Monday, September 26, 2016

EUGENE DE KOCK - PART 5


If you have only joined the story now at Part 5, I suggest you go back to Part 1 and read because certain people had certain code names.   Another thing, enough time has gone by that what I share makes no difference at all.  We are still (I hope) a group with integrity and compassion – although there is always a rat in the mix.  I hope that the rats get trapped into cages never to see the light of day. May they experience even one third of the trauma that Eugene de Kock suffered in prison. 
In May2015, it was discussed (between me, Ben and Marx) whether to start slowing down the nagging and letter writing process regarding Eugene de Kock’s parole.  I cannot remember the words verbatim, but it went somewhere along the lines of it being dangerous/political and maybe detrimental to Eugene; and maybe we were making it more difficult for him.   Now I have never met Eugene, except when he phoned me many months later… but that is another story.    It was suggested that I temper down my posts and try to stay calm and smooth the waters.  Well, me being me, I thought that was for the birds and balls to the wall I said “Not a fuck!!!  We carry on until Eugene de Kock tells me with his own mouth to stop”.   From that date to the date when the world heard about his parole – a million and one things happened.  I could write a book on it all that would make Jansen’s book pale in comparison.  It was cloak and dagger – there were spies, double-agents and spooks.  I did not even trust Ben and certainly did not trust Marx – We all had our own informers in various places.  So I would act dumb until I was told something of an extremely sensitive nature and would very calmly say, “I know – I heard it week before last”.  Shit, I loved doing that to the main dudes that counted.
I was not getting better and spending a lot of time in hospital.   Eugene’s story because the reason for me to get up in the morning.  Often, it was my dedication and hate of injustice that pushed me to  the point of exhaustion…straight back into hospital… but would at the same time move me back into the stream of life.  My life has always been to live for something bigger than myself, and Eugene’s situation was indeed bigger than myself.  Not for a moment did I believe that I could have taken that small little group of three to where we went and how we got there.  It is very sad that we were forced to delete everything from our group page because that would have been a fantastic book.  But more on the reason for that will be revealed at a later stage.   I was driven and determined.  I could not let one day go by without doing some research, making one phone call, writing another letter, motivating the group or speaking with the president’s office.   I entertained officials of the ANC in my bedroom – begging and pleading for a pardon or at least a parole.   I knew things long before anyone else, although Ben would get direct info on Eugene; I was getting info from the political sphere.   The story gets more interesting from here – so stay with me while I spill the beans on treacherous behaviour from where it was least expected. 


I do not want to share certain information on FaceBook and would like to only use my diannelang.blogspot.co.za to tell my story, so I would appreciate it if you are interested to please enter your email address into the blog page. 

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Eugene de Kock - Part 4

Candice Mama & Eugene de Kock 
The phone calls that I was getting from JK were increasing and every time it had to do with money.  Eventually, playing like I was the dumb arse he thought I was, I asked him to email me his account so that I could discuss it with Ben and then we could see what we could do about it.
While waiting for the “account”, lots of other things were going down.  Two women were of great help in getting Eugene care for his eyes, and the other getting him the things he needed.  These women were Nandi and Hannelie.   The prison conditions were ghastly.  He was cold in winter and could only wear white track tops without any markings on them.  The women went to town hunting down white track tops that were in line with the prison rules.   These people who worked behind the scenes are really the unsung heroes.  Not a single shop in the whole of the country had the required tops so a tailor offered to make the two tops and one of the ladies donated the material.  Then the problem was to get the tops to him.  The tops lay in the warden’s office for six months while Eugene had to write for permission to obtain these items. 
Getting Eugene to his eye examinations also presented a problem.  He had to pay for his own guards, the transport and the examination and treatment.  All would be organised from our side and then the guards that we had paid for did not turn up.  The frustrations were getting beyond a joke and I was starting to lose my cool – again behind what I was putting out there.
Eugene’s visitors were also restricted to a certain number per month and per year and those visits had to include the legal visits.  TM was always going and of course, he took PP with him to one of the visits.  EdK’s visits were all booked up for the year but little pussy had to get herself in there and next to him.  This was after I had already explained that visits should be restricted for those who could actually help him instead of just visiting out of curiosity.   While Nandi and Hannelie were working their arses off for Eugene without anyone knowing, this PP was brushing up her ego by getting close to him via another ego conduit, TM.     
EdK was institutionalised and vulnerable and she took advantage of that.  I can’t like her.  After reading her book (in Afrikaans nogal) sent to me by Hannelie, I liked her even less.  
On another level completely, amazing things were happening between the men and women from the various armed forces.  People who were previously enemies  were not only talking to one another, but were also standing up to be counted, with respect and acknowledgement of the roles each played during the Rooi Gewaar years, and as one harmonious voice to ask for pardon for EdK.  Individual and petty problems were set aside and under the universal umbrella of compassion, stood as one in our appeal for a pardon for Eugene.     Truly miraculous things were happening all the time and I was granted a ring side view of the lives of many via inbox.  Those secrets I will take to my grave.  And those who told can be assured of nothing but my utmost respect.   I know when to shut my mouth, believe it or not.

