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Editorial See other Editorial Articles Title: Running From Stupid Running from stupid By Ragnar Redbeard 02 December 2006 "Most people think that nothing but this wearying reality of ours is possible." – Friedrich Nietzsche The ultimate pleasure lies in destroying that which is destroying us, but, since we Europeans, which we must from henceforth insist on calling ourselves, are no longer in the ascendant, but in fact face the prospect of death or exile, we must accept that sudden or easy victory against our tormentors is not possible. Many who post to this site counsel defeat and despair. The truth is, there is life after South Africa, and it can be a very good one. And it is also true that life in South Africa can be good. Most European South Africans (called "white" by their enemies, an appellation designed to strip them of their inheritance and identity) have long ago adapted to living in a country that is no longer theirs, that they increasingly do not recognise, and in which they do not see a future for themselves or their children. Those, like myself, who had the misfortune of living in Johannesburg, do not need to be told about the lengthening shadows. We know them only too well. Unlike many Europeans still living in that decaying cesspool of a city, I did not shy away from the "bad" parts. Indeed, I worked in town, and I would usually walk to work through Vrededorp and Newtown, even though I owned a car. Sometimes I even walked home at night through these exceedingly dangerous parts of town. I was never attacked. Later, working at another place, I would routinely walk through Westbury and Coronationville. No one ever bothered me. I did all the things you are not supposed to do, and I did them deliberately. I never locked my car. As often as not I would wind down the window and feign interest in the cheap merchandise on offer at the traffic lights. The people there were always pleased that I was interested in them. During my walks through "dangerous" parts I started recognising people. Soon I felt part of the neighbourhood. That is why I was able to identify the tsotsis, but I always eluded them. I did all of these things, even though I certainly did not enjoy them, because I wanted to see. Seeing clearly, and for yourself, is the first step to enlightenment. There are plenty of "whites" who do not visit this site. They have thrown in their lot with the New South Africa, believing that things will work out. I am going to offer you a small vignette of why I do not believe that this is true. It is trivial, but it is symptomatic of a wider malaise that, while it might not actually destroy South Africa, will certainly make it a place in which people like me will live lives where we are daily witness to the destruction of our culture, our hopes and, ultimately, ourselves. Do you want to live like that? I know I don't. A couple of years ago I took the train to East London. My intention was to give my wife a break from me but also to visit a city I had last seen in the early Eighties. What I saw was bad enough, and what I felt worse still. But there was a poignant moment on the return trip that has stayed with me. There is a railway junction, Sterkstroom, that you pass through just before the train ascends up the escarpment towards Molteno. It is the junction for the branch line out to Dordrecht and eventually Maclear. When the train got to Sterkstroom we saw that the Victorian railway buildings were all being stripped, window frames, doors, roofs ripped out, bricks and ironwork carted away. There were a couple of old tannies looking out who exclaimed in horror about what was being done. I saw the look of bewilderment on their faces. What could we do? Soon after, as the train commenced up the pass, it shuddered, then stopped abruptly. We heard that the locomotive was too "tired" to continue. I felt a deep sadness well up inside me as I looked out, watching the sun sink behind the dry Bamboesberg. South Africa has always been a divided country, and a divisive one. There are still a good many Afrikaners who still hate the British. The British, a once great nation that built up Sterkstroom when it was at the height of its power, not necessarily for the most noble of reasons, will never again put up buildings like that, in the Eastern Cape or anywhere else. One way or another those buildings were paid for in blood. Those tannies on the train may or may not have harboured antipathy towards the English, but they knew very well what the destruction of the buildings signified. If they are taken away, how shall they be replaced, and with what? My last year in South Africa was spent preparing myself psychologically for the difficult task of leaving. In many ways it was exactly like any other shitty year in the New South Africa, except that I decided to be ugly. As the devil said rising in righteous anger from the pit of hell: "No more Mr Nice Guy." I had the opportunity at work to tell a white guy called Pete, a "struggle" stalwart: "Have you thought about sticking up for your culture now that you realise you were just the black man's useful idiot?" Needless to say, he did not take this well. I decided that, even though I've always liked Jews, I was henceforth going to call Joburg "Kiketown" and just generally be unpleasantly anti-Semitic. Why? Because it's the politically incorrect thing to do. The affection I feel towards black people continued as before. I can't help liking them. I continued to help them whenever I could, just like I've always done. But I told some Afrikaans cops I was no longer willing to participate in the "kaffir project" of the NSA. I spent the weekend in jail for my impertinence. I guess I'm just not willing to be cannon fodder. I will not be anyone's useful idiot. Forget trying to make me a milch cow, paying my taxes to feed my enemies. I won't do it. So I've left, and my life is much, much better. There is life after South Africa. Even though we all know that the black man's victory shall be his defeat, it is very small consolation, so I counsel you to put as much distance between you and him as possible. And the sooner you can do it, the better.
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