Holiday Planning with Hei Voetsek!

And now for an important travel advisory. Planning to visit Johannesburg or Holland for the hols? Don’t. Zebulon Dread is away – and hating every minute of it. Enough with elsewhere! PMS is thrilled to present this extract from the never-published Hei Voetsek! Issue No. 10.

 

Part 1: JO’BURG – OU’BURG – KAK PLACE – KAK PEOPLE – KAK CELEBRITIES – KAK FOOD – KAK MUSIC – KAK SKELMS – KAK SABC

 

Three or so years ago I eventually arrived in Jo’burg with magazines, books and oodles of personality to see if the Great North is capable of handling pure unadulterated Cultural Terrorism and Lord of Hosts, do I get the surprise of my life!!!! I hand magazines and books to some black Arts Editor from some black newspaper only to be told that eish! brother, that’s a lot of reading. Maybe you can like give us one book, you know and then I’ll pass it around. I stand aghast, take a hard look and see, for the first time, the dullness acquired from too much sex, too much pap and meat, too much beer and it’s well, too much!

 

I arrive in Melville and there, on the corner of 7th and 4th, I think, is Spyros. Outside of Spyros sit some of the not so black elite wanting to be the black elite and all they do, these black elite, is ogle pussy! Yebo yes! Pick up your Vodacum and ooze sperm into the ether. In between sipping the legacy of Johny Walker, actually I lie, it’s mostly cheap white wine, they quaff lots of alcohol, from whoever is buying, and spout inanities like a flowing river of sewerage. There’s your wannabee singer insisting that her CD is played, much to everyone’s embarrassment! There’s your average jock. There’s your great plan maker. There’s just so much drivel it could drive a gecko down the wall, never mind up!!! It’s Jo’burg and fuck it stinks! The air is filled with the acrid pong spewing from so many 4×4’s, huge cockroaches with funny tentacles, taking over the asphalt kingdom, it’s actually laughable! And everywhere you have those absolutely demoniac taxi’s, those dumb numbskulls called Metro Police. Never in my life have I seen so many huge big butt police men and women anywhere. Great living demons.

 

Hei, you drive and laugh at this ugliness personified. Yes, it’s Jo’burg, capital of The Rhema Church where uncelebratable humans parading as celebrities come to pay homage to the God who allows them to be filthy rich, dumb as a fucken toadstool, yebo yes, and not feel guilty about it while filling the pockets of the funniest white man clown ever seen anywhere who goes by the name of Pastor Kreepy Crawley. Shit, I hope I got his name right. Yes, Pastor Kreepy Crawley who will wash out your heart with the most inane crap in the name of religion as long as you simply give him 10%! 10% and you can be saved. Shit, I feel, after a short while, that I want to be saved from them and not by them. And then there’s those god awful dumb beauties. Sexy! Yes, oh God! Are they sexy well yes, until of course they open their mouths!!! Oh Lord, it’s enough to make you lie down in the middle of the road and have a huge cockroach drive over you!

 

Serious! Seri-arse! Fuck the irascible Jo’burg kugle, here comes the dumb arse black bitch! Gucci, Cardin, Diesel, Klein, you name it and they’re in it Just put a sassy name to your garment and they’ll splash out because well, it’s Loxtion Culture. It’s my culture to be beautiful! Now I can smoke, fuck anything and anyone I want because hey, I’m free!! Free to do with my pussy just as I please!! Free to die for and with my pussy!

 

Sister, fuck your pussy because if no one’s told you yet, you are not your pussy! You are not your body, although you have a body! You are not the made up beauty that wakes up so butt ugly in the morning that you have to paint all over it, wear skimpiest of skimpy clothing to attract the attention of BEE fuckwits simply dedicated to business to acquire as much of your butt ugly pussy as possible. You are a spiritual being! You are an important living entity! You are special because you are in the human form of life and that depends not on anything you dress in but rather on what you drape your mind in. It depends on intelligence. Actual intelligence! And if you don’t have that, you still have your humanity, your decency, your self respect. Fuck, I was amused to see so many useless individuals with too much money or rather with flashy credit cards simply basking in the glory of wanting to be. Oh, I should name and shame them but of what use will it be when I’m simply naming and shaming idiocy?

 

Part 2: WHEN I WENT TO HOLLAND

 

Sometime in the neo dark past I was invited to The Winternacht Literary Festival in Holland and God of God of Gods, was I bored? Ek snak na my asem! I gasp for breath. No almighty wonder those Boere came and colonised our wonderful comer of the earth. Lord Almighty, I was absolutely petrified that I might become as petrified as them. It was held in The Hague. I ended up watching dumb white women screwing the lily livered penises of equally dumb men. Hey, it was satellite TV and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pay for this.

 

I also ended up smoking some terminal shit in the coffee shops while trying to amuse myself. It rained in the morning, in the afternoon, at night and throughout the night. It was dark at around 9 am and everywhere everyone wore black and held their coats tight against the wind. The food was absolutely tasteless and so kak that I became very constipated. Antjie Krog read the Oracles of Africa and I sat in amazement at the kak those cretins spouted afterwards. I cannot even begin to tell you how fucked I was that it was these people’s forefathers who had colonised us and caused so much kak that it took nearly four hundred score years to unravel. How did they do it? Was it the Jesus muti? The Big Black Book Bible muti? What? I stood in sheer disbelief and wondered if our forefathers were just stupid, lazy or simply couldn’t give a flying tuck since they had so much to eat, so many women.

 

Yes, Hol-land!!! Van Riebeeck was the first Hol-lander to land on our shores! Ag nee fok. And to crown it all, I smoked just too much expensive zol and hash in the coffee shops, missed my fucken plane and had to spend two days in European airports trying to get home that cost me an extra R750. Now that was one fucken expensive smoke. As for the dagga! Got wiet! Fokken hydroponics kak that taste of sewerage. No one can pay me to fokken go there gain. Nee fok, nee!!!! One thing I must say is that those trains are unbelievably nice. It’s because the bloody fucken smooth thing glided so softly that I simply glided past Schipol, after a zol session in Amsterdam, and ended up back in The Hague which I had left earlier that day. Fok, and I am an old dagga-roker at that!! Djirre, I laughed at myself so lekke, I somma kicked my own arse! Djy, pasop!!

 

Want more Zeb? Elsewhere on PMS visit Zebulon Dread a.k.a Swami Sitaram at home or read about Hei Voetsek! in the Chimurenga Library.

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