Strangely enough, somebody had switched off all the street lights, and it was difficult to make out where I was exactly. It was no longer night, but before dawn, that treacherous hour of transition, when everything is questionable and unreliable and one looses all confidence in the permanence of things. I had parked the car, and had started to walk to the office.  In the gloomy darkness I saw three figures at the street corner. They had a dog with them, I think it must have been a boxer, who sniffed around them, licked their feet, and then came towards me, licking my hands with his rough tongue. When I passed them, they moved closer together and started to whisper.

The town is not all that safe, and this early in the morning a mugging would go entirely unnoticed. Cars are hijacked even in broad daylight, bank robbers seem to walk in and out of banks with millions of Rand, tourists are mugged and threatened with knives at the Waterfront, and the gangs have a shoot-out in Adderley street, whenever they please. The police stations are manned with a skeleton staff only, anxiously awaiting the next car bomb in front of their doors, because our government is deeply in debt and cannot afford to protect its policemen, never mind its citizens. The three were turning towards me and looked at me without restraint. I started to walk faster. As I reached the next street corner, they started to amble in my direction, followed by their dog.

There were another three figures at the next street corner, and as I passed them, I again noticed that they turned around and gaped at me, their mouths full of yellowing lettuce and oily chips. When I had gone about ten steps, I turned round, and saw that the first three had in the meantime come nearer and were joined by the second lot. I could hear the noise they were making in the empty, dark street.

The houses and the trees along the road seemed to me even more ramshackle than in full daylight. None of the houses seemed to stand upright, their windows were skew, their doors fell open, their facades showed deep cracks and their roofs seemed ready to fly off in the first storm of the coming winter. Yet, each house was barricaded with heavy wooden crossbars and all windows boarded up with hard wood shutters and iron grilles. An evil smelling fluid was issuing from underneath some of the doors and flowing into the gutters. Here and there I could see rats diving down into the sewerage pipes below the street.

I accelerated my steps and turned at the next corner. Still I could hear their footsteps behind me, and in front of me there were another three at the corner. I began to feel boxed in. As I passed them, I could smell their foul breath of rotting vegetables and sour milk.  I lengthened my stride again, but did not want to show fear. I therefore decided not to run. In any case, I reckoned, I would be able to outrun them any time. The three again did not stop me, but joined the lot who were following me. When I turned round, I did get a shock. The first three by now had been joined by a swarm of similar looking figures, they seemed to come from all the side streets and were filling the empty street in its full breadth. The sound which came from behind, at first a dull and muffled shuffling, now was more like the march of an army or the rolling of thunder.

I noticed, as I turned again, that two had started to unroll a banner and, walking on each side of the road, they held it between them right across the first row. It was still too dark to read the writing on the banner, but it seemed to be some kind of a message directed to me.

But I had to look ahead: the street here was full of potholes, wooden planks were strewn across the pavement, there were little hills of rubble and garbage was strewn all over the street. This was not the time or the place to break one’s legs or to fall.

At the next crossing I tried to escape into a small side alley, but at the end of it I saw another group advancing with considerable noise. I retreated and looked for the next escape route, turned left, then right again. In the end I no longer recognised where I was. I considered for a moment to hide in one of the houses, but then remembered that they would all be locked. In any case I could not be certain that they were not part of some dark conspiracy.

The stamping, pounding, tramping and rolling noises behind me increased considerably, as if the whole town was about to start a major riot. Such riots are not entirely unknown here, and that was all the more reason for me to reach a safe place like my office. But where was it? By now I was so confused that I had no idea in which direction I should turn. The air was humming and thundering and the houses started to shake in their foundations as the first light of the East started to seep over the mountain.

Now I started to run but knew that there was no escape. I ran mechanically, nearly effortlessly, my body working like a well-oiled machine, each movement executed with the utmost precision. Strangely enough at that moment I did not experience any fear. I was running like somebody who was pursued and the columns of my persecutors were awe-inspiring. But for some reason I now doubted that they wanted to mug me or kill me. It seemed to me that amongst those who were pursuing me were none who had ever been my enemy. But that was no argument: Did I even know them? Did I know whom I had offended in the past, even unwittingly? Such strange enmities often explode at the most unexpected moment. And this time was a time of brutal rivalries and fierce competitions.

As I turned into the next street I saw about twenty metres ahead a large open square. It seemed to be the Parade, and yes, on the left was the old City Hall, and somewhere among the rubble on the square I saw the statue of the King. Around that statue someone had built a platform.

If I had believed that I would be able to escape, however, I was mistaken. While behind me an army of stamping and rolling enemies was fast approaching with that banner, which I could now see said: “No more bull. Clean up!” the Parade itself was filled with thousands of them, ten thousands, maybe a hundred thousand, who all seemed to have expected my arrival. They were clapping frenetically and started to surge forward as I entered the square, as if I were a marathon runner about to win the race.

There were many who were carrying placards and banners, reading “Fight back against smut!”, “No more foetuses in garbage bins!”, “Jesus will clean up the city!”, “Bring back the nine-tailed cat!”, “Cut off the penis of rapists!”, “Forward to the three-hour work week!”, “Dispossess the owners of brothels!”, “Sharia law and a hacksaw!”, “Eat more chicken!”, “No free condoms!”

