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  • I once again state emphatically state that I am the proudest Black Man I know. And, believe me, I happen to know many, many proud and great Black Men. Starting with my own father, through Muhammad Ali, to Nelson Mandela. And then there is Barack Obama.
    I know my strengths, my capabilities, and my potential. Behind every manifestation of real, fake, or fantasised weaknesses, I am at least ten times stronger at any one time. Do not try, do not test, and do not threaten me. I promise you, if you live, you may not be able to tell the story. “You think you are some kind of a God now Simon, don’t you?” I am God. Only no religion, no followers. Just Black & Proud. I tell it like it is, as mine eyes behold.
  • I make some strong subjective claims in this posting. Were this an academic PhD thesis, I would substantiate every claim I make, of course. But that has to wait until such a time I do get into some serious PhD program in one thing or another.

Day before yesterday, the lady newly employed to come and assist us with domestic chores and all, does not report for work at the agreed upon time. My younger sister calls her on the phone. It turns out the lady had opted to go out to attend to some official bureaucracy errand instead, and that would keep her away all day. The same had occurred last week Wednesday. Upon complaining to a girl friend that had recommended the lady, the friend says to my younger sister, “Our people are really strange. Had you been White, the woman would have told you, and requested for leave of absence in advance! Our people have no respect for work, not in the least us, who employ them, especially when we pay them well, and treat them humanely”

After an arduous day of clearing away construction site rubbish, I pay the 10 casual workers each double the normal daily rate in Welkom. I had also bought them a Nando’s grilled chicken + Coke lunch earlier on in the day. Politely, I thank them for a job well done, and ask them to, please, all come back the following day so we can finish off what was left of the rubble. Same generous conditions to apply. “Sure, Ngamla/ Boss!” all in unison, with apparent enthusiasm. So cool!

As I turn away, I hear one of them say, “Eish, bafowethu/ homies, enkleke/ really, I don’t work for Black people, mina/ myself. I’m not coming back …” The speaker is a starving, unemployed, non-skilled street hustler as black as industrial coal. 33-45 degrees Celsius temperatures in January/ February, in central South Africa, can be very unkind on the skin, especially that of a malnourished one whose owner most likely doesn’t even have a decent place to stay either.

Someone else, Joey, in the construction industry as well, asks one of his workers to bring an extra hand to work one day. The new worker has not been told who the mlungu/ White Boss is. After picking up the regular worker, plus the extra hand, Joey, decides to pass by a place where a job had earlier been done. Joey takes a little longer than expected to come back. So, a little agitated, the new worker asks his friend who, and where, the mlungu/ White Boss was. Won’t he be very angry when they show up late for work? Upon being told that Joey was actually the mlungu/ White Boss, the extra hand angrily jumps off Joey’s waiting van, shouting, “I don’t work for Black people, don’t you know, man?” The guy chose to walk back into town, about 20km away. Chances are he didn’t make any money for something to eat that day. Aghhh, who cares?

To build my mother a new family home, a top-trained, highly experienced professional builder is engaged. His portfolio includes some of the most beautiful, modern houses built in Welkom’s up market suburbs in recent years. However, with my mother’s new house, he made such gross and costly building technical mistakes other experts meant that only an amateur could do. All this was totally confusing for me because the builder had such a fantastic track record, and reputation. It later turned out that all his previously superbly built houses were owned by White people. Working for gentle, kind, generous, and considerate fellow Black people meant that the he could be lax, and pay little attention to detail. He would even drink alcohol, and get drunk on-site, I’m told later. Not long after he was fired, he fell sick, and died. Wonder if his soul is rested in peace. He sure cost me a fortune. But I’m still living well, at peace with myself, and my circumstances, free, black soul in white South Africa.

In India, my Norwegian friends and I run out of charitable monies budgeted for the day. We convey this information to the group of beggars, who never seemed to get enough. When after some minutes it is clear there was nothing more to get from us, a strange hush engulfs the group of beggars, as they all come towards me menacingly. I am encircled, when something incomprehensible to me is mumbled, and at the same time all spit at my feet, and then walk away in indignation. That didn’t break my bones. I was glad they didn’t get physical. That saved them the black wrath of God. My White Norwegian friends didn’t seem to have taken any notice of all this; it happened so fast, and I was as calm as God I am. Took it all with a smile. Civilized gentleman.

At the height of the last global Finance Crisis a few years ago, I find myself in the most beautiful and most exclusive neighbourhood I’ve ever been to. Here, I met people to whom Finance Crisis “… was just something we read about in newspapers”! After a few days, I just had to ask, “But there doesn’t seem to be any Black people around?” Respond, “Sure, hardly any Black people this territory. You probably wouldn’t see them even if they were here”

I was shown one super mansion built by a major hop-hop star earlier on. He had to sell and go away because “… he couldn’t keep up to standards around here”

I was offered to stay and do my business there. But the idea of being a non de script wealthy Black Man in White America did not appeal. In White Norway and South Africa, I am Black and visible, I am somebody, rich or poor. But then again, to hell with poverty anywhere, any time. Black, proud, and wealthy in White South Africa is ever so cool.

While waiting for our luggage at Banjul International Airport, the Gambia, the other year, standing next to me is an elegantly dressed Senior Corporate Executive type from Belgium. To receive him is an excited, tanned, slightly younger Englishman, nature type. From their conversation I quickly understand that the Belgian was indeed Big Boss of an investment consortium with vast economic interests in both The Gambia, and Senegal. “All our projects are doing very, very well indeed now, Sir. We are on the roll. The government is very pleased with us … but you see, Sir, it is of paramount importance that WE are here all the time if things are to work like we want them to …”

This is White Man’s world. In South Africa, White Man has been the most feared, and most revered person for at least 500 years now. White Man is real power; he wants it, he gets it. No matter how long it takes, no matter the consequences, using all means at disposal. White Man is Lord of the Universe. The moon shudders at the thought and sight of White Man. Jupiter, here we come! Planet earth is already a wreck. But because White Man is solution-oriented, Global Warming shall be fixed. No problem. Just live long enough, you shall see. White Man has it all, does not need to prove anything; this world is his. Ever heard of any White History Month?

White Man makes history all the time. White Man is history itself; the way it’s written, the way it’s told, and the way it’s preserved. Everything that makes the world go round is designed to meet and satisfy the needs and wants of White Man. Anything else of non-White Man origin has to appeal and make sense to White Man for it to have any significant global impact.

At his best, White Man is Philosophy, as well as R&D. White Man is master of invention, innovation, change, adaptability, and foresight in the constant search for mastery over nature in order to improve the quality of life and living. White Man is the future; does not fuss over small, immaterial things that slow down human progress and development. It boggles my mind that White-South-Africans-with-nothing-but-their-own-fears-to-fear seem not to understand all this. They are not that intelligent after all.

At the peak of cultural sophistication and intellectual complexity, White Man becomes a deracialized life-style paradigm, entailing in non-equivocal terms, liberty, equality, and fraternity: DEMOCRACY.

You want to live in ever-lasting success and happiness in a free South Africa, strong Cradle of Humankind home? Just know yourself. Be yourself. And live white, man. Black is deep, keeps it all together. Nelson Mandela knew this.

Simon Chilembo
South Africa
Tel: +27 717 454 115
October 18, 2013


1 Comment

  1. […] all my bad and good attributes, as well as my strengths. I have no time for weaknesses. I remain the proudest Black man I know. But, to be honest, I could have been spared the Black […]

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