The FT’s correspondent interviews South Africa’s most notorious revolutionary over lunch and gets a surprise at the end:
I shake his hand in the routine English way, apologising that I don’t know the elaborate South African variation, which involves three different grips followed by a finger click. “We must shake properly,” he insists, guiding me through the steps and smiling indulgently at my miserable efforts. I say I’ll take care of the bill and Malema and his spokesman stride purposefully away.
When the bill arrives I notice that I have been charged for seven buffet lunches. Thinking there’s been a mistake, I check with the waiter. He points to a vacated table across the room where four of Malema’s “comrades” had been sitting. It appears that the FT has treated them to lunch too. I laugh quietly to myself. The expropriation has begun.