Kraal
Page 6
Gijs and others from the Ystergarde were present as security. He noted that, sitting among the Boers, there were also people with English, German, Italian and Danish accents. These fellow travellers were spread around the room, listening to the debate, the back and forth of the arguments and the endless counter-arguments.
‘We cannot risk actions that would lead to further disinvestment!’ Botha was arguing. ‘Look what happened last time. The Oppenheimers, Old Mutual and all the others pulled their capital out!’
‘Like Lamola said — good riddance,’ Czapski spat. ‘We don’t need them!’
‘Of course we need them!’ Botha rejoined. ‘It is naive to think otherwise.’
‘What we don’t need is British Aerospace and Daimler Benz distributing bribes to our enemies,’ Aarde observed cynically, ‘keeping these graft-addicted rabble in cash!’ Then the discussion began to fragment into inter-European name calling and table thumping.
‘For fuck’s sake this egotistical self-indulgence has got to stop!’ Gijs blurted out loud. ‘These differences between Poles and Welsh — it matters little when we are all of us facing extermination!’ Then, conscious his words had silenced the room, he added, for all to hear, ‘Our children won’t thank us if we cannot even agree among ourselves!’
The balding Botha, eyebrows raised, pointed at Gijs with a short stubby forefinger.
‘Gentlemen, I see we have a Professor from Muller’s Ystergarde with us today. One of the incendiaries responsible for the black backlash all across the Cape,’ Botha sneered, ‘Please, continue Herr Professor, I am sure our dignitaries and guests would all be delighted to have the opportunity to hear more of your homespun philosophy!’ Gijs hesitated to respond, stammering as heads turned to look at him.
‘I just mean...’ he croaked, fingers running nervously along the length of his weapon.
‘He just means we have no time!’ Czapski interrupted, coming to Gijs’s defence. ‘We all know what this dictatorship is doing. Their mirage of a multicultural mengelmoes society is pure deceit. We cannot vote our way out of this. We need a people’s movement, a Volk in beweging, to answer such an insult to our intelligence. What we are discussing here is either delaying that process, or ending that process. Just that, those are the only options! For me delaying tactics is just postponing the inevitable. I say we separate, establish a Volkstaat and fight if needs be!’ Many rallied to support Czapski’s view. Crestfallen, Botha looked away from Gijs, his eyes crossing the table towards Aarde who sat amongst the Orde Boervolk contingent.
‘So Ben,’ he asked wearily, ‘Where do you stand?’ Silence fell over them, and all eyes turned toward the great figurehead of the Orde. At least now, after his faux pas, Gijs sensed things were being brought to a head.
Aarde had up to that point sat relatively quietly. Now, he shifted in his chair, clever eyes taking in everything about him. Like Czapski he exuded charisma and had a strong physical presence. He was articulate and persuasive. But unlike his Aksie Eie Toekoms rival, he was less volatile and more considered. Everyone knew that his family had been fire bombed out of their farm outside East London sometime before. He had lost three relatives to the descendants of King Shaka, their clothes torn away and genitals mutilated to warn off the rest. For this alone, no one could question his allegiances; but it was his inner qualities that had brought him to the point whereby he could sit as a sort of unofficial judge among them.
‘We must show our people the way,’ he said slowly and firmly. ‘We must demonstrate that there is only one outcome. Silence will lead to oblivion.’
Botha was incensed.
‘But if the ANC mobilise they can put eighty thousand soldiers in the field. Then there’s groups like the Miners Union, half a million strong!’
‘Cannon fodder!’ Czapski shrugged. ‘They are untrained!’
Botha nodded furiously. ‘They are also unrestrained. There will be even worse atrocities than now!’
‘Worse than those sanctioned by the police and army in the East Rand?’
‘They are all in it together anyway,’ Aarde intervened. ‘You know that, Botha! The police take off their uniforms and infiltrate the townships to stir up the Hotties.’
