Stop the Genocide of Boer and Afrikaner. Donate so we can continue to fight effectively to stop them being torture victims and worse.
"My Turn South Africa" written by: Alice VL has been nominated for best non-fiction book by the Author Academy Awards. Alice wrote this book for South Africa. I have often heard her say, "This is not MY book, this is OUR book". If anyone deserves to win this award, it is Alice. She has been through hell and back on her journey after writing the book. Most of the proceeds from sales went back into South Africa.
Voting for this award begins on March 3rd. I do not have the link yet. I will update as soon as I receive the link.
Please vote for My Turn and Alice to bring South Africa's crimes against humanity to the world. If this book wins, that is a huge spotlight shining on the atrocities taking place in South Africa.
Please share and ask everyone you know to vote for Alice.
Jason Bartlett is walking 1,500 miles to the White House to bring awareness to #FarmMurders and #FarmAttacks. Please support him and share this far and wide.
I am beside myself with rage and despair. I can not believe #CyrilRamaphosa does not even say 1 word for these people. 🤬 Mr. ‘President’ since that’s your official title, although you are no President. Your first job as a leader is to protect the citizens you rule over. YOU! You, have failed them miserably and they had hope that you may be the one to turn things around. It turns out you’re just another #ANC Cadre who doesn’t care about the citizens of #SouthAfrica. I would like to make a promise to you sir...I PROMISE TO EXPOSE every lie you tell. I PROMISE to write every world leader who can stop you every day of my life if that’s what it takes to see you fall! You do not deserve praise or respect from any of these lying, garbage, #FakeNews and people turning a blind eye to your #Corruption and failure to stop this! Ramaphosa, your days are numbered. The ANC will fall and I don’t care if I have to walk through hells fires to see this happen. I will keep fighting until I see you on your knees! 🤬🤬🤬🤬 #DonaldTrump #LanaMarks #SecretaryPompeo #Genocide #FrameworkofAnalysis #CrimesAgainstHumanity #WarCrimes #TuckerCarlson #AFDGermany #FarmMurders #FarmAttacks
“If crime was a nation sport we would have sacked the coach a long time ago. It is time to rethink security and how effective we are. Time to bring in the "Bomb" squad. Time to be more effective.
A single mother, with two kids, was shot this morning at 3am. I will not reveal who or where this happened. She heard the dogs barking and opened the curtain to see. As she turned to run, the robber shot her. She was transferred to Joburg. There seems to be substantial nerve and muscle damage.
An hour later a bakkie with a trailer was hijacked not too far from the incident. Not sure if it is related”.
Young mother shot while looking out the window of her home.
To the Patriot Party of Germany
Dear Sirs or Madams.
My name is Brandi. I write this letter as a concerned and horrified American citizen on behalf of the Boere farmers and Afrikaner of South Africa. I will attach the original agreement between Germany and the Boer at the end of this letter.
Your assistance and support are desperately needed in this dark time in South Africa. The Boer farming population has been cut in half since around 1994. The reason for this is the incitement of murder and violence against these people by government, including every President since Nelson Mandela.
I don’t know if you are aware of the full extent of the horror and terror brought upon these people, some of which are of German ancestry. The murder rate in South Africa is 34.2 of 100,000 as a whole. The murder rate for a white Boer farmer is 156 of 100,000. The situation is escalating at such a rapid pace, people fear there will soon be a full-on attack and attempt to finish killing every last white human being left in South Africa.
I personally have the names of every person murdered in the most brutal ways imaginable since 1987. The true number of the murdered Afrikaner and Boer is closer to 100,000.
They are less than 4.5 million, surrounded by 55 million in South Africa, not including the territories around Africa who condone this incitement of Genocide but would come to assist the ANC in carrying this out.
The Boer are facing such a dire situation that if intervention does not come, they will not survive the next 20 years. Most can not leave. The rand has been made virtually worthless by the corrupt, failed government. Not only do they lack funds to be able to get out, no country will take them in.
They are prisoners in a country where they pay 90% of the taxes and provide 70% of the food for Africa, yet their own government calls for their slaughter.
The ways these murders are committed, some against entire families are so brutal that they align with the definition of War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity.
I have studied the Rome Statute, Geneva Convention and the U.N. Definition of Genocide Framework of Analysis. This Definition of Genocide as laid out by the world community is worthless without enforcement. We swore to never turn a blind eye and be silent again. The U.N. swore this, yet they continue to fail not only the Boer but the Rwandan Genocide, and more.
Would it shock you to know that the white minority of South Africa fit into every category laid out in this definition of Genocide and almost every smaller sub-category? This is a fact. I have all of the evidence to prove it. I have been collecting evidence and data on this for more than 10 years.
