Monday, June 06, 2005


For many years I wouldn't even look at news items about Rhodesia, or what was left of it after years of black rule. But I have to admit, I am being drawn back there now on the internet, in a kind of horrified fascination, unable to resist the spectacle of the living hell that the most beautiful part of my youth has become.

The main thing I remember about Rhodesia is the smell of flowers everywhere; in the cities, at least, it was like living in a kind of vast open-air English garden. The major who handled my admission into the army told me that "We pride ourselves on being more British than the British here," and it was true. I now know what it must have been like to live under the Raj in India or at the height of the Edwardian empire. Rhoesia was also the safest place I have ever lived, outside the actual operational areas; a White woman could walk the streets at night in Bulawayo with no fear at all.

Now there is nothing but death and poison and booga booga booga. The deranged Mugabe rules like some cackling witch doctor demanding constant blood sacrifice. You can practically hear the drums and his ZANU-PF (some of them) literally appear now with bones in their noses. In the countryside, a return to cannibalism (once practiced by a small tribe called the Zimbas, exterminated by the Pioneers) has been reported. All the Whites have been driven out; there are less than 30,000 left now that the farmers have been murdered or expelled, mostly old people who are trapped in the living hell of a kaffir world.

But the worse sufferers are the poor kaffirs themselves. They are sick, brutalized, now unable to read or write because there are no schools, unemployed, tortured and oppressed. They still find mass graves in Matabeleland where Mugabe's North Koreans went berserk in 1983, slaughtering tens of thousands of his tribal political rivals, the Ndebele.

Recently Mugabe's thugs went on a rampage in Bulawayo and Salisbury and pulled down hundreds of houses and market stalls in an effort at "urban renewal," trying to drive the poor back into the desolate and diseased bush where they will quietly starve to death. Their Israeli "contractors," apparently thinking they're back in Gaza, used bulldozers to smash buildings. (The Israelis are supplied by special food flights twice a week from Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv, planes that are guarded by Israeli commandos when on the ground in Zimbibbledy so the starving kaffirs won't mob them for the food.)

More than one third of Zimbuggery's population has fled the country in desperate search of work and food. Kaffir-ruled South Africa, slightly more prosperous due to its remaining two million or so Whites, drives Zimbabbles back from the border with whips. Botswana, again semi-livable because their kaffir government encourages a White expat community of around 100,000, is laying mine fields to keep them out.

And of course the world that put the madman Mugabe in power simply stands by and wrings its hands. When I lived in Rhodesia we suffered under crippling sanctions. Not sanction one has been applied to Mugabe.

A garden has been turned into a toilet.

You Jew bastards. You pigs in human form. God, I hope I live to see all of you burn.


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