DIE ARME BLANKE
Ek is 'n arme blanke,
sieklik en naar en vuil,
stukkend en bijna nakend;
wie sal sij lot met mij ruil?
Weet julle hoedat mij naam is?
Die edelste naam wat jul eer.
Ek is 'n Afrikaner
wat Afrika's naam verteer.
Ek is 'n arme blanke,
die kind van 'n voorgeslag
van dappere, eerbare helde:
word ek deur julle verag?
Ons is 'n honderdduisend,
almaal so goed soo jij;
waar julle spog oor vooruitgang,
spog maar bij ons verbij.
Oupa het saam met sij maters
besluit om op trek te gaan;
oupa het saam met die ander
bij Bloedrivier pal gestaan.
Droogte en pestilensie,
moordlus van wilde barbaar,
alles was vir mij nasie
geen onowerkomelik gevaar.
Hier bij die bronne van welvaart,
hier is ons siekte ontstaan;
hier bij die nasleep van welvaart
dreig ons om ook te vergaan.
Maar gee tog mij kinders 'n kansie,
gee hul tog nuwe moed;
denk tog, die kinders is almaal
kinders van julle bloed.
Gee tog die kinders 'n kansie,
ek is al afgeleef;
ek bid dat die nag mij wil saamneem,
dis al wat ek wetend na streef.
Ek is 'n arme blanke;
ek bid, en ek smeek, en ek vra:
help tog jul eie famielie,
help óns, Suidafrika.
Mense - Moenie se ek het julle nie betyds gewaarsku nie. Hier kom oorlog,
baie gouer as wat jy dink.
Rising Right
May 10 2008 at 01:12PM
Jochrisla Hanekom is pretty enough to bear scrutiny. She has a fragile
build; she's the kind of young woman who people - mostly men - would want to
protect.
But she has the confidence of a warhorse. She condenses her cultural
prejudice: it is about the misfortune of her people. And in the khaki
uniform of the AWB's Brandwag, the 16-year-old plays dress-up as a soldier
for the volk.
"I've been in this frame of mind all my life," she grins. "My father," she
says proudly, "was a kommandant in the AWB, and he's still like that, so
that is how I grew up. This is very important - that we stand together as a
people. All those people who are the same must unite. It means the world to
me."
Hanekom - who is from Krugersdorp - was behind the table selling T-shirts
and stickers, and signing people up for the newly reformed resistance
movement at the long-awaited Pretoria stop of its nationwide roadshow this
week.
Large numbers of the audience were under the age of 35. They wouldn't
remember Eugene Terre'Blanche, their leader, tumbling off his horse or being
denigrated in a sex scandal.
To the children of the right, Terre'Blanche remains more than mere white
flesh. When the 1994 election was won by their enemies, he warned the last
Afrikaner generation of apartheid that things would fall apart. Now he
reminds them of how he told them so.
There is a paucity, to some a void, of credible white leadership in South
Africa, so the youth of the volk have only got Terre'Blanche to fawn and
flatter. It is them who are helping the dairy farmer and ex-convict from
Ventersdorp to make what could be the biggest comeback of his career.
In Pretoria, the youth gathered to immerse themselves in the doom drawn by
their elders, Terre'Blanche's gimmickry of a boere mystic enhanced by the
surroundings. The hall where his supporters met this week is a fortress of
the white right, although you wouldn't know it from the outside.
"We want to rule over ourselves. So bring your brain-power, your might, your
guns, your living God, the experience of your forefathers. I plead with you
tonight," glides Terre'Blanche from the podium.
"Yes," he shouts, "we are back! And if you sign up tonight, tomorrow you'll
have a friend. Do it, sign up, before we get murdered out of oblivion!"
Craftily, the new AWB leadership has conjured up the Brandwag, an apparently
innocuous cellphone club-cum-neighbourhood watch steadily growing a precious
database of names and numbers, readying - says Terre'Blanche - for the
impending battle for their ultimate freedom.
The Brandwag joining fee is R60 for a couple, R50 for singles. Children are
free. Once in, members can order the uniform and have their name embroidered
above the right pocket, under the emblem.
Out in the corridor, Jacobus Herculas de la Rey - the Lion of the Western
Transvaal and unsullied hero of the rising Afrikaner youth - gazes at his
fans from a charcoal portrait.
"I'm a Christian and I feel I know, I understand, this land because of
that," explains Hennie Bezuidenhout, a medical student at the University of
Pretoria.
"My belief is it is the privilege of Afrikaners to bring the word of God to
people on the African continent. So I mourn the fact (we) now have to .
fight for our safety instead of doing what we are ordained to do."
Like Hanekom, Bezuidenhout would prefer to desist from the race question.
Hanekom says she doesn't see herself as racist because, quite simply, "the
Afrikaners are my people, and I belong with them. They stand for those
things in which I believe.
