The Death of a Minister

With eminent miners, Nic Holland’s and Nicky Oppenheimer’s, expression of faith and confidence in mining life in South Africa, according to Susan Shabangu, potential investors and mine owners alike can be forgiven for thinking everything was hunky-dory.

Their belief, that the nonsensical and poorly written discussion document released by the ANC Kindergarten is nothing but a hallucination and a bag of typical Malema hot air, is totally understandable considering the utterances by Jeremy Cronin and Gwede Mantashe on Nationalisation. But then, what do Holland and Oppenheimer know, spending the bulk of their time plotting their divestment from South Africa they are bound to be slightly out of touch with reality.  

Shabangu, in the mean time, having assured investors that mines will only be nationalised over her dead body, must have seen her life flashing by for a moment on Sunday when Chairperson and stop-gap Ex-Deputy President, Baleke Mbete, informed ANC heavyweights that ministers and cadres should familiarise themselves with the content of the much-vaunted aforementioned position paper. As for the hapless white-Messiah, Jeremy Cronin, one can only wonder what the future holds.

It seems Shabangu’s past contributions – notably the shoot-to-kill policy, subsequently hi-jacked in spectacular style by Fikile Mbalula; mentor and friend of Malema – counts for nothing as she fights for her life, so to speak. Jeremy Cronin, unlike Kortbroek van Schalkwyk and Barbara Hogan, despite his many years of experience in struggle politics, still do not know his place in the pecking order.

From Mbete’s stance it is patently clear that the views of Malema prevails with the ANC heavies and the Long Schlong himself, who briefly popped out of bed to put to make it clear which hole he is drilling in a manner of speaking. It seems Malema, the Long Schlong’s love child and favourite son – according to that much respected genealogist, Mr. Ben Trovato, wields a bit more power with the elders than the inconsistent Shabangu and the dapper but naïve Cronin.

My advise to Oppenheimer and Holland; “Hedge your bets and, like Cynthia Carroll and so many others, go to Luthuli House and join the queue at Malema’s door. Perhaps the rotund little boy can find it in his heart to arrange a deal with the new movers and shakers in the Mining Industry, Mandela and Zuma Inc.

Nationalisation – A Matter of Life and Death

The nationalisation debate or non-debate, depending on your perspective, could become a matter of life and death it seems. Given the quarters in which the discussion rages at it fiercest, where stabbings and burnings are at the order of the day, some statements by major protagonists could  turn out rather prophetic.

I am referring of course to the spat between the Minister of Mines and the ANC kindergarten. Malema started this dice to death when he stated that nationalization of mines will happen in his lifetime, which means – given the average life expectancy of the South African male being down to 47 – the window for this envisaged nationalization of mines, particularly gold and platinum mines – Malema’s stated target – cannot be too far away. Those having false hopes that the window may be enlarged by Malema’s longevity, think again – the tsotsi’s obesity problem is likely to make the window even smaller and he,  realizing the risk,  are upping the ante on this matter.

Susan Shabangu, in reply to the Tsotsi, and in a desperate attempt to calm the nerves, told mining investors – already suffering jitters when they hear the words South Africa  mining and investment spoken in the same sentence – that nationalization will only happen over her dead body.

Shabangu’s statement are contrary to her position only a few months ago when she made her “State of the Industry” address, stating emphatically that mine owners will wish her dead for various reasons. Ironically, that same mine owners are now praying that she outlasts Julius.

However, those naively pinning their hopes on Shabangu, dare I remind you that the same Shabangu has made a number of U-turns on this subject? The statement by the DMR that state ownership of strategic mineral mines is just another form of nationalisation – nationalisation by stealth so to speak.

Anyone trying to get clarity from Gwede will be left justifiably confused, as Chris Barron found when he interviewed the “Jumping Jack” last week.

As for the leading fornicator, he is too busy building a nation to care about insignificant and boring little debates amongst the minnows. That is the stuff that his “Loottenants” deal with.

Anglo America, hedging their bets will not be derailed by the confusion and Cynthia Caroll, whilst promising a bail out for ESKOM and a great partnership in “strategic” coalmines, are reportedly consuming copious amounts of Chivas with the Tsotsi, discussing compensation for nationalised mines – anything rather than getting into bed with Mick Davis.

A Travesty and a Fairy Tale in One

And so the wheel eventually turns, or perhaps I should say; “As the stomach turns”

 It feels like yesterday when NUM members took hostages at the Two Rivers Mine in an attempt to reinforce their noble attempts at transforming the mining industry. The action by NUM at the time was not surprising, after all, one could say they invented and perfected the art of underground hostage taking. As a matter of fact, I am surprised that they, like the taxi drivers in the case of taxi routes, do not claim intellectual property rights.

