I was out the other evening seeking solace in the arms of Bacchus and happened to ask a passing waiter to bring me a fresh beer. He told me he wasn’t a waiter. He said he was a civil engineer in town on business and that I could fetch my own damn beer. Then he said something in Zulu and that’s when I knew it was starting. The uprising. The anarchy. The annihilation of the last white tribe of Africa.
I ran home and phoned United Nations headquarters but they said I couldn’t speak to the secretary general. Have these people learnt nothing from Rwanda? I turned to the interweb to see if anyone out there had an emergency plan of action. A lot of people did – mainly involving shaven Asian babes – but then I found the Suidlanders. From what I can make out, their raison d’être is to save white South Africans from extermination when the black tribes unite and rise as one.
The thing is, their website is entirely in Afrikaans. When I was a child, my mother would wash my mouth out with drain cleaner if I so much as uttered an Afrikaans word. Now look what’s happened, mother. Here is a vital infoportal giving us instructions on what to do when the hellfires of retribution engulf this country and I can’t understand a word of it.
Maybe it’s deliberate. Maybe the Suidlanders don’t want their places of safety overrun with snooty chinless wonders whinnying and braying at cocktail hour and organising games of polo with the war horses.
So, for those who wish to avoid being scalped and roasted over an open fire, but are unsure of what to do when the apocalypse is upon us, here are some handy pointers. This is aimed largely at English-speakers but black boers are welcome provided they sit quietly at the back and don’t keep asking people for cigarettes.
Unfortunately, the catchy name “Suidlanders” is taken and I don’t know what to call ourselves. Send me your suggestions. The best one wins a box of matches.
We also need some kind of divine justification for our actions. The Suidlanders are backed by everyone from Isaiah to Ezekiel, and when the Habbakuk hits the fan, I want to know we have solid backing from someone with real power.
Hugh Hefner once said: “The major civilising force in the world is not religion; it is sex.” Until we come up with something better, I think this provides a worthy endorsement of our cause.
The Suidlander’s motto is taken from the fourth stanza of the national anthem. I didn’t even know our anthem had stanzas. In fact, the entire affair is the musical equivalent of an Israeli rocket attack on a children’s hospital and should be hauled off to face charges of violating the integrity of anthems everywhere.
Right. Let’s get down to business. First rule: Be prepared. You cannot afford to get caught with your pants down. Look what happened to Eugene Terreblanche. You need to be ready to withdraw to a place of safety. Please do not come to my house. It is a place of many things, but safety is not one of them.
It is no secret that black people operate on a complicated system of coded signals. These messages are sent via email or registered post, but more often than not by shouting from one side of the valley to the other.
Bearing in mind that 45 million people need to be alerted, you will have roughly four years to implement your evacuation plan. This may seem like a long time, but once you have gathered the children, found the car keys and convinced your wife that camouflage doesn’t make her bum look fat, your neighbourhood could be in flames.
Do not jump the gun. Many whites emigrate only to read in the Sydney Herald that it was not the final onslaught after all, but merely a group of striking garbage collectors. Nor should you take fright at the increasing number of people gathered at traffic lights. They are not mobilising. They are merely unemployed. Act as you normally do. Wind up your window and ignore them.
When the moment arrives, you need to move quickly to your nearest rallying point where trained personnel will be waiting to escort you to safe locations. Do not panic if there are no trained personnel. They will arrive when the bars close.
I cannot identify the rallying points because the darkies would simply go straight there and tear us to pieces. Or, worse, make us drink skokiaan and insist on discussing local soccer.
I recommend that you purchase a shovel, a welding torch, a toilet brush, a vacuum cleaner and a bag of marijuana. That’s the only down side of the safe locations – there won’t be any darkies around to help out. It’s a small price to pay.
You will also need to stockpile food. If you forget to pick up the groceries, you should know how to forage for food. We are fortunate to live in a country full of edible and smokable flora. Know your nuts and brush up on your mushrooms. If you eat the Amanita phalloides, you will require a liver transplant. If you are truly one of us, you are likely in need of a new liver anyway. Stick with the Agaricus campestri, or, even better, anything from the psilocybin family.
The crucial thing is not to leave your evacuation too late. If you wake up on a Sunday morning to find 50 000 darkies at your front gate, do not assume they are looking for gardening work and go back to sleep.
On judgement day, it is important that you get moving early. There is little point in beating the mob only to get caught in traffic. Taxi drivers will be the cavalry in this war and they will be doing whatever they can to kill you. In that respect, nothing will have changed.
Hey! Look at that. I pressed a button and translated the Suidlanders’ website into English. “The National Board of Suidlanders want all fans to moon to guard against any illegal action as it not only yourself and your family influence but also a large community of supporters across the country already in the Suidlander structures are included.”
I am not convinced that mooning is an appropriate response to genocide, but if all else fails, I suppose it’s worth a shot.