I plea to you for some kind of assistance on behalf of my friends and the people of my ancestral line.
Germany signed an agreement with these farmers in 1914. In this agreement, Germany will assist the Boer in the future should they come to be in a situation where desperate need od intervention is needed. That time has come. Will Germany keep to this agreement? This continues to be a legal binding document and is valid today.
I refer to the volgende version of the 1914 treaties therein or General Manie Maritz as written in his book: My Life and Aspirations, published in 1939. (This book is still on the banned list in South Africa. Fact, most books written by role players During the War of Freedom and the Rebellion were banned from the Smuts Government).
“Agreement made and concluded between and by the Governor of the Kaiser of German
Southwest Africa as representative of his esteemed Majesty, the Kaiser of Germany, and
General SG Maritz, on behalf of a number of officers and one wishing to Declare the
independence of South Africa, acknowledge:
1. Said General SG Maritz preserving declared the independence of South Africa and
declaring war against England;
2. The Governor of German South West Africa acknowledges all English forces engaged
against England as being forces of war and after remit discussions to support them in their war against England.
3. In the event of British South Africa being declared Partly or fully independent, the
Governor of the Kaiser of German Southwest Africa will apply all means to have the intervals States
or States acknowledged Thus and have them included in the general signing of peace.
4. In consideration of zoals assistance the newly formally State or States will have no objection to the German Reich annexing Walvis Bay and the islands adjoining German Southwest Africa.
5. The center of the Orange River will in future form the boundary between German South
West Africa and the Cape colony.
6. The German Reich will have no objection if the above-named States annex Delagoa Bay.
7. Should the In Uprising fail any dissidents present in German territory, will be considered to be German subjects and treated as zoals.
“After the signing of the treaties We Were transferred from Nabas and Ukamas to In Jerusalem, where the last horses were distributed among ourselves. We Were ordered to move from ship Drift at Orange River where we met Captain Stadler. He had Previously tasks Commander Du Plessis of Cradock as Prisoner-of-war. Du Plessis had marched to Upington with 500 people, having, Promised to General Smuts to deliver Manie Maritz to HIM (Smuts). The 500 people fled and left hun commander in the safe hands of Commandant Stadler. The Botha-Smuts Government decided to march into German West in various columns or 1000 The one elke.
One column was at Rooysvlei, one at Lutzhuts and one at Nous (on the Union side of the Orange River). In the meantime, the river water had but considerably Probably be this composition Which had claimed the lives of General Beyers and Pieterse.
Reaching Nous posed a problem. However, the maxim: ‘A farmer always makes a plan swung into operation. Van der Merwe rowed across with a steel cable and firmly wound and tied it around some thorn trees. Many hands pulled it as taut as possible on the German West side and tied it to thorn trees there.
The two boats ulcers hero alongside elke other and planks attached across them to form a rude platform. An ox chain was hooked to the cable in front of the boats and we had a work loveable ferry with Which we transported our commands and Cannons across the river. ‘Uncle Klasie, however, did not want to cross over, saying: “I see a well (danger) in the middle or Orange River. At Nous I see an English girl (Government troops) jumping up and running down the valley. She is wearing a dirty for Napkin and then she sits down. “
The last division to cross on the ferry was dat or Commandant Stadler. The ferry could carry four mounted horses simultaneously. The last four Penkoppe (young teenage army volunteers) rounded up the sheep reward to the Government troops and put them under the planks inside the boats. On Reaching the center of the river, the load became too heavy and the boats started taking in water. Two of the four Lads Drowned-the ‘well that Van Rensburg had seen, had claimed its victims.”
I pray you will hear me and hopefully be able to have someone listen in government. I will also be sending a letter to Parliament and likely a legal filing as a matter of statement.
My dearest countrymen, come join me in taking a fresh look at an old old tale....
The story of the twelve year old Afrikaner girl Rachel de Beer, who gave her life to save her six year old brother, is a story that has always been very touching, and it always brings tears to my eyes. Here I sit in a foreign land, far away from my beloved South Africa, and I see in this story about a brave young girl a deeper insight into the equivalent modern day story which is currently playing itself out in our small Boer nation.
In the Bible the church is always represented as a woman. Traditionally a nation is also symbolized as a woman. And Christ in the Bible is symbolized as the so-called man child.
If we have a symbolic look at the story of Rachel de Beer, then Rachel symbolizes the Boer nation before 1994. The snow and the winter symbolizes the spiritual winter that has come upon us since 1994 and the hollowed out ant hill represents our Christian faith, our spiritual heritage left to us by Bible believing ancestors.
Rachel's clothes symbolizes the “coverings” of our nation: the language, culture, property, church etc. Rachel's little brother represents the modern nation that will come forth out of the furnace of suffering.
