South Africa is presently under Military Control, under the guise that we need to protect the lives of the aged, and those with compromised immune systems, 95% of those dying throughout the world, has the Covid-19 label attached to their toe in the mortuary, soon an autopsy would not be required by the system, provided you have a slight temperature and a ‘dry cough’, you will be remembered as a Covid-19 victim?
The Latipac,(The 1%) has controlled the political/economic Democracies in the world since 1789, the end of the French Revolution.
Where the Latipac did not have direct control over the Communist and Muslim blocks, they used the ‘Cold War’ trade embargo and manipulation, backed up by military force and revolution, to maintain the generating of wealth, on behalf of the Latipac.
The African Countries, are the only countries, that have not been freed, they are still in the Latipac control, mainly due to mineral and oil deposits that still cause conflict among the Colonisers, and until this wealth is freed into the hands of the African population, the new novel world order, will not be finalised.
For years I have spoken to the poverty groups, about the need to have Economic Segregation removed from their lives, but alas, the power of the controlled mindset does not allow the ‘other’ option to be seen.
Contrary to all claims of having saved thousands of lives in South Africa, Africa has not been impacted on, with the virus that the USA and Europe is parading as a killer, yet South Africa is following the same programme of ‘opening the economy’, to certain sectors, while keeping the poverty groups locked down.
The new novel world order, will only be complete, once the African flu season has passed, and the Africa death toll spikes, by then poverty and hunger will have ravished Africa, and our new saviours will appear, and invest in the final colonisation of Africa.
Having stopped playing the Democracy Game, I see the world differently, my spirit and mind is free, but it can be a lonely world outside.
As a retired Latipac-generator, I can admit to the Latipac having treated me as one of the chosen sons, ‘The Carpenter’, it was my job to ensure that the indigenous African population understood who my ‘God’ was, and that I, as part of the white population, were directed by the almighty to use the African as his chosen labour force, provided they became Christian, which would qualify them as a Civilised-Native, they would have completed their apprenticeship, which would have given them access to the economy controlled by the Latipac, thereafter, provided they worked like a good-boy, they would be paid sufficient to provide their family with the basic food needs, and all the excess profits that they generated for the Latipac, would be taxed, sufficiently so that such tax, would maintain the livelihood of the uncivilised native slaves.
Today, May 15, 2020, I am no longer respected as‘The Carpenter’, who for 50 years, had generated wealth for the Latipac, today, I am locked up with the millions of blacks, that I helped trap in the controlled ‘poverty cage’.
Every news broadcast that I am exposed to, originates in the ‘Anglo-American’ corridors, the New Novel World Order has arrived, today all media is paid to prepare us for this new novel world, the Next Industrial revolution that we had heard about for ten years, is no longer spoken about, but it will replace me, I should not concern myself, the profits will escalate, profits will allow for the small food parcels, that are now part of the new novel lifestyle to continue.
As I wait for death in this protected environment, the positive is that the air will be cleaner, crime has disappeared, road traffic accidents have reduced, alcohol will no longer be the cause of my death, and the threat of the black population of Alex and Soweto, invading my personal space like the dirty air, has also been removed.
At 73 years of age, I rise from my coffin every morning, I refuse to bath or shower, the media tell me to wash my hands all day, no instruction to bath. I walk two kilometres to buy my daily bread, I smile at those driving past, never do they look in my direction, they are trying not to see the grey-haired old-man that they are protecting, afraid that I may drop dead, and they are blamed.
As I move through the store, the other shoppers never look me in the eye, they freeze as they search the shelf directly ahead, I feel uncomfortable, are they afraid that I may affect them, or afraid that they will be accused of having killed me if I die.
The till cashier no longer offers me a plastic bag, I no longer exist, I am dead to the world, and not unexpectedly, I have already been condemned to hell.
On some days, only my mind leaves my coffin, I am never sure whether I am awake, or whether I am dreaming, be it what it may, it is always a nightmare?
This morning, my mind enters the realms of the academic, the scientist. I am on a mission to find the scientists who have rewritten hundreds of years of medical research, an achievement that should be celebrated, and surely I should be able to forgive them for not having time to study Economy 101, or Human Rights 101, but my mind can’t forgive what has happened to the world, in the name of science.
Science is knowledge, knowledge in a specific field, and Medical Science has no knowledge on how to balance the virus management with the Economy, in my opinion, what is happening in South Africa today, will for ever be remembered as medical sciences greatest failure, no scientist, will ever write a thesis on the thousands of lives saved in our Country, relation to the positive affect that it will have on the economic situation of the majority of South Africans?
On the other hand, no longer do I face the threat of a cancer death, no heart-attack death, no diabetes death, the label on my toe will be Covid-19, a face that is unseen, I must celebrate as my angel of death, the angel that has been decreed to keep close to me, but will not to take me, while I comply with the new novel world regulations, once again, it is my choice.
