A fractious ANC is organising a birthday party. Expect a damp squib
I’m not holding out much hope that the ANC’s 105th birthday party on Sunday will be much of a celebration, not with all the bitter infighting in the ranks. Yup. It’s not going to be pretty. I should know since I am acutely aware of the horror of the unravelling of a planned kneesup… Preparations began weeks before, in October 1974 – a month before my 16th birthday. Sweet sixteen. My lovely dad belted out Neil Sedaka’s Happy Birthday Sweet Sixteen, out of key but lustily and with much volume, whenever he saw me. I beamed at being the centre of my father’s attention, something that was hard fought in a family of four children, all big personalities demanding daddy’s ear. Being a truculent teenager, I rarely made public demands for my lovely dad’s time or affection, which made his unasked offering of it so much sweeter. And to have the spotlight on me for such a prolonged period of time… it felt like exposing my face to warm sunlight in the dead of a bitter Ladysmith winter. Today, 42 ...
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