Dear countrymen, you who mourn so bitterly for our people and yet at the same time remain steadfast in your belief of the promises of our Heavenly Father, your faith will be rewarded! Yes, you will laugh with joy when you start to see the possibilities I and many other are starting to see!
"Now learn a lesson from the fig tree. When its branches bud and its leaves begin to sprout, you know that summer is near. “ (Matt 24:32)
Because in the same way that little Rachel lay down her life for her little brother, just so our nation was prepared to be stripped of everything until naked and exposed in the unmerciful winter landscape. But her heart was focused on that which is truly important: to preserve that which is most precious, our faith!
In the eyes of the world she may look like a Greek tragedy today, but for those who have been given the spiritual eyes to see that which has potential to come forth, namely a purified and strong nation, the sacrifice is a triumph still waiting to be seen
by the world. We may have lost everything, yet the true faith of Christ has been kept warm and alive.
“I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat is planted in the soil and dies, it remains alone. But its death will produce many new kernels— a plentiful harvest of new lives.” (Joh 12:24)
My dear faithful people, the old form of our small nation, the young Rachel, has passed, but the modern new nation will come forth bearing great potential. The potential to be a light to nations in a very dark world.
Yes, I may be premature in the things I see, but with some of us it is like that: We see far ahead and we dream great dreams for those we love. And I tell you, this is what I see!
Bitterbessie dagbreek bitterbessie son
ʼn spieël het gebreek tussen my en hom
Soek ek na die grootpad om daarlangs te draf oral draai die paadjies van sy woorde af
Dennebos herinnering dennebos vergeet
het ek ook verdwaal trap ek in my leed
Papegaai-bont eggo kierang kierang my totdat ek bedroë weer die koggel kry
Eggo is geen antwoord antwoord hy alom bitterbessie dagbreek bitterbessie son
Toe Ingrid Jonker en haar generasie van Afrikaners hul protespoësie geskryf het, het hulle nes ek nooit die bitter nuwe dagbreek kon voorsien wat op ons as Boerevolk wag nie. Hulle gedigte het my jong naïwe hartsnare geroer en soos hulle het ek 'n baie ander toekoms in Suid-Afrika verwag as die bitter als beker wat vir ons gegee is om leeg te drink. En tog, in Ingrid se bekende gedig vind ek byna profetiese beskrywing van die verlore toestand van die Afrikaner vandag in ons stryd teen die slinkse stem van die propaganda.
Vir baie van ons het die spieël gebreek, die spieël waarin ons kyk om ons weg te vind-- die Woord van God . Baie van ons kyk nou in 'n nuwe spieël, die spieël van die wêreld, die humanisme, en as ons in dié spieël kyk, sien ons 'n gekraakte groteske beeld van onsself. Ons sien nie meer onsself soos ons werklik is nie maar ons sien wat die wêreld in ons sien. En dis lelik. Ons sug en ons voel swaar van gemoed. Die hoop word minder dag vir dag. Vir ons skroei die warm helder bittere realiteit van ons benarde toestand op ons koppe neer, en ons hou nie van dit wat ons sien nie.
Maar God het die volgende môre toe die dag breek, ‘n wurm beskik; en dié het die wonderboom gesteek, sodat dit verdor het. En met sonop het God ‘n gloeiende oostewind beskik; en toe die son op die hoof van Jona steek, het hy magteloos geword en gewens dat hy mag sterwe, en gesê: Dit is vir my beter om te sterwe as om te lewe. (Jona 4:7-8)
En tog bly geloof, hoop en liefde voortleef. Ek weet daar is 'n pad waarop ek kleintyd kaalvoet gedraf het. Die pad was sonder die duiwelse duwweltjies wat my voete so steek. Die pad was sonder die leed wat my hart so rou hark.
So soek ek weer na die grootpad van die woorde van my Heer, maar daar is soveel leuens wat my deurmekaar maak. Ek raak verdwaal, en moet telkens terugkeer na Sy woorde wat my op die Weg hou, maar die afdraaipaaie is baie. Baie draf op die paadjies en roep: "Kom! Kom!", of "Diekant toe!" of: "Volg my!", maar ek leer uit ervaring om hulle te ignoreer. Ek fokus nou op Hom. Oë net op Hom. Hy sal my teruglei na Sy pad as ek met my voete trap daar waar Hy trap.
En deurgaans op my pad terug na my Vader se huis hoor ek die "bont eggo" waarvan Ingrid praat, die weerklank van die vreemdeling se stem in my kop, die stem van ongenaakbare propaganda wat ook eens op 'n tyd my stem geword het in my onkunde, die stem van die humanisme wat my koggel en kul.
