Rambler … Rambler at 10

IT feels like yesterday when I wrote the first column which literally took 20 minutes to write.

I lie. It’s been an immense struggle. Every. F*cking. Week.

Well. Except for that first time. And it feels like an absolute lifetime.

On 9 May it will be exactly 10 years since I started this attempt at satire, which is mostly a rambling rant at all and sundry who I feel deserved the wrath of my pen that week.

Allow me to blow my own horn and answer some questions.

There has only ever been one Rambler. Often readers would comment about the different approaches or writing styles and would speculate that it may have been different people.

I blame the various voices in as well as those outside my head.

And what style are you talking about?

At the time when I started the column, there wasn’t an abundance of local content that wasn’t news. Certainly not satire. Not that I consider the column satire.

I’m not that presumptuous. I am not Dr Alfredo Hengari.

However, Linea Hamukwaya wrote a Master’s thesis on my columns. She analysed ‘strategies of Rambler’s satire in 40 of his articles that were published in The Namibian newspaper in 2015 based on the following themes of analysis: Ambiguity, humour, sarcasm and irony, and parody’.

The study concluded “that the elements of satire define Rambler’s strategies of satire, and they reflect his style of expressing himself as an ingenious and creative writer”.

I still think we should send her for therapy.

Back then, when I started it, it was rough and the world was wild. Often, at the time, someone would quit their job and with absolutely no knowledge or experience in journalism or any related field start a magazine “because you can just grab sh*t off the internet mos”. Mostly American sh*t. And that’s why Namibia’s magazine graveyard is so huge and scary.

We decided to increase Namibian content both in publications and online.

But over the years, the column has attracted its own following, mostly a motley selection of dissidents, and even a few impostors.

The identity of the Rambler is probably Windhoek’s worst kept secret. And boy, does this town have stories!

Being anonymous gives you a little licence to dare. Namibians are certainly not yet tolerant enough for me to say what I say to the people I say it to and still walk around and have a job.

I’ve rubbed many politicians the wrong way. I’ve p*ssed off white people. I’ve said an IUM degree is as useful as dandruff or a holiday in the middle of the week. It’s nice to have but you can’t do much with it.

I’ve said lawyers are scumbags and that it’s not a real profession. Also, PROs continue to be the most useless a**holes on the planet.

I don’t like predatory capitalists. Is there any other kind, hoeka?

And Christians, especially the Bible-thumping blind-leading-the-blind kind who should be relieved of their citizenship or flogged in public.

I’m not a fan of football administrators. Have we ever had an honest competent administration at Soccer House?

Throughout the years, I said a few things that were below the belt. I have, however, only, as far as I remember, been asked by The Namibian’s editor to apologise for one line.

It involved an IUM degree.

Not my finest hour.

The fact that no one has ever attempted to sue me shows that lawyers, and Sisa, at least understand the concepts of fair comment, free speech and public interest.

I’ve been warned and often ridiculed by the fans of whoever I kicked in the proverbial nuts that week.

I was also informed by an unreliable source that there was a threat once. After skipping the column for a few weeks somewhere in 2009 or 2010 as I was just swamped with work, a reader threatened to burn down The Namibian’s building if the column didn’t come back.