I enter the Yale Street entrance of Wits University looking for this new breed of medical scientists who have not responded to my numerous blogs, ‘shot-left’ the Security Guard mumbles, suddenly I am back in the 1950s, on the open parking area of the Milner Park Show Grounds, it is Boswell’s Circus in all its splendour, I walk past my favourite performers, the trained Elephants, maybe ten elephants, all only restricted by their small foot chain, yesterday they parade down Eloff Street with their handlers, today I parade past them, again in close proximity, we have become one, the elephants continue to eat their food, straw, grass, leaves, very aware of me, yet never looking directly at me, the human.
The smiling huge male Elephant, like the flu virus, mutates, I see the Elephant shape still in front of me, but in my mind, it is replaced by a smiling black man in a factory in Durban, 1970, there are many black men, all working, I am in The Carpenter mode, tool bag strapped around my waist, one of the Latipac’s chosen few is inspecting the factory, he asks me a question, the black labourer smiles, the Latipac’s chosen one smiles, the black labourer never looks at us, the Elephant is smiling at me, waving his trunk as I move slowly backwards out of the factory.
When the trained elephants are needed to perform for the Circus ‘master’, they did so obediently, with a smile on their faces, always ready to please, the huge male Elephant moves towards me, I am still retreating, factory, tent, factory, tent, the Elephant trumpets loudly, the black labourer has replaced the Elephant, I can no longer tell the difference between the black labourers that I so successfully skilled to respect the company, and the trained Elephant, the Circus Master’s who trained the Elephants, appeared to use the exact same tactics that I used to train the labourers, physical and mental abuse, balanced with a lump of sugar, and the basic food parcel, that becomes their permanent diet.
I turn away from the male Elephant, I run, I run for ever, on the other side of the main tent, I run into more Elephants, the matriarch, and a number of her young ones still in training. The matriarch takes control of the young ones, in order to protect her children from the uMlungu’s abuse during training, I watch the matriarch schooling the children, on how to love and respect me, so that when the ‘colonisers’ visit the circus, the entire herd, are all seen to be working happily for the Master.
I lived through Apartheid, I was a skilled Carpenter, I could manipulate the Africans mind, when they complained about something small, I would give them a treat, when they complained about something that could severely impact on the company profits, I would ignore it, if I did not show the African that I was concerned, they would believe that it was not an issue worth contesting, and this issue is buried in their minds, buried with their minds.
Over the years, as the Circus returns to town, I return, I try to rehabilitate the Elephants, every visit they listen to me, but never would they believe, that they could remove the small foot chain that restricts them, and just walk down Eloff Street and into the Africa, that is really theirs.
The ‘food-parcel’ and odd treat that the Coloniser always promises, is worth far more, than their freedom.
I am elderly, yet standing in front of the same male Elephant, we are alone, the Circus Band finished the regular introduction, I hear the South African ‘Circus’ Ringmaster, announce that the ‘Circus’ will no longer be performing, it will close down immeaditely, I am shocked, the Elephant is staring at me, the Elephant does not understand, only I seem to understand that the trained Elephants will never survive the forced closure of the ‘Circus’, it would take the food out of their mouths, not only would the trained Elephants mindsets be further damaged, their ability to perform will be removed, the trained Elephants will never be able to be released back into the wild, the Elephants will die from hunger, when the Circus ‘masters’ can no longer feed themselves?
Throughout the South Africa, throughout the Western World, the Circus tents are removed, the trained Elephants, for the first time since 1994, have been moved away from the ‘Circus masters’, the trained Elephants are now secured by the police and the military, to stop them from breaking their small foot chain, and harvesting in the suburbs.
I continue walking around the Circus, the tents are coming down, the trained animals have been moved, locked away, the Circus masters, are in a state of shock, sitting around, all that has been left for them are the dingy caravans, I talk to every Circus master about the South African ‘Circus’ Ringmaster and the Latipac, that is controlling the ‘temporary’ closure of the Circus, explaining that are in the process of capturing every economic opportunity that the Circus masters had before the lockdown, by the time the tents are returned, they will find themselves slaves to the new novel world, the military and the police, will protect them and their tents.
Suddenly I am very awake as I walk away from the Milner Park circus ground, the elephants and the lions have been removed, the tents have been removed, the Circus masters are confused about what has happened to them, their reaction to my human philosophy and all my findings, now identifies the Circus masters, as no more than the Coloniser’s ‘trained animals’, dare I suggest that I now see them as the Circus Monkey on the chain, their minds closed down to reality, they are now sitting, celebrating a weekly food-parcel, patiently waiting for the Circus Ringmaster, to draw them closer, to allow them into the new novel world order.
Dear ‘Circus masters’, when the Elephant population has reached the desired level of abuse, a few of you, like a Monkey on a Chain, will be allocated space in the new novel world, life will be different, but like the trained Elephant, you will smile when called upon to perform, never concerned about the increased poverty groups who will need to adapt to the new world.
I have resigned from the Circus, my writing will be posted in the Consider the Verdict Facebook group from tomorrow:
Cedric de la Harpe