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Tuesday, 28 April 2009

The dark side of black people

Leighton Levy wrote this article in Jamaica Star, where he raised very valid points.  Rest assured Leighton, we have white brothers who also make us cringe at sharing certain traits.

LET ME START by saying that if I had my life to live over a thousand times, the one thing I would not change would be my race. I am proud to be a black man. There are times however, when I wish that certain people and I did not share that trait.

For the past few days, the whole world … well, at least those who have access to satellite and cable television, have been seeing pictures of the virtually total devastation of the cities of the U.S. Gulf Coast by Hurricane Katrina. An estimated 90 per cent of homes in New Orleans have been destroyed by flood waters and more than 100 people have been confirmed dead.

We see people standing on the roofs of their submerged homes desperate to be rescued, others being airlifted to safety, and we have heard tear-jerking stories of families losing their loved ones. But in all of this, we have also seen the really dark side of black people.

The day after the hurricane passed, there were reports of looting but network reporters had been saying that people were looting out of desperation, in search of food and water. A lot they knew.

The pictures I have been seeing are of people - black people - stealing shoes, diapers, and television sets. Not food and definitely not water. Not unless the armfuls of clothing, shoes, and appliances I see people wading through the streets with count as food and water.

Now, if all the looters were looting out of desperation, how desperate were the guy and girls I saw toting several boxes of size 13 Nikes? How desperate was the fellow with the stack of diapers? What, is it that he has several babies at home suffering from loose bowels? What am I talking about, what home? Everything is under water and what isn’t, has been totally destroyed.

Plasma TV?

And just what are those guys stealing the plasma television sets going to be watching when there is no power in the entire city?

Desperation? Yeah, right. I am beginning to believe that black people, no matter where in the world they are, are cursed with a genetic predisposition to steal, murder, and create mayhem.

The entire firearm department at a Wal-Mart department store, for example, was cleaned out and the looters used the stolen weapons to rob people. How low is that? Everybody is suffering and the black people would seek to rob people who are suffering just like themselves.

No white looters?

And it has nothing to do with poverty. Where are the white people in all this? I am sure there are poor white people living in New Orleans, Biloxi and the other towns affected by what has been going on. Is it that the media are not showing pictures of them looting and robbing? Or is it that they are too busy trying to stay alive, waiting to be rescued, and hiding from the blacks.

And you know what? Even if the poor whites were looting and robbing, wouldn’t it be nice if the blacks could have made them the only ones doing it

Just once, I would like for us blacks to take the high road in situations like this, where instead of showing our darkest side, we put our best foot forward. But I guess that would be too much to ask, too much of a case of wishful thinking.

Saturday, 25 April 2009

Miss California, Carrie Prejean, on Fox News

Miss not Ms

Cheryl from New Jersey wrote this article about how that piece of scum Perez Hilton spew his hatred towards Carrie Prejean, Miss California at the Miss USA pageant, after she answered his loaded question about gay marriages at the pageant where Perez was a judge.  Carrie said she thought it was good that people have a choice today regarding their preferences, but she was brought up and believed that marriage should be between a man and woman.  She clearly states this was her belief.  You can watch the disgusting remarks of that idiot Perez, whose ugly face resembles a barrel of burst arseholes, here:

Here follows the brilliant article from Cheryl:

miss_california_carrie_prejean_publicity_shotShe was looking to become Miss USA, not Ms. USA, and definitely not Mrs. USA.  She’s not married, has no years of being married, hasn’t gotten to a 10th anniversary of marriage, a silver 25th anniversary of marriage, nor a golden 50th anniversary of marriage.  She’s no expert on marriage.  She’s trying to look beautiful so that she can win a beauty contest.  It’s not an ugly contest.  If they had to give out awards and money for being ugly they would run out of money before they gave out all of the awards.  The idea behind a beauty contest is money: oh, if only I could buy that color eye make-up I would attract attention; oh, if only I could lose enough weight so I could go around in that bathing suit; oh, if only I could get that hair style some man would notice me; oh, if only I had beautiful clothes like that…. on and on….

Beauty is for sale; it’s purchasable, you can buy it.  They have beauty contests because beautiful women attract attention.  They fill up a convention centers with people who are ready to look at beautiful women for hours on end.

Did I mention the earrings?  Did you see those earrings?  Those earrings must have been so heavy pulling down on the earlobes; if you tilt too far forward you could lose your balance and fall flat on your face.  I’ve noticed they put beautiful jewelry on beautiful women.  It’s called advertising and it’s a big business.

donald-trump-picture-1Donald Trump owns this production.  The Miss USA pageant is his.  He should have hired judges who like looking at and can properly judge beautiful women.  A beauty contest is not a political contest.  Being politically correct is not an objective of a beauty contest.  Bringing up divisive topics for questions and answers is only going to stir up trouble.  A beauty contest needs judges who first of all like beautiful women.  If the judges don’t like beautiful women, they shouldn’t be judges.  If you don’t like steak, don’t become a food critic.  Donald Trump should have gotten a different judge.  The judge had his own agenda.  The judge looked to get the headlines.  The judge went into a descriptive commentary about what he would have done if Miss California had won.  These items do not belong at a beauty contest.  When other scandalous behavior has arisen because of beauty contests, either the winner had to step down, or personnel changes had to take effect.  Donald Trump needs to get judges who like beautiful women; find those women attractive; can rate their charm and grace; and can assign a numerical rating as to their beauty.

miss_california_carrie_prejean_winsPolitical decisions are not going to be made by Miss USA.  She is not going to influence voting patterns across the nation.  She is not going to determine the final outcome on solar power.  She’s looking to win a contest, collect her money and go around looking pretty.  And what’s wrong with that?

Miss USA needs to be wholesome; needs to represent American Values like Apple Pie and Mom.  There is a certain sense of morality, youthfulness and innocence that needs to be projected.  Deviation from that ideal has no place at a beauty contest.

And where are the COWs?  The Coalition of Women.  The ones who have gone around saying they want equality; they want their own identity; they want women in the forefront.  They have been promoting that women should speak up.   Women should speak their mind.  So why is it when Miss California spoke her mind no COWs came forward to defend her?  Could it be that they have a political agenda contrary to Miss California?  Miss California is out there all alone, and the women who should be defending her seem to be nowhere to be seen.  COWs out to pasture.

anita-bryantYears ago a beauty contestant runner-up, a Miss Oklahoma in the Miss America contest, Anita Bryant, had become a spokesperson for Florida oranges.  When she was married and had a family, she successfully advertised Florida orange juice.  When she spoke out against the gay community, they didn’t let up on her until she was ruined financially, she lost her contract to advertise orange juice, and she became divorced.  That was a vicious assault.  Now years later, beauty contestants are still targets.  Anita Bryant had pointed out that in order to create a family, in order to have a baby, two parents are needed, a man and a woman, a husband and a wife, a father and a mother.  The way Anita Bryant had worded it, she said something to the effect that she knew of Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.

That’s the American Way; that’s the Norman Rockwell image; that’s the way it has always been.  And I don’t know how they can possibly make it any different.  The beauty contestants don’t get all dressed up to attract other beauty contestants.  Where are the COWs who are devoted mothers?  The COWs would allow their children to be taken from them?  The COWs say normanrockwellnothing.  To them their children are secondary.  It’s okay with society; it’s okay with the courts; it’s okay with the states - the definition of family is changed.  The excuse is that the new millennium represents modern times.  Get with it.  This is the dawning of a new age.  Oh, NO.  Family is Man, Woman, Child.  Women still bring children into this world.  Children are not manufactured off an assembly line.  The liberated woman cannot give her child over to another woman as a replacement; no mother can be replaced.  There is only one biological mother.

In life there are problems.  In marriage there are problems.  Work at fixing up the problems.  Work on that.  Don’t say go a new way.  Take the issue; take the problem, work on it and fix it.  You find a problem with marriage - fix it.

And a young woman who speaks up and defends religion should be commended.  Marriage is man, woman, child.  That’s the way it’s always been.  That’s the way it will always be.  And that can never be changed.  And who would ever want to change it.

Miss California, America is with you.  You are the American ideal.  Continue to speak out.  Continue with how you were raised.  A good life is your future.  You are a blessing.

Miss California, all the best of luck to you.

cheryl_sig1

Friday, 24 April 2009

South Africa: The new apartheid [part1]

South Africa: The new apartheid [part2]

South Africa: The new apartheid [part3]

Thursday, 23 April 2009

When the River Ran Red

Arthur Kemp, American Renaissance, September 2008

The year is 1838. Dodging a flurry of spears, the Boer commander, Andries Pretorius, rides forward to seize a Zulu warrior. In the midst of an epic battle between more than 15,000 warriors and just 468 Boers, Pretorius has decided to take a Zulu alive. He wants to send the captive back to his king, Dingaan, to convey surrender terms to the Zulu nation.

The warrior has no intention of being taken alive, and jabs viciously at Pretorius with his assegai. This is a Zulu spear, normally a long-shafted throwing weapon, but the warrior broke its shank earlier for close-quarter stabbing. Pretorius gives up on capturing the Zulu, and tries to shoot him.

With a single-shot, muzzle-loading musket, he has only one chance of a hit. There is no time to reload in close combat. To his horror, Pretorius sees the smoke-trailing ball whiz past the Zulu’s ear. At the same time, the Zulu lunges forward, causing Pretorius’s horse to stumble backwards, throwing the white commander to the ground.

Leaping to his feet, he meets the attacking Zulu, who knows he is now on equal terms with the white man, who can no longer use his magic shooting stick and carries no weapon comparable to the assegai. Pretorius is now fighting for his life. He just manages to sidestep the spear point, striking it away with the butt of his gun.

Spinning round, the Zulu raises his spear high above his head and thrusts down, as he has been trained to do in the Zulus’ disciplined army. It is a blow that will be fatal if it strikes home, but Pretorius sees it coming. He grabs the spear point with his left hand to ward it away from his chest. The sharp point cuts deeply into his palm, embedding itself at an angle that makes it impossible for the Zulu to pull it out. Pretorius seizes the Zulu by the throat with his free right hand and throws him to the ground in an attempt to strangle him.

The Zulu struggles, and with the help of two good hands is about to break free, when one of Pretorius’s men comes upon the scene. He pulls the assegai out of the commander’s hand, and plunges it into the Zulu’s side, ending the struggle.

Pretorius remounts and heads back to the Boer camp for treatment. He is not worried, as he knows by now that this greatest of all battles between Boers and Zulus has already been won. The main Zulu army has been broken in two, and the river that runs along one side of the Boer camp is stained red with Zulu blood. The place and the tributary known previously as the Ncome will be renamed Blood River. Pretorius knows that the Zulu defeat, which will include some 3,000 killed on the battlefield, is a fit revenge for the deception and murder committed by the Zulus 10 months earlier.

Prelude to War

The great clash between the Boer and Zulu nations was not, as leftist historians like to claim, the result of ruthless white colonialism suppressing an indigenous people. It came about because the Zulus rejected an extremely reasonable attempt at negotiation by the Boers.

