It would have made for great TV, wouldn’t it? South Africa’s first ladies showing us how they live (with perhaps an appearance or two by President Jacob Zuma). Alas,The Real Housewives of Nkandla is just a figment of the imagination of our blogger.

When faced with a tough situation, you can either cry or laugh. Kurt Ellis prefers the latter. The Real Housewives of Nkandla is a fictional, satirical look at what may have happened behind some of the most covered events in South Africa, primarily political.

The gates of the Nkandla com…estate opened and Mac Maharaj drove in. He meandered past Ma Khumalo’s Tuckshop and saw that a new structure had been erected right next it. Another shop, called “Imtiaz’s Supermarket”. A large, red and white Coca-Cola board just outside the door read “Cheaper Bread, Cheaper Milk.”

Mac shook his head. These damn Pakistani shop owners are everywhere. He maneuvered past the swimming po…the fire pool. He was thankful that it was there. Jacob was known to play with matches. The clear, blue liquid splashing as members of the President’s staff were doing laps. He drove past the soccer pitch and observed Simon, one of the President's security detail, produce an amazing save while between the goal posts. And Mac smiled. If ever the president was attacked with a soccer ball, he was pleased that Simon would be there. The Brian Baloyi of security.

Mac pulled up and parked in a parking bay. It had been a15 minute drive from the front gate to the house. He made sure that he had locked his car properly. These car jammers were everywhere.

“Good Morning, Mr Maharaj.”

Mac was greeted by Zuma’s personal butler, a man named People. “Good morning, People. How are you doing today?”

“I am good sir.” He said. “As always, People is serving all the needs of President Zuma.”

“That’s good People. Good.”

The front door was then pulled open and President Jacob Zuma stepped out, in the company of a young woman. She was in a disheveled state. Straightening her dress, adjusting her bra strap. Her lipstick smeared from her mouth to her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, ahe ahe.” he said. “I will take a shower. I will be fine.” He handed her a few coins. “For the taxi. And tell your father I say hi.”
The woman walked off and Zuma looked at Mac. He grinned broadly. “Mac, Good Morning.”

“Good Morning, Mr President.” He replied. “May I ask, who was that?”

“Eish,” Zuma shrugged. “I don’t know. She came here looking for a job…and ended up giving me one. Ahe ahe ahe ahe” He laughed hard at his joke. “That is one job opportunity down, only five million, nine hundred, nine hundred thousand, ninety nine…and nine thousand more to go.

Amantombazane ami. Ahe ahe.”

Come back next week for part 2

About the writer: Born in Durban, Kurt Ellis moved to Johannesburg straight out of high school to study English Literature. He went on to work in sales in the Insurance, Retail and Pharmaceutical industries.

A passionate sports fan, he also writes a column on his favourite football team, Liverpool FC for a UK website, but his love is creative writing. His first novel, By Any Means will be on the shelves of all good bookstores in May, and he is currently working on his second novel.  

Follow Kurt Ellis on twitter @kurtellis2

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