It was like Friday or something and I was just sommer trapping down the road to score a toasted sarmie minding my own beeswax when this darkie checked me skeef. Like, lank skeef. I chooned him hey what’s your story but he just gooied me another skeef look and carried on trapping so I hooked a sharp left and vaaied back and chooned him again what’s your case. He made out all skaam and chooned me he got a squint in his eye and I chooned him to catch a wake up or he will have something else in his eye. Then he checked me skeef again and klapped me on my face.
And that’s when I knew it was starting. The uprising. The vengeance. The slaughter of the last white tribe of Africa. I couldn’t rely on the United Nations to save me so I went home and connected to the interweb to see if anyone out there had a plan of action. A lot of people did, mainly involving shaven Asian girls, but then I found the Suidlanders.
Patriots to a man, they have already given advice to white people on what to do when the pressure cooker blows. Thing is, their website is entirely in Afrikaans. When I was a child, my mother threatened to wash my mouth out with drain cleaner if I so much as uttered an Afrikaans word.
Now look what happened, mother. A whole infoportal giving us instructions on what to do and where to go when anarchy engulfs this country and I can’t understand a word of it.
Maybe it’s deliberate. Maybe the Suidlanders don’t want their muesli-munching deodorant-wearing compatriots swanning about the fortified enclosures quaffing flagons of gin while shouting tally-ho and rallying enthusiasm for a spot of polo with the war horses. And who could blame them, really?
So, for those who would prefer to avoid being scalped and roasted over an open fire, but are unsure of what to do when the racial apocalypse arrives, 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 other 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. From what I can make out, the Suidlanders are backed by everyone from Isaiah to Ezekiel. 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 civilizing force in the world is not religion; it is sex.” Until I come up with a better one, I think that makes 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 it should be hauled off to answer charges of violating the integrity of music.
Our motto is taken from the third stanza of Dylan Thomas. “Do not go gentle into that good night.” Or, if you like, you can write your own. Stanza shmanza.
Like the Suidlanders, I, too, believe that a number of factors can lead to anarchy. Here are just a few. Bottle stores running out of Windhoek Lager. Steve Hofmeyr singing in kitchen Zulu. Police refusing to take bribes. Julius Malema singing “Kill The Poor”.
First rule: Be Prepared. From this moment on, you cannot afford to get caught with your pants down. Look what happened to Eugene Terre Blanche.
It is no secret that black people operate on a complicated system of coded signals. These messages are sent via email, registered post or by shouting from one side of the valley to the other. They will mobilise quickly and efficiently. Well, quickly, anyway. From the moment the signal goes out to 50 million people, you will have approximately 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 those pants don’t make her bum look fat, your neighbourhood could be in flames.
You need to be ready to withdraw to a place of safety. Please do not come to my house. You will not be safe there.
Do not mistake a municipal strike for the final onslaught. 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, and you will know when it does, you need to move quickly to your nearest rallying point where trained personnel will be waiting to escort you to safe locations. Obviously I cannot divulge the rallying points because the natives would then simply go straight there and decimate us all. Or worse, make us drink skokiaan and insist we discuss local soccer.
By the same token, I am unable to reveal the whereabouts of the safe locations.
I would advise, though, that you bring along a shovel, a jackhammer, 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 score from. It’s a small price to pay.
We anticipate that each safe location will be surrounded by two or three million angry people so you will also need to stockpile food. We are fortunate to live in a country where every second person has the attention span of a guppy so the chances are good that that the baying mob will lose interest and begin drifting off after the first two or three weeks.
If you forget to pick up the groceries, as I always do, you will need to know how to forage for your food. We are fortunate to live in a country that is full of edible and smokable flora. Brush up on your mushrooms. If you eat the Amanita phalloides, you will need a liver transplant. However, if you are truly one of us, you are quite likely in need of a liver transplant anyway. Stick with the Agaricus campestri, or even better, anything from the Psilocybin family.
And for heaven’s sake keep a pair of steel-capped boots next to your bed at all times. Look what happened to David Livingstone.
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 a gardening job and go back to sleep.
Keep your vehicle’s engine running through the night. You may not have time to start the car. However, with a garage full of carbon monoxide, you may also wish to consider suicide as an option.
On judgment day it is important that you wake up early. There is little point in beating the mob only to get caught in traffic. Taxi drivers will be the cavalry and they will be doing their best to pick you off. 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 Suidelanders 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 I suppose it’s worth a shot.