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Letter to Mahlamba Ndlopfu: Our future head of state, Her Excellency Nomvula Mokonyane

Under Her Excellency Nomvula Mokonyane, the poverty line is banished by decree. Stunting becomes a museum exhibit labelled ‘Never Again’. The new social compact is simple: One Family — One Chicken Braai Pack.
Bhekisisa Mncube
By Bhekisisa Mncube
19 Sep 2025
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Ah, Chief Dwasaho! Three years ago, I nearly pulled a David vs Goliath upset at the ANC presidential elections. Yes, I was warming up to march toe-to-toe with you, the self-anointed custodian of Loothuli House and the chief tenant at Mahlamba Ndlopfu.

Then, in a fit of revolutionary magnanimity, I folded my campaign before the starter’s whistle, handing you another lease on the Union Buildings without 10 missed calls. Imagine!

Counting the cost of patronage


But now, my leader, the winds of 2027 are blowing nicely. I am mulling my options; this time, stale liberation songs may not sway the delegates. Cash is king. I do not fancy my chances — my benefactor, Cat Matlala, is in jail, and Brown Mogotsi will not take my calls. Tembisa tender dons Hangwani Maumela and Rudolph Mazibuko are in a bind: the Asset Forfeiture Unit (what’s that?) has frozen all their toys.

Comrade Leadership, these guys aren’t my friends, business partners or associates — just angel investors.

This time, looming in the wings is seasoned adversary Nomvula Mokonyane, who has survived more scandals than Eskom’s load-shedding stages, a worthy opponent who can make the Guptas’ leftovers look fresh. I sit, pen in hand, wondering: will I remain a bridesmaid of ANC politics, or throw my hat into the dustbin — sorry, ring?

Blue sky thinking


Before my five readers start chanting, “she’ll be worse than Msholozi (Jacob Zuma)”, the son of MaMlambo counsels against short-termism. Think big. Think beyond the ballot box, high security walls, the Coke-and-brandy parties, Springboks — we must tread carefully around our future head of state, Her Excellency Madam Nomvula Mokonyane.

I plead with my Loyal Five to ignore the latest News24 sermon by Adriaan Basson. A likeable fellow, yes, and a competent journalist, no doubt. But he cannot see the big picture. Basson insists that Mokonyane carries “smallanyana skeletons” and is therefore unfit to be ANC president, and by extension, president of South Africa. He misses the point.

Blessed by Bosasa


Let’s not pretend the Bosasa scandals didn’t happen. The Zondo Commission laid them out in grotesque detail: cash, hampers, the booze and the free burials. The lists have become a noisy backdrop to our politricks (sic), hard to ignore.

And yes, the security upgrades at her Krugersdorp home were mistaken for state-funded, but the commission found otherwise. The “gifted” Aston Martin for the big five-oh has since entered political folklore. According to retired Chief Justice Raymond Zondo’s report, Mokonyane’s bonanza was enough to feed an ANC branch annual general meeting.

My leader, Basson’s view, and much of the commentariat, is alarmist, rehashing the English-press trope that paints Mokonyane as leadership bereft and scandal prone. But the whole hymn is little more than recycled hogwash.

Give that woman a Bells


Despite the noise, Mokonyane made the Africa Power 100 (Ifal 2024) for leadership, social advocacy and nation-building. She was honoured with the 2025 Lifetime Achievement Award for Women in Politics and Mentorship at the South African Heroines Awards in the Northern Cape. Bosasa or no Bosasa, she seems less a liability (ask the National Prosecuting Authority) than someone who, if the wind shifts, could yet steer the ANC’s ship to the iceberg. Ngiyadlala.  

How, pray tell, can Mother South Africa turn a blind eye to a multi-award-winning woman with impeccable political credentials and international stripes stitched neatly on her lapel?

Madam Nomvula Mokonyane is not your run-of-the-mill cadre. Her online profile shows she completed a Certificate course in Emerging Economies at the Wharton Business School, University of Pennsylvania. She bagged a Certificate in Economics and Finance at Harvard Business School. She studied leadership and governance at Harvard University itself, deep in the belly of the United States of America.

Add to that a Certificate in Project Planning at a no-name varsity and you have a curriculum vitae that makes most of our Cabinet look like they are still waiting for their matric supplementary exams.

