Nicodeamus
Honorary Master
- Joined
- Sep 20, 2006
- Messages
- 14,477
they are politicians, like them all, they play the game ... as it feeds well and strokes all the right vices
There are categories of politicians and many are a mix of personalities. You get the general politician that is just an opportunist out there to enrich himself. I would put Malema, and most of the ANC in that category.
Then you get the ones that are pragmatics, Zille, Mbeki, Ramaphosa etc would fall here. They play the game, but have got some kind of good principles behind them and you can see that at least that try to stick to them during negotiations.
Then you get the dedicated ideologues, like Napoleon, Hitler, Stalin, Mao etc. They are generally honest, competent and in my view dangerous.
Ndlozi falls into this category. He means what he says and speaks from the depth of his heart with each statement. I tried reading his PHD to understand him, the guy would dedicate himself to bring down anything that has anything to do with a white person in SA. He bases his ideology onto Nietzsche, Hegel, Foucault, Fannon etc. These are all intellectual thinkers that had a vision in resentment. They were also all fundamentally unsatisfied people.
The guy also has serious daddy issues
We moved to a conversation about my being a faithful Christian, who is always at church. In a very sarcastic tone, he rhetorically asked why I attend church so much. In a firm, but not overly excited, tone I replied that it was because God was the only father I knew. This, I suspect, accelerated the end of the conversation. In less than ten minutes our meeting ended, on the street corner, next to his car. I walked back home as he drove off
or this
When I turned eleven, my mother sat me down to explain that my father had deserted me. I remember that evening in Evaton, the township where I grew up, when she came to explain to me. She sat down and, by candle light, she began to narrate the story. She told me that when she fell pregnant with me, my grandmother and her brothers went to my father’s family home to present the matter of the pregnancy. Upon their arrival, they were rejected and told never to come back again. I never thought about what age my mom was until I had to interrogate this past in 1996; she was 30 years old, and I was 11. In 1984 when she conceived me she was only 18. My grandmother never forgets the rage of my father’s mother and how harsh she was to my family delegation. She tells me “they never even allowed us into the yard”. In humiliation, they came back home and that was the end of it. I came to know this story when I was 11 years old. I grew up to accept that I do not have a father, like many in the townships. Nevertheless, I am older now, and this is a struggle that I can choose not to get into, a burden I can choose not to carry.
My view is that the EFF is a product of an absent father black generation.
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