"For some of our parents, like the parents of some of the white children at
my school, it might be different. Some of them have been taken in by the
ANC. But that's over. Just like the blacks, we must now stand together and
finally fight for what is ours."
Hanekom admits that her father's racism might have made it impossible for
her to even consider the possibility of friendship with someone who is not
white, but "I know what they do, the blacks".
"I don't have any black friends, and actually I'm not at all interested in
having any, anyway. It makes me feel uncomfortable."
Gys Kleyn, who is studying dentistry at Tuks, says he comes from a farm in
the southern Cape "so why would I want to sit in some small place like
Orania?"
He says this is the reason why they must engage in the last, supreme battle
for the vast tracts of land that are theirs by law, like Stellaland and
Goosen in the far North West, which were bought by the Boers from the
traditional authorities with cattle in the 1800s. The detested British
conned them out of the land and they never got it back.
Dramatic
But, Kleyn warns amiably, they surely will. The AWB's intention is to make a
formal plea at the Hague for their right to the land they perceive as being
theirs, and, should this attempt fail, the leadership may consider a more
dramatic course of action.
Out in the corridor, a young woman with a baby gazes at a romantic portrait
of a Voortrekker hauling his wagon over the aria of the mountaintop, his
wife and children captivated by his bravery. Inside the room, Terre'Blanche
tells the teenagers about the contract in a suitcase that was all that
remained when Piet Retief and his men were killed by Dingaan.
"God punished us with a government of a De Klerk," he spits and rails, "and
the new order was forced upon us. I ask you: what is it that you want? We're
a pitiful little nation, but we'll never ask forgiveness for apartheid.
Never!"
The air is heavy with guilt, transgression and anxiety. He needs to calm the
audience down, especially the two teenage boys in the second row from the
back.
Terre'Blanche remonstrates with the crowd, the boys taking it to heart:
"What happened to us that we let this happen? We don't have to allow
ourselves to go to nothing. After all . Jesus dies for us, for our sins. The
strangers' might is almighty and strong, but we have the right to be free
and independent."
The audience hummed an echo out of their trance. Some shifted around in
their seats. Then, it was silence again. Breathing was arrogant. But the air
was suffocating: it couldn't wait for the crescendo. The connivance of the
quiet applause was an exhortation for him to continue. So Terre'Blanche
leaned forward, the light in these terrible times.
"It's not about what we do," he clattered, "but what we don't do."
For Bezuidenhout, Terre'Blanche surely has the bravest heart in the land.
The student rose to his feet for the ovation and put his money into one of
the buckets passed around the hall for donations.
"I think about my grandfather," he says, "who was a hard Boer. When his
black foreman died on the farm, he carried him into the house, his face
soaked with tears. That taught me a lot. We're not going to just be crept
out of our own land. We're not going to be crucified. I'm a fighter for
God's Afrikaners, and we will win."
En hier het ons die laaste paar dae te doen met 'n nuwe verskynsel
enaamd - xenofobia.
Ek sal graag wil hoor presies wat is die verskil tussen xenofobia en
rassisme .... Laat ek bietjie dink, is dit dalk omdat dit swart teen swart
is en geen swarte in sy lewe mos 'n rassis kan wees nie. Wonder of die
polisie sterker sou opgetree het as dit 'n klomp wit Suid-Afrikaners was wat
die lot so lekker opdonner hier in Alex.
"Dave" skryf in boodskap news:9u5vt3lvvfs3tilvgg1s6dg239es2nk91b@4ax.com...
>
>
> Sewerage shapes up as next crisis
> 18 March 2008, 09:46
>
> Related ArticlesWaste water treatment 'dire' - Minister
> Bad whiff about fish kill reports
> Lack of skills spells road to ruin
> DA will pay for independent water analysis
> By Victor Munnik
Interessant hoe die geskiedenis gereeld verander, né:-)
History book 'poisons pupils' minds'
13 May 2008, 11:34
Related Articles
* History book angers Buthelezi
The Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP) is arranging a series of protests to
end the use of a Grade 12 history book it describes as "biased
propaganda... poisoning the minds of children".
National protest organiser Albert Mncwango said on Tuesday that the
book, titled In Search Of History, is being used by schools throughout
South Africa.
"The IFP is protesting (about) biased propaganda masquerading as Grade
12 history," he said in a statement.
"This Grade 12 history book, being used in some schools as a
prescribed work, tells blatant lies and deliberately distorts facts
about the role of the IFP and the contribution made by its leader,
Prince Mangosuthu Buthelezi," he added.
He said protests would start in KwaZulu-Natal on Wednesday.
"We cannot allow our children to be poisoned with this... abominable
propaganda and the deliberate twisting of history to distort who did
what, when and where."
He stressed that schools should be places of learning and "not
propaganda incubators where learners are brainwashed".
Two protests are scheduled to take place on Wednesday in Empangeni and
Port Shepstone where a memorandum is expected to be handed over to
representatives of education minister Naledi Pandor. - Sapa
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