Be it as it may, a rival union, on the self same Two Rivers Mine, has now had the audacity to infringe on the irrevocable and sole right – bestowed on NUM by the leaders they proudly spawned, Mantashe and Mothlanthe – to take hostages on mines.

To make matters worse and more insulting, the hostages taken are NUM members, more likely than not, the same people responsible for the previous hostage drama at Two Rivers. No wonder then the exasperation of NUM officials condemning this travesty of justice.

I could not help thinking about an hostage taking event not so long ago which has subsequently become the stuff legends are made off. The legend goes;

The Emperor and the Miners

Once upon a time at a Platinum Mine – in the far west of a country, well known for its dancing emperor and Clown Prince, the ruler saving money by multitasking the prince to fulfil the role of court jester and stand-up comedian – the workers, having been told, by the emperor that they were special and feeling they were entitled to all the riches of the platinum mine, an idea mooted by the Clown Prince, decided to cease work until their wages were higher than in any other place in the world.

The workers, quite rightly, believed they were solely responsible for bringing the ruler to power and anyway, he did promise them wealth and comfort beyond their wildest dreams should they carry him to power. The workers fought hard and dirty and got the emperor to power and this was payback time.

Much to the shock and surprise of the workers, now refusing to work in support of their demand for their promised rewards, the evil Mine Boss dismissed them, banished them from the mine banishing them to a life of hardship, a life without DSTV and washing machines. The Evil One brought in other workers; workers who promptly and without hesitation took over the meaningless jobs with great proficiency. Imagine the confusion, humiliation and surprise of the Banished, having been chased away like worthless dogs, witnessing the cockroaches that have been begging for jobs day-in and day-out at the mine gates, taking the jobs that rightly belonged to them, the members of the guild of miners, who swept the Emperor to power.

They were understandably upset and appealed to their guild and the Clown Prince and the Emperor to assist them with reinstatement but to no avail, because friends of the Emperor were also friends of the Evil One. When they saw there was no deliverance from the fate delivered upon them, they slinked back to their houses. There they lay about, drank beer frolicked with their wives, when mentioned wives returned from the fields, where they were trying to eke out a living.  However during lonely moments they, the Banished got together and counted there remaining and fast dwindling cash resources with great concern.

And so it came to pass. Whilst they were sitting around drinking beer and bemoaning their financial woes, having realised the money promised by the Emperor for the unemployed was barely enough to buy food, a scary short little man of demonic appearance arrived, as if out of nowhere, in their midst. This little man of much power declared himself to them as the Tokoloshe – master of malevolence

The Tokoloshe, having listened to doleful lamentations, presented them with a plan so evil, it almost froze the blood in the veins of the bravest warriors amongst them, one of them, Funa Pumile, so-called because of his urge to rest often, afterwards swore the HIV viruses in his body instantly died. The Tokoloshe as is his want, did not only give them a plan, his servant, dressed in a splendid blue uniform, not dissimilar to that worn by the Emperors Police, gave them short sticks that fired very small arrows at great force and velocity. One of the banished workers fired a test arrow at the wall of his hut to find his recently born baby as dead as a dodo. Strong muti indeed.

The Tokoloshe also had his personal witchdoctor at hand and he promptly supplied the banished workers with a potion, made from wondrous herbs blended with body parts of the now dead baby using a machine – borrowed from a workers kitchen, they haven’t reached the pawning phase of hardship yet – blessed by Russel Hobbs himself, to give them immense strength and make them impervious to the weapons of their enemies.

After drinking their potion, mixed with copious amounts of alcohol, and smoking lots of magical herbs the banished and rejected workers proceeded to the mine with sticks, dancing and singing, jubilant in the knowledge that they will regain their positions, and more. After all, did the Clown Prince not ask for the seizure of mines by the people? Did the emperor’s councillor on gold, gems and fabulous mineral wealth, not threaten the evil mine owners to fit-in-or-fuck-off? They marched with the knowledge that, as in the past, their ruler expects them to act strongly and take, with necessary force and commensurate trashing, what is rightfully theirs.

Soon after they arrived at the mine, whilst they were singing and dancing, summoning the great spirit of the Machine Gun and focussing their minds, now slightly befuddled by a haze of intoxicating herbs, a few rotund policemen, not dissimilar in appearance to Mr. Plod, good friend of Noddy, arrived and prevented them from approaching the Evil One where he was sitting in his sumptuous office sipping coffee and counting his fortune.

