The New Super Afrikaner - #rawdraft
A term associated with an elite group of Afrikaners. Dark hearted white people. They benefited most from the apartheid regime. A bunch of narcissists & chauvinist pigs. Most were closely related to the dutch Reformed Church. Students were taught about the duty to serve the country and why the appartheid government was to be supported in this. In their final year at Sunday School church the chapter was: Ons vir jou Suid Afrika. A pathetic attempt by the church to make young men believe their conscription into the army of the apartheid regime was a Godly duty. Often biblical verses were twisted and quoted to support this concept. As these whites consider themselves to be the chosen nation, like the Israelites. That this country was given to them by God. We were brainwashed to believe that it was our duty to be conscripted to protect the country against Die Rooi en Swart gevaar. The Red (communist) and Black dangers. The broederbond had levels of membership similar to other organisations like the FreeMasons .
Bayers Naude , as a member of the ANC and a Dutch Reformed minister, opposed this belief of the church and was expelled. I had the privilege to meet him in the Netherlands in person. One of the major influencers in my life. Two incidents that describe the misconception people have.
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During the height of PW Botha’s reign, just after he delivered the infamous Rubicon Speech, Peter was hiking along the road between Bloemfontein and Bethlehhem. He was wearing his defence force uniform with a Ride Safe Sign hanging over his shoulder. He was not a soldier, and not too proud to wear that miserable uniform.
Peter could not shoot, he used to miss the target by miles. He would rather have shot at some of the permanent force pigs that tried to brainwash them all. He was obediently following orders but within two weeks of torture and shouting corporals verballly abusing everyone’s mothers and sisters, that all changed. These young men were supposedly protecting this precious country.
A car stopped, at first Peter thought they were plain clothes policemen. But they may have been farmers, although their vehicle was not a fancy thing like the rich farmers of that area. I jumped in on the back seat behind the passenger seat..
It was early evening and they were going to Bethlehem. Peter was on his way to Durban where his girlfriend lived. Somewhere on the road they suddenly stopped, there was an old Sotho man on a bicycle. He was heading in the opposite direction. They asked a few questions, then they started hitting the old man, kicking his bicycle and bent the wheel.
They got back into the car chuckling.
In a contrast rather ironic, a few weeks later Peter was on his way back from Durban to Bloemfontein. He was dropped outside Harrismith at the fork where the highway split to Johannesburg and Bloemfontein. It was about 5 pm and It was damn cold that evening, the wind was howling. Harrismith was not a good place to get stuck. The fork in the highway was outside of town and cars were speeding at 120 km per hour past Peter and at that speed people didn’t stop easily.
During the early hours of the evening the road was busy. The Freestate farmers returned from their weekend’s at their luxury homes on the North and South coast of Kwa-Zulu Natal. Towards midnight, the cars were far and few between. By this time the frustrated Peter was disgusted at his fellow white Afrikaner’s attitude for not stopping to offer him a lift.
It was not as if Peter cared for the safety. As he stood there supposedly in the name of “Ons vir jou Suid Afrika”, he despised this unique breed of Super Afrikaners. These remote Freestate areas, a breeding ground for many Afrikaner narcissists. Peter was cold and furious at these barbaric chauvinists pigs. Peter had to be back at the De Brug camp at 7 am the next morning, It was still a good 3 hour drive to Bloemfontein. Time was running out as he was lying flat on the ground to avoid the full blow of the ice cold wind. There were few cars travelling at 2 that morning.
Peter could hear as the cars approached, then see the lights in the distance. He would get up hopeful, almost beggingly extend his hand to catch a lift. It was only around 4 in the morning that a taxi stopped a few meters from Peter. A black man emerged and stood next to the taxi, relieving himself. Come. He called Peter over. Peter walked to the taxi with a mixed sense of gratefulness and a little bit of fear. During these days of apartheid, with the racial tension at it’s peak, most Afrikaners, let alone those in uniform, would feel intimidated and not expect a kind black taxi driver to offer a lift at this time of the night. Where are you travelling to. The driver asked Peter with a smile. Peter, much more relaxed now, replied: De Brug on the other side of Bloemfontein. I am Nelson by the way. The taxidriver announced as he extended his hand towards Peter. He introduced himself and was Instantly relaxed.
Peter soaked up the warmth of the taxi. It was filled to capacity, he was given some space behind the driver seat. Despite the loud indigitious music playing Peter fell into a comfortable sleep.
Peter woke up much later with his resting on the man next to him’s shoulder. The sun was starting to rise. The man smiled, opened an old tupperware container and offered Peter a sandwich. Peter was hungry and said thanks as he took it from the man’s hand.
The taxi driver looked over his shoulder and with a smile: Oh you awake. Peter smiled back and asked: How far are we from Bloemfontein? It was about six in the morning and he had one hour to get to De Brug. The driver saw the worried look in Peter’s eyes and said: Don’t worry brother we will get you there in time. Peter was relieved as he saw the gentle look in the man’s face. He stared out the window while thinking about this experience and the contrast with the lift a few weeks earlier.
The taxi stopped at the De Brug Defence Force Unit’s gate just before seven. The guards were on alert. Looked strangely at Peter as he emerged from the taxi and shook the driver’s hand. Peter offered to pay but the driver waved his hand as he drove off with a smile. Peter was grateful as the taxi driver took a detour of more than 40 kilometers to deliver him safely at the gate of an army camp. The people devising horrific plans to discriminate against and destroy the African people.
Peter entered through the gate, the guards checking his passbook and walked up the road towards the barracks. The unit was busy at this time of the morning as soldiers and officers moved to and from the kitchen. Peter was looking at things differently. The Afrikaners were the cowards and with fear, oppressing millions of Africans. The Africans on the contrary were mostly brave in their oppression and always forgiving.
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There are thousands more good taxi drivers out there than bad. There are millions of Africans praying and hoping for this strange phenomenon to come to pass. Racism is ruining the country.
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