The Boers, pioneers of Dutch, French, and German descent, were the people who opened up much of what was later to become South Africa. Their first antecedents had landed on the southernmost tip of Africa in 1652, only 45 years after the Virginia Company settled on Jamestown Island.

When they arrived in the area now known as Cape Town, whites came into contact only with Hottentots and Bushmen. As the number of Europeans increased, they expanded east and north, only meeting their first black tribe, the Xhosa, some 500 miles away, on South Africa’s east coast. The Xhosas were migrating south, fleeing the warlike Zulu to the north, who were engaged in imperialist expansion of their own.

For just under a century white settlement halted at this eastern frontier border formed by the coast and firm Xhosa settlement. It was not, however, a time of peace, as Xhosa were constantly raiding the Boers who lived on the border. This caused much harm and discontent among the farmers, who blamed the Dutch-ruled colonial government back in Cape Town for the lawlessness.

It only added to the border farmers’ grievances when the British took the Cape Colony from the Dutch in 1806 to prevent the colony from falling into French hands during the Napoleonic Wars. It was vital to control the merchant and naval refitting station on the way to the Far East. The new colonial masters not only started anglicizing the colony, when they abolished slavery they offered compensation that amounted to hardly a quarter of a slave’s value.

Exasperated by incessant Xhosa attacks and British attempts to suppress their language and culture, groups of frontier farmers, filled with a sense of manifest destiny not seen again until the opening of the American West, set forth to the north and the east in a movement known as the Great Trek. The trekkers (they became known as Voortrekkers, or pioneers, only after 1880) bypassed the Xhosa in search of new, unsettled territory, in which they could establish independent Boer nations. All told, it was only a small minority of no more than 12,000 Boers who made the trek to the future Natal, Orange Free State, and Transvaal regions. They traveled in several waves of covered, ox-drawn wagons much like the Conestogas in which Americans opened the West.

The Boer leader of the time, Piet Retief, had written the trekker “manifesto,” in which he spelled out the farmers’ long-held grievances against the British. By1836, the Boer wagons had crossed the great mountain range into Natal, in an act of audacity that few thought possible. The range, the highest in southern Africa, had been named the Drakensberg—the Dragon Mountains—because they were said to be impassable.

Retief had identified a large piece of uninhabited land to the north of the Zulu kingdom, which lay open to settlement. Retief knew that if he wanted the land for his people, he could take it unopposed. However, he wanted to live in peace with his Zulu neighbors, and before taking possession, he opened negotiations with the Zulu king, Dingaan. He wanted no misunderstanding between the two peoples.

He sent a letter to the Zulu king explaining why he wanted to speak to him, and first visited Dingaan’s capital—a large circle of reed and grass huts—on November 5, 1837. Retief left the main body of trekkers and went to the Zulu king’s capital, Umgungundhlovo (“the place of the elephant”), to negotiate a treaty that would allow Boers peacefully to settle land adjoining the Zulu kingdom. Dingaan said he would let the Boers live in Natal if they recovered cattle stolen by a Tlokwa chieftain. Retief and his men did so, and Dingaan agreed to give the land to the Boers.

Retief returned to Umgungundhlovo on February 3, 1838, to finalize the agreement. He arrived with 60 volunteers, including his own son and three children of other men—it was common for children to accompany their fathers on expeditions of this kind. The next day, Retief and Dingaan formally signed a treaty—the Zulu king made his mark by scratching an “X” on the document—giving possession of the land to the Boers. Delighted, the Boers sent scouts back to the main encampments to report the successful outcome and made ready to leave. As Retief and his party were about to saddle up, a messenger arrived from Dingaan inviting the Boer party to a special celebration to mark the signing. Retief was suspicious but did not want to offend Dingaan. As they had on previous visits, the Boers stacked their firearms neatly outside the reed walls and entered the royal enclosure unarmed.

As they ate and drank, a Zulu impi, or warrior unit, put on a dance for the guests. According to the account of a white missionary who was present, the dancing warriors drew ever closer to the Boers, till they were just in front of the seated whites. When the Zulu king leaped to his feet and shouted, “Kill the white wizards!” the impi fell upon the surprised Boers. Some of them drew their hunting knives and tried to fight off the attackers, but they were quickly overwhelmed.

The Zulu warriors bound the whites with reed ropes and dragged them to Hlomo Amabutho, the Hill of Execution, near the Zulu capital. There they clubbed the Boers to death, one by one, with Retief kept until last and forced to watch his son being murdered. After Retief’s heart was extracted and presented to Dingaan as proof that the Boer leader was dead, the bodies were left for the vultures, in accordance with Zulu custom.

Dingaan then gave orders for the full might of his army to attack the Boer camps. The settlers had received the message Retief had sent earlier and believed everything had gone well. They were therefore completely unprepared and badly undermanned. The 60 men in Retief’s party were all dead. Many other men had gone hunting, leaving only a light guard for the women and children. The Boers were so confident there would be peace that they had not even posted sentries. Just before dawn, barking dogs aroused the outlying wagons. Then, thousands of Zulu warriors attacked the several hundred trekkers—women, children, and old men—as they lay sleeping.

The Boer historian, Gustav Preller, who interviewed survivors, left a harrowing account of the aftermath: “All around dozens and dozens of bodies … babies who had had their heads smashed open against the wagon wheels, women, dishonored and in some Zulu custom, their breasts cut off … [I]n a wagon, blood filled to a height of several inches, the life blood of an entire family ebbed out where they lay … Jan Bezuidenhout, one of the few young men who had not gone ahead with the Retief party, grabbed his four-month-old baby daughter out of her crib and ran off through the undergrowth … [H]aving lost his pursuers a few miles away, Bezuidenhout checked for the first time on his daughter in his arms. She was dead; a single spear stroke had killed her.”

The slaughter became known as the Weenen, the Dutch word for weeping, and a town of that name still stands near the site. Of the 600 Boers camped in the area, Zulus killed some 300, including 185 children. The rest survived because grazing requirements for their animals meant that the Boer camps had to be widely dispersed. If Dingaan’s men had scouted more thoroughly, found all the encampments, and attacked them simultaneously, the slaughter would have been far greater.

Pretorius arrives

The Boers now faced their greatest challenge. Their camps were full of wounded men, orphaned children, and widows. The Zulus had stolen an estimated 25,000 head of cattle and sheep during the Weenen slaughter, and ammunition was running low. The Zulu armies might return at any time, and they were a formidable force, as the Boers discovered when they launched a raid to avenge the massacre. On April 6, 1838, 347 trekkers under a divided command of Piet Uys and Hendrik Potgieter rode into Zulu territory only to be defeated by some 7,000 warriors not far from Umgungundhlovo in what became known as the Battle of Italeni.

This new disaster forced the Boers to face reality: They had to either abandon their quest for independence and return to the Cape Colony, or find some means to fight their way through. The widows and orphans argued strongly for pushing on. They knew that if they fell back to the Cape they would have to live on charity, whereas if Dingaan could be defeated they could at least recover their livestock. Many Boers were also convinced that God favored them, and that setbacks were only a test of faith.

It was at this moment of indecision that a popular lawyer named Andries Pretorius answered the trekker call for reinforcements, and rode into camp with 60 men and a brass cannon. The Boers appointed him commander in chief on November 25, and he immediately began preparing a strike against the Zulu.

His means were few. A force of only about 468 Boers, including three Scotsmen, set out on November 27 seeking battle. For extra protection, the Boer column of 64 wagons traveled four abreast, instead of the usual single file. Each night, they formed a circular defensive formation, known as a laager.

Pretorius realized that even with two front-loading cannon, his force was too weak to defeat the Zulu army in an open field. He therefore decided to draw the enemy into an attack on the Boer encampment. Each day patrols and scouting parties rode ahead, sometimes led by Pretorius himself, to make sure no unexpected surprises were waiting over the horizon.

On December 9, 1838, the Boer party reached the Zandspruit tributary of the Waschbank River. It was here that the Boer chaplain, Sarel Cilliers, first pledged during his nightly sermon that if God helped them defeat the Zulus, they and their descendents would celebrate that day in honor of God, and that they would build a church in commemoration. The Boers repeated this oath, known in Afrikaner folklore as “the covenant,” every night until they met the enemy.

There appeared to be no movement from the Zulu side. On December 12, Pretorius decided to move camp to the Buffalo River, hoping to provoke the Zulus by moving farther into their territory. That day, he sent out two patrols, one under the command of his deputy, Commandant Hans De Lange, and another, under the Scotsman Edward Parker. This latter group saw action when they came upon a small group of Zulus. They killed the warriors and took the women prisoner.

Pretorius drew up a message for Dingaan on a white cloth, explaining that he was leading a commando to punish the Zulus. If, however, Dingaan was willing to cooperate, Pretorius wrote, he was still willing to make peace—a generous offer in light of the earlier betrayal. He freed the prisoners and told them to give the message to Dingaan. He received no answer.

On December 13, the Boers spotted Zulus and what appeared to be a large number of cattle near their camp. Piet Uys had been tricked by such a ploy at the Battle of Italeni. Zulu warriors, crouching behind toughened animal-skin shields, looked like cattle from a distance, and Uys dropped his guard. He was killed in a surprise attack by the “cattle.”

Pretorius did not make the same mistake, and he sent a 120-strong mounted unit to investigate the “cattle.” They turned out to be Zulus, and in the short fight that followed the Boers killed eight warriors but suffered no casualties. Pretorius now suspected that the Zulus were preparing for battle.

On December 15 he moved the Boer camp to a position alongside the Ncome River, itself a tributary of the Buffalo River. A scouting expedition that day confirmed the presence of two huge Zulu armies a short distance away.

Pretorius prepared for battle. His men drew the wagons into a D-shaped formation, one side overlooking a large hippopotamus path facing the Ncome River, another side facing a soil erosion ditch, and the third side facing the open plain. Pretorius chose the site to limit the directions from which the Zulus could attack.

The laager was large enough to contain all the horses and oxen. The defenders tied the wagons together with leather ropes, and closed off all openings between and below the wagons with a Pretorius innovation, so-called fighting gates, which were slatted wood fixtures through which defenders could fire. They left two small openings, sealed with removable fighting gates, so cavalry could leave the laager. Finally, they attached lanterns to the ends of large ox-whips planted upright in the ground. These dangled in front of the laager and were to serve as forward lighting during the dark hours when Zulu usually attacked. Zulus captured after the battle said they had believed the lights waving in the breeze above the Boer camp were spirits, and that fear of the spirits kept them from attacking that night.

Battle is joined

In Pretorius’s own account of the battle, he wrote that as the mist cleared on the morning of December 16, he saw that the Boer camp was completely encircled by tens of thousands of Zulu warriors, even where the terrain would have made an attack difficult. Estimates placed the number of Zulus at between 15,000 and 25,000, although no official count was possible. Whatever the figure, Pretorius wrote that it was a “terrible sight.”

The Boers had been ready and armed since two hours before daybreak. The two cannon were in position, and the fighting gates closed. The defenders expected to run out of ammunition for the cannon, and had stacked up suitably sized stones at strategic points along the perimeter to fire as a last resort. The Boers would fire stones that day.

