L-R Zweli Mkhize,Nkosi of the Nkandla Bhekisisa Zuma, President Jacob Zuma and Nkosi of impendle Simphiwe Zuma at Jacob Zuma's wedding to Thobeka Mabhija at his home in Nkandla (dont have name of guy on the far right) Picture: Shan Pillay

I want to be Jacob Zuma’s next wife. I realised this the other day when I was sitting at my desk trying desperately to come up with an idea for this column.

“There must be easier ways to make a living,” I remember thinking before my eyes fell on the newspaper on my desk. The headline screamed: “Zuma to wed again”.

Aha, my escape from my life of hard labour, I thought. I can woo the president and live happily tender after.

It is a fairy tale come true for any woman who becomes the wife of her country’s ruler, but in SA it’s a fairy tale with a bit of a twist.

Everywhere else, it’s a case of winner takes all. A president, king or sultan in almost any other UN-recognised country would probably not marry more than once during his term of office. Which means the jostle for the role of First Lady is a competitive business.

Here at home, it’s a lot easier to win the heart of the chief. Our jovial ruler is showing no signs of slowing down when it comes to acquiring partners, and if you didn’t get in as wife one, two, three or four, there is still hope that you could one day in the near future be the seventh or eighth First Lady.

I have nothing against polygamy, although I often wonder how a guy as busy as the president manages to juggle three wives when one is a handful for most guys. It’s no wonder he always looks as if he is about to fall asleep.

The fact that the president is polygamous works out perfectly for me and every other person who wants to be one of his wives.

I know there are people out there who think I’m a little ambitious for believing I could be Zuma’s next wife. I have to admit I do have the obvious disadvantage facing me in my quest to become the first lady – I’m not Zulu. But I’m sure Msholozi is willing to overlook my ethnicity in the spirit of nation-building and all that. And what man doesn’t like a bit of variety?

My campaign also faces some opposition from homophobic quarters. “Ag sies, Masood, you’re a man, you can’t be his wife,” they say.

The thing is, by the time I get to the front of the line the president will have had enough of Zulu brides and will probably be interested in a man-wife.

This is purely speculative on my part. Mac Maharaj hasn’t said anything about the president wanting to marry a man.

It might be important to point out at this point that I am not gay or bi (bisexual or bipolar), so I have no interest in the president’s assegai or knobkierie or whatever other traditional weapon he packs under his loin cloth. I am purely in pursuit of status and perks.

Somebody asked me: “But what happens if Msholozi summons you to his bedroom and demands that you serve your country?”

Well, the advantage of being wife number seven or eight is that there are six or seven other wives who are probably on a rotation system. In the unlikely event that the father of the nation does want my nyama, I could always be unavailable.

The state pays for about 700 international holidays a year for first ladies, so all I have to do to avoid being ravaged by the president is make sure I’m not in the same time zone.

Also, by the time of the nuptials, Msholozi is likely to be about 80 (there are many ahead of me in the queue) and might not have the energy he has today.

Talking about those perks, I am told that as a First Lady I get to have a secretary and a researcher as well as my own office. This could prove useful in starting up a business with which I could land some tasty government contracts.

Do I actually need to know what I’m doing? Probably not. Nobody is going to say no to me. After all, I’ll be married to the most powerful man in the country.

Whatever money I do make, however, I’ll make sure that I don’t carry all of it around in my handbag – I mean, manbag.

A top-quality team of bodyguards will be a must. I’ll hand-pick a team of beautiful Amazonian types, Gaddafi-style, and maybe even take a fancy to one. It sure as hell won’t be the first time that sort of thing has happened to a First Lady.

Personally, it would suit me just fine to be the kind of First Lady who flies below the radar. I’d be happy to let the others fight over who gets to go on which state visit. I’d be content swanking it up in my Morningside mansion, entertaining guests with lavish parties laden with sushi and caviar and the most expensive bottled products.

Granted, I’d have to attend a few official functions, but it’s not like I’d have to do anything important like make a speech. The president probably prefers his women to keep their mouths shut. After all, he has to deal with enough bitching and moaning from that kid who isn’t too great with wood. - Sunday Tribune