Coalition

“Do you agree that we should do that, my brother?”

“What is in it for me?”

“I will channel a million Rand monthly into your son’s business account. Treasury will not know.”

“Ay, I agree we should do that.”

“Good, my man. Then we can discuss everything well tomorrow.”

“We will see tomorrow.” The young leader of the opposition party, Brykdoun, Miegryt Messu-up, got up from his comfortable chair. He greeted the President with a handshake, grabbed the thumb, and another handshake. He grabbed a few delicacies from the table covered with enough food for two armies as he strolled from the room. Smile on his face.

The President, Destroyall Qwieckly, rubbed his hands with glee. His mouth twitched like always when he told lies to the public. His plans were coming together. He could not wait for the following day.

The next day did not happen soon enough, but, like all other days, it eventually did.

The two men sat in comfortable chairs, each with an overloaded plate of the most expensive delicacies — overfilled glasses of wine on the small tables beside them.

“I will organise the strike,” said Miegryt. “I just want to know what you will do to me after I’ve burned down all the shops.”

“I will not do anything. Just tell the people you better watch out. Next time I will prosecute you and your gang.”

“Then next time, you make life difficult for me.”

“I must make life difficult for you. The people must know I am a good leader. They must keep on voting for me. But you are my brother, and we work together. I will not mess with you. We will work with the right lawyers.” The President sat back, stretching his legs — mouth twitching.

There were a few moments while they sat quietly, contemplating. The President gave Miegryt a few moments to consider. Then he changed the subject before the opposition leader could oppose him.

“I also want to discuss the building project that must be done. Tell your son he must apply for the tender. We want to give the job to him. He must quote low. Then when he starts the project, he can send his claims with higher prices. The treasury will pay without queries. Your son will make big money.”

Miegryt forgot his previous concerns. He smiled happily. This seemed like a good proposition. Then he thought of something.

“What if a reporter finds out about the difference in the expenses? Then the papers will tell everybody my son is corrupt.”

“Don’t worry, my brother,” the President consoled Miegryt, “Your son is like mine. I must help him so that you, my brother, can be happy. He will make money without having to worry.” The mouth of the President twitched a few times. “You can be sure I will look after him.”

The two men sat quietly for a while, chomping. Each has his thoughts. The President was thinking about how to use this dumb wit who thinks he is so special. The dumb wit thought the President must not mess with him or his son. He, Miegryt, will not allow that. He decided he would still succeed in lifting the President off his throne and taking his place.

“Then there is the matter of the television and electricity,” the President broke the silence. “The people of the country are much too wise. They talk a lot. You must tell the television company they should only talk about what we tell them. You must target the outspoken reporters so they will be too scared to talk.”

“That will be easy,” Miegryt replied. “I wanted to get rid of some of those people long ago. I already have a plan.”

“That is why I like you. We think alike.”

“What do you have in mind for the electricity company?” asked Miegryt.

“Without electricity, nothing can work. There will be no productivity. Poor business. We must get the electricity company to malfunction. Many blackouts. That will help the country to become poor.”

“We can cut the cables and sell the copper. So, we can make extra money while we create trouble,” suggested Miegryt.

“That is good, but not good enough. You must vandalise the substations. Hijack the coal so they cannot generate electricity in the first place. By so doing, you will influence the whole country at once, not just an area.” Both the President and Miegryt were pleased with this suggestion. They applaud it with a clink of their wine glasses.

“Why do you want the country to be poor?” asked Miegryt after emptying and refilling his glass.

“I want to be the ruler. The way things are now, everybody interferes with what I am doing. They criticise everything I do and even want to take me to court. Why take me to court if I have done nothing wrong?”

“If we do everything we decided to do, they will take you more to court,” warned Miegryt.

“That is all right. I know how the system works. I will stall the court till I get my way.”

“What is your way?”

“I told you. I want to be the ruler, with a few people like you as my ministers. The rest of the country serving us.” The President’s mouth twitched.

“I am your opposition with my own party,” reminded Miegryt.

“If I am the ruler, there will not be any other parties,” informed the President.

“It sounds like you want to be communist. Your party is supposed to stand for equal rights.”

“Do you see equality in our policy of helping the poor, disadvantaged people?” the President wanted to know.

“Not really.”

“Marx said that if you want to take a country over without one shot, you must make them poor, frustrated, and uneducated. The country is already frustrated. Make them more frustrated. They are already getting poor. Make them poorer.”

“Okay, that sounds good. The problem is that they are educated. They will not give in to your way.”

“That is my big problem. You must target the universities. Stop the classes somehow. Make it difficult for them to learn. Burn down schools and then complain about not having enough schools. I will speak to the Education Department to lower the standards.”

“That will not keep the people from learning.”

“I know. That is where you come in again. You must motivate the people to leave the country.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” queried Miegryt.

“You must terrorise them. Rob the people. Let robbers go into their houses and rape the women and kill the whole family. Make them very scared to live here. They must all emigrate.”

“You should rather join the communist party.”

“The people of the country are too clever. They will not vote for the communist party. We are in alliance with the communist party. Did you not know that?”

Miegryt knew. He was also negotiating with the communist party. Did the President know that?

They greeted. Both smiled, thinking, ‘I’ll use that fool to reach my goal, and then I’ll get rid of him.’