The front lines of the Zulu force were still, squatting, only about 40 paces from the wagons, waiting for the signal to attack. Pretorius decided to strike first. At his signal, three bursts of fire from the Boer guns and two blasts from the cannon broke the silence. The Boers’ orders were to then hold their fire. As the billows of gunpowder smoke lifted, they saw that the surviving Zulus had fled some 500 paces from their former front line, leaving behind dozens of dying and dead comrades.

The Boers then heard the noise of the Zulus breaking their spear shafts to make them into short, stabbing weapons. A frontal assault was coming. A few minutes later, the Zulu force stormed the wagons, screaming wildly, shields held high, and assegais in readiness. Withering gunfire ripped through the Zulu ranks, and while some managed to reach the wagons, they were gunned down before they could cut through the wagon canvasses.

Another group of Zulus tried to attack from inside the erosion ditch by standing on each others’ shoulders and scrambling over the edge. Pretorius ordered Cilliers, the fighting churchman, to see off the attack. He led a group of men out of the relative safety of the wagon perimeter, and they proceeded to kill some 400 Zulus. One Boer, Philip Fourie, was wounded when an assegai struck him in the side.

The Boers then wheeled one of their cannon out of the laager, pointed it into the ditch, and fired a shot that literally blew apart the assaulting party. The survivors fled the ditch in disarray. This sparked a temporary retreat by the Zulu, and marked the end of the second unsuccessful attempt to break the Boer lines. The wounded Boer, Fourie, returned to the wagon circle for treatment.

As the Zulus waited for new orders, Pretorius ordered another burst of cannon fire into their ranks, provoking a spontaneous charge against the wagons. Although it was the longest single assault of the nine-hour battle, it was utterly defeated, as the Boers cut down wave after wave of attackers. Gun barrels got so hot men had to hold them with wet cloths for reloading.

As the third attack fell back, the Boers launched their first surprise counterattack, as the mobile fighting gates swung open and a cavalry unit charged the Zulu lines. Shooting from the saddle, the Boers tried to turn the Zulu lines to their left. Desperate Zulu resistance, which saw hundreds more of their number killed, stopped the encircling action, and the Boer horsemen rode back to the wagons. They regrouped and launched a second attempt, driving the Zulus further away. A third mounted charge finally broke through the Zulu lines. The Boer cavalry then turned and attacked the Zulus from the rear. Pinned between the cavalry and cannon fire from within the wagon circle, the main Zulu force facing the open plain scattered.

A reserve Zulu force tried to cross the Ncome River to attack the laager but so many warriors were gunned down that their blood stained the water red. Pretorius himself then led another cavalry charge from within the laager. Cut to pieces, with thousands dead, the Zulu army, which had courageously charged repeatedly against a better-armed enemy, finally broke ranks and fled.

Pretorius divided his cavalry into two units and sent them in pursuit. Mounted Boers killed hundreds of warriors during a three-hour chase. It was during this pursuit that Pretorius was wounded. Two other Boers, including Fourie, suffered nonfatal assegai wounds, but these were the only Boer casualties. An estimated 3,000 Zulus died on the battlefield, and many more died later from wounds.

The Aftermath

Early the next morning, Pretorius ordered the camp broken, and marched the commando straight to the Zulu king’s capital. He was confident the Zulus no longer posed any significant threat, but he hardly expected the sight that awaited him on December 20 at Umgungundhlovo. Dingaan had fled with his wives and cattle, leaving the circular camp of reed huts burning, as a symbol of the destruction of Zulu power.

On the outskirts of the capital the Boers found the skeletons of Retief and his men. “Their hands and feet were still bound fast with thongs of ox hide,” wrote Cilliers, “and in nearly all the corpses a spike as thick as an arm had been forced into the anus so that the point of the spike was in the chest.” Retief, who was identified by the remains of a satin vest he had worn, still had a leather bag draped over his shoulder bone. In it was the treaty, signed by Dingaan, giving the Boers the unoccupied land to the north. According to one of the Boers who saw it, the treaty was astonishingly well preserved—as if it had been “left in a closed box.” Pretorius’s men buried Retief and his party on Christmas Day 1838.

Dingaan fled north but was captured by a rival tribe, the Swazis. Earlier, he had persecuted the Swazis, and they murdered him in revenge. The new Zulu king, Mpande, was officially installed in 1840, and confirmed the contents of the treaty with the Boers, who established their first republic in southern Africa. Also in 1840, in fulfillment of their covenant, the Boers built a church to mark the Blood River victory.

The Battle of Blood River entered the Afrikaner psyche as a divinely-inspired victory, and December 16 became a public holiday in South Africa, celebrated each year with festivals, church services, and reenactments. The battle represented the victory of European civilization over the darkness of Africa, of Christianity over heathens. It helped justify white supremacy and the self-appointed right of Afrikaners to rule over, not apart from, the black tribes.

Yet the Battle of Blood River, in many ways, symbolized all that was wrong with the white settlement of southern Africa, and why that experiment failed. The Boers are to be praised for wanting to settle unoccupied land peacefully, and for seeking the friendship of neighboring peoples, but neither they nor their descendents understood that demography is the arbiter of nations. Those who form the majority population of a territory will rule that territory, no matter how powerful a ruling elite may be. They will determine its culture and society. A majority-European population will create a society that reflects European values and norms. A majority-African population will create a society that reflects African norms.

The Boers never understood this. Even at the Battle of Blood River they had at least 60 black servants and an indeterminate number of mixed-race servants, who helped load weapons. Parker, one of the Scotsman, had more than 100 black servants.

To the present day, the overwhelming majority of Afrikaners have black servants who work on farms, in factories, and in homes. Afrikaners failed to understand that by giving the native population the benefits of European civilization, blacks would grow in numbers and overwhelm their society. The Cape Colony and the original Boer republics, which were largely uninhabited by natives when they were settled by Europeans, are today home to tens of millions of Africans.

The Church of the Vow, built by the Boers in 1840, still stands in the town of Pietermaritzburg, named after Piet Retief. But Pietermaritzburg, supposedly the symbol of the Boer victory over the Zulus, is today part of a municipality called Umgungundhlovo, named after Dingaan’s capital. It is also the capital of the South African province of Kwa-Zulu Natal, and its population is more than 95 percent black.

The Church of the Vow stands alone, graffiti-scarred and abandoned, in a dirty downtown slum. Its decay illustrates the fatal error made by the victors of the Battle of Blood River, that of ignoring the demographics of race. If whites had taken possession of those unoccupied lands and kept them for themselves alone the history of South Africa would have been entirely different.

If the Boers had inhabited and worked their own land rather than rely on black labor, the states they created might still be strong and independent today. Their decision to use non-white labor was a critical error that undid all of the sacrifices of the early pioneers.

The only way to maintain a civilization is for the majority to occupy its own land with its own people, and to do its own manual labor. This law governs the rise and fall of civilizations, and the victors of Blood River ignored it, to their cost.

Retief.jpg

Statue of Piet Retief at the Vortrekker Monument in Pretoria.

Tuesday, 21 April 2009

Ziegler detained taping outside Couric ceremony

So much for free speech.  Look for the Media Malpractice link on this blog to link to John Ziegler's website.  And people want to argue whether they have voted a socialist into power in the United States?

The Battle of Cuito Cuanavale

rsaarmyHere follows a stunning summary by R. Allport of how the South African / Unita forces kicked some communist Cuban butts at Cuito Cuanavale - a battle to this day claimed as victory for the commies with their typical propaganda nonsense.  You can read more of Rhodesian and South African military history at Rhodesia and South Africa: Military History website.


Cuba’s Mythical Victory
The Myth

In 1988 the Angolan Minister of Defence and other official Angolan and Cuban sources claimed that a South African offensive consisting of up to 9,000 troops with 500 tanks, 600 artillery field guns and scores of aircraft had attacked the town of Cuito Cuanavale in Angola. According to their version the attack had failed thanks to a valiant defense effort by Cuban and Angolan troops, and the South Africans had lost 50 aircraft, 47 tanks and hundreds of men.

The Cuban propaganda version of this “heroic battle” was widely believed in the west, and it was not until after the war had ended that the facts emerged. By the end of 1987, when the Cubans and Angolans were supposed to have achieved their great victory, they were already suing for peace in Angola, with their Soviet backers openly stating that the war there could not be won. In the negotiations that followed, one of the conditions of the Cubans was that they be allowed to make an honourable withdrawal from the war, an unusual demand to be made by a victorious army, to say the least. The fact is, the Cubans knew that they were losing but did not want to withdraw from Angola in disgrace. The South Africans, who had been the real victors in the Cuito campaign, realised that making the full facts known at that delicate stage in the peace negotiations would humiliate the Cubans and their Soviet backers and perhaps spur them into sending yet more troops to Angola in an effort to save their reputation. Making the Cubans look ridiculous would serve no useful purpose.

However, once the Cuban and Soviet involvement in the war had ended and the South Africans had withdrawn their troops, it did not take long for the real story of the battle to emerge.

Origin of the War

When Angola became independent from Portuguese rule in 1975 there was no elected government, and a pro-Communist guerrilla movement, the MPLA, became the de facto rulers, opposed by the smaller anti-Communist movements, the FNLA and Unita. When Cuban “advisers” began to enter the country to support the MPLA the South African Army responded by sending small combat groups into the war to assist the FNLA and Unita and at the same time eliminate the threat from SWAPO, a guerrilla group fighting to take over Namibia. During Operation Savannah in 1975 two small South African combat groups, with covert American backing, raced across Angola to the capital, Luanda, in a lightning blitzkrieg that was called off at the last moment when the Americans withdrew their political support.

In the years that followed the MPLA consolidated their hold on Angola, but at the same time Unita grew to a force of over 30,000 men which controlled most of Southern Angola and enjoyed the support of the local population. In order to counter the threat they posed to the MPLA more and more Cuban troops were brought into the country, along with Soviet advisers and huge supplies of armaments. Several offensives were attempted against Unita during the early 1980s without success. Both the Angolan Army and Air Force were expanded considerably, with more new weapons being delivered by the Soviets, including Mig-23s and Mi-25 combat helicopters.

In 1985 Fapla sent 20 brigades southwards in their largest offensive yet and the South African government decided that the threat of Cuban, Fapla and SWAPO forces reaching the South African borders was now too real to ignore, sent a small number of troops into Angola to assist Unita. To counter the air offensive the South African Air Force also flew a number of sorties, shooting down a Mig and several Soviet helicopters, one of which was ferrying the 10 Soviet officers in charge of the offensive to Cuito. The offensive finally ground to a halt, with large numbers of Faplan soldiers dead and a considerable number of Cubans killed, which prompted Castro to raise the Cuban troop strength in Angola to around 45,000 men.

During the first half of 1986 another offensive was attempted, considerably hampered and delayed after South African special forces units sank a Cuban cargo ship in Namibe Harbour and damaged two Soviet cargo ships and several oil tanks. In June, however, the offensive slowly got under way, but then was brought to an abrupt end when Unita troops, supported by South African troops, attacked and severely crippled the vital air base at Cuito Cuanavale. Without air support the offensive crumbled and the troops were pulled back.

