oh God not home affairs

proudly south african

sitting here staring at the screen, what the hell to write...bloggers don't get writers block, cause this really is not writing....hehehehe..

we are presently enjoying the fruits of democracy, their are serious if somewhat unsubstantiated rumours that a new political party is in the offing. this is a good thing. the ANC, which has been the largest political party and has secured the majority of voters, will no longer have it's stranglehold on all things political.

president mbeki, is calling for his day in court to clear the allegations of collusion by his administration in the zuma saga. basically to clear his name. the new broom is off in India trying to secure trade deals between India, south Africa and Brazil. it always amazes me how things change yet they remain the same.

my feeling is that zuma might have something to worry about if the new broom entrenches himself, the twit malema is falling out of favour all over the place, and the votes will swing towards a new party, they might not take an election, but they will present some serious competition, zuma just might find himself, not being voted into presidential office, wouldn't that be ironic.

i just wish local government, could get it's act together, and government offices could be cleaned up, made into a more pleasant place for the ordinary citizen, i think that might be to much to ask. all this stems from my visit to the regional offices of the department of home affairs. that place you go to in case you are not sure you are a citizen.

citizens, pay R3000.00 get fake documents and live large. the idiots like us, have to struggle through pushy salesmen wanting to lead you into dingy dirty stores, for identity or passport photo's. after you have blown them off, and navigated your way to the entrance of the building, the outer facade, is enough to send you running back to your illegally parked car, for which you will fork out more change, to the drunken, guy wanting money for pointing you to a parking spot. this done, you close your nostrils to the stench, walk through the doors, it is dark, disgustingly filthy, i don't believe there has been a broom used in the place in twenty years or more, security check, what the hell for,..then the lifts are out of order, so you ask, a seriously retarded looking security person, who stares at you, because i presume English is a foreign language, the lifts are out of order, i don't bother to ask, since they could possibly have been out of order for years. getting in would be risky as well, if they were in order. so i navigated the stairs five storeys up.

i needed a death certificate not a passport, by the time i got up there, the home affairs official had the demeanour of a dead person, the ugliness of the building her place of work, just reflected in her attitude and behaviour. if i didn't need the passport i was tempted to say something really crass, and bitchy. the guy who took my thumbprint was barely operational. the entire place, is emotionally and physically draining. had i been in government these are the things i would be changing, instead of wasting tax payers money, erasing our countries history, whether good or bad, by changing street names etc.

the entire stinky inhuman experience left me with a headache, and a fervent desire never to go to home affairs again. alas this will never be.who am i without a travel document, it is issued for ten years, i shudder to think what it would be like dealing with them after ten years. dear lord save me from bureaucrats, and bureaucracy. do you think their homes are as filthy as their places of work, seriously what stops you from just wiping off your own desk. in this country, if there is no one around to clean up for you, we just deteriorate into wallowing in our own filth.

tax payers money would be better spent in teaching people that cleanliness is next to godliness. that begs the presumption that people believe in the existence of god, and that debate could fill an entire blog space...perhaps when next i have writers block