Having recognised friends and allies amongst the police and not wanting to hurt friends, they used tactics taught by the Tokoloshe and some of the Emperor’s advisers many years ago and staged a fake retreat. The police, not seeing any killing opportunities, promptly withdrew, signalling the opportunity for the banished workers to attack and breach the defences.  

And children, that is what they did.

They broke through the barriers of steel and concrete and proceeded underground. There they secured an area and promptly proceeded to, using the skills passed on by guild leaders and Emperor’s advisors, construct pipe bombs using pipes and explosives liberated underground. They secured a comfortable area, not to cold and not to warm, a suitable sleeping place, for those that do not have watch or bomb making duty, where they could dig in so to speak.

Once they secured their control centre they did what they do best underground; they promptly went to sleep, all of them except one, a man by the name of Katalile Minadagiwa, who, due to his inability to participate in logical debate and being a fan of the Clown Prince, having studied every speech ever made by the crown prince, was chosen to negotiate with the Evil Owner.

In the meantime, the police were called back and arrived with the police’s newly trained special forces, flown in by special jet, in tow. Whilst the suitably obese police commissioner shouted instructions, Katalile spoke to The Evil One on the telephone, demanding the presence of the ruler, the Clown Prince or the big cheese of the guild. 

Whilst this hullabaloo was carrying on the task force proceeded underground armed with rifles, grenades flame throwers and all manners of violence perpetrating equipment, to back up their newly acquired licences to kill, proudly displayed on cards contained in a little pouches hanging around there necks. Positively professional, reminding somewhat of the ID tags of conference-delegates, all very smart.

Yes children; they were ready and well prepared to marinate, tenderise and roast their adversaries. The scene was set for an epic battle. A fight to death – a battle for the hart and soul of the economy.

The first bomb was set off by the rebel miners, a policeman was pole axed by shrapnel from the pipe bomb and all hell broke loose. After the lapse of a suitably long period of time to justify the description of ‘epic battle’, surpassing in length and intensity of the well publicised turf wars of the Zama-zamas having produced a sufficient number of wounded on both sides, the begrudged miners were subdued and hauled away to be drawn and quartered by the Emperor’s men, at the behest of the Evil One, who, it was learned, made a sizeable contribution to the “Welfare of the Emperor” fund.

The mine owner subsequently liberated his money and moved it to a far of land with an honest Emperor and peaceful hard working people. There he started a new mine and became immensely rich.

The Clown Prince became bloated and fat, and his head – like a black hole, dark, empty and dense – imploded and he became rather pleasant blabbering incoherently day in and day out in the process, driving the Emperor insane, prompting him to embark on a crusade against fair-weather friends.

The mines in the once great land quietly died and the workers returned to the land where they tried to eke out a living and eventually succumbed to famine and pestilence.

Ed. What a load of non-sense. You certainly have a wild imagination

Malema mining for Gold

Julius Malema told COSAS students that the ANCYL objective with nationalization of mines is to put wealth and resources in the hands of the people. He continued to say that they would start with gold and platinum mines because they are the richest. He also acknowledged that he was not educated and did not always understand the intricacies of business and economics.

The Clown Prince, with this profound statement shows his immense grasp for business. The bankruptcy of Pamodzi the closing of DRD and the divestment of Anglo from Anglo Ashanti, coupled with the sharp decline in South African gold production, with South Africa going from the number one global gold producer to number four, over the last few years, are not indicative of the veritable money machine Malema is talking about. Maybe Julius in his zest to bring the nationalisation issue to a speedy conclusion, and flooded with demands for his time and hate-speech engagements and burdened with the task of protecting the president against counter-revolutionaries, overlooked some of the issues besetting the mining industry, particularly the gold mining industry.  

As for platinum mines, outside the big four, there is a multitude of small platinum miners, unsustainable at realistic metal prices with a huge requirement for funding to bring them into production or to keep them alive.

What is interesting is that many of the small unsustainable and technically bankrupt mines have a big BEE component. These mines have become bottomless pits, swallowing vast amounts of money whilst delivering very little other than promises. The only return on investment in these companies are speculative profits derived fro share trading and the chances of making money ranks with gambling at any of the many casinos that amply dots the surface of the South African landscape. Hiding money under a mattress has a better chance of yielding a dividend than many of these mines.

Given the above,  I believe Mal(l)ema(n) is being put up to this by his BEE friends in the ANC.

Nationalisation of gold mines and some small, unprofitable and unsustainable Platinum mines will mean compensation for the owners. The state (taxpayer) will sit with a bunch of unprofitable mines whilst the compensated former owners and their agent, Malema who is having his palm greased, laughs all the way to the bank

Ever wondered why Zuma’s son and Mandela’s grandson would want to buy tired, exhausted and bankrupt gold mines?

