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Whenever I hear or see someone labeling themselves as an “activist,” I feel like doing the crappy-in-my-nappy thing.
I suppose most of us do it: We read an article on these pages, and sometimes we click on the writer’s Display Name (I cannot bring myself to call most of them “authors”), to try and find out more about this particular individual.
Most contributors leave the About Me area blank. But some have strange ways of describing themselves. You know the ones I’m talking about:
About Me: Life on Earth is an illusion. I’m not here. Neither are you. We have all gone to Heaven. Heaven is real.
About Me: I put out. Please contact me on my Blog or Twitter or Twat or Website: www.iputout.crom Let me put out your cat or dog or husband at night.
About Me: I Blog. That’s all.
About Me: I am a Seventh-Day Adventist. That’s all.
About Me: I don’t Blog. That’s all.
About Me:The knive are cutting boaf ways. It are SkerP.
About Me: I am an Eighth-Day Adventist. That’s all.
About Me: I talk about BDSM, science, politics, and religion. But not right now. I’m tied up, and manacled, and have this plastic ball stuffed in my mouth.
About Me: I am a Ninth-Day Adventist. And that’s not all.
And then, these guys:
About Me: I’m a Greenie-Beanie, Weed-smoking, Pot-headed, Warmongering Activist. My mother was a Vegan and my father was a Pagan. Blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda…
About Me: Don’t touch me on my studio. I’m an activist for untouched studios. My studio has never been touched. And it never will be touched.
And so on, and so on. I just don’t get it.
How do you become an activist? It’s not as if you have to study, or train, or practice to become one. It’s not like being an electrician, or a doctor, or a pilot, or an anthropologist.
It seems to me as if an activist needs no qualifications, or education, or experience. Like a politician, or a Pastor, or a cop, or a secondhand car salesman.
I have always thought that an “activist,” was what we used to call in my mother tongue, Nayderlunch, a “stront roerder.” Meaning: an unemployed, unemployable, trouble maker – like the activists we so often see in the streets of our “beloved” country – burning tyres, blocking roads, stoning cars, and destroying property.
The activism industry in this godforsaken country is HUGE. Can you imagine the amount of money spent yearly on T-shirts, printing, KFC, buses, tents, sound equipment, etc, by our politicians and trade unions? It runs into millions.
I have always been a bit of a loner. When I perform, I don’t share the stage with anyone – especially Steve Hofmeyr. I don’t do tandem skydives. I don’t toi-toi with the mindless masses. I don’t share a toilet seat with anyone. I don’t march down the streets with a bunch of rioting, looting, protesters.
When I march, I march alone. Ex-Sergeant Majors don’t march with the rank and file. We’re in a class of our own.
But that’s about to change.
The massive pothole that hatched in the street in front of my house has turned me into a raging, drooling-at-the-mouth, activist. Let me tell you about it:
There is this website where you can report municipal faults – potholes, parks, traffic lights, water, signage, drain covers, electricity, roads, grass, refuge removal, sewerage, street lighting, public toilets, and OTHER. (Whatever the other might be.)
www.Ogaats.co.za claim that they make reporting municipal faults as easy as 1-2-3!
First you select a fault type; next you select the fault location; and, lastly, you add a photo or description. Ogaats will route your report to the correct local authority, and you may follow up using the contact details they provide.
So… I did the three steps (included a colour photo of the pothole), and within minutes, I received the following e-mail:
Your municipal fault report on Ogaats.co.za is being moderated (#1009). Your fault report was submitted. It is currently being moderated. Once it has been accepted you will receive a copy of the report email sent to the appropriate authority.
Great, I thought. Now we wait. But not for long. Fifteen minutes later I received another e-mail:
Your fault report on Ogaats.co.za has been accepted (#1009). Your fault will be reported to the following municipality: City of Tshwane Municipality.
One minute later, I received an e-mail from the City of Tshwane Municipality:
SA’s Capitol Golfing Tournament, Pretoria Country Club, 12th to 15th March 2015.
Bliksem, Sakkie!!!
Talk about adding insult to injury!
I want to have the flippin’ pothole repaired, and the bankrupt Tshwane municipality is telling me to use the bloody thing to practice my putting technique!
That’s the final camel that broke the straw!
Next time the mindless, T-shirt wearing, KFC-eating, rioters are activating down the streets of Pretoria, I shall be joining them. I have this urge to burn some tyres, stone some cars, block some roads, and destroy private property.
I am an activist!