‘Comrades, we can run scared or die fighting!’ Czapski blurted. At this, Botha fell into a sulk, and it seemed the discussion had ended. A vote was taken and a clear majority was reached despite the Nationalist’s discordant mumblings. Botha picked up his papers and, looking darkly about the room, signalled to his delegation that it was time to leave.
‘My friends,’ he said in a strained but dignified tone, ‘I and my colleagues feel we can contribute no further in this Lansberaad. The course of action you are proposing runs counter to my party’s position.’
As the nationalists trooped out Aarde signalled to Muller to escort the departing men off the premises. Gijs and Viljoen, his colleague from the Matanzima action, joined the Major as he followed Botha out into the bouncing hot sunshine.
Then Aarde, who had clearly anticipated these events, began to propose a detailed plan involving mass actions and symbolic gestures to unify the Volk, deeds which were guaranteed to reach the attention of the international media. At first Czapski’s pride made him derail some of the finer details, but seeing Aarde was willing to give ground he soon endorsed the emerging strategy and by early evening a toast was made to Broerkap and a raucous chorus of Die Stem broke out in the makeshift conference room.
←→
Hastings’ shoulders were pressed back against the cushion as the aircraft gained momentum and finally lifted from the ground. Marie leaned across him to look out the portal window, watching as the runway transformed into a thin line of grey cotton, the earth falling away as the 747 banked into the low lying clouds. He felt her body pressing against his, and a warm rush of anticipation seized him.
To their right, a Pakistani couple shrouded in their religious wrappings were silently praying to their desert God, invoking the holy su’tras, while their babies screeched like unrelenting ambulance sirens, faces throbbing blue and purple as they forgot to breath between the tsunami of sound they were making. Mabuza’s finger hit the red button above his head to attract the cabin staff. A polite middle-aged Malayan woman came straight away.
‘Tell those people to be quiet,’ Hastings insisted, pointing towards the family in the adjacent seats. ‘Otherwise they will have to move!’ Then almost as an afterthought, ‘And fetch me a Tequila Sunrise!’
Marie coughed.
‘And?’ Hastings was reminded to ask.
‘A gin and tonic, merci.’
‘How very colonial,’ he laughed condescendingly.
After their drinks were served Marie switched on the in-flight movie channel and Hastings pulled out his earphones and tuned into the radio just in time to catch the BBC’s World Service. He listened to those beautifully rounded syllables, spherical and rich like ripe plums, reading the headlines.
‘Good evening and welcome to the World Service News Headlines, with me, Fariha Ahmed.’ Then the familiar clock chimes and dramatic music.
‘Today, The UN Executive Council, working in collaboration with the Vatican and world leaders of all other Christian denominations, confirmed that Dr Martin Luther King would be nominated as a candidate for beatification. This follows the recent proposal by the African Episcopal Church that excerpts from Dr King’s speeches should be included as appendices in future editions of the King James Bible. John Sentamu, the Archbishop of Canterbury warmly welcomed the suggestion, saying, This timely addition to the pantheon of great anti-colonial and civil rights thinkers like Ghandi, who’s works have already been interwoven into the fabric of our faith, just goes to show that the Bible is no mere book, stale and unchanging, but is in the forefront of the liberation struggle across the globe in the twenty-first century... Within a half a hour of the announcement the Pan African Church issued a written statement from the recently constructed Palace of the Golden Pyramid in Chad, stat
ing their unequivocal support for the nomination and posed the question of how long it would be before the rest of the world recognised, as they themselves already did, that Nelson Mandela was equally worthy of Sainthood and that the Liturgy of the Snake should be formally adopted by all Christian Doctrines throughout the world.’
Then there was a moment’s pause. ‘Elsewhere in the news, the stalemate on the disputed Aztlan border was finally ended today when the columns of refugees arriving from the South led to the withdrawal of the United States Army to the Mogollon Rim while humanitarian aid was provided and Congress voted for the further extension of the Sanctuary City Bill, doubling the number of urban centres where illegals would be free to live without fear of deportation.
