- Highlight
- #1
So I mentioned reading My Traitor's Heart, the memoir of Rian Malan, in an A&H thread (probably the South Africa one).
Malan is a white South African who left the country for eight years, around the time things were getting awfully interesting in the 80's. He documents his time abroad and his return in the usual, self-flagellating liberal way, but he can't evade some ugly facts (and to his credit, he does not try).
Namely, that Africa makes people stupid.
I really want to grab this guy and shake him, point to every godawful atrocity committed, and say, 'Dammit, this isn't your fault personally. Everyone here is pants on head exceptional!'.
The white Afrikaaners, descendants of the Dutch, deliberately turned their back on the Enlightenment. As the concepts of Western civilization started to coalesce into actual ideals, these morons started calling themselves 'Doppers', after the little metal caps used to snuff out candles.
Stop and think about that just for a minute. It's philosophical Luddism, or antivaxxing, writ large. And these dolts embraced it! They turned their backs on the ideas that, for better or worse, helped shape Western thought and (in my opinion) improve it over time, and happily sat in the dark -- both figuratively and literally. No wonder they were a pack of honest to fuck bigots (as opposed to the imaginary ones that idpol types rant about). Malan puts it:
Unsurprisingly, socialism became very popular with the blacks under apartheid. And since this was before the Soviet Union imploded, it was a lot harder to point out its flaws. But what I found darkly hilarious was that various groups (tribes?) would compete against each other for the 'right' to overthrow apartheid and the whites. This is where Winnie Mandela's charming tactic of 'necklacing' fits right in. These idiots were killing each other over whose socialism was 'correct' (granted, that happens a lot). And if it wasn't 'your flavor of socialism is wrong', it was fights over how your great-great-grandfather did my great-great-grandfather dirty and how I must avenge his honor. And round and round and round it keeps going.
And we can't leave out the fact that even when confronted with basic technological solutions -- and when I say 'technological' I'm talking in the simplest terms, like basic irrigation, agriculture, and animal husbandry -- it seemed like the native Africans couldn't remember jack shit. Malan talks about how higher-tech solutions never seemed to stick, which was no surprise. But in the last chapters of the book, he discusses Neil Alcock.
Alcock seems to have been one of those genuinely decent guys trying to break the cycle of fuckwittery in Africa. He wasn't the smartest guy (Malan comments about Alcock possibly having a learning disability) but he seemed to have a green thumb and a talent for growing things. He also had a steel moral core that would've impressed a Catholic saint; I can't for the life of me decide if he wasn't a little mad or not.
But Alcock wasn't stupid. I'll give him that. He definitely had a knack that, if he'd gone elsewhere, would've made him well liked and well off. But no, he expended his energies in Africa, attempting to teach how to rotate crops and livestock. Unfortunately, he wound up landing in the province of Msinga -- a moderately fertile area, but one perpetually contested between two Zulu tribes who simply could not get over their issues. They would fight each other (as I noted above) for the stupidest things, while they starved and lived in poverty.
This was what killed Alcock, of course. He became one more victim of the crossfire -- never mind that he'd treated all who came to his hut (for he was living pretty much like a Zulu anyways) with kindness and respect. Never mind he was trying to improve the place. One more poor bastard who tried to stop the internecine killing and caught a bullet for it. Africa wins again.
Despite the end of the book depicting Alcock being effectively canonized (deified?) by native Africans, it fails to bring me any hope. It's nice that you're remembering him, you stupid bush niggers, but how about you remember what he was doing before he died, not after? And maybe, just maybe, not fucking kill each other like morons for the dumbest shit? The conflict which claimed Alcock's life? Started over two guys insulting a third in a bar.
What the fuck.
I don't know what it'll take to 'cure' Africa. Kim du Toit once wrote a biting piece entailed 'Let Africa Sink', and after reading this book it just looks better and better. If you can't be arsed to learn from your mistakes, well, you deserve everything that happens, and maybe the rest of the world should just fuck off and let you claim those mass Darwin Awards, since every time we try to help, everyone gets hurt, or becomes stupid.
--Capsaicin Addict, who can't wait for the famines to start in South Africa since those dumb fucks are using the Zimbabwe plan of land redistribution.