The New Offensive

During late 1986 and early 1987 Cuban forces in Angola prepared for yet another full-scale offensive aimed at overrunning Unita and capturing its headquarters at Jamba. After their failure in both their 1985 and 1986 offensives in support of Fapla, the Cubans were now eager to gain the initiative and prove that they were a match for the South African Defence Force and establish themselves as the “liberators” of Southern Africa.

The Soviet Union was shipping heavy armaments into Angola daily, some of it the most modern Soviet weaponry ever seen outside the Soviet Union itself - jet fighters, tanks, helicopter-gunships, air defence missiles, radar and numerous vehicles. Most of it was delivered to Menongue, from where it was then moved on to the base at Cuito Cuanavale. This base had been chosen as the starting point for the new offensive.

Both the South Africans and Unita were left in no doubt that this enormous build-up of weapons and troops constituted preparations for the largest offensive yet attempted by the Cubans and the Angolan Army. General Magnus Malan of the SADF publicly warned that the offensive was imminent, and a Washington Post correspondent - William Claiborne - confirmed Malan’s warnings after he had been allowed to see the huge Soviet arms build-up in person.

During July 1986 the South Africans implemented a limited operation designed to assist Unita to develop an anti-tank capability. At the same time the American Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, Chester Crocker, was involved in peace negotiations with the Cubans and Angolans, but returned to Washington near the end of July disappointed and angry at their refusal to talk seriously about peace. Having failed in all their previous offensives, they were now obviously determined to make an all-out effort to force a military solution to the Angolan problem.

By the end of July small-scale clashes between SADF and Faplan units were increasing, and by early August the offensive had commenced. The main Cuban/Faplan force, consisting of 16, 21, 47 and 59 Brigades of the Angolan Army, advanced towards a town called Tumpo, east of Cuito Cuanavale, while several more brigades advanced from Lucasse, supported by ground-attack aircraft, in an effort to form a two-pronged attack across the Lomba River.

One force moved westwards, intending to capture the towns of Cangamba and Lumbala, but was stopped by Unita without South African assistance, and neither town was captured.

The second force, however, was more determined, with 16 and 21 Brigades moving eastwards and intending to swing south and advance on Mavinga, while 47 and 59 Brigades moved south in the direction of Mavinga.

A small number of South African officers were attached to the Unita forces to observe the enemy and work out a strategy for countering their offensive. When it became obvious that the offensive had begun the SADF moved a battery of 127mm multiple rocket launchers and a battery of 120mm mortars, each accompanied by an infantry company from 32 “Buffalo” Battalion, up to the front to support Unita. The size of the offensive was so great, however, that after some careful rethinking by the SADF commanders, a G-5 heavy artillery battery was sent to Mavinga for support, causing great excitement and awe among the Unita troops, who had never seen such huge guns before. A short time later 61 Mechanized Battalion Group, using Ratel armoured cars, was sent to Mavinga as a reserve.

32 “Buffalo” Battalion

South Africa’s 32 Battalion was formed in 1975 from former Angolan FNLA insurgents during the struggle for control of newly-independent Angola. The FNLA was a ragtag group of guerrillas which opposed the larger, pro-Communist MPLA. Colonel Jan Breytenbach, South African Para and commander of several elite units in his career, was sent to Angola to train and organize the FNLA group. The men were formed into a new unit - 32 Battalion - officered by South Africans, and in a very short time, re-equipped with uniforms and modern weapons, were undergoing training as a COIN unit. Most of their training took place on the battlefield as they were immediately sent into action against the MPLA, SWAPO and the Cubans. The unit soon proved its worth and developed a reputation for agressiveness on the battlefield, often engaging and defeating numerically superior enemy forces. The existence of this battalion of the South African Army was kept secret for many years while it fought in the thick Angolan bush, a constant problem for the Angolan Army which all their Soviet and Cuban advisers were unable to solve. 32 Battalion was to provide the main infantry force of the SADF during the 1986 campaign.

61 Mechanised Battalion

61 Mech was the only conventional SADF unit to be used during this campaign and consisted of infantry with a total of 55 Ratel armoured cars of different types. The battalion had no tanks, but had been engaged in the border war for the past 10 years and had acquired a formidable reputation.

G-5 Guns

Undoubtedly one of the most effective elements of the SADF involvement in Angola was the use made of the South African-built G-5 guns. Acknowledged to be the best long-range artillery in the world at that time, the G-5s with their range of 40 kilometres were able to cover a large area of the battlefield. Not yet in full production, only 16 were taken into Angola, but their high accuracy and 155mm base-bleed shells made them the most potent weapon in the South African armory.

The Offensive Begins

angolan_war_fapla_offensive

10 September 1987

On 10 September 21 Brigade sent 2 battalions with 5 T-55 tanks across the river, using a mobile bridge-layer. South African observers, watching the crossing, were amazed at the over-confident behaviour of the enemy, with infantrymen standing around casually, hands in pockets, watching the crossing. The South African reconnaissance force consisted of 4 Ratel-90 anti-tank armoured cars and 240 infantrymen in 30 Casspir infantry combat vehicles.

The South Africans were ordered to wait and see what Fapla would do. When an armoured car began to roll over the bridge, the South Africans went into action.

An anti-tank missile destroyed the armoured car and killed the infantrymen around it. A second missile destroyed the giant Soviet GAZ bridge-layer. The South Africans then concentrated on the T-55 tanks which were beginning to move westwards, and knocked out 3 of them within minutes. The remaining 2 immediately retreated. Artillery fire was called in from the South African G-5 guns situated some distance behind the South African lines, and by the end of the day 1 Fapla battalion had been completely destroyed, leaving the remainder of the enemy force to retreat back across the river in confusion.

13 September 1987

Three days later, on 13 September, Fapla sent 2 battalions of 59 Brigade with T-55 tanks across the river in a second attempt to establish a bridgehead. The South Africans and Unita again attacked immediately, the Ratel-90s firing anti-personnel shells which cut a swathe of destruction through the massed enemy infantry. From the Casspirs infantrymen poured machine-gun and rifle fire into the exposed enemy. The Angolans started to retreat, but were exposed on open ground, with a stretch of marshland hampering their path back to the river. Within a short space of time over 200 Fapla soldiers lay dead.

The SADF/Unita force started mopping up the last groups of men left when the tanks suddenly joined in, causing chaos and sending the lightly-armoured Ratels and Casspirs fleeing in all directions. Once the South Africans had found cover in the bush, however, they began to fire anti-tank (HEAT) shells at the tanks, which were at a disadvantage with their long gun barrels in the bush. The Ratels, realising they had the advantages of speed and manoeuvrability, began to circle round the tanks, enticing them into chasing the armoured cars in ever-smaller cricles until the Ratels were able to come in behind the tanks and fire. By the end of the engagement 5 tanks had been destroyed and over 250 Fapla soldiers killed, for the loss of 8 dead and 3 destroyed armoured cars on the SADF side.

The South Africans, after their initial shock at encountering the tanks, had adapted their tactics and proved that their armoured cars could cope with tanks by a combination of fast movement and accurate shooting, tactics reminiscent of those used by the Boers against the British over 80 years earlier.

14 to 23 September 1987

After the first series of clashes had taken place the South Africans were ordered not to cross the Lomba River, but to establish a line behind it to block the Angolan advance. The G5 heavy guns continued to pound the Angolans mercilessly, while the South African Air Force flew missions over the enemy to eliminate their anti-aircraft installations. At the same time Fapla artillery was bombarding the South African positions with mortars and heavy artillery.

21 Brigade continued to pile up supplies on their side of the Lomba, but the South African bombardments hampered them severely in their efforts to resume their advance. South African Recces (Special Forces, the SADF equivalent of SAS or Green Berets) kept the enemy under constant observation from hidden vantage points in the bush, often no more than 50 yards from the enemy positions. Throughout the campaign these Recces sat for days and even weeks in their observation posts, guiding the G5 artillery fire onto Fapla positions. The enemy knew they were close by, but were never able to locate them.

47 Brigade had also been slowed down in its advance by the South African artillery and air strikes. It was barely moving a kilometre per day, and the South Africans were slowly drawing it into a “killing ground” of their choice.

There was a brief interlude in the fighting when South Africa and Angola finally agreed to exchange prisoners - a South African Recce, Captain Wynand du Toit, captured by Fapla in 1985, was exchanged for 170 Fapla soldiers captured by the SADF and Unita. A couple of Dutch arms smugglers, captured in South Africa, were included in the trade. According to Amnesty International sources, the 170 Faplan soldiers were taken to the Angolan capital, Luanda, where they were all executed by the Angolans for having failed in their duty…

In view of this it was not surprising to the South African troops to find that many captured Fapla soldiers expressed an interest in joining Unita, or asked about the possibility of enlisting in the SADF!

47 Brigade, by now unable to retreat and desperate to join up with the other brigades, made an attempt to link up with 59 Brigade. The South Africans sent their Ratels in again to attack the enemy from the West. They had 250 men available to attack a force of over 1000 men with heavy weapons. The SAAF dropped fragmentation bombs on the Fapla positions and then 61 Mech manoeuvred behind them. The going was rough in the bush and they ended up on the enemy’s flank instead of directly behind them. After a sharp engagement in the bush, the Ratels withdrew again because they simply could not see the enemy and were drawing a lot of artillery fire.

59 Brigade began to dig in and received welcome supplies and reinforcements from 21 Brigade, which had now succeeded in laying a mobile bridge over the Cunzumbia River. The SADF, worried now that 47 Brigade would manage to escape back across the river while 59 Brigade pushed forward against the thin South African defence line, decided it was time to close the trap they had been preparing.

3 October 1987 - the Decisive Battle

On 2 October the South African Recces reported that 47 Brigade had managed to construct a wooden road across the marshes which were blocking their retreat to the Lomba River. Trucks, missile carriers, armoured cars and tanks were busy assembling at the treeline, preparing to make an orderly retreat across the road.

The Recces watched from their vantage points in nearby trees and called in artillery fire on Fapla while the SADF combat groups worked furiously to get ready and into position.

The first Fapla vehicles to try to cross were Soviet Sam-9s. One crossed to safety but the Recces guided artillery fire onto the second as it tried to cross, destroying it and effectively blocking the bridge. The Fapla troops sent a T-55 tank to try and move it out of the way, but without success. Every time Fapla tried to make a move the Recces would call in highly accurate artillery salvoes. For 48 hours without sleep or rest the Recces stood guard over Fapla’s escape route, calling in artillery fire at the slightest movement, until at last they heard the distant rumble that announced the arrival of the armoured cars of 61 Mechanised Battalion.

The Ratels of 61 Mech had a variety of armaments, from infantry carriers with 20mm guns to the tank-busting 90mm gun. Unita troops had by now positioned themselves to the south-east of 47 Brigade in case they tried to break away in that direction.