President Emanuel speaking in Washington referred to the need to find a peaceful settlement that respected long-standing Mexican claims to parts of US territory and promised to curtail reactionary nationalistic elements within the American military and society as a whole. Investigations have found no factual basis for the accusations made by commentators on the Fox News Channel of fetishistic massacres of whites in honour of La Santa Muerte. Most respectable media outlets are dismissing such claims as racist propaganda. Likewise, rumours of Islamic support for the incursion by the Mexican army across the Rio Grande have been denied by Prophet Bashir speaking at the Mohamed Attar Mosque in Paris where the cabinet meeting of the Pan-Eurabia Coalition was gathering as part of its tour of member states. The evidence for Jihadist elements working alongside their Uto-Aztecan brothers to liberate their former territories in North America is limited at best, he said. We have seen no evidence that could seriously justify such a claim, although we of course remain sympathetic to all peoples that stand against oppression. Later today, representatives of Pan-Eurabic Coalition will be initiating a debate in the UN Security Council regarding sending a further twelve billion Euros in humanitarian aid to the new Aztlan capital, Los Angeles.’ Another pause. Then, ‘In the Middle East, Edouard Shulman, Prime Minister of Israel, announced his joy that the World Bank and other financial exchanges would relocate from London, Frankfurt and New York, saying it was logical that these institutions should be based in Tel Aviv now that the Palestinian problem was predominantly a European issue.’ Hastings listened carefully, waiting patiently for the item he had been told might break today. ‘And finally, it has been confirmed that serious fraud investigations into the CEO of CONMIN, the company at the centre of corruption allegations in the Congo, have been dropped. The case which some have suggested might reveal unscrupulous activity by the South African and Israeli governments in order to gain a controlling interest in the region’s copper, cobalt and diamond trade has already been linked to the mysterious deaths of twelve people. CONMIN’s majority share-holder, Solomon Heilprin, who had flown into Kinshasa earlier on his Gulf-stream G5 jet, was quoted as saying, I don’t understand what is behind all this hostility; after the disastrous Mobutu and Kabila regimes, COGNET is working in alliance with Pretoria to rebuild the economy here. We are a force for good. All this talk of financial misappropriation by the auditors and of child exploitation by the Charity Commission for Child Workers smacks of the usual anti-semitism and colour prejudice.’
Hastings took off the audio set and ordered another tequila from a passing waitress. Marie was engrossed in her chick-flick, Hidden Figures, about three black females who had masterminded NASA’s space exploration in the 1960s. He, on the other hand, was smiling smugly to himself. The news items confirmed his confidence that the world was turning his way politically, economically and militarily. These factors, coupled with the demographic growth rate of what he thought of as his people made him confident that Fanon’s world view would soon come to dominate the planet. And to top it all he was flying off to a tropical paradise with a pretty white girl. Not too bad, he thought, for the grandson of a township witch doctor with access to one of the President’s many mistresses, and an ear for salacious gossip.
→ A comparison of world fertility rates between 1970 and 2014 indicate that the engine of the world population growth is Africa, and that inevitably that will lead to socio-economic strain on that specific geographic zone;
→ An economic consultant advises that if Malema’s Economic Freedom Fighters’ platform was enacted ‘It would bring famine to South Africa in 10 years.’
→ South Africa’s state broadcaster SABC reports that three people are in a critical condition after a dispute in a mosque in the eastern town of Verulam. Local media outlets indicating that the attackers slit people’s throats before fleeing;
→ The daughter of a former US Supreme Court Justice and NEVER TRUMP activist, speaking at the American Embassy in Jerusalem, claims her mother privately supported re-drafting sections of the American Constitution so that the notable advances in equality and equity that the world were now witnessing in South Africa could be repeated on the US mainland.
Chapter 9
Their adventures and exploits form one of the most singular chapters of modern history, and deserve a clearer record than has yet been given them.
