Friday, March 17, 2017

Human Rights Day

I am not a racist.  I am a human rights activist and speak out for those who can’t speak for themselves or are too afraid to stand up for themselves.  Whites are afraid.  
We have on Tuesday, THE SICK JOKE OF HUMAN RIGHTS DAY - Whose human rights?  This is a commie government so individual human rights mean zero … For them it is the rights of the majority only.   Where are the human rights in a country that has race-based laws against the minority?   Where are the human rights when we have innocent people in prison and the criminals on the streets?  Where are the human rights when our politicians want to take away land without compensation from whites?  Where are the human rights of the prisoners who live in appalling conditions?  Where are the human rights for those who need their government grants?   Where are the human rights when jobs are linked to the colour of your skin?  Instead of celebrating human rights on Tuesday, we would be better off making plans to eliminate the genocidal conditions that this government is fostering so that we can LIVE IN PEACE IN THE LAND OF OUR BIRTH.   

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

The Cost of being Different

The cost of standing up when most people want to sit down, the cost of swimming against the tide, the cost of being contrary to the accepted norm, the cost of walking the middle road instead of the far left and the far right, the cost of losing friends and acquaintances because of the values and convictions that you have … is it all worth the effort? For in the end – you find yourself alone, wondering if any of your effort and energy made any difference at all. There are just some days when it all feels too heavy and I need to withdraw for a little while to create the steam that I need to continue ploughing ahead. I cannot imagine a life where I turn my back on my values, or where the purpose of my life is my own welfare. My purpose is to serve; it is what gives my life value. I suppose it is only human to become despondent now and again. For someone who dislikes confrontation, I sure am at odds with my own nature and therefore need more than the normal dose of courage. I am at last getting to the point that I truly don’t give a fuck what the fanatics and those with ulterior MO’s say to me. Their comments bother me less and less – I will not let the petty views of the majority cause me to stray from my purpose of promoting peace, understanding and compassion amongst all people. I will never turn away from an unjust issue.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