My journey with Eugene started in a hospital bed in England with a book (A human being died that night) and ended 7 years later in a hospital bed in South Africa.  It was one hell of a ride.  I am not going to regurgitate kak that you can read on google – I am going to continue to tell this story as it happened to me and in connection with me.   And only I know what I know and what I don’t know.  What Ben Kruger knows and does not know is the same – we still dance at the same level as we did during what I call “the eye of the storm”- those last 8 months. 

Eugene de Kock : Part Three

To continue to tell the story, I have to put myself into it.  I was known as MC – Merc Chick.  I don’t remember who gave me that name but it kind of stuck.   As you know, we were constantly looking for money or ways to make money to pay for legal fees for Eugene – and of course, we flooded the president’s office (I refuse to use capital letters now) with reams of paper.  I phoned that office so many times that all six secretaries recognised my name and would say “Hello Dianne, are you phoning about de Kock again?”   And of course, I would answer, “As long as Eugene de Kock is in prison I will not stop phoning you”.   I did get one letter and one call from that office – The office of the Presidency!   Well, the letter was a typical political letter saying a lot of words that said nothing. The phone call I received was a little more funny.  “Please Dianne, tell your people to stop sending emails because we have to print out every one and we don’t have paper”.  They had boxes and boxes of our emails.  Thank you to everyone who helped me with that exercise. 
While I am on the subject of the president, let me mention to you that I still feel that Eugene de Kock deserves a Presidential Pardon.  Asking the eejit we have is pointless, but as soon as we have another one, I would like you to help me appeal for a Presidential Pardon for Eugene.  I think that this would be one good reason for keeping this group going. 
Table Mountain was an unreliable person – he never, ever did what he promised to do and the 14 t-shirts that were to be signed by EdK and given to Hendrik Fouche to auction never moved from TM’s place.  He saw EdK many times, he made many promises to me to get the shirts signed, but never did a thing.  But I soon learned how to use him to my advantage – I allowed him to think I was a crazy mad fool and I played that game with him.   And when PP could not get to EdK via me, she went to him.  And he took her in.  You have obviously gathered by now that I had no time for those two. 
To cut a long story short, I eventually managed to get Hannelie to collect the shirts from TM and to keep them with her for when she could see him, but in the meantime, Hendrik had paid for two of the shirts and it was weighing me down that I was not seeing this situation to an end.  Two of the shirts belonged to Hendrik and the next 12 shirts were going to be auctioned so that Eugene would have money when he came out of prison – at least he would have had an income for the first 12 months via the shirts.   Ben Kruger paid for the shirts and also paid for the initial lot of bumper stickers.  I paid for an additional 14 shirts that I had sent by courier to Hendrik.  I know that everyone thought that James was doing such a great job of posting the bumper stickers with his own money … I raise my eyebrows because I was doing that all along, including posting shirts around the country.  And as I am sure you know, I slide through life on the smell of an oil rag – where the money came from for me to do those things the good Lord only knows.

