There is a man, in Johannesburg West, on a sunny Tuesday midday, walking home from the grocery store with a daypack on his back containing his groceries: half a dozen whole wheat rolls, a large cluster of broccoli florets and two litres of full-cream milk. He is wearing a pair of training sneakers, paint-splattered surf trunks, a tee-shirt and a red Coca-cola cap and he is chewing on his favourite snack, beef-sticks, or droë wors (American: jerky). The small pouch on the top of his daypack contains his house keys, his wallet, his pen and diary and the grocery store receipts.
Suddenly he hears right behind him an SAPS (South African Police Services) 4x4 vehicle coming to an abrupt halt and two uniformed white policemen jump out the vehicle to approach him.
"We want to search you, take the backpack off, raise your arms!"
"Do you have any needles on you?"
The two white cops full-body search him, they go through his back pack, his wallet, his diary...
"I was once a cop too you know, back in the days when we did real police work," the man informs the two young white cops.
Upon not finding what they were hoping to find (drugs or stolen goods), one of the cops mutters something to the effect that the man should be carrying a firearm when walking these streets alone here, then they jump back into the police vehicle and drive off… in a huff.
That man was me, yesterday.
* * *
If you have been reading my blog posts of late you will see that much of the issues I have raised have been about the status of The White Male Psyche and its position in relation to this misguided and disjointed Age of Post-Modernism that we live in.
Look into my big green eyes and you will get the uncanny feeling that my gaze doesn’t stop at the surface of your pupils, the gaze penetrates into your head (your mind) and that is because I want to know what goes on inside there. And I am not too interested about what comes out your mouth either, that's extra work, I then have to parse, extrude, extrapolate, deconstruct, re-assemble and re-interpret all the verbal data you've fed me and this universe doesn't pay out overtime and without trying to come across as conceited or arrogant, I have been studying the human condition quite avidly since about the age of four. So I have been enrolled at The University of The Mind for half a century and despite my boyish good looks and a strident, energetic approach to life in general, I still want that elusive degree from The University of The Mind.
Bang! Me carry a gun? Too much hassle, been there done that, not that much interested these days...
I am wholly pro- the right for ordinary citizens to legally bear arms, big time, especially for the right to bear arms against criminals and against tyrannical governments. But upon first instant of meeting them I had these two young white cops figured, their strengths, their weaknesses, their personalities and of course their intent, yet what those two cops didn't realise whilst they were body-searching me yesterday was that my eyes were focussed all the time, on what? Their guns.
Just one bad move on their part (and Sir Isaac Newton's Third Law of Motion refers) the South African Police Services would have had two dead young white cops delivered to the local government mortuary in body bags. Government provocation and tyranny begs this kind of behaviour, I do not seek it out.
The process of ideological subversion is just one of my areas of expertise (as some of my American comrades will attest to) and today in this country South Africa, brainwashed government police officers of all hues are harassing ordinary, innocent civilians, every day here. Like what is going down in America right now. As made manifest in yesterday's little incident.