White Man, You're on Your Own - The Logic of Genocide

Enough hatred 
 I am a human rights activist and I speak for those who cannot speak for themselves – for whatever reason; be it that they are children, abused adults or a society that is too afraid to speak the truth.   I see people for who they are, for what is inside their hearts rather than any other distinguishing features.  I have zero tolerance for racism.   For a while, I have had an uneasy feeling about how white people live, and are forced to live by government decree; and their acceptance of being labelled unwelcome in the land of their birth.  For the most part, they accept the notion of being inferior and lamely accept all the blame for the wrongs in South Africa today. 
Standing up for this group of people does not make me a racist.  Steve Biko was not a racist and yet he found it necessary to look at the race he belonged to and found a way to move people in a conscious way.  This was his Black Consciousness Movement (BCM).   He believed that as long as people accepted the status quo (apartheid), there would be no change.  He demanded that Black people become more conscious of their inferior complex and to stand up and be counted, not as being superior to anyone else, but to be aware of their innate personality – something to be proud of.   He said, “…the only vehicle for change are these people who have lost their personality. 
After 22 years of living under ANC rule, White people have lost their personality.  Just as the apartheid system had rules in place to separate and discriminate against people of a different colour – so too today, we have laws that are race-based to oppress the minority group of Whites.
It has been a slow but insidious onslaught to degrade and discriminate against Whites and the sin here is that White people have not stood up to be counted, but have allowed this slow process of discrimination to take place.   They have accepted that the country is no longer theirs, that if they want to live here they must accept what they are given, many feel an urge to ask forgiveness for the apartheid regime even though they never voted for the National Party and many were not even born during that time.  Many too were not even of voting age.  I am angered and disgusted at people who ask for forgiveness for something they did not do, but with cap in hand apologise for the colour of their skin.   I don’t see many people who promote non-racism but at the same time stand up for the minority group that they are unwittingly and by birth assigned to.  
The racism in this country is driven by the government.  In this democratic society, with its equality for all, except in certain circumstances, makes the White minority group less equal to the majority. 
The state sponsored racial hate and the number of laws that alienate the minority in the Zuma administration is one part of the events required for genocide to take place.  This is a well-ordered political indoctrination, making white people inferior to black people in respect to education and sport (quota system); economical and political (AA and BEE).  Part of this indoctrination is to continually point out that the things that go wrong in this country now, is the fault of the White man then.  The number of years the ANC has controlled the government is dismissed and taken out of the history books. 
Very few people know that in 1992, a referendum, limited to white South African voters, asked the question if they supported a vote for all people, irrespective of race, to have the vote and to do away with apartheid.  The overwhelming majority voted YES to the reforms that FW de Klerk had started.  That victory of YES ultimately resulted in apartheid being lifted.  This part is also written out of the history books because it does not suit the necessary conditions for genocide. 
The very fact that our government promotes Black people and makes the ‘other’ separate is another necessary political move necessary for community building to secure a totalitarian order through genocide.
Philip Gourevitch in the book, We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families gives a sobering perspective on genocide.   “Genocide, after all, is an exercise in community building.  A vigorous totalitarian order requires that the people be invested in the leaders’ scheme, and while genocide may be the most perverse and ambitious means to this end, it is also the most comprehensive.  In 1994, Rwanda was regarded in much of the rest of the world as the exemplary instance of the chaos and anarchy associated with collapsed states.  In fact, the genocide was the product of order, authoritarianism, decades of modern political theorizing and indoctrination, and one of the most meticulously administered states in history.  And strange as it may sound, the ideology – or what Rwandans call “the logic”- of genocide was promoted as a way not to create suffering but to alleviate it.  The spectre of an absolute menace that requires absolute eradication binds leader and people in a hermitic utopian embrace, and the individual – always an annoyance to totality – ceases to exist”.   This is the most well-written paragraph on the reasons for genocide. 
Can any one of us honestly say that we do not see the stage at which we are on the scale of the promotion of genocide as a way not to create suffering to the majority, but to alleviate it?  Unless Zuma and his cronies stop fucking around by promoting Blacks and making unfair laws against Whites, our path is destined to end in genocide.  
White people – arise and wake up to becoming conscious of the beauty, the strength, the uniqueness of who you are; wake up and become aware of yourself and your group.  It is now time that I say what is in my heart.   White man...let us pick ourselves up and free ourselves  from our minority and inferior status in South Africa.
Steve Biko said “If one is free at heart, no man-made chains can bind one to servitude, but if one's mind is so manipulated and controlled by the oppressor, then there will be nothing the oppressed can do to scare his powerful masters”.  He also said, “Black man, you are on your own”.  I say “White man, you are on your own”.  There has never been a better time for a White Consciousness Movement. 

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Peace in a Burning South Africa

Change in a country starts with one person.  Yes, I know our country is burning and I know this is a formidable task to overcome, particularly in the aftermath of our SONA.  I have a million negative things to say about that, but for today I am choosing another path.  Each country reflects either the pace or the turmoil of its population.   As one person changes, so does the environment around them change. It is a law of nature.  Change in one brings about a change in another.  I have seen it work time and time again when interacting with those who are extremely opposed to my ideas.   Through immense love, one person has the power to change an entire population – it all starts with us.  We cannot bring about peace to South Africa until we have conquered the harshness and replaced it with peace within ourselves.  This is a HUGE task that we can set ourselves to doing.  Our job is to first bring peace into our own lives and then we will become a gift to our country, and perhaps even to the world.   If you have ever studied quantum physics, you will know that the flap of butterfly’s wings can bring about a storm somewhere in the world.  This task is an enormous one for me – I get so worked up about injustice that the furthest thing from my mind is peace, but I am going to try.  Why not join me in this most difficult task?