2027 Slogan: One Family – One Chicken Braai Pack


Now imagine, because politics is nothing if not imagination with a blue-light convoy, that under Her Excellency Nomvula Mokonyane, the poverty line is banished by decree. Stunting becomes a museum exhibit labelled “Never Again”.

The new social compact is simple: One Family – One Chicken Braai Pack. On South African Social Security Agency (Sassa) payday, gogos and mkhulus tap their cards, cashless by law, with brown envelopes reserved for the aristocracy of the Revolution. Voilà: out pops South Africa’s holy trinity of protein — a family-sized chicken braai pack, a slice of lamb, and a dozen tins of pilchards in tomato sauce.

For mkhulus, perhaps a nip of “quality” whiskey will lubricate their unfinished Revolution, and Boxer tobacco will dull the aches of age. Young mothers? Child Support Day doubles as Hunger Immunisation Day: nappies, formula and the voucher of dreams for a private school under the “decolonised schooling” banner. (Please clap.)

Commemorative golf shirts bearing the image of the first woman president will be everywhere — except, of course, on the backs of the usual suspects: the self-styled liberal commentariat and their echo chambers, including readers of this column.

Aston Martin for all


As for the big-ticket treasures funded by South African Revenue Service tax receipts, the new catechism is clear. Heads of state entities, CEOs of SOEs, ministers and deputy ministers qualify for an “entry-level” vehicle — an Aston Martin — followed by security upgrades, Christmas hampers and birthday celebrations. In a nutshell, this is “bottom-up economics”. Still, the elite eats on our behalf.

We experimented with growth-first policies; the books appeared healthier, but the trickle-down effect stalled, and people shouted: “We want more.”

Now, “redistribution” comes with glossy Harvard academic packaging, yet it risks turning inequality into paperwork and poverty into tenders, with ethics reduced to box-ticking. Still, the benefits of the Revolution flow to the well-connected few rather than the majority. It is what it is.

Manna from the heavens


But there’s no need to dial the International Monetary Fund or the World Bank just yet, my leader. The poor will first be fed with dreams, slogans, revolutionary songs, hope and then complimentary meals at rallies and government imbizos.

Occasionally, grass-cutting tenders would be sprinkled to trim verges, if not the poverty lines. Finance will be “unlocked” for spaza shops, hair salons, minibus taxis, taverns and bottle stores. The cavalry? The Development Bank of Southern Africa, Industrial Development Corporation, National Empowerment Fund, and Small Enterprise Finance Agency.

There will be workshops for emerging entrepreneurs (wives of ANC leaders), certificates of attendance, compliance checklists signed by suspended officials, and a glossy magazine for the curated event, courtesy of Digital Vibes.

This loan-to-half-grant pipeline begins with a giant ceremonial cheque and ends with a neglected debit order for repayments. It will be christened “inclusive growth”.

My leader, policy can sound like poetry, especially when scribbled on the back of a Bosasa-funded grocery list. But before my five loyal readers accuse me of auditioning for a Ministry of Satire, or for a “Best Head of Communications” trophy in the style of Lumka Oliphant, let me say the quiet part plainly: none of these deluxe daydreams wipes the record clean, but work with me.

Tender ATMs


In our state of nirvana, there will be no tender adjudication committees that waste time and effort. No sane ANC cadre attends them anyway. Instead, tenders will be “available on demand” from a Tender Automated Teller Machine (TATM) installed in every ward. Swipe, print, procure. Cards will be issued to qualifying members only.

The Zondo Commission reports will be relocated from the NPA to the Apartheid Museum for “heritage safekeeping”. By presidential decree, there will be no more commissions of inquiry: austerity measures, anyone? The press will be “free”, of course: free to report on uncollected rubbish, long queues at soup kitchens, and the absence of syringes in public hospitals, so long as no one asks who broke the supply chain. As a rule, there will be war on leaks. Joburg Water, anyone?

Public health will be “results based”. Antiretroviral drugs will be issued to those who pass the morality test. Primary school children will be taught about the “glorious National Democratic Revolution (NDR)” between life orientation and a pilchards lunch. High school learners will choose their curriculum: Mshini Wami Gqom or Thuma Mina jazz.

My leader, I say, there’s a hidden “wizardry” in Mokonyane’s candidacy: it would not renew the ANC but collapse it. Country South Africa will rise again from the ashes.

Till next week, my man. Send me to Mokonyane’s for a chit-chat. DM