Chapter 34: The Coloured Voter Is Fickle

FIRST TIME HERE? NO PROBLEM – START AT THE BEGINNING – WARNING YOU WILL BECOME ADDICTED TO THE STORY.

…continued from 12 June 2026...

 He had received a letter, not even an email, a hand delivered letter, which he had to sign for. The letter came from the ANC National Secretary General’s office, and it invited him to a disciplinary hearing in one week where he would be given the opportunity to explain why the ANC party in the Western Cape was losing Coloured voters in their droves.

He resigned himself to his fate, knowing full-well, that the party expected him not to put up a fight and accept the forgone outcome. He also knew that this day was coming, when after the second national election the Coloured electorate had made their intentions very clear by moving their support from the black dominated ANC to the white dominated DC (Democratic Coalition).

He warned his masters that the Coloured voter was fickle and would go where the grass seemed greener. He warned them that service delivery was the key. “Clean up the streets, fix the schools, create green areas in the neighbourhoods, eradicate the gangs, “he had said.

But no one listened. Or they listened, but they knew that keeping the masses just beneath the poverty line would ensure that the elite always had a playground in the Cape’s most beautiful areas, while the newly apartheid-free citizens would now be subjected to economic apartheid which would keep them trapped in the sprawling ghettos and townships of Cape Town.

Tony saw that now.

He saw how naïve he had been, he saw now that his masters had known all along what he had not. Now he felt foolish, but also, relieved.

He was not a complete fool and while he had always maintained an exterior visage of a working Joe, living in a working-class suburb, had had squirreled away a few nuts for the rainy days he knew would eventually come. 

His wife and kids lived a comfortable life. His two sons, were now in their twenties and were doing well. Tony junior had completed a degree in Political Science last year and was doing his Masters at Harvard University in the US thanks to an “arranged” scholarship, facilitated by the ANC.

His youngest boy Jonathan was in his final year of a communications degree and had designs on a career in the media.  

His wife wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do with herself after Jonathan would leave the house on the completion of his degree. She still fussed over him and made sure his every household need was met.

Tony thought of calling someone to share his bad news with, but in the end, he took out the bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer, poured himself a stiff one and sipped on it slowly.

“I guess its time,” he thought.  

He connected his external hard drive, highlighted all his files and clicked copy.

Ten minutes later he had finished his drink, written an email to the Secretary General’s office informing him of his resignation. He also stated that he would be taking a leave of absence for a while, awaiting any news of a new deployment within the ANC party ranks, should the party require it of him.

He closed his laptop, put his hard drive into his jacket pocket, picked up his work bag and headed out of the office.

He did not bother to lock the office this time

Continued tomorrow 14 June 2026, before 12pm

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