The Emperor and the Miners

Once upon a time at a Platinum Mine – in the far west of a country, well known for its dancing emperor and Clown Prince, the ruler saving money by multitasking the prince to fulfil the role of court jester and stand-up comedian – the workers, having been told, by the emperor that they were special and feeling they were entitled to all the riches of the platinum mine, an idea mooted by the Clown Prince, decided to cease work until their wages were higher than in any other place in the world.

The workers, quite rightly, believed they were solely responsible for bringing the ruler to power and anyway, he did promise them wealth and comfort beyond their wildest dreams should they carry him to power. The workers fought hard and dirty and got the emperor to power and this was payback time.

Much to the shock and surprise of the workers, now refusing to work in support of their demand for their promised rewards, the evil Mine Boss dismissed them, banished them from the mine asigning them to a life of hardship, a life without DSTV and washing machines. The Evil One brought in other workers; workers who promptly and without hesitation took over the meaningless jobs with great proficiency. Imagine the confusion, humiliation and surprise of the Banished, having been chased away like worthless dogs, witnessing the cockroaches that have been begging for jobs day-in and day-out at the mine gates, taking the jobs that rightly belonged to them, the members of the guild of miners, who swept the Emperor to power.

They were understandably upset and appealed to their guild and the Clown Prince and the Emperor to assist them with reinstatement but to no avail, because friends of the Emperor were also friends of the Evil One. When they saw there was no deliverance from the fate delivered upon them, they slinked back to their houses. There they lay about, drank beer frolicked with their wives, when mentioned wives returned from the fields, where they were trying to eke out a living.  However during lonely moments they, the Banished got together and counted there remaining and fast dwindling cash resources with great concern.

And so it came to pass. Whilst they were sitting around drinking beer and bemoaning their financial woes, having realised the money promised by the Emperor for the unemployed was barely enough to buy food, a scary short little man of demonic appearance arrived, as if out of nowhere, in their midst. This little man of much power declared himself to them as the Tokoloshe – master of malevolence

The Tokoloshe, having listened to doleful lamentations, presented them with a plan so evil, it almost froze the blood in the veins of the bravest warriors amongst them, one of them, Funa Pumile, so-called because of his urge to rest often, afterwards swore the HIV viruses in his body instantly died. The Tokoloshe as is his want, did not only give them a plan, his servant, dressed in a splendid blue uniform, not dissimilar to that worn by the Emperors Police, gave them short sticks that fired very small arrows at great force and velocity. One of the banished workers fired a test arrow at the wall of his hut to find his recently born baby as dead as a dodo. Strong muti indeed.

The Tokoloshe also had his personal witchdoctor at hand and he promptly supplied the banished workers with a potion, made from wondrous herbs blended with body parts of the now dead baby using a machine – borrowed from a workers kitchen, they haven’t reached the pawning phase of hardship yet – blessed by Russel Hobbs himself, to give them immense strength and make them impervious to the weapons of their enemies.

After drinking their potion, mixed with copious amounts of alcohol, and smoking lots of magical herbs the banished and rejected workers proceeded to the mine with sticks, dancing and singing, jubilant in the knowledge that they will regain their positions, and more. After all, did the Clown Prince not ask for the seizure of mines by the people? Did the emperor’s councillor on gold, gems and fabulous mineral wealth, not threaten the evil mine owners to fit-in-or-fuck-off? They marched with the knowledge that, as in the past, their ruler expects them to act strongly and take, with necessary force and commensurate trashing, what is rightfully theirs.

Soon after they arrived at the mine, whilst they were singing and dancing, summoning the great spirit of the Machine Gun and focussing their minds, now slightly befuddled by a haze of intoxicating herbs, a few rotund policemen, not dissimilar in appearance to Mr. Plod, good friend of Noddy, arrived and prevented them from approaching the Evil One where he was sitting in his sumptuous office sipping coffee and counting his fortune.

Having recognised friends and allies amongst the police and not wanting to hurt friends, they used tactics taught by the Tokoloshe and some of the Emperor’s advisers many years ago and staged a fake retreat. The police, not seeing any killing opportunities, promptly withdrew, signalling the opportunity for the banished workers to attack and breach the defences.  

And children, that is what they did.

They broke through the barriers of steel and concrete and proceeded underground. There they secured an area and promptly proceeded to, using the skills passed on by guild leaders and Emperor’s advisors, construct pipe bombs using pipes and explosives liberated underground. They secured a comfortable area, not to cold and not to warm, a suitable sleeping place, for those that do not have watch or bomb making duty, where they could dig in so to speak.