Monday, March 6, 2017

My Visit to a Serial Killer

I saw Heini (Heinrich van Rooyen) yesterday.  It was a very long day with only a short visit.  Everything went smoothly as we had already asked permission for Patrick to drive me to Medium B instead of waiting for prison transport from the gate.  We registered at the office and drove through the gates.  I got into the wheelchair to negotiate around the open trench where drains are being laid.  Like the rest of South Africa, this construction has been going on for some time.  At least at this visit, it was dry…the last visit we were slipping and sliding our way through mud.
There were no wardens to check packets and ask for the permission tickets, and there was no one around to say we could enter the visitors area so Patrick left me at the little make-shift prison shop while he went to tell some person in authority that I was waiting to see Heinrich.   His furlough into the depths of the prison ended up in a passage where he found numerous wardens eating and talking at full blast levels. 
He asked for Heinrich to be called for his visit and he was told “Go sit there.  We will attend to you later”.  Of course this was said with the greatest disdain for an ordinary mortal who was not one of the elite group that controlled prisoners.  That sent the bejesus up Patrick and he stomped off to find a warden who had more pips on their shoulders.
Finding one, he said, “Listen, you are the one with the authority here.  You had better sort out your staff.  I am not one of your prisoners and I will not be treated like one of them.  My wife has been waiting to see Heinrich van Rooyen.  My wife is terminal.  Time is of the essence.  She was even ill on the way to get to the prison.  Your staff are sitting and eating and I was told to wait? !!!”  He was angry. 
I waited so long that even the shop stewards went three times to the wardens to ask for Heini to be called.   He eventually arrived after I had been sitting in the visitors area for almost two hours.  I had forgotten to take water and I was feeling dreadful.  My pain injection was over-due but I could not get out to the vehicle to give myself my injection.   Patrick was sitting in the vehicle outside with our puppy and I could not get a message to him to bring me what I needed because you may not take a mobile phone in with you and prisoners can’t walk out the gates.  I was stuck until Heini arrived. Every time I see that boy, my heart goes out to him and I realize that I have grown to love him.  He is like a little brother to me and I will do anything for him.  This is not a psychological issue like when women fall in love with death row or life prisoners.  This is simple and pure compassionate and unconditional love for someone that I would have been proud to call my DNA brother.   I was rather upset because it cut my visiting time with him down, and so was Heini. We did wonder what the hold-up had been, and we both think it is because Patrick gave them hell.  How else can the wardens “get you back” but by making you wait and not calling the prisoner.  So I did not stay the hour that I would have liked to but we spoke fast and much was said without talking as well.
“You know Heini, when I look at you and how I have got to know you, you could not kill a fly”
“Hahaha, I can kill flies, but I can’t kill a chicken”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, my mom would ask me to kill a chicken to cook and I just could not do it.  Funky had to always do it.   One day, I tried.  I had that chicken, one hand on the body and the other on the neck.  It turned its head and looked straight at me”
I started laughing, imagining this young man who is serving life for the murder of two women, not being able to kill a chicken.  We both were laughing so much that the rest of the story came out in bits of sentences and words.
“That chicken knew it was going to die. Jinna, I let it go so quickly”, he said in between laughing. 
“Ja, and when its head is off it still runs around”, I said laughing.
“...there is no way I can kill a chicken and watch it running around with no head, blood squirting everywhere.  Ja, Funky had to do that kind of thing”.
“What are you two laughing so much about?” asked Henco Barnard, one of the shop stewards with beautiful blue eyes.  I had seen two people with eyes the colour of the sea on a calm day in that visitor’s room.  The other person was a warden. I told the warden he had beautiful eyes.  I mean, if you can’t say something nice to someone, then don’t say it at all. 
“You know what Heini” I said.  If I was 30 years younger, I would want to see what is in this broeks, I said laughing.  That elicited another howl of laughter from the two of us, imagining me saying that to a warden.
“Oh, Dianne, stop now …”
Another warden leaned closer to hear the answer better. 
“If you lose your sense of humour, you may as well be dead”, I said.  “Laughter is the sound of resilience”.
“Aha, you right”, both prisoner and warden responded.
Our visit was a 30 minute session of laughter – from one subject to another. 
There was a moment of silence.  “Yep”, I said.  That penis of yours got you into trouble and landed you here”  
Heini’s face become sombre and he looked up and me and said “I do not like the person I was.  I was not faithful and I slept around”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it Heini.  It is something that a lot of young men do.  You are not unique.  Did you ever watch the movie, Zorba, the Greek”, I asked.
He shook his head.  “Well, Zorba said that if a woman asks a man to his bed and he will not go, it is a sin that God will not forgive”, I said laughing.  His mood lifted.   He has a face that shows every emotion.  He can hide nothing.  He is an open book … his thoughts and mood easily read by anyone with an iota of humanity.
“I have to go now Heini”, I said, putting my arms up to give him a hug.  I don’t care that there are notices all around the visitors room saying “No touching”.  It may have been a five second hug, but it conveyed a million years of emotion.  He pushed me out until a warden took over.

I always cry when I leave him behind.  My heart aches for the person who is serving time for a crime he did not commit.