BLABBERMOUTH: Customs agents bath in public, sleep in rented houses

THE utterly bizarre things people do for love and money never cease to amaze, do they?
Who needs dignity or common sense when there is a buck to be made or a heart to be won?
Yours Truly could not help, but cast his thoughts wider upon hearing about the downright absurd antics unfolding at our country’s port of entry and exit.
Yes, you guessed it — the border, where sanity apparently goes to die.
It seems some clearing agents will stop at nothing to amass their fortunes.
We have all marvelled at their lavish properties, and presumed they were simply savvy entrepreneurs.
But, alas, it appears some have made a Faustian bargain, sacrificing their integrity for the allure of wealth. They have sacrificed their moral values, principles or integrity in exchange for personal gain or success.
You might think this sounds like the plot of a Gothic novel, but alas, dear reader, the truth is far more sinister.
It has come to light that some of our own brethren have succumbed to the darkness of ritualistic practices in their quest for dominance in the customs vocation. The pursuit of power and wealth has led them down a perilous path, where morality is sacrificed at the altar of ambition.
Word reaching Yours Truly is that there are a number of brothers bathing in public spaces around the border as part of their ritual prescriptions to amass wealth.
Picture this: abandoning the comforts of their homes, armed with nothing, but a bucket of water and a piece of bath soap, and embarking on a 5km journey — to take the ‘prescribed’ bath.
If this does not sound bizarre, then nothing is!
And if you thought that was the extent of it, think again.
Keen observers will tell you that the area surrounding this port of entry and exit is littered with shattered clay pots — a telling sign of the ritualistic practices that some of our brothers have succumbed to.
Blabber will take a closer look at one brother linked to the ritualistic practices.
He has risen from humble beginnings to become one of the most respected and successful among those working at the border.
Blabber recalls when he used to frequent a local bar, struggling to make ends meet by taking on menial jobs. At the time, he had very little to his name, but how times have changed.
Blabber still remembers those days when he (Blabber) would buy meat at the local watering hole in the Central Business District, and ask this brother to braai it for us.
Clad in worn-out slippers, he would diligently and meticulously carry out the task in obedient and submissive demeanour, a stark contrast to his current stature.
Gentle reader, the brother’s fortunes have dramatically changed. He is now renowned for his lavish lifestyle, far removed from his humble beginnings.
His new-found passion for luxury automobiles is a testament to his rapid ascent up the social ladder.
He has built not one, but two grand houses with ease, as if constructing a simple tuck-shop.
His collection of sleek SUVs is a sight to behold. If you did not know him back then, you would struggle to imagine the impoverished life he once led.
Blabber has it on good authority that, ironically, the boy now resides in a rented property in one of our affluent suburbs because, allegedly, his ‘prescription’ dictates that he must never sleep in a house built with wealth obtained through these dubious means.
His new-found notoriety has earned him a peculiar nickname at the border — Mushambi — which roughly translates to ‘one who bathes’ — a constant reminder of his alleged ritualistic practices.
For those still puzzled about the identity of this brother, let us just say his surname bears a striking resemblance to that of a long-serving former agriculture minister in our beloved country.
So much for this week folks! Blabber will continue to lift the veil on the shadowy world of juju, exposing more brothers who allegedly dabble in these dark arts.
Stay tuned for more revealing and galvanising insights!
Till then…