Remember the money for the next instalment is going to be very interesting.   About 8 months before the closure of the group I received a phone call from JK. (If you don’t know who the people are that I mention by their nicknames, then please read the other sections in sequence; part 1, then part 2 and so on)   The question of money came up – how much money did the group have to give him (JK).   Obviously TM had informed JK of how dim I was so JK also treated me like a dimwit, but that suited the agenda.  And it paid off big time.  I was becoming an excellent agent and would have made a fantastic Mata Hari in a previous life.  

My Life

Having CIVD, rare disease or cancer (incurable, chronic, debilitating downward spiral is like living inside a snakes and ladders game.  I know because I play the game.  You roll the dice and you go up some ladders.  You hit a lucky stroke and you find yourself a step or two ahead.  And when you least expect it, you land on the head of the snake and you slide down so fast your head spins. It is a series of mini avalanches.   No sooner has the person recovered from one disease when another takes its place.  It is as though the various diseases are competing to see which can do the most damage in the shortest possible time.  CVID is about slowly watching the pieces fall off, bits that stop working, energy levels deplete day by day.  The body slowly disintegrates; things that worked yesterday don’t work today.  There is little warning, diseases come in the night and are full blown by the morning.   There is a constant battle going on inside – always hovering just under the surface, even when it’s a good day.  And with velocity…rapidly one symptom looms much larger than others and now the ER, doctor, physician has something to notice.  Body temperature tells you nothing.  With no immune system, the body shows no temperature.  Temperature shows the body fighting back.  CIVD leaves a much lower than normal core body temperature.  The lower the temperature, the more ill the patient becomes.  Just one more challenge – not having a temperature does not fit into the protocol of admission to hospital so you are sent home, often feeling that the doctors think you are a shirker.
The mind can’t remember, the bowels sometimes don’t work, the bladder is a problem, lungs struggle, bones ache; nausea never stops.  Even hair falls out; it was where it should be last night but in the morning the pillow looks like a shaggy carpet.  Skin lesions appear without a bump, blood vessels burst for no reason, skin itches like a million ants crawling beneath it. 

I marvel at the capacity of the human body to take this relentless and remorseless onslaught.  Survival is a mystery.  And why I would want to continue to live is bewildering – because under all of this there is still that will and that hope that tomorrow will be better.  Is the need to live an instinct or is there a soul that refuses to surrender?   I am bewildered by the enormity of the question of the soul.  I cannot comprehend that I am just a material thing and that I will not have consciousness after death.  Is my thought that I have an eternal soul merely my way of lowering the internal distress I feel when I think of death as being the end to my consciousness?    At what point do I say enough is enough – at what point do I surrender because life no longer has meaning living as I am now – why do I constantly hope that I will be helped, that I will get better, that my circumstances will improve.  When will I accept these circumstances so that my fate is more acceptable to me?  What kind of life is it to trudge through from one infection to another, some more severe than others?  What life is it that if you do even the smallest thing outside of your bed, you will repay in suffering every ounce of energy it allows you on a tolerably well day.     