I raced towards the platform, as if I knew that I would be safe there from the mob which was still pouring onto the Parade from all side streets, agitatedly opening and shutting their large stinking mouths, making a hell of a noise. But nobody touched me and I climbed the steps of the platform, and finally I was able to breathe more freely, although the stench I had noticed before was intensifying considerably. I started to calm down and survey the scene. Not that I thought I had reached safety, but on the other hand I had the strange feeling that this huge mob was not going to harm me, on the contrary, they had been expecting me. I had run for my life, but, so it seemed now, nobody had wanted to hurt me.

I was embarrassed because nothing was more unlike me than standing like a statue next to the statue of a dead British king, elevated above the enormous crowd, yet at the same time there was this feeling of pride, even triumph in the realisation that hundreds of thousands had assembled at this early hour in expectation of my arrival for some as yet unknown business.

As the light was slowly seeping over the straight line of the mountain top, I started to address this enormous crowd, which was moving like the rolling sea and made a noise like waves breaking against the sand. Without raising my voice I felt that I could reach the farthest corners of the Parade, even those who stood near the entrance of the Fort would be able to hear me, I did not need a microphone and a sound system, the air was carrying my voice as if it had just waited for me to begin speaking.

Comrades, I said, citizens, patriots. This is a great day. I do not know, how and why I have come to stand here, and why you want me to address you, but since I am here and you are all assembled let me use this moment to assure you that we will do everything to alleviate your plight, as long as you vote us into power.

There were some hecklers shouting in the back: “No Bull!” “Peace!” “Vote for Kaalgat!” “Eat chicken!” But they were soon silenced, their trap was shut forcibly, so that I could continue. But at the other end of the Parade, from near the post-office someone shouted: “Cut off the hands and arms of those who steal!” There was a momentary uproar, voices shouting: “Cut off their heads!” “Vote for us or we will kill you!” “No rights for criminals!” “The Prophet must rule!”, “Viva Gaptoothed!” and “Jesus Christ for justice!” A slight breeze was carrying the stench of rotten meat and burned rubber from that direction and I started to cough and sneeze. But a few burly fellows sorted out the problem and there was again an expectant silence.

I have walked before you, I started again, and while you have found it difficult to follow me, you have all come here to listen to me. I have granted you the joy of seeing me standing this high and elevated next to the images of the past. We must never forget the past and the struggle which raised us so high! We must bring the government close to the people and we must uplift the people at least somewhat! I have dedicated my life to the struggles of the people. I will be in the streets and the trenches with you. We agree on what we have to do now! We know what has to be done! Keep Government in the Family! Let us have music, booze, chicks and lap dancing! Vote for us and we will guarantee that you will get your drivers licence and that you will pass your matric!

Another commotion started in the direction of the railway station. “Fight back!” someone shouted. “Reintroduce torture and police brutality!” someone else. “No more Sex Watching!” A group of figures moved threateningly forward, but was blocked by another group forming a chain. Both sides opened and shut their big mouths with much noise. “Abolish all taxes and the shameless taking of interest!” one of them screamed. “Forward the peoples’ liberation!” another. “The banks are robbing us!” “Stop emerging markets from emerging!” In the confused din one could hear voices shouting for mandatory electrocution for people who embezzled the people’s tax money, free BMW’s and swimming pools for everybody, the garrotte for politicians who were making false promises to the electorate, the abolition of the IFM, the World Bank, the IEC and Parliament, drawing and quartering for horse thieves and bank robbers. One shrill voice shouted: “Long live Trotsky!”

One group quite near the podium started to form a marching column, and began to toyi-toyi heavily, constantly circling the podium, brandishing broken kitchen knives and dilapidated broom sticks. A kind of war song was struck up, in which they demanded to kill the moer, and shouted “One garbage bin, four wheels!" and: “Jy praat kak!”

Friends, I implored the masses, there is only one party that can rule South Africa, and we all know it! But my words were lost in the general upheaval. Dear Clean-It Persons, please, let’s have peace. But I was too late.

The thousands and thousands of assembled garbage bins began to spew their contents onto the Parade. As each column paraded past me and shouted “Viva!”, “Safe the country from grime and corruption!” “Pass the gravy!” and “Come clean!” they all opened their traps, bowed deeply before me, as if I were some kind of hereditary chief or monarch, and emptied their stomachs. The sounds of the toyi-toyi became tumultuous, as the thousands and thousands of columns moved towards me and fountains of ash and dust were rising in the air, a cloud of ash was billowing above the surrounding buildings, avalanches of sour-smelling and rotten food poured forth. Blow-up sex dolls whispering “I am Marilyn, your hot sexy starlet!” and talking private parts fell from their mouths, pig’s heads and trotters thrown away, torn pieces of the Sunday Times and the Sowetan, dog shit and horse manure, passports to privilege and home made guns, stolen car tyres and bubbling methane sludge, two tons of illegal shark fins and a garbage bin full of smoking dagga, a Koran and a Bible and the Capital all tumbled onto the asphalt of the Parade, and the garbage and ash kept rising and rising until it nearly reached the height of my platform.

“Step forth, our leader!” one of the garbage cans wailed, “Step forth and lead us to freedom!” And with that I took one trembling step and found that the garbage and the ash could carry my weight and I went forth and led the thousands and thousands of garbage can into the sun rise of a rosy future.