I'm going to Tirelo Sechaba
Bame Piet | Thursday November 7, 2013 17:00
First it was the Constituency Football League for which games I was often excluded by the guys with cars, despite my good football skills. I remember the other day I had just purchased new soccer boots, with my last P50, and sure that I was going to be picked for the first 11. Just moments before the game commenced, came these guys packed in a white corolla playing loud the music of Franco.
One of them was a football player in the second division. The team we were about to face was already on the pitch.
This guy who was behind the wheel of the corolla never bothered to greet us – the lesser mortals. He went straight to the ‘coach cum manager, cum treasurer’. He just had a word or two with the big guy. I could feel that the conversation was about me, as the two guys kept looking in my direction.
His companions enjoyed their loud music, with everybody admiring them. Apparently, they had spent a whole night at a music festival and their man Franco was the main artist.
I was shocked when this guy, dared to approach me requesting for my boots. His name was Teenage. In his hands were a cigarette and a half empty beer. I tried to plead with Teenage that I was going to be picked for the first 11 but he couldn’t care less, and sipped his drink. The coach called his team and I was excluded from the first 11. The coach knew very well that I purchased my boots solely for that league. He gave me excuses and conditions for my inclusion in the next game, that included lending the guy my boots. For four successive games, Teenage was preferred over me. I never got my time on the field and later sold my boots and quit constituency football. And so did others who were intended beneficiaries. Teenage, I learned, later took over as manager, coach and treasurer.
Then came this thing, the YES bootcamp, which I also missed, since I had to attend to other engagements. I hear rumors that now Tirelo Sechaba is returning. I know that this government is good at guess-work initiatives, but the TS is a hit.
Just a few weeks ago there was this backyard gardening for which hundreds of millions of Pula were set aside. We may never know what happened to those millions or the wheel-barrows, and fences that were procured for the scheme. Who cares? Millions always go missing. I’m quitting my job and am going to TS, finish and klaar. I’m starting a new career as a Tirelo Sechaba participant. Rumor has it that unlike its predecessor, this Tirelo Sechaba will be 10 or so years. Wow! Ten years! That’s the length of time some people elsewhere in this world spend looking for a vaccine, building a spacecraft, designing a new car or aircraft, or any scientific research to invent something new.
First, as a TS participant, I won’t need to buy a bed because the government is going to provide me with one. Then I won’t have to pay tax. I will be having a host family who shall pay for my utility bills - water and electricity are too expensive these days. They shall pay for me, as they will be hosting a TS participant. I also won’t have to budget for transport since I will just be walking to my workstation. Wow, I like TS. Then I will be eating at school or a clinic if I am deployed to any of the two. If I don’t get a clinic or teaching position, then my co-workers who are on permanent and pensionable will feel pity for me and provide me with meals everyday until I complete my 10 years of service.
The permanent and pensionable shall also pay for my entertainment. Driving around with a TS participant is a privilege. If I happen to go to a rural area, the Kgosi and councillor shall make sure that I get everything I want until I complete my 10 years.
My grocery shall be limited to five items only - a 10 kg Tastic rice and its sauces (mayonnaise and tomato source) 2kg papa, pack of canned fish, and beef. Of course, in the budget there should be a slot for sorghum juice. These five make a serious ‘caretakers’ list.
I must also make sure that I do not fall sick during my time as a TS participant since there will be no medical insurance for me. I shall not dream big, since I have no access to loans or any form of job security.
I shall turn a blind eye to my colleagues in the Police Special Constable cadre, Ipelegeng, volunteer police, and others. I shall love my job as a TS participant and not make any political statement lest I get myself in trouble.
Sorry, this is awful, I can’t believe my dreams have gone up in smoke even before I take my first step. I have just made a huge discovery that has taken me back to Square One - My ID card is about to expire for the second time. Eish! Now I am hopeless. I will never benefit from this government’s flashy expenditure. Perhaps I should start learning poetry and attend ministerial Kgotla meetings, I would make a killing.