Once they secured their control centre they did what they do best underground; they promptly went to sleep, all of them except one, a man by the name of Katalile Minadagiwa, who, due to his inability to participate in logical debate and being a fan of the Clown Prince, having studied every speech ever made by the crown prince, was chosen to negotiate with the Evil Owner.

In the meantime, the police were called back and arrived with the police’s newly trained special forces, flown in by special jet, in tow. Whilst the suitably obese police commissioner shouted instructions, Katalile spoke to The Evil One on the telephone, demanding the presence of the ruler, the Clown Prince or the big cheese of the guild. 

Whilst this hullabaloo was carrying on the task force proceeded underground armed with rifles, grenades flame throwers and all manners of violence perpetrating equipment, to back up their newly acquired licences to kill, proudly displayed on cards contained in a little pouches hanging around there necks. Positively professional, reminding somewhat of the ID tags of conference-delegates, all very smart.

Yes children; they were ready and well prepared to marinate, tenderise and roast their adversaries. The scene was set for an epic battle. A fight to death – a battle for the hart and soul of the economy.

The first bomb was set off by the rebel miners, a policeman was pole axed by shrapnel from the pipe bomb and all hell broke loose. After the lapse of a suitably long period of time to justify the description of ‘epic battle’, surpassing in length and intensity of the well publicised turf wars of the Zama-zamas having produced a sufficient number of wounded on both sides, the begrudged miners were subdued and hauled away to be drawn and quartered by the Emperor’s men, at the behest of the Evil One, who, it was learned, made a sizeable contribution to the “Welfare of the Emperor” fund.

The mine owner subsequently liberated his money and moved it to a far of land with an honest Emperor and peaceful hard working people. There he started a new mine and became immensely rich.

The Clown Prince became bloated and fat, and his head – like a black hole, dark, empty and dense – imploded and he became rather pleasant blabbering incoherently day in and day out in the process, driving the Emperor insane, prompting him to embark on a crusade against fair-weather friends.

The mines in the once great land quietly died and the workers returned to the land where they tried to eke out a living and eventually succumbed to famine and pestilence.

Ed. What a load of non-sense. You certainly have a wild imagination

Marijuana Mine for South Africa

With mining production continuing to decline, it is very inspiring to see their is hope for the industry.  

I was privy to some correspondence mooting a new project that can save out mines. The following letter sets out a very feasible plan in my opinion. Thank heavens for entrepreneurs.

Brent Zetti,

Chief Executive Officer

Prairie Plant Systems Inc.
#1 Plant Technology Road
Box 19A – RR#5
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan S7K 3J8

Dear Sir

Marijuana Mining Facility 

The only connection between mining and the smoking of marijuana in South Africa, is the smoking of pot by mineworkers. Where they will insist they smoke it for cultural and traditional reasons, union leaders, expediently so, insist they smoke it to numb their senses, enabling them to face the hazardous conditions in which they are required work whilst relieving the monotony of their meaningless jobs.

The article about the threat to your operations touched me for a number of reasons, guilt being one of them. South Africans, especially those of lighter hue, you must understand, are very susceptible to guilt trips. Because of this, I could not help getting involved in a program to salvage job opportunities in a contracting mineral resource industry. 

My program is aimed at creating opportunities for retrenched and unemployed miners, robbed of opportunities by treacherous capitalists disinvesting because of prohibitive legislation and greedy and confused unions. The result; mining is driven back to, traditionally expensive countries, like Canada, a shift causing the dilemma you find yourself in. As I understand it, you are forced to close down your operations because mineral production is encroaching on your operations. 

I believe it will be possible and very lucrative to move your marijuana mining from Canada to South Africa. This may pose some challenges, but as we know, every threat brings opportunity. The biggest challenge will be safety, a big issue in South African mines. It seems that for some obscure reason, deaths in mines are, unlike murder and road deaths at the hands of taxi drivers, totally taboo. 

The safety risk to marijuana miners in South Africa however, pales in insignificance to the immense risk faced by an Inuit, trudging across the icy tundra, mile after mile, with heavy sacks of pot strapped to his back, only to die in his desperate attempt to get his valuable cargo to the nearest ice road. Mining dagga will also be safer than harvesting the it from plantations in the remote valleys of KZN, where the harvesters have to dodge police gun-ships, fitted with Browning machine guns and flame throwers and police on horse back carrying licenses to kill issued by The President in person. 

This is where I see the opportunity. By turning huge worked out areas into marijuana producing operations we can keep mineral production areas more sustainable. Providing free “medicinal” dope to the workers, we can break the power of the unions thus restoring profitability. 

