CHARMAIN NAIDOO: Helen Zille - The lady is a Trump
'I think its careless talk and just takes us away from what should be the real debate: Corruption and patronage and incompetence … '
There is a story that is told by my father’s side of the family about my very distant relative Monash – not his real name to protect his identity, but a name I chose because it means spiritual, analytical, focused. Monash was a quiet, scholarly boy who could be found most days sitting in the shade of a mango tree with a book on his lap, his knobby knees drawn up under his chin. Scrawny, like a plucked chicken the Aunty used to say about him. Useless, she’d say to my mother and my own blood aunties, swatting at his head. Not quite all there, this said through paan stained teeth, using an orange finger to make circles at her temple – an ancient gesture to indicate mental illness.She was not a nice aunty, this woman who was supposed to be babysitting this boy. Monash was shy. So shy that he kept his gaze averted at all times so as not to engage with another living creature. I sort of got why the aunty thought he was a little short on intellectual ability, though not why she used it to ...
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