Fapla artillery began to bombard the approaching Ratels and Migs flew overhead to lend support and cover 47 Brigade’s escape. The Ratels went in to attack. Fapla, accustomed to seeing Unita beat a hasty retreat whenever their tanks appeared, tried the same tactic and sent their tanks towards the SADF positions. To their dismay the South Africans’ reaction was the exact opposite - they attacked. The Ratels raced for the tanks, surrounding them and dodging back and forth until they could get behind them and shoot at the comparatively vulnerable rear ends of the tanks.

Major Laurence Maree, second-in-command of 61 Mech, later told the British journalist and author, Fred Bridgland:

“I can’t tell you how much courage it takes in a Ratel driver and gunner when a tank is charging towards them to summon up the will to stop still for long enough to stabilise their firing platform and get their round off. [Unlike a T54/55 tank, which has built-in stabilisers and can fire on the move, a Ratel, like other armoured cars, can only fire from a static position]. Of course, as soon as they’d fired, off they sprinted like Turbo-charged hares. One of our guys died that afternoon facing down a T-55 in his Ratel. A 100mm shell from the tank skipped up from the sandy ground and went right through the turret. The Ratel commander, Lieutenant Hind, was terribly wounded and he died later. We had two others very seriously wounded that day, and another three with light wounds. The medics just pulled the shrapnel out of those who were slightly hurt, cleaned up the wounds, and they went straight back into combat.” (1)

The Fapla troops, although outgunning the South Africans and outnumbering them 4 to 1, began to lose their nerve and one of the battalions suddenly made a break towards the river. They streamed across the open grassland towards the river in an undisciplined mob and the South Africans brought down MRL fire and high-explosive mortar shells on them. A second battalion also broke and ran for the river, with the Ratels chasing them. Approximately 100 vehicles were now jostling to try and reach the bridge by way of the wooden road. Recces directed artillery fire from the G-5s onto them, causing havoc. The area was now a wasteland of shattered trees and burnt grass from the shells and shrapnel from both sides.

Migs piloted by Cubans flew some 60 sorties that day, dropping bombs and trying to strafe the South African positions, but they were wildly inaccurate and had little effect.

Fapla tanks made an effort to recover some of the abandoned vehicles, but were themselves destroyed by the pinpoint accuracy of the G-5 artillery fire. When the firing finally stopped at the end of the day over 600 Fapla soldiers lay dead on that stretch of open ground and 127 Fapla vehicles stood destroyed or abandoned near the river.

On the morning of 4 October the South Africans were able to survey the remnants on the battlefield. Recovery teams were sent in to salvage whatever was still usable and the SADF generals were delighted to hear that their troops were able to salvage intact one of the Sam-8 missile systems, complete with missiles, radar and logistics vehicles, the first example of this highly-effective Soviet weapon ever to be captured by a western country.

The remnants of 21 and 59 Brigades had joined forces and were trying to reorganize. A few firefights broke out as the SADF and Unita troops moved across the battlefield to salvage equipment. A few inexperienced Unita soldiers almost caused havoc as they attempted to drive off the undamaged tanks.

The South Africans intercepted messages from Russian commanders ordering the Fapla Migs and troops to make an all-out effort to destroy the abandoned equipment, but by then the South Africans had moved the Sam-8 system back behind their positions and had it well camouflaged. Unita later tried to claim the Sam-8 for itself with a view to passing it on to the Americans, but South Africa, recalling the way America had abandoned its allies in Angola, refused and retained the missile system for its own arms research.

October to December 1987 - The Last Phase

After the battle was over mopping up operations continued on both sides. South African observers watched in disgust as Fapla soldiers shot many of their own wounded where they lay because they were unable to evacuate them or give them medical care. At the end of the day the South African commander, Deon Ferreira, sent a message to HQ that their mission had been accomplished and that the Angolan/Cuban advance on Mavinga had been stopped. His new orders were to clear all remnants of the enemy forces from the eastern side of the River Cuito and establish positions from which they would be able to prevent any further crossings into Unita territory. No mention was made of capturing Cuito Cuanavale itself. The SADF did, however, want to be in a position from which they could shell the airfield and neutralise the base as a starting point for a new offensive. Cuito allowed the Cuban Migs easy access to Unita territory and if it was destroyed the Migs would have to move 175 kilometres to the west.

The G5 artillery groups were moved up and commenced bombarding Cuito. The SAAF sent in 4 Mirages as a decoy and while the Migs were being rolled out of their reinforced concrete hangars the G-5s pounded the runway with shells. Within a short space of time the airfield was destroyed and the remaining Migs were forced to move back to Menongue.

Stinger missiles were also used to good effect by Unita and two Cuban pilots were taken prisoner after their Mig had been shot down.

The Cuban/Faplan offensive had failed. Later the Cubans tried to save face and boost their demoralized troops by claiming loudly that they had won the “Battle for Cuito Cuanavale”, which they claimed to have successfully defended against all South African attacks!

Throughout the campaign the South Africans, mindful of the fact that they were involved in an undeclared war and without allies in the west, refrained from making any public statements on the progress of the war. This gave the Cubans and Angolans the advantage in the propaganda war. The SADF could not reveal that it only had a small combat force of less than 3000 lightly-armed troops in Angola, as this would have revealed their weaknesses to the enemy. The superior training and tactics of the SADF had convinced the Cubans and Angolans that they were facing a large, heavily-armed force.

As Chester Crocker later wrote:

“In early October the Soviet-Fapla offensive was smashed at the Lomba River near Mavinga. It turned into a headlong retreat over the 120 miles back to the primary launching point at Cuito Cuanavale. In some of the bloodiest battles of the entire civil war, a combined force of some 8,000 Unita fighters and 4,000 SADF troops destroyed one Fapla brigade and mauled several others out of a total Fapla force of some 18,000 engaged in the three-pronged offensive. Estimates of Fapla losses ranged upward of 4,000 killed and wounded. This offensive had been a Soviet conception from start to finish. Senior Soviet officers played a central role in its execution. Over a thousand Soviet advisers were assigned to Angola in 1987 to help with Moscow’s largest logistical effort to date in Angola: roughly $1.5 billion in military hardware was delivered that year. Huge quantities of Soviet equipment were destroyed or fell into Unita and SADF hands when Fapla broke into a disorganized retreat… The 1987 military campaign represented a stunning humiliation for the Soviet Union, its arms and its strategy. It would take Fapla a year, or maybe two, to recover and regroup. Moreover the Angolan military disaster threatened to go from bad to worse. As of mid-November, the Unita/SADF force had destroyed the Cuito Cuanavale airfield and pinned down thousands of Fapla’s best remaining units clinging onto the town’s defensive perimeters.” (2)

The results of the campaign up to April 1988 were 4,785 killed on the Cuban/Faplan side, with 94 tanks and hundreds of combat vehicles destroyed, against 31 South Africans killed in action, 3 tanks destroyed (SADF tanks entered the war after the Lomba River campaign) and 11 SADF armoured cars and troop carriers lost. A total of 9 Migs were destroyed and only 1 SAAF Mirage shot down.

After 13 years in Angola the Cubans had still not achieved their aim of destroying Unita and marching into Namibia as “liberators”. They had badly underestimated the South Africans and discovered to their cost that they were facing highly-trained, battle-hardened troops. If they had taken the trouble to examine South Africa’s military history, they might perhaps have paused for thought at the fact that the forefathers of these troops, the Boers, had held the full might of the British Empire at bay during the Boer War, when 450,000 British troops took three years to subdue a force of little more than 20,000 Boers.

Notes

(1) THE WAR FOR AFRICA -Bridgland, pp145.
(2) HIGH NOON IN SOUTHERN AFRICA -Crocker, pp.360-361.

Bibliography

THE WAR FOR AFRICA by Fred Bridgland (Ashanti 1990)
A GENERAL’S STORY by Jannie Geldenhuys (Jonathan Ball 1995)
SOUTH AFRICA’S BORDER WAR by Willem Steenkamp (Ashanti 1989)
HIGH NOON IN SOUTHERN AFRICA by Chester A. Crocker (Norton 1992)
THEY LIVE BY THE SWORD by Col. Jan Breytenbach (Lemur 1990)
WAR IN ANGOLA by H.R. Heitman (Ashanti 1990)

Monday, 20 April 2009

Graphic Protest against White Genocide

odprotest3Uhuru Guru from South Africa Sucks blog reported on the graphic protest organised by Boers fed up with the fact that the communist ANC government in South Africa turns a blind eye to hate crimes against whites and especially elderly folk.

In early March 2009, a gang of savages broke into the Allanridge (Orange Free State) home of Alice Lotter (78) and her daughter Helen (57). The two defenceless women were beaten, humiliated, raped and finally tortured in the most cruel and inhumane way.

The barbaric savages literally cut them to pieces with knives and broken bottles, while still alive. Glass shards were forced into their private parts and one of the ladies had her breasts cut off, after which it was used to paint bloody anti-White hate slogans on the walls. White police officers who investigated the slaughter were severely traumatised and had to receive trauma counselling. Significantly, the Lotter home was less than a block away from the local police station - said police station manned almost exclusively by blacks.

odprotest2As is always the case in such horrendous acts of White-hating genocide, the case received scant or little attention in the MSM. The English media completely blocked any reporting of it, while the Afrikaans press hugely diminished the shocking extent of the crimes. They simply reported that two women had been murdered, but did not breathe a single word of the mind-numbing brutality and shocking manner in which Alice & Helen were tortured to death. It is standard operating procedure to downplay black on white crimes, while the opposite tactic is used for (extremely rare) white on black crimes.

odprotest1Amazingly, cops arrested a number of suspects, whose first court appearance was set for yesterday in the nearby town of Odendaalsrus. For a change, the normally apathetic Whites turned up in fair numbers - approximately 300 Whites arrived at court to protest. The White protesters were galvanised into action by Mr Edwin Leemans of the BVS (Boervolk VryheidStigting) or Boer Freedom Institute. Even Eugene Terreblanche attended along with a few of his supporters.

Terreblanche was quoted as saying “More blood of the Boers has been spilt in recent times than during all the Boer wars put together. Not even Dingaan in his worst savage insanity had thought of torturing our women to death with broken bottles”.

The black murderers were appearing in court for their bail application. Another court appearance at the same time involved two White farmers and several of their farm workers, who were charged with the death of a black criminal caught stealing mealies. For this case, the executive mayor of Matjhabeng, which comprises the towns of Odendaalsrus, Allan Ridge and Welkom pitched up with a contingent of ANC supporters to protest against the farmers.

odprotest4A major conflict situation escalated as the ANC started singing freedom songs, chanting political slogans and taunting the Whites. On their part, Mr Leemans & Terreblance retaliated by singing Die Stem, which effectively drowned out the chattering, ululating blacks. The black mayor, Mrs Mathabo Leetho then instructed the cops to arrest the protesting Whites. Leetho, being the mayor, had ensured that she applied for permission to protest at the court. Leemans and Terreblanche had also applied for permission for their protest but (surprise surprise) was refused permission, while the black mayor (no surprise) received her go-ahead.