Mine managers, realising the positive and strong effect dagga had on workers have been lobbying for ages to get the use of pot legalised, not only because of its performance enhancing properties but also its mind-expanding qualities. It is amazing how clever an uneducated person becomes after a single zol, no wonder it is often referred to as the “Tree-of-wisdom”. 

An added advantage is the calming effect it has on users. You can only imagine how easy mining will be if miners were walking around underground wearing “peace signs”, Rasta hairdos and ill-fitting hard hats, instead of calling for death and destruction of racist and murdering mine bosses. Sorry I’m digressing. 

With the attitude of our new Minister of Mines, keen to promote the nationalisation ideas of our designated future president, who coincidentally, started his campaign for mine nationalisation at about the same time as your woes were reported, we will have to move fast. I honestly believe the young man, from appearance and the things he say, is obviously a serious participant in the pleasures afforded by the magical herb. I say this with conviction, his behaviour, to my expert eye, seems to indicate a state of almost constant intoxication. 

Given the situation I outlined, I am certain you agree, we cannot allow a quality resource such as yours to be destroyed by ruthless miners in Canada who will always put profit ahead of pleasure and wellness, nor can we allow a bunch of pothead Marxists to control the world’s Marijuana supply. I can only imagine the consternation of pot smokers, recreational or otherwise, the world over at the news of the imminent closure of your Marijuana mine and the threat of their stash in the hands of drug-crazed ideologists. 

I believe with the fragile state of mining in South Africa we can secure enough closed down mines to move your operations to these shores. By giving the current President, the future president and the minister of mines a cut of about 30% in the company, we can secure their support and kill the nationalisation idea, simultaneously creating the prospect of attaining lucrative stakes in viable mines in exchange for protection against state interference. 

I trust you will give my idea serious consideration. 

Yours Faithfully

Jorik Dumfries

http://www.prairieplant.com/

http://www.reuters.com/article/healthNews/idUSTRE56L6Z320090722

Transformed to Death

Before dismissing Susan Shabangu’s recent outburst – when she unleashed her unwarranted, vicious and, frankly, ill informed attack on mine owners and managers – as populist and Malema-ish, should consider her influence in the upper echelons of the ANC and government. Those dismissing her ranting as ill-informed vitriol are well advised to take note of the fact that the President and Bheki Cele’s favourite and general flavour-of-the-month, “Shoot-to kill” slogan was originally coined by the same Shabangu in her role as Deputy Minister of Police. Now, we all know that once a term is accepted and embraced by the alliance, it automatically elevates the creator to “struggle-hero” status and we know you do not mess with ANC icons.

The honourable Minister had the temerity to suggest that the mining industry does not do enough in the way of advancement of blacks. She accused the sector of falling short in skills training, this, despite the fact that the mining sector has been singled out as having done more than any other South African industry in the field of skills training and development. 

What the Minister conveniently forgot when calling for more black managers in operations is the small, but very critical, predicament that the schools, because of government’s lack of delivery, cannot supply sufficiently educated people to tertiary institutions for training in technical fields. The few engineers that do obtain degrees and diplomas are either white or get their qualifications at the behest of mine owners who walk the extra mile to ensure the success of their black students.

Once the students passed the degree or diploma course required to enter the industry, some, due to lack of motivation and a boycott culture, again instilled by the government of the day, having enrolled for industry examinations do not bother to turn up for the examination or perform abysmally because of a non-existant learning culture. The low quality od education are acknowledged widely throughout the government leadership with Shabangu and the Minister of Education probably the only leaders oblivious of the problem. The people singled out and chosen to lead the industry are producing the worst exam results the industry has seen – the leaders of the future, it seems, requires a lowering of standards, against which their success will be measured – entitlement before competence it seems. Possibly a good thing since it may reduce their chances of spotting their Ministers incompetence. 

Shabangu’s singling out of procurement and ownership – as the areas other than operations to be targeted – are perhaps more surprising than her crusade for faster transformation in operations management. The reality is that, as in training, the mining industry has done more than any other industries as far as black ownership is concerned. According to the Chamber of Mines, the industry handed more than R 200 Billion in value to black owners in the last seven years. The BEE efforts has been so successful, the honorable minister’s comrades in NUMSA are for the nationalisation of the wealth of the two most successful recipients of BEE handouts, Sexwale and Motsepe. 

The demand for more black power in procurement management seems even more mystifying to the uninformed observer, especially in the light of ESKOM’s spectacular failure, to a large extent, as a result of the transformed procurement function in that desperate organisation. 

