For good measure, you need to repeat the title another three times.

Does it sound familiar? If not, then the first three words in the following quotation would: “In the jungle, the mighty jungle, The lion sleeps tonight, In the jungle, the quiet jungle, The lion sleeps tonight.” (These are some of the lyrics from the song In the jungle.)

There is a sadness lurking behind this song, originally called Mbube, which is Zulu for lion, written in the 1920s by Solomon Popoli Linda, a South African singer of Zulu origin. The song was released by Gallo Record Company as a 78-rpm vinyl record in 1939.

You would have thought that the song would secure his financial future. In a cruel twist of fate, Linda later worked for the Gallo Record Company in Johannesburg as a cleaner and record packer. Others made a fortune off royalties from his song, which even featured in Disney’s The Lion King before his family won some form of continued financial compensation. It is such an endearing song – it always makes me long for home when I hear it.

In case you were wondering, ‘a-weema-weh’ is a nonsense, and is attributable to the mishearing of the original song’s chorus of “Uyimbube”, which means “you’re a lion”.

It is the evening of February 9 as I write this article, I wonder whether the lion is sleeping in the South African jungle tonight. It depends on whom you are thinking of. But as Duncan MacLeod from Clan MacLeod in his first outing as The Highlander, in The Gathering, reminds: “In the end, there can be only one.”

Is there only one, or is it a case of Weird Al Yankovic’s spoof of Tiffany’s song, I Think We’re Alone Now, which he has as I Think I’m A Clone Now? Does South Africa’s ruling African National Congress now have a single leader, or are they still doubling up?
It is a most unfortunate situation where a country awaits the changing of the guard in a public display reminiscent of the new guard exchanging duty with the old guard in the famous changing of the guard ceremony outside Buckingham Palace. Only the very public South African spectacle lacks the pomp and pageantry of the British changing of the guard.

As the South African debacle unfolds, accompanied by an element of public ‘unity’, I am reminded of what a very good friend of mine once said about his cricket team, the Pakistan cricket team. You might recall that, during the late 1990s and early 2000s, no one in the team wanted to be the captain. My friend explained to me that the reason was that the unifying force in the Pakistan cricket team was their hatred of the captain. Could this explain the apparent public show of unity among South Africans?

Associated with any anticipated change is the expectation that there will be some improvement, which is perhaps somewhat misplaced. This expectation could be attributable to the adage that a new broom sweeps clean. But, as my grandmother would be quick to point out: “Yes, a new broom sweeps clean, but the old one knows all the corners.”

South Africa is not out of the woods yet, or out of the jungle yet, if you like. A change in leadership, no matter how hard fought it is, does not necessarily imply a substantial change or any marked change at all. At the end of the day, it was merely a change of the leader of the ruling party and not a total change of the leadership of the ruling party. There is a distinct difference; it is not merely semantics.
If you hold that every change, no matter its significance or insignificance, should be celebrated, then you might find solace in the Elton John song, Can You Feel the Love Tonight, also from The Lion King, whose lyrics include this line: “It’s enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”

A vagabond, or drifter, is a vagrant, a person often in poverty who wanders from place to place and is without a home or regular employment or income.

Let me take my leave and drift off too.