— James Anthony Froude, historian,
on the Voozrtrekkers
Gijs had began to think of himself as a grim-faced avenger, a colossus striding out into the wilderness, fiery sword in hand. He had read and taken to heart Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s thinking about his people: ‘Take a country of Dutchmen of the type of those who defended themselves for 50 years against all the power of Spain, at a time when Spain was the greatest power in the World. Intermix them with a strain of those inflexible French Huguenots who gave up their name and left their country forever at the time of the Edict of Nantes. The product must obviously be one of the most rugged, virile, unconquerable races ever seen upon the face of the earth. Take these formidable people and test them for several generations in constant warfare against savage men and ferocious beasts, in circumstances in which no weakling could survive; place them so that they acquire skill in weapons and in horsemanship, give them a country which is immediately suited to the tactics of the huntsman, the marksman, the rider. Then finally, put a fine temper upon their military qualities by a dour fatalistic Old Testament religion and an ardent and consuming patriotism. Combine all these qualities in an individual and you have the modern Boer.’
And he was certain that he was one of the God’s chosen, a staunch defender of the old ways and traditions, as he was waved past the Stormvalke guards standing at the gate. Turning the corner of the house and looking down the long covered veranda, he could see Aarde sitting in a white open-necked shirt at the far end of the decking, with his broad back to his new guest. The table was piled with books and a laptop computer. Aarde’s head was bowed and his fingers were typing diligently on the keyboard. Timidly Gijs stepped up onto the boarding and the creak and yawl of the dry wood caused the commander to pause and acknowledge his presence.
‘Please, join me,’ Aarde said before removing his sunglasses and tapping the front page of a newspaper announcing the sudden death of Jon Botha and his colleagues in a mysterious car accident. ‘That was a good job!’
‘Thank you,’ Gijs replied taking a seat, looking down at the closely typed sheets spilling out of the overflowing printer tray on to the table. They drank lemon tea and discussed the weather for a while in stuttering unfamiliarity.
‘Be my guest!’ Aarde offered, after seeing Gijs’s obvious and continued interest in the material which was titled Ons Taak Vorentoe.
‘A manifesto “Our Task Ahead”?’
‘An ultimatum!’ Aarde confirmed gravely.
‘I understand.’
‘Do you, I wonder?’ Aarde laughed, more in friendship than mockery. ‘You know we have for the most part played by the democratic rules — voted, petitioned, raised points of law and such like.’
‘Yes, of course — Botha’s approach!’
‘Well that is never going to work because as General Constand Viljoen found out back in 1994 they vote en masse, by
tribe and tint!’
‘I guess not!’
Botha gestured fervently in the air. ‘There was a time when our people ran every corporation, the radio, television, charities, hospitals, universities and yes, the government itself! What we need now is our own homeland, just like our forefathers intended.’
‘I agree — but how?’
Aarde wagged his finger at what he had called an ultimatum. ‘This is the road map!’
‘Like you discussed with Czapski’s people!’
Aarde replaced his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.
‘More or less, with a few deviations.’
‘Deviations?’
‘Have you heard or read much of Professor Carel Boshoff’s work?’
‘Just a little.’
‘He talks of an extended self-governing Boer homeland, complete independence and its own standing militia.’
Gils nodded. ‘It sounds utopian to speak of it like this. But — it will be hard to achieve!’
Aarde shrugged, but Gils saw nothing thoughtless in the gesture. It was rather the shrug of a man who had been over this ground too many times before. ‘By the correct appliance of economic leverage, force of arms and playing each one of these hateful little tribes off one against the other — who knows?’
‘But —’
‘But, nothing! The fools have purged the professional white officer corps and replaced the army, navy and airforce command systems with cadres of their own men. Likewise the police and security forces. Already division between the Xhosa and Zulus is causing them trouble. Now that their communist friends have moved on, thinking their work here is done, it gives us our chance, you see, a window of opportunity.’
‘But won’t they re-unite to oppose us? Blood is thicker than water, and it is only hatred of us that holds them together...’
‘True, but geopolitics is a complex business. Europe and America is already in flux. If we don’t move now I fear the worst.’