Dis die stem van die feilbare mens. Dit is bloot 'n eggo van myself en elkeen anders en het bied geen antwoorde nie. Die stem dring aan op: "Vryheid! Gelykheid! Broederskap!". Die stem klink jaar na jaar harder en harder en vra altyd vir meer en meer, nog en nog.
En soos die soutmeueltjie in die storie van my kinderdae wat eers verwelkom is vir die kosbare sout wat dit uitgemaal het, kon die getoorde meueltjie op die ou end nie ophou om nog en nog sout te karring nie en dit het die hele see sout gemaak sodat die water ondrinkbaar geraak het. Want die lewende water vir die dorstige mensekind het verander in die stinkende bloed van "wetteloosheid", "kwotas" en "gedwonge integrasie".
Dit is die stem van die Koggelaar, die krom reënboog van ongekende moontlikhede. En meteens sien ek ook die kleurvolle waterverf van die nar se masker afdrup om die naakte werklikheid van die monster agter die laggende, vriendelike gesig vir 'n vlietende oomblik aan my te openbaar: Die gruwel van verwoesting.
Bitter-berry daybreak bitter-berry sun
a mirror has broken between me and him
I try to find the highway perhaps to run away
but everywhere the footpaths of his words lead me astray
Pinewood remember pinewood forget
however much I lose my way I step on my regret
tricks me tricks me on
until I turn beguiled
to retrieve the mocking song
Echo gives no answer he answers everyone bitter-berry daybreak bitter-berry sun
© Translation: 2007, Antjie Krog & André Brink From: Black Butterflies
Publisher: Human & Rousseau, Cape Town, 2007, 9780798148924
When Afrikaans poet Ingrid Jonker and her generation wrote their haunting and touching so-called “protest poetry”, surely they could not have forseen the bitter new dawn waiting upon the Boers of South Africa. Their poetry was very touching to young, impressionable hearts, mine included. And yet in this very well known poem Bitterbessie dagbreek I find an almost prophetic description of the lost state many Afrikaners find themselves in today as they grapple against the sly and subtle voice of propaganda as it wages its relentless war against us.
For many of us our mirror – the Word of God – has indeed broken, leaving us without direction. Many now opt to look in a new mirror, a worldly one, the mirror of humanism. When we look into this mirror we do not see a true reflection of ourselves, because it is a cracked mirror. We see the distorted image of how the world sees us. We do not see Jesus lovingly look back at us but what we do see is ugly, depressing, grotesque. We sigh and feel depressed with the image we see. Our hope diminishes day by day. For us, the scorching sun of the reality we find ourselves in mercilessly burns on our head and we do not like what we see one bit.
The next morning, God sent a worm to eat part of the plant. The worm began eating the plant, and the plant died. After the sun was high in the sky, God caused a hot east wind to blow. The sun became very hot on Jonah's head, and he became very weak. He asked God to let him die. He said, "It is better for me to die than to live." (Jonah 4:7-8)
And yet there remains faith, hope and love. I know there is a road I traveled upon as child that did not have devilish thorns pricking my feet as I went along it. The road was without the sorrow which feels like a plow raking deep gashes into my raw bleeding heart.
I seek for that Highway once again, but there are so many lies leading me astray onto footpaths of folly. I keep getting lost but I persevere in turning back to the words of the Way. Many call me to run on these paths with them, but I finally learn to ignore their calls. I focus on Christ alone, keep my eyes on Him. I will find my way back if I continue to step where He steps and keep following Him, no matter where He goes.
And all the while on my way back to my Father's house I hear the beguiling echo Ingrid talks about, the sound of the voice of the stranger in my head. It is the voice of unrelenting propaganda that once also became my voice in my
ignorance, the voice of human philosophy that beguiles and deceives me over and over again.
The voice is no answer to me as it is just an echo answering everybody in the same manner: an echo of their own false beliefs and unrealistic hopes. It shouts with an ever increasing volume, insisting on: “Liberty! Equality! Brotherhood!”. It shouts louder and louder, demands more and more.
And like the jinxed little salt mill in a fairy tale from my childhood, the welcome salt it churned out at first became more and more and it could not stop until it had made the whole sea salt and all the water undrinkable. Because the precious living water had become the stinking blood of “lawlessness”, “quotas” and “forced integration”.
It is the voice of the Scoffer, a crooked rainbow of endless possibilities. And like a colourful mask on the face of a clown, the paint starts dripping off to reveal to me for a fleeting moment the monster that lurks behind the laughing, friendly face: the abomination of desolation.
In the 3000 years since the end of the Stone Age, the native people of Africa could not manage to create an infrastructure, could not mine or produce export, could, in fact not succeed in building anything higher than one storey and could not write down anything as reference for future generations, because they could not manage to master the art of writing.