Come for personal development. Stay for the war.

That’s what seems to have happened to at least one of the 17-odd poor unfortunates stuck near the frontlines of the Russia-Ukraine war.

The reluctant combatant landed up in territory once most viscerally described as “the meat grinder” after Zuma family scion Duduzile Zuma-Sambudla apparently told the family about a personal development course in Russia and recommended that the 19-year-old take up the opportunity, his mother told TimesLive.

He reportedly hasn’t been seen or heard of since late August. Nor was he the only one to be duped.

The rest of the merry band were apparently told by Zuma-Sambudla, one Siphokazi Xuma and one Blessing Khoza that they would jet off to Russia for training and be guaranteed bodyguarding jobs with MK on their return. That’s no small promise in a country with north of 40% unemployment on the expanded definition.

Still, for fully grown men, the platoon does seem gullible. As bodyguards, they thought they’d be instructed in flying drones, driving water tankers and gathering intel, says News24. I mean, a water tanker?

They may have been better served doing a 34-day “close protection officer” course right here in the good old R of SA. For an all-inclusive R38k, they could get instruction in handguns and self-loading rifles, protection, close-quarter combat and even explosive device awareness.

Or, you know, MK could put them on a R14,000 (return) flight to Moscow and leave them to the tender ministrations of the Russian army. Which, you have to admit, is far cheaper for the party. Like human lives in war.

Dudu in the doo-doo

It gets more sinister though. It appears Zuma himself saw this as more than just personal protection: a letter sent in September to Russian defence minister Andrey Belousov carrying the former president’s signature says the men had been “sent with singular purpose: to receive advanced military training”, says TimesLive. Not quite bodyguarding (or driving a water tanker), is it?

Zuma, it would seem, had to write that letter to get his daughter out of the dwang. See, she and Khoza had not just allegedly recruited the credulous 17; they’d also apparently cajoled them into signing contracts drawn up in Russian, without a translator present. That effectively locked them into servitude to the Russian infantry for a full year.

“The gravity of this situation is compounded by the fact that Western media actors have already made contact with our party, seeking to create damaging internal scandal from this misunderstanding,” Zuma ostensibly wrote, imploring Belousov to release the men from their contracts – or at the least move them away from the fighting, according to News24.

“We are currently suppressing this information, but our ability to do so is limited and time is critically short.”

Well, I guess that horse has bolted.

Cattle and hats

Now, it’s no secret that MK likes to play dress-up in fatigues – but why it would need its comrades to undergo full-on military training is unclear. It’s a bit like buying cattle to match the cowboy hat.

It’s hard to see the motive as anything other than sinister, particularly given the riots in KwaZulu-Natal in July 2021 – for which dear Dudu is currently in the dock, on charges of inciting violence and terrorism.

Thankfully Zuma’s party, for all its success in somehow winning 14.6% of the national vote last year, would struggle to organise its way out of a paper bag.

Consider that at last count it has been through eight secretaries-general, two deputy secretaries-general, five chief whips, four treasurers, three national organisers, and two leaders in parliament (one acting) since it was launched barely two years ago.

Here, we need to give a special shout-out to Des van Rooyen, the famous Weekend Special, who has held the position as acting parliamentary leader for two whole weeks so far. Its second deputy president, you’ll note, is Tony Yengeni, who was once sent to prison for fraud.

In fact, the MK Party’s only constant (other than media henchman Nhlamulo Ndhlela) is Zuma – he who would be dictator – and his sycophantic daughter. It is a cult of personality as much as it is political party.

The Trump playbook

The apparent Russian recruitment scam is completely on brand for MK. More than most parties, it excels in making vacuous promises, mobilising grievances, and extracting what value there is to be had while bailing on its commitments.

It’s a political Ponzi scheme, if you will, Trumpian in its execution.

And yet. It is tempting to dismiss MK as an outright fraud, promising the earth but delivering dust. The problem is, it secured 4.6-million votes in 2024, which is not immaterial.

Like Trump, it did so by tapping into both the popular support for a patently undemocratic leader as well as the disaffection of a significant portion of the population. And that disaffection is rising, with Afrobarometer last month finding that seven in 10 South Africans are dissatisfied with the way democracy functions in the country.

If MK is able to sort out its succession planning – it’s been suggested that Zuma’s appointment of Yengeni to the upper echelons of the party is an attempt to do just that – then the party may yet outlast its autocrat-in-chief.

So, as much as we may want to, we can’t wish it away. Unless, of course, the party succeeds in duping all its supporters into jetting off to Russia to act as mercenaries.