Analysing the three areas singled out for accelerated and revolutionary transformation, one finds a golden thread running through it. The Golden Thread of empowerment for the selected few; Labour wanting more managers and less work for more money; the new ruling elite needing their fair entitlement to ownership whilst their cronies demand unhindered access to the huge spending power of the mining industry.   

By waving the review of the Mining Charter as a stick, to beat mine owners with, serves little purpose in encouraging investors to enter and or re-enter a key industry and major supplier of desperately needed employment. Contrary to the teachings of the ever popular, “Struggle Economics for Dummies – A South African View” by Julius Malema, threats do not entice investors to part with their money draw investment. Consequently, major global miners are leaving our shores in droves, scared of by government regulation, labour cost and labour relations. 

Shabangu whilst admitting the negative effect of the Minerals and Petroleum Resources Development Act of 2002 and the Mining Charter V 1, in the same breath, blames mining companies for not fighting the effects of the law with more dynamism. How far removed from reality is that? Does the minister suggest a man, working in the WTC on 9/11, could’ve saved his life by standing in the window, gesticulating wildly at the approaching aircraft, in a desperate attempt to aim the gargantuan missile at a higher level in the building – hoping that, if successful, it will leave him an opportunity to flee down the fire escape – before all hell brakes loose. 

The reality is that the South African mining contracted during the boom years whilst mining grew by 5% and more in most other countries. The contraction is attributable to government policy (BEE, AA and tenure of ownership), the LRA, unrealistically high wages. Mining in South Africa has become so expensive that Xstrata can now mine steam coal in the USA cheaper than in South Africa. Because of the present mining investment milieu, global miners like BHP Billiton, Rio Tinto and Barrick has stopped investment or at best have their investments pegged to sustain current operations. In many instances, the major miners have moved capacity elsewhere. The only remaining foreign investors are Toronto Securities Exchange gamblers and Canadian Minors investing in platinum. 

Given the Minister’s threatening demeanor, combined with the ascendancy of the unions and the ESKOM disaster looming large, we can expect the situation to worsen rapidly in the next five years with the ultimate collapse of the industry inevitable. 

The ill-informed views of Shabangu can be ascribed to incompetent, under-qualified and inexperienced officials in her department. Officials in the Deparment of Minerals are not unlike their incompetent peers in other departments, the main difference being Shabangu, who unlike her peers, prefer not to hold them accountable, probably not understanding what they do. I’m almost certain her DG must have informed her of the dismal performance of prospective managers in industry exams.   

Malema’ call for nationalisation, initially backed by Shabangu before making the familiar U-turn should not faze owners too much. Given the fading fortunes of the industry there will soon be very little to nationalise. Perhaps Shabangu believes her populist attitude will bring her glory in the gloomy future she perpetuates. 

Maybe the minister should stick to her knitting and join the free-for-all killing spree she mooted during her tenure as Deputy Minister of Police.

Scabs, Warthogs and the Economy

I mentioned my recent visit to the Pilansberg National park and the lessons in behavioural science I learned, specifically on guiding the impetuous youth on their journey through life.

I also learned some very important lessons in business and economic sciences on the day. As we approached the Pilansberg I heard that the Minister of Trade and Industry say we will not allow South Africans to do menial tasks for poverty wages. Good for him, we cannot allow our labour to become enslaved by capitalist bloodsucking vampires. Around me in the villages I saw our people, sitting around their huts, unemployed, hungry – but happy; happy in the fact that, even though they are poor they are nobody’s slave.

There were of course the normal rogue elements that were trying to get gardening jobs at ridiculously low rates, why; one even had his own lawnmower. I could see on his face and his demeanour, the way he bore himself – a scab of note he was. He had that sick, subservient air of a worker permeating and polluting his surrounding personal space. I turned away in disgust and fortunately we entered the park soon afterwards where we were, thankfully surrounded by proud animals.

Later in the day, arriving at the restaurant and information centre, I was reminded of the creature with the lawnmower. I also remembered the minister’s assurances that we will be innovative and overcome the negative impact of high wages on our global competitive position. There, before my eyes I saw the entrepreneurial spirit and innovative nature of park management at work. Where once there were degraded noble people pushing lawnmowers around the place, there were now Warthogs, on their knees, cropping the lawns, quite happy to do this demeaning and meaningless work to please the imperialist pleasure seekers.

I think Minister Davies should honour the park management with an award. Imagine the impact this will have on the world cup tourists.

We can only hope the bunny huggers and Kortbroek van Schalkwyk does not get wise to, what they will certainly consider animal abuse. In no time they will have Greenpeace ships sailing up the Crocodile River, brandishing paint bombs and burning car tyres teaching the idle unemployed outlandish things such as rioting, street trashing and the fine art of property destruction.