Friday, September 23, 2016

Eugene de Kock - Part Two

I know the reason why he has not contacted his friends.  I know the reason why he has not made an appearance to many of those he knows on our Free Eugene de Kock page.  And I am going to tell you everything I know over the next couple of posts about what went down before his actual release.  Some of the things I am going to tell you may just land me in hot water, but then again, I seem to continuously be in shit street.
During the time when we were still trying to get Eugene out, we had given some of the main players nicknames that only a few of us know about.  One of the main players, as you all know, was Kopdoek.  Everyone knew him by that name, but I gave him another name which was TM.  TM stood for Table Mountain because his ego was that big.  This is how we communicated – via inbox and by using nicknames.  Inbox was also the safest way to communicate that the authorities would not know what we were up to.  But even then, to make sure that the intelligence fellows were not getting our info, we wrote our inbox messages without punctuation – punctuation helps them to decode messages.    Then there was Julian Knight … more about him later.  And then there was the Jansen woman (who ultimately wrote a pathetic, in my view, book about Eugene).  She wanted me to organise a trip to visit him and when I refused, she found another way of getting to him.  Long before she did a thing, I knew what she was up to.  I called her PP for plastic p$%s.  And if you are honest and you have done the research, you will see just how pathetic that book of hers was – she gathered stuff from google, had a few picnics with him and hallelujah – an accomplished writer.  What kak!   She gave nothing  - she took from him.  And because of that, I have no time for her, as she has no time for me.  The feelings are mutual. 

 Ben Kruger had his spies, I had my spies and James Marx … I never trusted him so shared nothing with him.    It was always a good laugh when Ben and I shared something with one another – and then we would find that we both had the same information and then we could take it as being the truth.  If our information differed, the information was unreliable.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Eugene de Kock - Part One

 I said that I would not write a thing about Eugene once he was out – I have changed my mind.  I am going to tell you what went down over the months before his release.

One of the first things I am going to tell you is why we changed the name of Eugene’s page so fast. In fact, James Marx was so de moer in with me for doing what I was told to do and I could not tell him why…he left the group and blocked me as a friend. Big deal ~ I did not cry over that one.  I have no time for adult cry-babies.   There were far more important things at stake than being concerned with someone’s ego.  And there have been very big egos in the story of Eugene de Kock.   There was a lot of information that we knew and a lot of things going down behind the scenes that we could not divulge to the public because we had spies and double-agents in the group.  Those we knew … we played into their hands, knowing what we were doing.  Oh!  The glory of the Art of War.  We kept our secrets, played our games and now they still think he may be the centre of a white revolution. Hence all the media regarding him being asked to speak at functions and being asked to leave before entering the door.  They are looking at the wrong person.  I am the dangerous one to watch.  I am the centre of the white revolution, the black revolution, the mixed race revolution and now also the rat revolution.    Over the next couple of posts, I am going to reveal to you what went down.  I hope you will stay with me for the ride. 

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Hey Mr Zuma ... I have a song for you ...

Fuck you!!
Hey Mr Zuma, I have a few ideas for you. 1. Every racist white must be handcuffed to a racist black for a period of three months and no leave to appeal. 2. Get rid of all your wives and keep just one. It will be cheaper and better for our economy. 3. Take the prisoners out and let them fix our roads. 4. Chase the Chinese back so that our own people can work 5. Get the Guptas out your arse. 6. Clean up your country as in clean the garbage, the dirt, the stench ... make the country clean and employ the unemployed to do just that. 7. Give a child care grant only to one child. All other children born receive nothing. 8. Force children to attend school until Matric, even if they have to sit there until they are 30. 8. Cut the salaries of all fat cats by one quarter and plough that money into the universities so that our students can learn. Stop hospitals from making nurses pay to get become sisters. Let them do it the old way - work and be paid while they learn. 9. Send every male between 18 and 21 for 2 full years to the army to teach them to be men. 10. Remove every single race based law in the country. 11. Stop hiding your communism under your ANC flag. Communism was about class struggle and nothing to do with colour of skin. Did they not teach you that?" 12. Send the people back to their home land and teach them how to grow food. There is honor in growing your own food. People used to be able to do this before we all got too clever and learned about KFC. 13. Teach every child to swim. 14. Put the male in prison for impregnating girls under the age of 18. 15. Put in some 'spies' into the police to flesh out the corruption. 16. Stop giving us the finger and take on the responsibility of running this country or take your retirement package. I am sure you have enough money now - how do you do it anyway - with viagra? Decide what you want ... do you want to be Westernized or do you want to be an African? We don't give a shit whether you white, black or pink ... we just don't want to be embarrassed by you. Mr President - a ship is only as good as it's Captain and our Captain has lost control of his ship.