Vote local

The vote has come and gone and now they are trying to build coalitions (without having to compromise), but these were my thoughts then.

I was so thankful when we voted on the 3 August because it was getting to a point where we couldn’t bear to watch another politician slinging mud, not listen to another false promise, not look at another poster with an insincere smile.

So the morning started with our neighbourhood vuvuzela blower calling us to vote at 6:00, just as the birds were starting to chirp and the dogs went out to pee. He blows that vuvuzela often but never this early, usually it’s late afternoon or before a soccer match. I have pulled out my vuvuzela from time to time to converse with him. He often sounded so lonely, like a Black-collared Barbet trilling uninterrupted all day and getting no reply.

Then Helen phoned me. I thought Mmusi Maimane was the DA leader, so why on earth would Helen be phoning me. Although I must admit I did not let her finish her recorded message, for all I know she wasn’t even canvassing for votes but trying to sell insurance.

Soon after I received an SMS from both the ANC and the DA. Another thing that had been driving me crazy during the election period, the constant SMSes with no stop option. STOP.
So the queue at the voting station seemed long but I had only got to page 3 in my book before I had to pluck my ID out of my handbag. 15 minutes from the back of the line to back in my car.
Last time it had taken two hours so now I had the rest of the day off. Yay! I bought jeans, plants and had a nap.

As I was driving to the nursery they were discussing, on the radio, whether families all voted for the same party, was there this shared loyalty etc. Whoa, the calls were so entertaining. The one girl had proudly put on her DA t-shirt and her mother told her to take it off, she can’t go out dressed like that. Another woman phoned in to say that her and her husband have never discussed politics in all the years they were married, I think she said 37 years, I can’t remember the exact figure. It reminded me of the time I went to lunch with a friend and before the bill even arrived we were no longer friends. She was screaming at me eventually because I was too thick to realise things were better before. For whom, I asked. Politics, dis ‘n lelike ding. A hateful email received and a hateful email sent. Then the end. I have seen her once since, in Woolworths, I pretended I hadn’t and she probably did the same.

Anyway, back to the present. So the next day you would have thought we had the IEC as a client at the agency because every screen was open on that map tracking the vote. Some of my colleagues were more enthusiastic with this process than I have ever seem them. Let see some of that on the next project please.

They interviewed a professor from Unisa days later, after the official results, and he said yes, the writing was on the wall for the ANC. Another statement he made that provided food for thought was that history has shown that liberation parties don’t survive. And why is that?

The local elections are behind us now and they were pretty intense. I wonder whether the next national elections will surprise. Wait and see.