About the
Author
James Jackson is the bestselling author of historical thrillers
including Blood Rock and Pilgrim. As a postgraduate he specialized in analysing
future trends in international terrorism, was Called to the Bar, and worked for
many years as a political-risk consultant. His non-fiction publications include
The Counter-terrorist Handbook. He is based in London .
There
are no miracles in Africa - A self destructing continent
–
“WHY AFRICA HAS GONE TO
HELL”
White Zimbabweans used to
tell a joke—what is the difference between a tourist and a racist? The answer —
about a week.
Few seem to
joke any more. Indeed, the last time anyone laughed out there was over the
memorable head-line “BANANA CHARGED WITH SODOMY” (relating to the Reverend
Canaan Banana and his alleged proclivities). Zimbabwe was just the latest
African state to squander its potential, to swap civil society for civil strife
and pile high its corpses. Then the wrecking virus moves on and a fresh spasm of
violence erupts elsewhere. Congo, Ivory Coast, Sudan, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, even
Kenya. Take your pick, for it is the essence of Africa, the recurring A-Z of
horror. Therefore, as surely as Nelson Mandela took those steps from captivity
to freedom, his own country will doubtless shuffle into chaos and
ruin.
Mark my words. One
day it will be the turn of South Africa to revert to type, its farms that lie
wasted and its towns that are battle zones, its dreams and expectations that lie
rotting on the veld. That is the way of things. Africa rarely surprises, it
simply continues to appal.
When interviewed on BBC Radio, the legendary
South African jazz musician Hugh Masekela spoke of the 350-year struggle for
freedom by blacks in South Africa . The man might play his trumpet like a dream,
but he talks arrant nonsense. What he has bought into is a false narrative that
rewrites history and plays upon post-colonial liberal angst. The construct is as
follows: white, inglorious and bad; black, noble and good; empire, bad;
independence, good; the west, bad; the African, good. Forgotten in all this is
that while Europeans were settling and spreading from the Cape, the psychopathic
Shaka Zulu was employing his Impi to crush everyone - including the Xhosa - in
his path, and the Xhosa were themselves busy slaughtering Bushmen and
Hottentots. Yet it is the whites who take the rap, for it was they who won the
skirmishes along the Fish and Blood Rivers and who eventually gained the
prize.
What suffers is the
truth, and—of course— Africa. We are so cowed by the moist-eyed mantras of the
left and the oath-laden platitudes of Bono and Geldof, we are forced to accept
collective responsibility for the bloody mess that is now Africa. It paralyses
us while excusing the black continent and its rulers.
Whenever I hear people agitate for the
freezing of Third World debt, I want to shout aloud for the freezing of those
myriad overseas bank accounts held by black African leaders (President Mobutu of
Zaire alone is believed to have squirreled away well over $10 billion). Whenever
apartheid is held up as a blueprint for evil, I want to mention Bokassa snacking
on human remains, Amin clogging a hydro-electric dam with floating corpses, the
President of Equatorial Guinea crucifying victims along the roadway from his
airport. Whenever slavery is dredged up, I want to remind everyone the Arabs
were there before us, the native Ashanti and others were no slouches at the
game, and it remains extant in places like the Ivory Coast. Whenever I hear the
Aids pandemic somehow blamed on western indifference, I want to point to the
African native practice of dry sex, the hobby-like prevalence of rape and the
clumps of despotic black leaders who deny a link between the disease and HIV and
who block the provision of anti-retrovirals.
And whenever Africans
bleat of imperialism and colonialism, I want to campaign for the demolition of
every road, college, and hospital we ever built to let them start again. It is
time they governed themselves. Yet few play the victim card quite so expertly as
black Africans; few are quite so gullible as the white
liberal-left.
“On the eve of this millennium, Nelson Mandela
and friends lit candles mapping the shape of their continent and declared the
Twenty-first Century would belong to Africa. It’s a pity that for every Mandela,
there are over a hundred Robert Mugabes.”
So Britain had an empire and Britain did
slavery. Boo hoo. Deal with it. Move on. Slavery ended here over two hundred
years ago. More recently, there were tens of millions of innocents enslaved or
killed in Europe by the twin industrialised evils of Nazism and Stalinism. My
own first cousins—twin brothers aged sixteen—died down a Soviet salt mine. I
need no lecture on shackles and neck-irons. Most of us are descendants of both
oppressors and oppressed; most of us get over it. Mind you, I am tempted by
thoughts of compensation from Scandinavia for the wickedness of its Viking raids
and its slaving-hub on the Liffe. As for the 1066 invasion of England by William
the Bastard…
The white
man’s burden is guilt over Africa (the black man’s is sentimentality), and we
are blind for it. We have tipped hundreds of billions of aid-dollars into Africa
without first ensuring proper governance. We encourage NGOs and food-parcels and
have built a culture of dependency. We shy away from making criticism, tiptoe
around the crassness of the African Union and flinch at every anti-western jibe.
The result is a free-for-all for every syphilitic black despot and his coterie
of family functionaries.
Africa casts a long and toxic shadow across
our consciousness. It is patronised and allowed to underperform, so too its
distant black diaspora. A black London pupil is excluded from his school, not
because he is lazy, stupid or disruptive, but because that school is apparently
racist; a black youth is pulled over by the police, not because black males
commit over eighty percent of street crime, but because the authorities are
somehow corrupted by prejudice. Thus the tale continues. Excuse is everywhere
and a sense of responsibility nowhere. You will rarely find either a black
national leader in Africa or a black community leader in the west prepared to
put up his hands and say it is our problem, our fault. Those who look to Africa
for their roots, role-models and inspiration are worshipping false gods. And
like all false gods, the feet are of clay, the snouts long and designed for the
trough, and the torture-cells generally well-equipped.
I once met the son of a Liberian government
minister and asked if he had seen video-footage of his former president Samuel
Doe being tortured to death. ‘Of course’, he replied with a smile. ‘Everyone
has’. They cut off the ears of Doe and force-fed them to him. His successor, the
warlord Charles Taylor, was elected in a landslide result using the campaign
slogan “He killed my ma, he killed my pa, but I will vote for him”. Nice people.
Liberia was founded and colonised by black Americans to demonstrate what slave
stock could achieve. They certainly showed us. Forgive my heretical belief that
had a black instead of a white tribe earlier come to dominate South Africa, its
opponents would not have been banished to Robben island. They would have been
butchered and buried there.
When asked about the problem of Africa, Harold
Macmillan suggested building a high wall around the continent and every century
or so removing a brick to check on progress. I suspect that over entire
millennia, the view would prove bleak and unvarying.
Visiting a state in West Africa a few years
ago, I wandered onto a beach and marvelled at the golden sands and at the
sunlight catching on the Atlantic surf. It allowed me to forget for a moment the
local news that day of soldiers seizing a schoolboy and pitching him head-first
into an operating cement-machine. Almost forget. Then I spotted a group of
villagers beating a stray dog to death for their sport. A metaphor of sorts for
all that is wrong, another link in a word-association chain that goes something
like Famine… Drought… Overpopulation… Deforestation… Conflict… Barbarism…
Cruelty… Machetes… Child Soldiers… Massacres… Diamonds… Warlords…Tyranny…
Corruption… Despair… Disease… Aids… Africa .
Africa remains the heart of darkness. Africa
is hell.
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Will Blackburn become a second Pakistan?
ReplyDeleteIt's vying for a first Bangla-dash for our pensions.
ReplyDelete