IT'S the Kafka Awards
IT'S TIME we had a Kafka Award for folk who have had dealings with the Department of Home Affairs. Novelist Franz Kafka was, of course, that master of the predicament of the small guy caught up in the monstrous web of bureaucratic and other forces over which he has absolutely no control.
In Cape Town, an attorney has taken the department to the high court on behalf of 425 clients who have been waiting a year or so for their residence permits to be approved.
These include an American professor who cannot take up his post at Stellenbosch University; an Israeli design expert who is married to a South African woman but is unable to practise and earn a living; and a British businessman who has invested millions in a game ranch and tourism venture but is unable to operate.
These are worthy entries for the award. But a Durban case is a strong contender as well.
A damsel of my acquaintance applied to the department for copies of various documents relating to herself. These arrived with the speed of summer lightning.
But she also applied for a copy of the death certificate of her Polish-born father who came to this country soon after World War II. This is where the Kafka scenario begins.
Nothing arrived. She queued. She phoned Pretoria. A total blank. A woman in Pretoria opened a "case" for her. She tried Durban again. Nuttink! She went online and found the name and number of an official in Durban who looked as if he might be able to help.
She dialled. She was told this individual had been in a serious car accident and was in hospital. (This is vintage Kafka).
She queued again in Durban. She phoned Pretoria again. She was given another "case number". She went backwards and forwards. Then at last somebody in Pretoria said they could find no record at all of her father's birth.
That was not surprising, she said. He had been born in Poland. It was his South African death certificate she was after.
It turned out that the form initially filled in by the Home Affairs official in Durban had been an application for a birth certificate. The official had crossed out "birth" in pen and written "death".
It all began more than six months ago. I hereby nominate this damsel for the 2011 Home Affairs Kafka Award.
Winds of change
IT'S A STRANGE business this Bill before the Malawi parliament which seeks to criminalise public flatulence. A cabinet minister says the flatulence is encouraged by democracy.
"The government has a right to ensure public decency. We are entitled to introduce order in the country," Justice and Constitutional Affairs Minister George Chaponda told a radio station. He used some vivid terminology, reminiscent of a prep school boys' dormitory.
Since the country embraced multi-party politics 16 years ago, Chaponda said, people had felt free to, er, shatter the quiet anywhere.
"It was not there during the time of dictatorship because people were afraid of the consequences."
Yes, Malawi always was rather a straitlaced place. A barman in a nightspot in Blantyre once told me the very subdued clientele, who had filled the place, did not laugh or talk loudly because then the police would come and take them away.
The question of flatulence did not come up, but I presume that would have been a hanging offence in those days.
I wonder, do they teach Chaucer in Malawi's schools? He has a famous episode of flatulence …
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almoost yblent …
Perhaps it will come up in the parliamentary debate.
Lovely lanterns
READER Mary Madden confirms that the red lights people are seeing in the night sky over Durban are Chinese lanterns.
"They are lovely to light and send up into the heavens with your happy wishes in them. If only they would be used for Diwali instead of the big bang fireworks."
So that's it then. No Bluff UFOs. No Groot Padda. It's slightly disappointing.
Tailpiece
"My mother-in-law has vanished, disappeared from the house, just like that."
"Have you given her description to the police?"
"No, they'd never believe me."
Last word
A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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