I got an e-mail from a childhood friend, reproduced below with names changed to protect the innocent. This friend was always quite a liberal because of his nice personality, but unfortunately he was destined to be mugged by reality. Let’s be glad he survived his South African “mugging by reality.”
I could have told him the perils of car-camping in the New South Africa. But that would have been racist and therefore ignored by all men of goodwill. LOL.
As many of you know, Old Kyle is not above sleeping in a car on occasion. When traveling, it is a great way to save some time and, in the boonies of a developing country, might be the only lodging option. Amazingly, I have convinced Lin Wei that is a practical way to explore.
That era might be at an end, however…
On our recent trip to South Africa, I began with the thought that we would be sleeping in the most mobile of motels, our rental car, nearly every night. We took delivery of said machine in the big city of Johannesburg, which manages to hold the number one cede on some popularly recognized poll of most dangerous cities in the world.
For the first night’s “rough camping” locale, I chose a fine, apparently secluded spot on a back road behind a back road. I pulled over at an idyllic rest area, shaded by a tree, and gave the spot a brief safety inspection. We readied ourselves to sleep and, for additional safety measures in the unlikely chance we had to make a hasty departure, I left the key in the ignition, locked the doors, lowered the emergency brake, and shifted into first gear.
We were asleep in very little time….until…
I awoke to loud noises, bright lights, and banging on all the windows of the car. The voices of many men shouted for me to open the doors. Of course, I chose to not oblige them.
Although I could not see the space in front of the car, due to the steamed windows, I burned the proverbial rubber the heck out of there. I drove around the bright source of light directly in front me, assuming it was one of many cars surrounding ours, and drove over shrubs and stumps on my way back to the main road. To add some more dramatic zeal, the crackle of gunshots came at us from behind, causing us to naturally hunker down in our seats.
After I reached the road, I had to roll down my side window to see where I was driving. In a few seconds, one of the cars that had surrounded us passed by and forced us off the road. In my abruptly awakened state, I registered by the writing on the side of the car that it was South African police. I decided to stop the car.
The screams of, “Get the @#$% out of the car, now” alerted me that the fuzz was a bit ornery. Wishing to avoid a sound police thrashing, like in nearly all of the movies about South Africa we watched before the trip, I did my best to comply.
Then things really turned cinematic. I stepped out of the car, heralded by blinding spotlights, drawn guns, and lots of poo-poo language. I was told in the local vernacular that I should lie on the ground. I did. Two men then ran toward me, one keeping his pistol low to the ground in front of me, while the other chose to keep his six-shooter against my noggin.
The customary process then took place. In a matter of seconds, I was properly cuffed and on my way to being stuffed. All the while, I had faith that my shrieks (very manly ones, of course) that the windshield had obscured my view of my pursuers, would eventually be heard.
It seemed, however, like they were getting more and more angry. I never felt so close to a classic stomping then when one of them started to scream, in reference to me, “He is drunk…He has been drinking”, to the others. This chorus was quickly taken up by others in what I can only guess was a collective excuse to subdue me, their handcuffed and totally compliant detainee. My thoughts ran to things like, “Ah, they were good teeth” and “Is it easy to buy colostomy bags in Japan?”
But, as the reader can certainly tell, I somehow escaped a thrashing. Or at least they did not break my fingers. How? you might ask. Never underestimate the calming influence of an angelic Asian woman with big puppy dog eyes, it seems.
In summary, all I can say is Happy New Year to all, a grand hope that someone invents a dehumidifier that plugs into a car lighter, and, as always… (signs off with his motto)
You’d think one would have “caught on to racial reality” by 40 years of age, wouldn’t you? Well, it’s never too late to learn.
Matt Parrott
mindweapon
… and that was the good guys! Seriously, if he’d just cooperated from the start he probably would have had no problems. The SA Police still has a core of professional White policemen, who would check up on anything out of the ordinary. The Johannesburg Metro Police are a different kettle of fish. They are black, they hate Whites, and one of their favourite jokes is to arrest a White man on trumped-up charges, put him in a cell to be gang-raped by a couple of dozen savages, then release him the next morning without charges.
