Mathuthu's Jozi Diary (Day 3)

Mathuthu's Jozi Diary (Day 3)

• Mathuthu's Jozi Diary Day 2

• Mathuthu's Jozi Diary Day 1

• Editor's Memo: Voters must demand better leadership

• Editor's Memo: Cut the chase, blame Blair

New Zimbabwe.com editor Mduduzi Mathuthu shares his thoughts about anything and everything on a visit to South Africa, venue of the 2010 soccer World Cup:

Wednesday, December 13
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It’s match day today.

Arsenal play Wigan later tonight. New Zimbabwe.com columnist Daniel Molokele, another Arsenal fundamentalist, has invited me to watch the game at his house.

I make my apologies. Japhet has theatre tickets to watch a play opening tonight at the Market Theatre, not far from the Nelson Mandela Bridge.

A PR company has invited him to be a guest in the audience in his capacity as acting City Press News Editor.

We were welcomed there by a talkative lady. I soon gathered she was our benefactor – the PR firm’s representative.

I last watched a play at the Amakhosi Township Square almost a decade ago. I watch a lot of Hollywood movies at cinemas (Borat was the last), but I rarely get the inspiration to go to the theatres. Call it ignorance if you like.

Sitting with our benefactor is a lady who later introduces herself as a producer for the SABC and a third woman who is totally unconnected to the media.

It soon becomes clear that the three of them are regular theatre goers, and I politely intervene in the discussion by asking about the theme of today’s play.

“It’s about a woman learning to fight back at male domination,” the SABC lady states with a wry smile.

In my very short lifetime, I have seen enough of those. At that point, I decide I am not going into the theatre.

I swiftly turned my attentions to Johnnie Walker, perfectly balanced with a dilution of Appletiser.

The play should end in time for the football kick off.
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I went to Spiros in Melville with Japhet for the football. In a strange sort of way, I appeared the only one interested in the match – not much of a problem.

I am Arsene Wenger’s greatest defender because I am genuinely convinced he is the best manager in the world.

I sometimes try to imagine an Arsenal team coached by Alex Ferguson, Terry Vernables or Mark Hughes – whatever option you can think of. It is what they call ‘it can’t’ in Grade 2 maths!

And then there are days like today, when I wonder aloud why he wants to strike blows at his own legacy by dicing with defeat and risking humiliation.

In the absence of Thomas Rosicky, Thierry Henry and William Gallas, Wenger, in his wisdom, has decided to bench Alexander Hleb, Robin Van Persie, Adebayor and Cesc Fabregas.

It is all fine if he can win with that team, but with 15 minutes to go, you begin to wonder why he does this sort of thing. He always trots out the excuse that players need rest; there are too many games over the Christmas period.

That’s well and fine, but footballers are not like the rest of us. These guys are paid ridiculous sums of money (remember Ashley Cole nearly hit a lamppost when he heard Arsenal wanted to offer him £55000/week, peanuts according to him?).

Playing on Saturday and Wednesday for a couple of weeks is not the sort of stuff that should worry a guy who picks up £70 000 every Friday, and Wenger knows that!

Wigan was our chance to move closer to the top two – Manchester United and Chelsea – yet Wenger nearly blew it

As the final whistle approached, SABC presenter Mzwandile Ngubeni who also acts in the local dramas Isidingo and Generations came to our table. He was hanging out with camp SABC Selimathunzi producer Baby Joe, real name Joe Correira. Baby Joe is the founder of the Dukuduku Awards.

Ngubeni has no interest in English football, he told me.

“I was diagnosed negative for HIV and Aids but I tested positive for Orlando Pirates,” he crowed.

Orlando Pirates is the South African version of Highlanders or Dynamos – passionately followed like a religion.

We scored in the last 10 minutes after Wenger did what he should have done from the start – introducing Fabregas, Adebayor and Van Persie.

It was a lucky escape. Jehns Lehmann was exceptional in goal; otherwise we would be talking of a very different story.
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We later went to Randburg with the intention of going to a nightclub called Uhuru, with an option to go to Malasha, which is also in the same complex.

I was there in December last year.

A new club has opened on the first floor, and we decided to try it out.

It was reasonably packed – but I immediately discovered it was patronised by Nigerians, and I later learnt it was owned by a Nigerian.

There are six pool tables at this place and Big Screen TV’s. I am the Cardiff pool champion (although I say so myself), and I immediately challenged Japhet to have a crack.

He flatly rejected my offer. He rarely agrees to expose his weaknesses. It becomes clear to me that the guy simply can’t play pool, forget about other sports.

I ended up playing with some Nigerian chaps whose knowledge of the rules of the game was as good as their familiarity with honesty.

I drubbed them until I gave up the table. It’s a good feeling.

A stunningly-beautiful uniformed woman police officer and her partner in law enforcement are at a table in the club. It is clear that they are at work, and have taken a break to get some freebies here.

Two Fanta Orange cans have been sitting in front of them for over 15 minutes now. It appears they are not really trusting of the people around here. Anyone could be a whistle-blower, journalist or plain clothes officers who would take a dim view of their presence in a nightclub, and the freebies they were getting – however small.

Japhet has taken an interest in the officer, but has no courage to tell her. In my wisdom, or lack of, I suggested that he should pass her his business card and ask her to phone him sometime. I did that on his behalf. Big mistake!

She vanished seconds later. I doubt she will ever go back there in uniform. She must have thought she had been busted!

I have blasted almost a full bottle of Johnnie Walker now. I am totally pissed. We headed for Japhet’s house moments later, another day gone.

Waking up tomorrow will be an effort.

READ PART FOUR OF MATHUTHU'S DIARIES TOMORROW
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mathuthu@newzimbabwe.com