Snapshot of 72 hours in South Africa - a true story
Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2021 5:22 pm
Thanks to @TFS for indirectly reminding me about this story.
A couple of years ago, I took a week off work to spend quality time with family. First stop was my ex-sister in law who lives in the historical agricultural centre of Wellington. Locals call it Hellington because of the heat.
We then drove from Wellington to Lambert’s Bay where her family had given us the run of a huge house on the beach. We were in high spirits when we set off, we cracked a joke with 2 Cape Coloured guys at the petrol station. We were in a white SUV and as my sis tried to manoeuvre past them in their white SUV, one hurriedly and worriedly flattened his side mirror. Obviously concerned we might scrape him, women drivers and all. Sis in law hung out the window and shouted (in Afrikaans) “Don’t worry, white on white is alright!”, to which we all roared with laughter and they waved us off. A perfect illustration of how Cape Coloureds are nothing like feral bantu invaders.
The road to Lambert’s Bay was long and hot. Several hours later, the cool sea breeze hit us as we arrived at the coast. We unpacked and went over to the neighbours (who have meerkats as pets, no it’s not legal) where we stayed until late talking about the state of the agricultural sector and the impossible demands that European supermarkets make on them in terms of diversity, etc. For example, Tesco literally dictates how far apart your apple trees should be planted. I come from a long line of fruit farmers and my brother married into another (game and livestock) farming family, so farming is always a hot topic.
At bed time, my sis said “you can relax, it’s completely safe here”. The house was encased in burglar bars (except for a very tiny window in the garage), the verandah was a literal cage with bars around it.
I went to bed with my gun under my pillow as usual. Around 6am, I heard a noise downstairs and sat up in bed bolt upright. Imagine my surprise when I saw that all my stuff was gone! My gun license, my money, my cards, my camera, my phone, my clothes. How the fuck had I not heard anything? All my sister in law’s stuff was gone too. Thank god I still had my gun. The niggers had obviously shoved a small child through the tiny window to unlock the main door and let them in. So much for my planned early morning run on the beach; i no longer had running shoes.
We cut our stay short and headed to my brother’s family, my next stop on my holiday. But not before stopping off at the local cop shop to report the burglary. I needed the paperwork to support an application for a replacement gun license. I was met by a sullen, lethargic bantu cop who said “What do you want me to do about it?” He begrudgingly wrote me a one sentence “report” along the lines of “they did break in her place and took her stuff”. (I still have the "report", which I kept as a conversation piece).
You must notify your Designated Firearms Officer at the same police station where you had your gun license renewal interview of a stolen license within 48 hours and attend a formal police interview and fill out paperwork to show you were not negligent. You can be prosecuted for negligence and disqualified from owning a gun.
Back at my brother’s, we discussed how to make the best of a bad thing when suddenly his neighbour (several km away) called for help on the radio. His land had been set alight by kaffers. Dry bush and high temperatures don’t mix well. Farmers are self-reliant, so my brother has this contraption you put on the back of your truck and fill with water. It has a long hose attached. Ideal for putting out fires on your farm started by feral bantus. We fill it up and raced to the neighbour whose wife was evacuating the livestock while he fought the fire. https://files.catbox.moe/ae92pu.jpg
Several hours later, we returned home exhausted. I wanted to sleep but was jittery. I was in a cottage detached from the main house, locked into a room with a large dog and my gun. Every time I heard a sound, I sat upright ready to fire my weapon. Eventually I passed out from sheer exhaustion. Around 4 am, I was awoken by loud banging on the door. It was my sister in law. “Get out of the house now!” she screamed. The little cottage was filling with smoke. I had no valuables to grab since everything had already been stolen, so I grabbed my gun and ran outside where my brother was single-handedly fighting a huge fire, probably set by the same kaffers. https://files.catbox.moe/xhjxx7.jpg
It was 40 degrees Celsius and it was spreading like… well….wildfire. He shouted at me to “Get my fucking guns and laptops out of the house!” In this pic, you can partly see the contraption on the back of the truck I mentioned earlier. https://files.catbox.moe/28jcmc.JPG
After calling for help on the radio, neighbouring farmers arrived with their labourers and wives, it was all hands on deck. Radios are far more effective than mobile phones, because phone reception can drop in and out in rural areas, plus you have to scroll for the number. A radio is just one button and your message gets out. https://files.catbox.moe/0x1geb.jpg It was clear the new security fence was going to come down. https://files.catbox.moe/yi3bej.jpg The drama continued all morning. https://files.catbox.moe/3oyj9o.JPG
While the men fought the fire, we evacuated the cows, horses and several large dogs. I emptied the gun safe and grabbed the computers. My oldest nephew who was still at agricultural college at the time was on the phone telling me which of his most treasured possessions I had to seek out and save.
