“But…why do they want to give me a peach? I would prefer an apple.”
“No Mr President.” Mac Maharaj said. “Not iPeach. Impeach. IM-peach. They want to impeach you. It means they want to remove you from office.”
“To go where?” Zuma furrowed his eyebrows.
“Mr President.” The presidential spokesman sighed, as he searched for the words to explain what impeachment meant. “It’s like…it’s like, they want to fire you.”
“How, but they can’t do that. I have a fire pool.” Zuma burst out laughing. “Ahe, Ahe, Ahe.”
“Mr President. We must take this serious.”
“Nonsense Mac. There is no need. We can do whatever we like and nothing will happen. Remember, the ANC will rule until Jesus comes back to South Africa. And, I intend to stop all flights coming to South Africa from South America, Mexico and Spain. There will be no Jorge, Juan or Jesus coming to our land. Ahe, Ahe.”
“That is a good plan Mr. President, but maybe, just in case that doesn’t work, we should consider paying back some of the money. Like for the chicken run and the kraal”
Zuma got angry and stood up behind his desk. “For what Mac? They are for protection. I must protect my cows and my chickens.”
Zuma led Mac Maharaj out of his office and into the hallway. “But the DA and EFF are looking to press criminal charges against you.”
Zuma threw his head back and laughed. “Let them. You think I am scared? Remember the rape charge, the spy tapes, the corruption charges, the fraud charges. I’m like a leopard Mac. They can’t touch me.”
“You mean a leper.” The spokesman corrected.
They stopped at an ATM that was built into the walls of Nkandla. Zuma fished an ATM card out of his pocket and inserted it into the slot. He punched in his pin. The screen asked him, ‘How much would you like to withdraw?’ He punched in R50 000. “I’m meeting with the Northern Cape Premier, Sylvia Lucas this afternoon” he explained. “We will need fast food.” The screen then asked, ’From where?’ and then more options were displayed. Taxes, Education Budget, Health Budget, Security Budget, E-tolls, Other. He selected Taxes and the machine began to vomit money at him.
As he began to pocket the notes, music began to play from his cell phone in his pocket. It was a phone call. The Afrikaans duo, The Campbells sang, “MacDonalds, MacDonalds, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Pizza Hut.”
“Eish,Sylvia. That one is impatient for fast food.”
Mac Maharaj quickly paged through President Zuma’s diary. “But Mr. President. I have it here that you have a meeting now with The Freedom Front Plus.”
There was silence that lasted at least thirty seconds, before Zuma raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Plus what?”
“Just Plus, sir.”
“Haai Mac. You know I don’t like maths.”