Leetho then softened her anti-White attitude and with snake-like guile attempted to sweet-talk the enraged Whites into joining her protest. “Let us take hands and protest together against crime across the colour divide”, but the assembled Boere quickly told this cheeky bitch to where to go, drowning out her exhortations with loud singing, chanting and playing of trumpets. At this point an enraged Mama Afrika exhorted the cops to arrest the Whites. Terreblanche then moved his contingent some distance away, saying “I am prepared to again go to prison for my cause, and I will come out stronger again!”

odprotest7To quote the media, some “upsetting scenes were next witnessed”. At this point, Mr Edwin Leemans of the BVS started stabbing the effigies violently with knives and broken bottles, while other White supporters splattered the effigies and bystanders with fake blood. Next, the effigies were hoisted up on ropes and set on fire to the roaring approval of the White crowd. Leemans was quoted as saying that he wanted to graphically illustrate the cruelty and savagery suffered by the two hapless White women.

For the first time since 1994, real and palpable fear was seen in the eyes and faces of the assembled and they trembled like the pathetic cowards they are. I for one hope that this is only the beginning of this phenomenon - White people starting to stand up for ourselves and showing these savages we will no longer tolerate their brutality. Your typical savage is a cowardly creature - quite reminiscent of a hyiena - they are extremely brave when assembled in large groups, or when faced with their usual victims, being defenceless White women, children or the elderly, but when confronted with strong-willed, single-minded White men, they wither, shudder and tremble like the spineless, cowardly scum they are.

new-image

“On behalf of SAS, our readers and all right-thinking White South Africans I wish to say this to Mr Leemans and Terreblanche: take a bow, gents - we salute you for your actions of yesterday. Its high time we Whites stand up for ourselves. Thank you for providing the leadership and show of force our people so desperately lack.”

The two savages who tortured the women to death had their bail application postponed to 18 May 2009. Thapelo Hlongwane (21) and Joseph Khumalo (19) will remain in custody.

Friday, 17 April 2009

ANC's Malema @ Nando's

Only Two Things Wrong with this World...

slay_corruptionThere are only two things wrong with the world we are living in today. Democracy is alive and well and journalism is dead. Maybe three things then – people are stupid. But then you can blame the stupidity of people to some extent on the death of journalism.

Don’t get mad at me just yet. Let me explain.

Democracy in itself might be a noble idea and fair form of electing government – power is indirectly held by the people in a free electoral system. Whichever definition of democracy you prefer, it usually includes two principles. Firstly, members of society have equal access to power and secondly that those members enjoy universally recognised freedoms and liberties.

Now you really don’t need advanced degrees in political science to figure out the problem with the first principle – equal access to power. What happens when this is applied to environments involving minorities? How do you prevent abuse of minority rights by the tyranny of the majority? Well, clearly only through the application of responsible government. Now you have to ask yourself what the probability of having responsible government would be considering that it is elected by the majority in the first place. So what we are in actual fact saying, is that what we define as responsible government will be based on the moral values and standards of the majority. Surely you can also identify the predicament with the last statement. Should we have a situation where the majority is intent on abusing minority rights, how on earth is the government of the day going to be a responsible one when it is elected from the ranks of the morally corrupt majority in the first place? Do we really believe that by some majestic swish of the magical wand, the individuals elected from within the corrupt ranks will suddenly shed their immoral values and govern for the benefit of all? Let’s be brutally honest here – by applying the most basic logic here, we should realise that those officials elected from the corrupt majority aren’t even likely to govern for the benefit of the majority, let alone the benefit of all. Reagan described the government as the problem and not the solution to the problem for a very good reason.

But wait, I hear you say. That is the whole point of having democracy in the first place. When the government doesn’t govern for the benefit of the majority (notice we have already forgotten about the minority), we will not vote for that political party again! Really? Aren’t we making a few assumptions again? We assume that the morally corrupt majority have come to its senses now and realised that there will be no future in supporting the party elected from within its ranks. But if they haven’t and the corrupt majority within the original majority believe that their needs are still being looked after and they don’t really care about the minority within their ranks being marginalised and dissatisfied now, we must assume that the newly created minority will join ranks with the original minority to raise their collective voice. Or at least that this will happen in the next cycle of people being marginalised. I put it to you that this will be highly unlikely in any tribal environment like we find in Africa. So what you could end up with is a democracy based on the slightest of majority rule with various minorities. Suddenly we remember the original minority we so easily forgot about earlier.

I am not going to discuss the principle of universally recognised freedoms and liberties – purely because in any morally corrupt environment those freedoms and liberties without accountability and responsibility become meaningless.

I would argue that for any democracy to work, you need educated, morally sound people to elect the government. Without those characteristics, you either end up with a situation like the one described earlier or an environment where even the majority could be intimidated because of their stupidity. Apart from educational institutions, I believe the media plays a huge role in educating people. They are supposed to inform the people. They are supposed to be objective. They are supposed to tell the truth. Yes, yes, I do realise sensation sells better than fact. But you had better made sure there is some sort of balance between sensation and fact. Or you merely become part of the machine responsible for dumbing down the masses. So we need proper journalism for democracies to be effective and fair.

You only have to look at the actions of the media during the past election campaign in the United States to realise that journalism isn’t only dead, but it has been replaced by an evil, demonising machine which is unequalled in its visceral and corrupt nature even compared to the most barbaric dictatorships on the planet today.

How else do you explain that a man who has achieved absolutely nothing in his career could be described as the best solution for America today? A man so sanitised and elevated by the media, that people either do not know or don’t care about his dubious actions of the past. A man described as the best orator that country has seen, until he had to give a speech without his trusty tele-prompters. Such a big deal was made about this “great man” in the media, that men described getting tingling feelings down their legs when seeing him. He was praised by the world when we know the majority of people voted for him for no other reason than his skin colour. Due to whitey being demonised by a corrupt, liberal media for decades and made out to be the most evil being this world has ever seen, whitey wanted to prove a point. So they voted for him.

It did not end there. The media was so intent in destroying the candidacy of the “opposition”, that they could care less about fact and fiction during this process. I would love to know how many people to this day know which comments were actually made by Sarah Palin and which not. Which interviews were broadcast in context and which were molded into nothing more than mud to be slung at the target. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t think McCain was an appropriate option to the socialist.

Do yourself a favour and get a copy of John Ziegler’s Media Malpractice and decide for yourself. Or visit howobamagotelected.com and view the clips. And please keep in mind that this man has been supporting the Democrats for most of his life. So he did not produce this documentary from a Republican perspective.
Do you really want more proof of the death of journalism? I’ve got plenty to give you.

That same great Obamessiah used his own white grandmother to describe people he regarded as racist when he referred to her as “a typical white person” and even compared her to reverend Wright. But he was quick to milk the media when he suddenly was concerned for her on her death bed. He even described his own white half as being racist and needing medication. He supposedly never heard anti-white or anti-American speeches from reverend Wright whilst sitting in his church for 20 years, but when people started delving into Wright’s past, Obamessiah was quick to denounce him. He also thought the USA had 57 states. How many times did you hear that in the media?

How about media blackouts of specifically white farm murders by the English-speaking media in South Africa? For no other reason than to limit exposure to international audiences. And Zuma is clever enough to drive a further divide between South Africans by proclaiming Afrikaners the only true white tribe of South Africa.

Where exactly is CNN, MSNBC and the rest of the ministry of lies (Frank from Queens) in exposing atrocities in Zimbabwe and even South Africa, or the rest of the world for that matter? Considering their coverage of the presidential campaign, I would suggest that you are better off preventing the kids from watching these obscure news channels and tearing up their “feel good” history books, than being concerned over them playing violent console games and watching movies with sexual content.

In case you haven’t noticed – they are being psychologically raped by media where journalism is dead and indoctrinated by white-guilt educational systems. And so are you. Or are you already too stupid to see this?

Now you can get mad at me.

Thursday, 16 April 2009

It's a Wonderful Race

by James Bronson

st_peters_square_vatican_city_-_april_2007There once was a college freshman named George who thought he knew it all. One night over dinner, George got into an argument with his father. The argument began when the young student tried to explain to his father that as White people, they should be held accountable for all the evils that they had inflicted upon non-Whites throughout history. George explained: “Because of European racism, we stole the Indians’ land, we held blacks in slavery, we persecuted the Jews, and we plundered the environment. We’ve been oppressive racists for thousands of years so it’s only fair that we pay economic reparations for all the harm we’ve done to the world. I’m pleased to see that we are ending our political and economic domination of the oppressed peoples.”

George’s dad was shocked to hear such talk. “Who put such commie-pinko nonsense into your head, boy? Did one of your sandal-wearing hippie college professors teach you that?” the father asked.

To which the son replied: “That’s the truth dad. My anthropology professor, Dr. Irving Silverstein, says so. He ought to know. Dr. Silverstein is a well-respected Ph.D. People of your generation just don’t understand because you were raised in a White supremacist, racist society. That’s why I’ve come to admire Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King as the greatest man in American history. He stood up to the racists of your generation. Because of him, my generation of White kids is completely color blind.”

The father angrily replied: “That’s bull****! I’ve always been fair-minded and tolerant of people from all backgrounds and races. I haven’t ‘oppressed’ anybody, and furthermore there’s nothing wrong with being proud of one’s own people, including the European race of people. Your race is in your blood. It’s like an extension of your biological family and you ought to be proud of your European heritage and identity, just like every other racial group in America is proud of its. Why is it OK for them to have a strong sense of racial identity but it’s evil for us Europeans to feel that way?”

The young “intellectual” laughed at his father. “Come on dad, that’s the kind of crap Hitler tried to peddle. Those racist attitudes were discredited years ago. There’s only one race and that’s the human race. Diversity is our greatest strength. Differences in so-called “race” are as insignificant as differences in belly buttons. And besides, UN statistics now show that low White birth rates, along with the fact that we live in an multicultural society, will mean that Europeans and their ethnocentrist and racist culture will have died out by the end of the century,” young George said.

wonderful_life

Turning red with anger, the father yelled: “You are a walking cliché, you know that, boy? And you think it’s a good thing that the European peoples of the world will have faded out and ceased to exist?” Young George replied; “I think it’s great! It will mean the end of racism and the end of hate. The oppressed peoples of the world would have been better off if us racist Europeans had never existed to begin with.”

Suddenly there was a blast of cold wind, an explosion, and a huge smoke cloud. When the smoke had settled, George found himself alone and lost in a cold open field.

An angel named Clarence then appeared to him and said “Well George, you’ve got your wish.”

George asked: “Where am I? What’s going on here? And who are you?”

The angel answered, “George, I’m Clarence the Angel. I was sent here to show you what the world would have been like if Europeans, or Whites, had never existed. You now live in a world where Europeans never existed.”

“Oh. That’s cool. I’ll have no problem adapting because there’s not a racist bone in my body. And when I get back to my world, I’ll be able to tell my professor and my friends how great this non-racist world was. Say, I’m freezing my ass off out here. Where’s the nearest motel?”

“Motel?” replied the angel. “There are no motels here in what was once called North America. But there are some caves up in those mountains where you can find shelter.”