But there are a lot of bad guys out there, and I’d have to be really desperate to try sleeping out like that. I’ve done it in the past, but the past, as they say, is another country.
My best advice for people wanting to visit South Africa is “Don’t”. Tourists here are sitting ducks. Criminals love them, because
1. They have money, cameras and credit cards;
2. They are unarmed (and unwary); and
3. They go home. Since they won’t be around to testify at any trial, the police don’t even bother to make any arrests.
Quarantine Africa (right after I get out of here!).
Analogman,
I haven’t experienced life under a black dictatorship, but I learned from reading and observing that it’s a horrible way to live. I didn’t need a direct experience to get that, but this guy did. And even still I’m sure he’s making excuses — “legacy of apartheid” and all that. the only legacy of apartheid is the residual wealth and all the stuff which still works, but won’t in another decade or so because it’s not maintained. Like water and electricity. The ANC won’t spend money on that stuff when they can send it to theire Swiss accounts.
It’s good to see that reality encroaches on liberals now and then. And I’m just glad my friend made it out in one piece. I remember telling him about Amy Biehl in the 1990′s and he just said, “that sort of thing happens, it was election time and all.” He just made excuses.
This is why we have such problems — lots of nice White people grow up sheltered, and they carefully shelter their liberal illusions.
He may be “male”, but he’s actually female…
Interesting that you mention Amy Biehl. I’m surprised that anyone in America still remembers her – not exactly a success story for liberal activism. I returned from a visit to the USA last month, and the guy who runs the airport shuttle service I use was telling me that he’s had a good holiday season, with lots of tourists. He said that there is a strong demand for tourist service to visit the spot where Amy was murdered. Some kind of pilgrimage, apparently. But will they learn anything? What a question!
You reported a story here a few weeks ago about a “British” man and his “Swedish” bride who was murdered (the bride, that is) in that same township. I don’t know whether you got the follow-up story, but apparently the police caught a “suspect”, who claimed it was all set up by the husband, who paid him R15000 (about $2000) to kill his wife. Maybe it’s some kind of a Pakistani cultural thing.
I’ve lived in a Jewish-Black dictatorship: NYC, 1974-94. Just as a for instance, I used to take my bicycle onto the subway once in a awhile….officially, “illegal” unless you take the pedals off first. Never had an problems with white subway cops. With the blacks, it was a quick boot off the train every time. Same out on the streets.
Haver never heard of it before, but Gary North (at lew rockwell) recommends this
book on grass-roots politics:
http://www.amazon.com/Dedication-Leadership-Douglas-Hyde/dp/0268000735
To see what is happening to the Afrikaaners in South Africa, visit the website http://censorbugbear-reports.blogspot.com.
It is a continuous horror story for those Afrikaaners.
Mindweapon, you should email Adriana Stuijt who runs the censorbugbear reports website and interview her.
The Afrikaaners are a small, hated minority in the new S.A., victims of terrible torture and killings. Under that threat, one would think they would all unite together in their own defense. Not so. They live spread out all over the country, all over the cities. The Afrikaaner male leaders always seem to be fighting over some small issue. They seemingly have little understanding of public relations or propaganda. And worse yet, the Afrikaaner “leaders” are stubborn.
Many of the Afrikaaners who were middle-class and up had black maids, black nannies and black gardeners. Robberies and physical attacks on Afrikaaners in their homes often involved the black employee helping the attackers. Afrikaaner farmers often employed numerous blacks on their farms. Afrikaaners have been addicted to cheap black labour, which has put the Afrikaaners in a very dangerous position. Afrikaaners have been their own worst enemy in many instances.
Good b/g on BRSA and soon in BRA, “Cannibals in the Pot” .