This whole thing started around 4 am, by 10 or 11 am things were more or less under control when a helicopter appeared. My brother looked up and said “I guarantee you that was a black decision”. He was referring to sending a helicopter 5 hours later when we no longer needed it. https://files.catbox.moe/pb89mk.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/afjpzb.jpg
Because the fence was destroyed, we were vulnerable and had to hire private security until the new fence could be erected. https://files.catbox.moe/8du0m1.JPG We were sent mostly black guys, which hardly reassured me, but they did a good job. These fires often flare up days later, the ground remains boiling hot. One night it flared up and the security guy tried to put it out with his bare hands. I don’t think he wanted to come to the house and call us because he was afraid of the dogs. He had blisters on his hands in the morning.
The boss man of the Coloured crew that repaired the fence said (in Afrikaans) “These fucking kaffers and their bullshit.”
Despite everything, my young nephew was duly sent off to school at 7am and lunch was on the table for everyone by 1. Someone collected my nephew from school, someone brought the animals home, someone neatly packed away all the items we had removed from the house. This is how things work in the agricultural areas of South Africa, there is a very strong sense of community, is it any wonder they want us all dead?
As for me, I was a thousand times more jittery than before my “holiday” so I went back to work to relax and unwind.
The end
A couple of years ago, I took a week off work to spend quality time with family. First stop was my ex-sister in law who lives in the historical agricultural centre of Wellington. Locals call it Hellington because of the heat.
We then drove from Wellington to Lambert’s Bay where her family had given us the run of a huge house on the beach. We were in high spirits when we set off, we cracked a joke with 2 Cape Coloured guys at the petrol station. We were in a white SUV and as my sis tried to manoeuvre past them in their white SUV, one hurriedly and worriedly flattened his side mirror. Obviously concerned we might scrape him, women drivers and all. Sis in law hung out the window and shouted (in Afrikaans) “Don’t worry, white on white is alright!”, to which we all roared with laughter and they waved us off. A perfect illustration of how Cape Coloureds are nothing like feral bantu invaders.
The road to Lambert’s Bay was long and hot. Several hours later, the cool sea breeze hit us as we arrived at the coast. We unpacked and went over to the neighbours (who have meerkats as pets, no it’s not legal) where we stayed until late talking about the state of the agricultural sector and the impossible demands that European supermarkets make on them in terms of diversity, etc. For example, Tesco literally dictates how far apart your apple trees should be planted. I come from a long line of fruit farmers and my brother married into another (game and livestock) farming family, so farming is always a hot topic.
At bed time, my sis said “you can relax, it’s completely safe here”. The house was encased in burglar bars (except for a very tiny window in the garage), the verandah was a literal cage with bars around it.
I went to bed with my gun under my pillow as usual. Around 6am, I heard a noise downstairs and sat up in bed bolt upright. Imagine my surprise when I saw that all my stuff was gone! My gun license, my money, my cards, my camera, my phone, my clothes. How the fuck had I not heard anything? All my sister in law’s stuff was gone too. Thank god I still had my gun. The niggers had obviously shoved a small child through the tiny window to unlock the main door and let them in. So much for my planned early morning run on the beach; i no longer had running shoes.