Malan is a white South African who left the country for eight years, around the time things were getting awfully interesting in the 80's. He documents his time abroad and his return in the usual, self-flagellating liberal way, but he can't evade some ugly facts (and to his credit, he does not try).
Namely, that Africa makes people stupid.
I really want to grab this guy and shake him, point to every godawful atrocity committed, and say, 'Dammit, this isn't your fault personally. Everyone here is pants on head exceptional!'.
The white Afrikaaners, descendants of the Dutch, deliberately turned their back on the Enlightenment. As the concepts of Western civilization started to coalesce into actual ideals, these morons started calling themselves 'Doppers', after the little metal caps used to snuff out candles.
Stop and think about that just for a minute. It's philosophical Luddism, or antivaxxing, writ large. And these dolts embraced it! They turned their backs on the ideas that, for better or worse, helped shape Western thought and (in my opinion) improve it over time, and happily sat in the dark -- both figuratively and literally. No wonder they were a pack of honest to fuck bigots (as opposed to the imaginary ones that idpol types rant about). Malan puts it:
But before you start thinking, 'Aw shit, this is where Cappy starts making excuses for the negros', hold your horses. Because no matter how miserably treated the Xhosa, Zulu, or whoever the fuck natives were, that doesn't excuse equally stunning idiocy.Malan said:We shit on the altars of Western enlightenment and defy the high priests who would have us behave in accordance with its moral tenets. It was so; it is so.
Unsurprisingly, socialism became very popular with the blacks under apartheid. And since this was before the Soviet Union imploded, it was a lot harder to point out its flaws. But what I found darkly hilarious was that various groups (tribes?) would compete against each other for the 'right' to overthrow apartheid and the whites. This is where Winnie Mandela's charming tactic of 'necklacing' fits right in. These idiots were killing each other over whose socialism was 'correct' (granted, that happens a lot). And if it wasn't 'your flavor of socialism is wrong', it was fights over how your great-great-grandfather did my great-great-grandfather dirty and how I must avenge his honor. And round and round and round it keeps going.
And we can't leave out the fact that even when confronted with basic technological solutions -- and when I say 'technological' I'm talking in the simplest terms, like basic irrigation, agriculture, and animal husbandry -- it seemed like the native Africans couldn't remember jack shit. Malan talks about how higher-tech solutions never seemed to stick, which was no surprise. But in the last chapters of the book, he discusses Neil Alcock.
Alcock seems to have been one of those genuinely decent guys trying to break the cycle of fuckwittery in Africa. He wasn't the smartest guy (Malan comments about Alcock possibly having a learning disability) but he seemed to have a green thumb and a talent for growing things. He also had a steel moral core that would've impressed a Catholic saint; I can't for the life of me decide if he wasn't a little mad or not.
But Alcock wasn't stupid. I'll give him that. He definitely had a knack that, if he'd gone elsewhere, would've made him well liked and well off. But no, he expended his energies in Africa, attempting to teach how to rotate crops and livestock. Unfortunately, he wound up landing in the province of Msinga -- a moderately fertile area, but one perpetually contested between two Zulu tribes who simply could not get over their issues. They would fight each other (as I noted above) for the stupidest things, while they starved and lived in poverty.
This was what killed Alcock, of course. He became one more victim of the crossfire -- never mind that he'd treated all who came to his hut (for he was living pretty much like a Zulu anyways) with kindness and respect. Never mind he was trying to improve the place. One more poor bastard who tried to stop the internecine killing and caught a bullet for it. Africa wins again.
Despite the end of the book depicting Alcock being effectively canonized (deified?) by native Africans, it fails to bring me any hope. It's nice that you're remembering him, you stupid bush niggers, but how about you remember what he was doing before he died, not after? And maybe, just maybe, not fucking kill each other like morons for the dumbest shit? The conflict which claimed Alcock's life? Started over two guys insulting a third in a bar.
What the fuck.
I don't know what it'll take to 'cure' Africa. Kim du Toit once wrote a biting piece entailed 'Let Africa Sink', and after reading this book it just looks better and better. If you can't be arsed to learn from your mistakes, well, you deserve everything that happens, and maybe the rest of the world should just fuck off and let you claim those mass Darwin Awards, since every time we try to help, everyone gets hurt, or becomes stupid.
--Capsaicin Addict, who can't wait for the famines to start in South Africa since those dumb fucks are using the Zimbabwe plan of land redistribution.