MANY people confuse democracy with morality.
This is a philosophical subject that Plato tackled in a book called The Republic.
The two aren’t the same, and the qualities for excelling at either one of them are very different.
The fundamental question is, would you choose a man who is famous for his morality to help you buy a horse or would you choose an expert on horses? Needless to say, you’d choose someone who knows something about horses.
In a democracy, it is the people who are experts at canvassing votes who succeed, not necessarily the moral or the just.
In my neighbourhood there was a mechanic who fixed horseless carriages.
His name was bab’ uMbhebheni.
I’ve never heard my churchgoing grandmother, Mawe, ever mention his name – it was too horrible for her to utter the word.
Since he was a neighbour and an important man in our lives, we couldn’t avoid talking about him.
I noticed very early on that Mawe referred to him as Mpepeni, meaning to carry him on your back like a baby, which was far more acceptable.
Now, this was an adult with orang-utang-like strength and posture, and that is a compliment for a man who spent his life lifting and fitting engines.
He wore the same pair of overalls for as long as I knew him.
So, the idea of him being carried on a mother’s back like a baby sounded ridiculous in my young, imaginative mind.
But to be fair, Mawe was caught between hellfire and a hot stove.
Bab’ uMbhebheni could deal with any car engine. Once he was finished with your car and you hit the ignition, the engine would sing a soprano like it was at the National Eisteddfods, and the exhaust would in agreement sing: “Boo…boo...boo...mmm”, while the walls shook and shivered like a suitor who did not know what to say.
And as you drove up Didishe street, the children would be casting poetry at your car like confetti:
“Six mabone”
“Seven ngodriver”
“Eight ngom’ thekeni”
They meant: “Six tail lights, number seven is the driver, and number eight is the girl.”
Grown men don’t giggle when tickled, but when they heard those words, damn, it was close! It was the burden of adulthood that stopped them from begging: “Do that again. Please do that again.”
The problem with bab’ uMbhebheni was that he was difficult to get hold of.
“You have to attack him at first light”, was what his family said to console the latecomers who had missed him because they had arrived after sunrise.
He was good at what he did, but no matter his legendary status, nobody came to seek his advice on which shoes were better, Florsheim or Salvatore.
You also wouldn’t ask him which horse breed could pull the heaviest load of coal. That was neither his talent nor expertise.
You chose him for his knowledge on horseless carriages.
He knew whether the Dodge Monaco was better than the Malibu or not.
Surprisingly, most people expect their leaders to have a talent for everything — like running the economy, giving solution to health problems and to behave morally.
They ignore the fault line of democracy. It is the candidate who attracts the most votes who wins, not necessarily the best or the brightest, but the chameleons and the snakes.
They charge, bite and backstab. That’s the law of the snake pit.
Your favourite politician may disappoint and when that happens, remember bab’ uMbhebheni.
Do what you do best, for it is your actions that make this world a better place.
* Muzi Kuzwayo is the founder of Ignitive, an advertising agency.
SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE UPDATE: Get Fin24's top morning business news and opinions in your inbox.