A One-Eyed View

If I was a Deputy President in any organisation remotely associated with the ANC Alliance, I’ll be afraid, very afraid, as the saying goes. First, Petrus Mothlanthe, Deputy President of South Africa and the ANC, has a dicey experience during a scheduled landing in Bangui, en-route from Libya. What was he flying in that couldn’t manage a non-stop flight? A single prop micro-light, fitted with a second-hand lawnmower engine? I suppose we must be grateful for small mercies. Didn’t his predecessor, the fat lady with the funny name, charter a Gulfstream to fly to Dubai to watch the “Dances of Cranes”?

Mothlanthe’s reported “mishap” resulted in the arrest of the air-traffic controller in Bangui. Makes you wonder. Could the controller be a Zimbabwean with close ties to Robert Mugabe? Could Mbeki be calling in favours?

The most astounding event however, remains the unfortunate and unplanned removal of the NUM Deputy President’s eye by striking NUM members. The botched operation, which was somehow kept out of the media for more than 24 hours, was apparently, like many botched circumcisions, performed by an unqualified witchdoctor. In this case, a Xhosa rock drill operator who was kicked out of Witchdoctor School after three failed attempts at the anatomy exam. A lecturer, wishing to remain anonymous for obvious reasons, said the man could not tell his backside from his elbow. Despite his inability to pass, the examination authority continued attempts to close the knowledge gap—that is the gap between the student’s knowledge and the examination standards—a process, uniquely South African and commonly known as “dumbing down”. Apparently, training authorities reached the end of their tether when the candidate failed to hand in a clean sheet of paper in his final chemistry exam.

The unfortunate aspirant witchdoctor, Doktela Coldset Uthuli, found a job on the mines but never abandoned his dream of becoming a doctor. It is here where he stole some stone-age cutting tools and other “magical” artifacts, from a display cabinet in the Geology Department, which he used in the operation on poor Piet’s eye. In the meantime Piet told associates he now has a different view of the world, a lot less complicated with fewer dimensions…a lat earth view so to speak.

To crown an eventful week , the Deputy President of the South African National Taxi Council, said to be instrumental in the MOU signed on Friday, was murdered. The Piccanin President, Juliaas, was quick to ride the BTI in honour of the fallen hero, and great ANC hope in deliberations aimed at solving Taxi/BRT fracas.

Patrick Craven, having seen the violence and mayhem, expressed his dismay at the violence perpetrated, an un-expected reaction in itself, coming from a leader who, in the past, was unable to find any indication of violent tendencies amongst COSATU members. It may just be possible that there are some unhappy people lurking around, expressing their displeasure in the only way they learnt during the struggle, and, as prominent leaders of the Alliance often reminds us, “The struggle continues, the revolution is alive and so is its methods”.

Zuma – A Miracle of Our Time

http://www.news24.com/Content/MyNews24/Letters/1050/725409ae1fae400d8ea3643f3eb9597e/14-09-2009-11-57/A_mracle_of_our_time 

I cannot help marveling at the brilliance of our President. Those mocking his lack of education must be choking on their words. There we had it again this weekend when he displayed his brilliance when it comes to insight and logical deduction. I am off course referring to his profound statement that South Africa will be taken over should the soldiers strike whilst we are being invaded. Now who, but a genius, could have foreseen the grave risk with such clarity. It never occurred to us mere mortals that striking soldiers could threaten our democracy, risk our sovereignty and expose our weak, unprotected underbelly. My goodness…imagine South Africa’ s vulnerability with fiendish power hungry predators like Robert Mugabe and Lesotho’s vicious, expansionist Pakalitha Mosisile lurking in the background. 

Zuma surprised his critics even more when he an admonished strikers for damaging the economy and trashing the streets. A clear show of integrity and consistency by our brave leader who will not waver when he has to face up to current realities. His statement is true to form. His critics will remember, during stay-away action and protests, in support of his legal battles, he steadfastly admonished his followers to go to work. He went so far as to do war dances and issue direct threats to shoot them with his machine gun, fortunately for the anarchists someone hid the gun, in a genuine effort to force them back to work. 

The cherry on the top was the way he told business to sharpen their negotiation skills. It is their bargaining skills, or rather lack thereof, that cause strikes. The so called “captains of industry”  should be ashamed of their failure as leaders. There, staring them in the face, right in front of them they have an example of a man who have the ability to make people believe that excrement is chocolate. All they have to do is learn from the master. But no…the clever business leaders with their fancy MBA’s, thinking they are dealing with an uneducated “native”, are too smart to learn from someone considered academically inferior.