“Caves? No way, man. I want a nice warm bed to sleep in.”

“I don’t think you understand George. There are no buildings here in non-white America because the evil Europeans never came here to build them. Whites never existed, remember? The natives live in tents. Would you like to go meet some local Indians? Perhaps they’ll let you stay in a tent.”o-chum

“A tent? But it’s 10 degrees outside?…Oh well. It’s better than a cave I suppose. Let’s go talk to these Indians…… Wait a second, are these Indians friendly or hostile?”

“Why, George, that’s a racist question to ask. Just because some Indians were brutal savages who scalped their victims alive, it doesn’t mean they all were”, said the angel sarcastically.

“I know that Clarence. And I’m not a racist. I hate racism. Nonetheless, I’d feel safer if I could have a gun to defend myself if they turn out to be violent.”

“Gun?” replied the angel. “There are no guns for you to defend yourself with. Firearms were invented by evil Europeans. Though, we could make a spear with those twigs over there…”

“That’s too much work. Give me a telephone then. I’ll call the Indians to ask if it’s OK.”

“Telephone”? replied the angel. There are no telephones here. Alexander Graham Bell was another evil white man, so he never existed. No Europeans remember?” “Forget it then,” replied George. “I’ll sleep in the damn cave.”

Upon arriving at the cave, a shivering George asked the angel for a lighter so that he could light a fire. “A lighter?” replied Clarence. “There are no lighters here, and no matches. Those are European gadgets and evil Europeans never existed remember? If you want to get warm, you need to do like the locals do and start rubbing twigs together.”

“Oh come on man! You mean to tell me these people still rub sticks together for fire?”

“That’s right George. The Indians live exactly as they did before the evil pilgrims arrived from Europe just a few centuries ago.” said the angel sarcastically.

“I refuse to stay in this cold cave and I damn sure ain’t gonna light a fire with twigs, and I refuse to sleep in a teepee. I’ll go to South America. I can make it in a warmer climate and I’ll adapt quickly to the great Incan civilization I learned about at college. Since European racists like Columbus, Cortez and Pizzaro never existed, the Incans will still be there… I need a car”

“Car?” replied the angel. “There are no cars here. Daimler and Benz, the evil German inventors of the internal combustion engine, were never born…nor was Henry Ford. There are no paved roads either. This is a world without evil Europeans remember?”

“No cars! Oh. I’ll just have to take a train.”

“There are no trains in this world either George. Evil Europeans weren’t here to build locomotive engines or to discover the many uses of coal, oil and gas, or to build trains or lay tracks. But I’ll allow you to cheat just a bit. Grab hold of my magic robe and we’ll fly
south.”

George touched the angel’s robe and they flew south until they arrived in an abandoned mud hut in the midst of Incan territory. George was grateful for the warm weather but it wasn’t long until he began to complain about the heat and humidity.

“Clarence, this hut is a little ****hole and I’m sweating up a storm here. Get me an air-conditioner…please!”

“Air-conditioner?” replied the angel. “There are no air-conditioners here. Air conditioning and refrigeration were inventions created by evil White men.”

“What?!! You mean to tell me that in the year 2008 these people still haven’t figured out a way to keep themselves or their food cool?” a frustrated George asked.

“No George, they haven’t. And they never will.”

“This is ridiculous. Let’s go to the main city to see the Emperor. I can’t live like this. Where’s a car…oh I forget…no cars! Dammit I’ll walk. Let’s go.”

african-village-aerial-shot

After walking through the jungle for about an hour or so, it began to get dark. George then asked Clarence to give him a flashlight so that he could see. “Flashlight? Sorry George, but Thomas Edison was an evil White man too…and he was never born. There are some branches over there if you want to make a torch.”

“Never mind that!” George shouted back.

By morning time, Clarence and George had arrived at the temple of the Incans. A bloody human sacrifice was in progress. George turned to Clarence and cried, “They’re going to butcher that poor soul! Somebody has got to stop this. What horrible murdering beasts! Can’t anyone stop them?”aztecshumansacrifice

The angel replied “I’m afraid not. Ritual killings are common place here.” Those evil European racists like Columbus, Cortez and Pizzaro never existed so the Incans just continued their brutal ways. In fact, it was the oppressed peoples themselves who made up the bulk of the Spanish armed forces. The people saw the Spaniards as liberators who would rid them of the oppressive Incan and Mayan rulers and give them a better life.”

“I can’t blame them for helping the Spaniards then. This is a horrible place. Get me out of this ****hole now!” said George.

‘Where would you like to go?” Clarence replied.

George said: “Take me to Africa, maybe there’s a more advanced and humane civilization there that I can fit into. Where’s the nearest airport?”

“Oh, I forgot…no Wright Brothers.” George said. “How about a boat?”

“Boats?” replied the angel. “I’m afraid the most seaworthy rafts available to you won’t be of much help in crossing the vast Atlantic Ocean. The great Viking sailors and European navigators never existed. No Phoenicians, no Leif Eriksson, no Henry the Navigator, no Columbus, no Magellan, no Hudson and no Robert Fulton. Even if you could build your own ship, there would be no compass for you to navigate with and no sextant either. I’m afraid you’re stuck here George.”

“Can I touch your robe and fly to Africa then” asked George.

“You’re cheating again George, but all right. Touch my robe and we’ll fly to Africa.”

When they arrived in Africa, George saw thousands of half-naked African tribesmen being herded along a dirt path. They were guarded by other Africans with spears. “What are they doing to those poor men?” George asked Clarence.

“They are being enslaved by another tribe. Slavery was common in Africa long before the whites arrived,” Clarence said. “In fact, most of the slaves who were shipped to the Americas were sold to the slave traders by African tribal leaders.”

“That’s so sad,” George said. “I want to meet Martin Luther King. Since his White assassin never existed, this great man should still be alive. He’s probably a great tribal chief somewhere and leader of an advanced civilization. He will free these slaves from their African masters. Take me to him, Clarence.”

Clarence led George to a little hut deep in the heart of Africa. The naked women and children looked at George in wonder. The young men were out on a hunt but the older men stayed behind. George was led to the dingy little hut of the tribal witchdoctor and spiritual leader. There he saw a wild-looking man with a necklace of teeth around his neck and a huge ring pierced through his nose. “What the hell is that?” George asked.

mlkwitchdoctor1“Meet Witch-doctor Matunbo Lutamba Kinga” Clarence said. He never became Reverend Martin Luther King because there were no universities or seminaries built to educate him. Europeans weren’t there to create such opportunities. But he did become the tribe’s spiritual leader. He specializes in casting evil spells. Perhaps he can help you?”

The witch doctor gazed in wonder at George. Then he motioned to his henchmen to seize young George. The tribesmen grabbed hold of George and tied him to a nearby tree.

“Stop it! Let me go. What are they going to do to me?” cried George hysterically.

“They’re going to perform a ritual killing on you, George. The good doctor King…I mean Kinga — believes that by cutting your heart out while you are still alive, it will bring good fortune and fertility to his tribe,” laughed Clarence.

“Clarence! Clarence! Help me Clarence! Help me!

“But George, you told me that you wanted to go to Africa and to meet your hero Reverend King.”

George said: “This part of Africa has not developed yet. I can see that now. Take me to North Africa where Egypt and Carthage established great civilizations. Just get me out of here, please.”

Just as the witch doctor’s spear was about to carve out George’s heart, George vanished into thin air. He then found himself on the banks of the river Nile in Egypt.

“Thank you Clarence. Thank you,” George said. “I don’t understand it Clarence. Why does so much of the world remain so brutal and primitive? I learned during Black History Month about many talented black inventors and scientists. Garrett Morgan, George Washington Carver, Benjamin Banneker, Granville Woods. Then there’s Dr. Carson, the preeminent brain surgeon in all of America. Where are these men?”

Clarence replied: “Don’t you understand yet? America, and Africa, exist exactly as they did before the Europeans discovered them. Civilization as you had known it had only been introduced to these people just a few centuries ago by the Europeans. There are no universities, no hospitals, no means of transportation other than animals, no science, no medicine, no machines. In fact, the wheel hasn’t even been discovered in Sub-Saharan Africa! Those black scientists, inventors, doctors, athletes, and entertainers you speak of were never given the opportunity to realize their full human potential because Europeans weren’t around to introduce higher civilization and learning to them. There are no George Washington Carvers in this non-European world, no Dr. Carsons, no Booker T. Washingtons, no Benjamin Bannekers, no Michael Jordans, no Oprah Winfreys, no Bill Cosbys, no…”

“Stop it! That can’t be!” cried George. “Let’s walk over to the great pyramids of Egypt right now and I’ll show you one of the great wonders of the world …built by non-Whites”

They walked a few miles before George stopped and asked where the nearest toilet was. “Toilets?” replied the angel. There are no toilets or urinals in this world. Plumbing was developed by evil Europeans. The people in this non-White world still relieve themselves in open fields.”

Clarence turned around so George could do his business. “I need some toilet paper.” George said.

“Toilet paper?” replied the angel. “There…”

“I know. I know. Toilet paper hasn’t been invented yet. Just hand me a rag then”.

Clarence obliged and the two of them went on their way.

“I don’t understand. According to my recollections from Geography class, the great pyramids should be near this very spot. We ought to be able to see them from miles away,” said George.

“Well, George, I’m sure your professors at the college never told you this, but the ancient Egyptians were not black or brown. They were Caucasians. The anthropologists who examined the Egyptian mummies confirmed this fact. There are no pyramids and no Sphinx either. And the Carthaginians were white too.”

George became depressed, but he was determined to prove his beliefs. “What’s in Europe?” he asked.

“Europe became populated by Huns and other Asiatic tribes. They’ve settled down a bit but life is much the same as it is in North America. A nomadic existence based on hunting and food gathering. No great cities, no science, no buildings, no culture, no fine art – just a hard daily struggle against life and the elements of nature. In a Europe without evil Whites, the Roman Empire never existed nor did the Greeks. There was no Renaissance either.”

“Take me to Asia then. Surely the great civilizations of Persia, India, China, and Japan will suit me” George said. “Clarence, to the Taj Mahal please.”

“The Taj Mahal?” replied the angel. “Don’t you know that the ancient Persian and Indian civilizations were established by ancient Indo-European tribes who crossed the Himalayas? They are the ones who civilized India and built the Taj Mahal. Those are the great civilizations that Marco Polo, Columbus, and others were searching for. Did you know that Iran is Persian for “land of the Aryan?”

George said: “Don’t tell me that the Indians were White men! That can’t be. In the world I came from, I knew many Indians and they were not White!”

Clarence explained: “As the centuries passed, the Indo-Europeans who created Indian civilization intermarried with the native majorities who populated the Indian subcontinent. Gradually there were less and less evil White people until they faded out completely, along with the advanced civilization they had built. You will notice that there are still a few white-skinned and fair-haired Indians and Pakistanis around today — in the world you came from that is.

