see you’re up nice and early. Surely, you must be in a good mood.”
“Moth, you bloody ignorant peasant! I’ll have you flogged! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times: don’t call me Shirley. You can address me as “Sire, your Majesty, your Royal Highness,” or “Prince Erec,” but never as Shirley. Now teach me about horses and manure.”
“Well, your Royal Highness, it’s like this: Equus ferus caballus is one of two extant subspecies of Equus ferus. It is an odd-toed ungulate mammal belonging to the taxonomic family Equidae.”
“I know all that,” said the impatient little Erec, “get on with it.”
“The height of horses is measured at the highest point of the withers, where the neck meets the back – or where the back meets the neck – depending upon the direction in which the horse is facing when it is being measured. The withers are used because it is a stable point of the anatomy, unlike the head or neck, which moves up and down when the horse is running. Besides, it is fairly difficult to measure a horse’s height while it is trotting at a full gallop.”
“The English-speaking world measures the height of horses in hands, i.e. one hand is equal to five fingers; two hands are equal to ten fingers; three hands are equal to ten fingers and five toes, and so on, and so on. The height is expressed as the number of full hands, followed by a point, then the number of fingers and toes (if any), and ending with the abbreviation ‘hh’ (for ‘hands high’). Thus, a horse described as ‘15.2 hh,’ is 157.589 cm in height. Quite simple, really.”
“Many products are derived from horses, including meat, milk, hide, hair, saddles, bridals, spurs, outlaws, cowboys, stage coaches, Indians (honest ones, not the Gupta type), Colt 45’s, boots, and pharmaceuticals extracted from the urine of pregnant mares.” (Didn’t know that, did you, Sakkie?)
“An estimate of a horse’s age can be made by looking at its teeth. If a horse has two teeth, it is two years old; four teeth, four years old; five and a half teeth, six years old with a sweet tooth; eight teeth, eight years old, and so on, and so forth, and so fifth, and so Firth of Forth, which is the estuary of Scotland’s River Forth.”
“If the horse has no teeth, it’s probably not a horse at all. What you’ve got there then, is almost certainly a giant anteater (Myrmecophaga tridactyla), also known as an ant bear – a large insectivorous mammal native to Central and South America. But, not to worry, these mix-ups do sometimes occur in the heat of battle.” (Anteaters have no teeth, Sakkie?)
“Thank you, Moth, you’ve been most helpful,” said little Erec. “Now teach me about a piece of stinking manure.”
“Oh, you want to know about King Badwill, sire?”
“Yes, what is wrong with King Badwill Sellaweenie. How come he gets all that money for mahala and he still can’t make ends meet? Is he just plain stupid? Does he think money grows on trees? He is a bloody disgrace to the Zulu nation, and nothing but a parasite – living off poor people the way he does! Tell me quickly, what is wrong with this leech who gets millions for doing nothing! Hurry up, before the Curse of the Looming Load Shedding catches up with us!”
“You see, sire, it’s like this: King Badwill, like most of his useless, corrupt contemporaries, seems to think that there is bottomless pot of gold in this country. They have no idea of the…”
*Kwaaah!*
