On Friday, we bid a not-so-fond farewell to January, a month many of us would gladly erase from the calendar if given the chance. This month, a veritable black hole of time, stretches on endlessly, leaving us gasping for breath as we navigate the financial wreckage left in the wake of December’s festive excess.
By Themba Khumalo
January, a month that feels like it has been cursed by a particularly spiteful deity, has an extraordinary talent for extending itself into a seemingly infinite stretch of time.
What should be a simple 31 days instead drags on with the grace of a three-legged elephant, leaving us to question the very fabric of time itself.
It is no wonder January is called the “month that is longer than a lecture on the history of paperclips,” as it drags us through the ruins of our holiday shopping madness, tossing us into the charmingly bleak pit of “Januworry.”
We usually find ourselves cinching our belts in a panic, trying to survive until the next payday shows up. And that payday? It’s more like a cosmic prank, leaving us to wonder if the universe is just having a good chuckle at our expense.
If January were a sport, it would be the extreme version of self-inflicted agony, where the ceaseless mental, emotional, and spiritual anguish culminates in a jaw-dropping display of pure lunacy.
Over and above the soul-crushing financial mess that January drags in like a bad smell, we are pelted with a series of events that send our minds reeling faster than a hamster on a caffeine high!
Over on the other side of the ocean, in the land of the free and home of the brave, a pompous bully is on a rampage from his gilded cage known as the White House. He is signing executive orders like they are the latest trend in fashion and hurling threats like a toddler throwing a tantrum, all in a misguided quest to make his country “great” again.
As Americans grappled with the grim gravity of the deadliest aviation disaster in decades, Donald Trump, the perennial purveyor of preposterous proclamations, ludicrously linked the calamity to diversity initiatives, claiming they compromised air safety. He further questioned the judgment of a U.S. Army helicopter pilot caught in the catastrophic clash with a commercial airliner.
Should anyone be shocked by this shameless spectacle? Trump, the quintessential king of cluelessness, consistently evades responsibility, casting blame like confetti at a chaotic carnival. It’s his habitual hustle—an artful dodger of accountability, forever flinging fault onto the unsuspecting. A character so lacking in honour, he revels in his own ridiculousness, a pitiful portrait of pettiness and profound emptiness.
Home again to our stunningly gorgeous, yet perpetually anguished Africa, we were treated to a riveting spectacle of a meltdown from the scrawny dictator from Rwanda, known as Paul Kagame.
In the wake of our soldiers’ deaths in the Democratic Republic of Congo, the grim reality of that country got trapped in a treacherous crossfire of lies and more mind-numbing fabrications.
The skinny leader had the gall to accuse our national cupcake, President Cyril Ramaphosa, of being a liar. And just to spice things up, Kagame boldly announced his willingness to engage us in a full-scale war. How utterly riveting!
To add to the delightful mess, Cupcake’s minister of defence and her trusty deputy turned a media briefing into a circus act, complete with all the charm of toddlers fighting over a toy. They were practically drowning each other out, leaving us all scratching our heads, wondering what on earth was going on with the South African National Defence Force.
A round of applause for this masterclass in confusion!
Escaping the spine-chilling cacophony of war threats and a defence department that couldn’t find its way out of a wet paper bag, we were blessed with a cornucopia of scandalous revelations. Those scandalously spicy messages have introduced us to the utterly riveting term of onodolazana. Who would have guessed that the salacious exchanges between a judge president and a secretary on WhatsApp could become the zenith of our otherwise dreary lives?
It was a much-needed breath of fresh air for a nation being mercilessly pummelled by a January that seemed to have completely forgotten the meaning of compassion.
Never one to miss a chance for melodrama, the Democratic Alliance threw a full-blown tantrum like toddlers denied their candy over the Expropriation Bill. Their press conference was just a sob-fest, a desperate cry for attention.
John Steenhuisen, the DA’s captain of complaints, went off on President Cyril Ramaphosa for putting pen to paper on the bill, hinting that it might make them rethink their cosy spot in the governing coalition. Are they really going to bail on the GNU? Please, not a chance… not even if the calendar flipped to a month of endless blue Mondays.
Just when we were poised to plunge into the syrupy sweetness of February, Eskom decided to play the role of the grim reaper of glow, reminding us that shadows are the latest trend. They snuffed out the lights, leaving us to scavenge for candles like desperate cave dwellers.
Who knew February was a celebration of false courtship? Thanks to Eskom, we are all geared up for those romantic rendezvous by candlelight, whether we signed up for this charade or not. Because nothing quite conveys “I love you” like an unsolicited power outage!
If January was the opening act, then 2025 is set to be a sensational circus of drama, unpredictability, and daring escapades. So, grab your popcorn and hold on tight; this ride is going to be fabulously turbulent!