George became worried. He knew he could never fit into the harsh primitive world he had been thrust into. Suddenly he thought of Japan. “Japan! I’ll show you now Clarence. Take me to Japan. If the Japanese can make TVs and cameras then I’m sure I’ll find a decent civilization that I can live in.”

Clarence transported George to Japan. George observed that Japanese society was the most orderly, advanced and civil that he had seen, but it seemed as if almost everyone was a rice farmer, a fisherman, or a soldier. There were no cars, no skyscapers, no lights, no stereos, no sciences, no technologies, and no universities. It was a stagnant agricultural society that seemed to have reached its high water mark and was incapable of moving forward. George knew he could not live here either.

Clarence explained to George: “Even the industrious Japanese and Chinese peoples had to rely on the evil Europeans to build the modern Asia that you had in mind. In this world, Japan exists exactly as it did before Commodore Perry’s American naval ships arrived in Japan in the 1850s. There’s no industry, no technology, no Fuji film, no Sony, no Hitachi, no Panasonic, no Toyota, no Sushi bars, no baseball…none of the trappings or comforts of modern life. These things don’t exist in Japan or anywhere else because Europeans weren’t there to create them and share them with the rest of the world. Would you care for a bowl of rice George?”

George began to feel sick in both his body and his mind. Not only was he depressed, but exposure to the harsh elements of nature had left him physically ill. “Clarence, I seem to have contracted some type of sickness. I must have some anti-biotics.”

“Anti-biotics? There’s no…

“Oh shut up already! Then just take me back to the world as it was!”

“Sorry George. I’m not authorized to do that. Only my boss can make that call.”

a16Clarence said to him: “You see George. Your father was right. You really had a wonderful race. Don’t you see what a foolish mistake it is to be ashamed and guilty about your own people, and to let them die out? This is what the world would be like without the creative spark of Edison and Ford and Pasteur and Marconi. No great scientists, or mathematicians, or inventors or fine artists. No Archimedes, no Aristotle, no Socrates, no Alexander, no Renaissance, no Newton, no Kepler, no Goddard, no Mendel, no Tesla, no Faraday, no Guttenberg, no Shakespeare, no Dickens, no Twain, no Mozart, no Beethoven, no Davinci, no Michelangelo, no Galileo, no Copernicus. No Venice, no Paris, no Lisbon, no Madrid, no Zurich, no Berlin, no St. Petersburg, no Budapest, no Rome, no Milan, no Vienna, no London, no New York, no Rio, no Sydney. No orchestras, no museums, no universities, no hospitals, no libraries, no theaters, no radio, no books, no television, no electricity, no refrigeration, no heating, no plumbing, no houses, no steel, no stadiums, no vaccines, no cars, no planes, no trains, no ships, no dentists, no surgeons, no computers, no telephones, and most important - there’s no creative genius to be found that could create and sustain such a high level of civilization. There’s nothing for the people of this world to build upon. It’s just a daily struggle for subsistence. It’s a brutal planet where the few people who aren’t mired in eternal ignorance and darkness have reached their peak of civilization and are advancing no further.”

templehephaClarence went on to lecture the broken and depressed young man for seven days straight. He covered everything. History, science, economics, philosophy, art, literature, fine music, architecture, medicine, politics, agriculture, religion, and all the creations and contributions that the European peoples had made in every conceivable field of human endeavor. George listened closely to every word. He felt like a man who had been reborn.

After his lecture, Clarence the Angel floated away towards heaven. “I hope you have found all this to be educational, and I hope you have learned an important lesson. Enjoy your world, George!” mocked the departing angel.

George began to sob like a baby. It was the year 2008 and he was alone and hungry in a backwards world where Europeans had never existed. He cried out to the stars: “Please God. I see what a fool I’ve been. I understand now what my father was trying to tell me. I want to go back to the world that I came from. A world where Europeans not only existed, but blessed the rest of humanity world with their unique creative ability. I want to live in a civilized world. Please God!…take me back!…take me back!…Oh God….please.”

Suddenly George was transported back to his college dormitory. Drunk with joy, George jumped into the showers before he could even take his clothes off!

“Warm water, and soap! Life is beautiful!” he screamed.

George’s roommates looked at him as if he was crazy. “George! Have you gone crazy?” asked a bewildered schoolmate.

“No, my friends, I haven’t taken leave of my senses. I’ve come to them!” George replied. George then began to sing classic European folk songs in the shower. Miraculously, he was able to sing in many different languages. He sang O Sole Mio in Italian, Amazing Grace in English, Gloire Immortelle in French, Das Ist Der Tag in German, and also Belgian, Spanish and French ballads and waltzes. Tears of sheer joy began to stream down his cheeks. The degenerate music of hip-hop and rap lost all of its appeal to young George.

After his shower, George drove to a nearby restaurant and ordered two whole entrees. One was Lasagna and the other was a delicious veal marsala. With his Italian food he had a Greek salad with Spanish olives and Russian dressing, drank a whole bottle of French wine, followed by a German pastry for dessert. He finished his meal off with a hot cup of English tea and a Cuban cigar.

George said out loud: “Oh, those European peoples and their delicious cuisine. Clarence was right after all. What a wonderful race!”

denny92riots

jessejigGeorge was happy, but at the same time he realized there was much work to be done. He thought of all those poor whites in Rhodesia and South Africa who were being murdered and raped ever since they gave up control of those once-European nations. He thought of the many thousands of qualified Whites who were passed up for good jobs and college entrance because of racial quotas that discriminate against Europeans. He thought about the declining birthrates among all the European nations of the world. He remembered that Europeans everywhere were dwindling in numbers every year even as their own nations were being flooded with third world immigration. He recalled the O.J. Simpson verdict and how millions of blacks in America cheered when that brutal double murderer was set free by a black jury after he stabbed two Whites to death. He remembered the Los Angeles riots of 1992, where dozens of Whites were dragged out of their vehicles and killed like dogs in the streets by packs of White-hating monsters who were never even punished! He remembered the time when Jesse Jackson led a cheer at Stanford University: “Hey Hey, Ho Ho, Western Civ. has got to go!” His European blood began to boil in righteous indignation when he recalled how Jesse Jackson once said he had spit in White people’s food when he was a young restaurant worker. George now understood that that his people were on a collision course with worldwide disaster and genocide. George realized that this great people must not perish from the face of the earth.

George could not wait to see his father. He longed to embrace him and apologize for all of the foolish and disrespectful things he had said to him. But first, George had a score to settle with a certain college professor. He walked into Dr. Silverstein’s auditorium and quietly took a seat in the back row. The nasal voiced Silverstein was lecturing on and on about racial and gender inequalities in European-centered civilizations. It was vintage Silverstein. George’s impressionable White schoolmates, with their baggy pants, hip-hop clothes and backwards baseball caps, were swallowing Silverstein’s poison pills hook, line and sinker. After letting Silverstein spew his cultural poison for about 15 minutes or so, George raised his hand so that he could give the professor a piece of his newly educated mind.

“George? Is that you? I remember you from last semester. I wasn’t aware that you were here today. I failed to recognize you in that shirt and tie, and without your earrings. You must have enjoyed my course so much that you signed up again eh? Class, I’d like for you to meet George. He was one of my brightest students last semester. He truly has a thorough grasp of the ideas presented in this course. George, would you be so kind as to tell my class about that brilliant term paper you wrote about European racism, imperialism, and the need for monetary reparations?”ignatiev-noel

That’s when young George let loose on the unsuspecting Professor.

“ENOUGH! You scheming devil! You mendacious fabricator of falsehoods! You pusillanimous purveyor of pinko propaganda! How dare you try to corrupt and manipulate our young minds with your filthy lies. We Europeans have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to apologize for, and everything to be proud of. And most of all, we don’t owe anybody jack-**** - not one thin dime! To the contrary, it is the rest of humanity that owes us a debt which can never be repaid! We are the rightful heirs and protectors of a rich cultural heritage. You vile manipulator! We are the sons of the Romans, the sons of the Greeks, the Celtics, the Vikings, the Normans, the Saxons. Why do you inflict shame and guilt upon us? We Europeans didn’t just contribute to civilization…WE ARE CIVILIZATION! And I declare that I will no longer tolerate you ****head “intellectuals” trying to tear our people down. Never again will we walk on eggshells when we speak, always fearing that we might be called “racist.” I no longer care what people think. All that matters is the truth which you have sought to pervert!”

“What are you up to anyway? Why do you to corrupt my young peers by shoving false heroes down their throats. Enough of your Marxist games of divide and conquer, you commie pinko subversive! I don’t want to learn anymore about Martin Luther King, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton or Black History Month. They would not have amounted to anything without the institutions of high civilization created by the European peoples. I’m going to set this class straight about who the truly great men of history are – the European statesmen, scientists, explorers, monarchs, navigators, conquerors, inventors, artists, writers, philosophers - the innovative giants of history that you and your ilk have erased from our collective memories. You speak of a world liberated from European influence? Permit me tell your students about such a world, Silverstein, because I can speak from personal experience, you wretched little conspiring monster!”

Silverstein turned white as a ghost. He was shell-shocked and rendered speechless for the first time in his career! Never in all of his years at the university had a student dared to so boldly challenge his falsehoods. Speaking from the heart as well as the mind, and with an eloquence he never thought he could muster, George broke out into a 60-minute monologue on history, science, philosophy, culture, and all the other attributes that constitute high civilization. The young students were captivated by George’s brilliant oratory. Many were moved to tears. By the end of his tirade, George’s reawakened classmates were thundering their approval of his speech. The class gave George a standing ovation and they thanked him for helping them rediscover and reclaim their own sense of pride and lost identity. The unstoppable power of truth had melted away years of Marxist guilt-tripping, self hate, wimpishness and cultural brainwashing in just one unforgettable hour. The inspired students proceeded to storm out of Silverstein’s class, throwing their hip-hop baseball caps and nose earrings at him as they stampeded out and vowed never to return. They lifted George up upon their shoulders and carried him out of the auditorium like a conquering hero. With a glint in his eye, George glanced up towards the sky, winked and said “Thank you, Clarence.”

Dr. Silverstein was left humiliated and visibly shaken. He knew that these reawakened European kids could never again be brainwashed with “political correctness” and White guilt. Silverstein’s greatest fear was that more of these proud European youths would one day reawaken and take their country and civilization back from the Silversteins of the world.

155_star_davidSilverstein was worried, but he remained confident that most young men and women would never learn the truth about their glorious past and unique creative abilities. After all, the mass media, Hollywood, the music industry, the colleges, and the public schools are all controlled by “liberals” like Dr. Silverstein. With the power of political correctness in their hands, they can continue to tear down our European ancestors, destroy our institutions and traditions, instigate blacks and other races against the whites, flood America with third-world immigration, and push “hip-hop” music, homosexuality, and other garbage onto a weak, confused and morally degenerate youth. After reflecting upon these facts, Silverstein smiled a devilish grin and muttered to himself: “A few of these European sheep may wake up to what’s being done to them, but the majority of these idiots never will.” And he smiled again….and laughed with diabolical Marxist glee. Then he repeated to himself “No…they will never figure it all out until it’s too late.”

Or will they?