We cut our stay short and headed to my brother’s family, my next stop on my holiday. But not before stopping off at the local cop shop to report the burglary. I needed the paperwork to support an application for a replacement gun license. I was met by a sullen, lethargic bantu cop who said “What do you want me to do about it?” He begrudgingly wrote me a one sentence “report” along the lines of “they did break in her place and took her stuff”. (I still have the "report", which I kept as a conversation piece).
You must notify your Designated Firearms Officer at the same police station where you had your gun license renewal interview of a stolen license within 48 hours and attend a formal police interview and fill out paperwork to show you were not negligent. You can be prosecuted for negligence and disqualified from owning a gun.
Back at my brother’s, we discussed how to make the best of a bad thing when suddenly his neighbour (several km away) called for help on the radio. His land had been set alight by kaffers. Dry bush and high temperatures don’t mix well. Farmers are self-reliant, so my brother has this contraption you put on the back of your truck and fill with water. It has a long hose attached. Ideal for putting out fires on your farm started by feral bantus. We fill it up and raced to the neighbour whose wife was evacuating the livestock while he fought the fire. https://files.catbox.moe/ae92pu.jpg
Several hours later, we returned home exhausted. I wanted to sleep but was jittery. I was in a cottage detached from the main house, locked into a room with a large dog and my gun. Every time I heard a sound, I sat upright ready to fire my weapon. Eventually I passed out from sheer exhaustion. Around 4 am, I was awoken by loud banging on the door. It was my sister in law. “Get out of the house now!” she screamed. The little cottage was filling with smoke. I had no valuables to grab since everything had already been stolen, so I grabbed my gun and ran outside where my brother was single-handedly fighting a huge fire, probably set by the same kaffers. https://files.catbox.moe/xhjxx7.jpg
It was 40 degrees Celsius and it was spreading like… well….wildfire. He shouted at me to “Get my fucking guns and laptops out of the house!” In this pic, you can partly see the contraption on the back of the truck I mentioned earlier. https://files.catbox.moe/28jcmc.JPG
After calling for help on the radio, neighbouring farmers arrived with their labourers and wives, it was all hands on deck. Radios are far more effective than mobile phones, because phone reception can drop in and out in rural areas, plus you have to scroll for the number. A radio is just one button and your message gets out. https://files.catbox.moe/0x1geb.jpg It was clear the new security fence was going to come down. https://files.catbox.moe/yi3bej.jpg The drama continued all morning. https://files.catbox.moe/3oyj9o.JPG
While the men fought the fire, we evacuated the cows, horses and several large dogs. I emptied the gun safe and grabbed the computers. My oldest nephew who was still at agricultural college at the time was on the phone telling me which of his most treasured possessions I had to seek out and save.
This whole thing started around 4 am, by 10 or 11 am things were more or less under control when a helicopter appeared. My brother looked up and said “I guarantee you that was a black decision”. He was referring to sending a helicopter 5 hours later when we no longer needed it. https://files.catbox.moe/pb89mk.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/afjpzb.jpg
Because the fence was destroyed, we were vulnerable and had to hire private security until the new fence could be erected. https://files.catbox.moe/8du0m1.JPG We were sent mostly black guys, which hardly reassured me, but they did a good job. These fires often flare up days later, the ground remains boiling hot. One night it flared up and the security guy tried to put it out with his bare hands. I don’t think he wanted to come to the house and call us because he was afraid of the dogs. He had blisters on his hands in the morning.
The boss man of the Coloured crew that repaired the fence said (in Afrikaans) “These fucking kaffers and their bullshit.”
Despite everything, my young nephew was duly sent off to school at 7am and lunch was on the table for everyone by 1. Someone collected my nephew from school, someone brought the animals home, someone neatly packed away all the items we had removed from the house. This is how things work in the agricultural areas of South Africa, there is a very strong sense of community, is it any wonder they want us all dead?
As for me, I was a thousand times more jittery than before my “holiday” so I went back to work to relax and unwind.
The end