Your Life - Love It - Live


Opening a historical can of worms - Lest we Forget...



41 min read

If you hold onto the past too tight it only holds you back – Quote by a 9-year-old Bailey Gibbons

Depression is a terrible thing. These last few months tentacles of depression have been clawing at my soul. Depression as you now know even to the demonic thoughts of suicide.

Over time wise friends said, ‘you don’t have to be the best writer to be a best seller’. ‘Be stubborn & relentless or you’ll never finish’. ‘Don’t sit on the fence. Write like a Motherfucker!’ ‘Add tension to every page’. I’m thinking no need, this story will write itself. My mother needs to atone for her atrocious behavior. Not just her, the whole family – ‘Do it for you. Not sales, notoriety, nothing except to quell those demons. They need to out’. I have no formal writing training but for a never forget high school English teacher. Timelessly Inspiring in her funny ways, a beacon in a shitty school career. There are many people much better with words than me so this will be raw, unfiltered, and less polished than those well edited and nowadays AI written bookstore books - often under the guidance of ghost writers. Or AI generated attract the eyeballs at any cost blog posts. What’s a prose? Better look it up. Debatably not as brutal as some made up fictional stories. Maybe too racist or controversial? Or describing a racist society maybe not enough? Whatever you think or feel, it’s real. My life – so far... We begin with pain. Then explore healing. For entertainment read. To learn and understand – try experience it. As I was writing realized there would probably not be any publisher willing to publish this ‘letter’. Preferring safer more sanitized work. So, another reason to change to a blog style. Later where we explore healing the main reason will become apparent – when we explore police behavior, mindsets and motivation.

It has been said that writing of your past is like stuffing a note in a bottle and hurling it into the sea. Towards the end of this blog set adrift upon the online sea will explain how each reader gets an opportunity and incentive to assist the messages contained within these pages to bob & travel across the oceans of distance, reason, and time. Come join me and experience the journey…

 Why raise the past?

I’ve learned a lot about healing since coming to Australia. Particularly from Aboriginal culture. It dawned on me one day while watching a smoking ceremony at the opening of a new day-care my 2yr old was soon to attend.

If I hadn’t suffered the extent of trauma we will explore during this series of blogs, and more importantly had it trivialized and dismissed I wouldn’t have ‘got it’.

With a Eurocentric outlook know without that history I may well have dismissed it as just some other pagan mumbo jumbo without a second thought.

Why the acknowledgements of elders past and present? Know it pisses sections of white Australia off?

Here’s the thing - We live today in a world of abundance standing on the shoulders of giants. Wrapped up in the relative ‘hardships’ of our lives with no thoughts or acknowledgement of those who came before us. In the Aboriginal communities the elders connect people with their past and give guidance into the future. The past paints a picture for the present to learn from. It’s been so for thousands of years. And why when elders pass on the sad business of funerals are so important. ‘Sorry business’ is a way of dealing with loss.

In a way these blog pages are my ‘sorry business’. How the people I write about deal with their ‘sorry business’ when confronted with their disgusting behavior is their business. The pieces of shit can be viewed at who’s vile? at

We're going to also explore some of the Middelburg police. Whose abominable behavior I'm still trying to wrap my head around.


Even suffering this unnecessary and disgusting trauma at the hands of my brother, encouraged by his wife, a decision was made to dismiss it for the sake of their children. This to pave the way for them to enjoy a better life... A huge sacrifice only to have it dismissed and my kindness used as toilet paper by their mother.

Again, to Emma, Megan and Reece – Growing up as ‘poor whites’ with an embittered mother would not have been a great childhood and greatly reduced your future prospects in life. Who would want that for his brother's children? After reading this you have a choice: You can be ANGRY that I now choose to expose your mother and father for their disgusting greedy, racist, dishonest, thieving and vandalizing behavior. Or you can be FUCKING GRATEFUL that I did choose to extend a hand of generosity, kindness and friendship. Read further to understand how fucking lucky you are to have yours truly as your uncle, and not someone like your own mother or father...

Opening this historic can of worms so we can wipe some of that disgusting racist gloating arrogance off your mother’s face and hopefully instill a little humility back into your household. Why? Because I didn’t make that sacrifice so you could grow up emulating your mothers disgusting behavior, mindset and attitudes. It was due to genuine concern for your well-being. Humility will take you further in life than arrogance. Wisdom is gained through humility and understanding. Arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand. Read Proverbs.

The way we choose to navigate life comes back to that thing called free will. Putting this history up in the public domain that you can figure for yourselves there may be a consequence to emulating your mothers' attitudes and behaviors. Do you want to be remembered as a thief? A vandal? A racist? A cheat? As someone like your mother who gains enjoyment from those vile activities? Or do you want to leave this world a better place?

Let’s begin by exploring origins of trauma. Traumatic tales of woe and ‘sorry business'. We need a point in our lives to transcend from – Nothing breaks like a heart... Nobody’s perfect. We make mistakes. We say and do wrong things. We fall. We get up. We learn & grow by doing so. We move on. We live. Reserve your judgement...

How did we get to this point? Me, a person loving and sacrificing so much for my family sitting down and writing the biggest fuck you mother of blogs I can?

Enter the process and journey to climb back up that totem pole of self-respect. The biggest theft my brother's wife Wilemien is pulling is not the physical property stolen, vandalized, shat on, gifted - it's the claiming of my years of labor and hard work as her own achievements. By dismissing the sacrifices, I made so her children wouldn't grow up as poor whites in an embittered household, viewing my kindness as weakness (something we'll discuss later) - her "foresight & cleverness" it highlights a disgustingness that even the foulest words from their foul mouths cannot describe... Dishonesty and arrogance combined deserve no mercy. It is a painful process reliving the memories of Brent and Wilemiens behavior. Sadly, it is something that needs to be done. Maybe by exposing the arrogance, dishonesty and disgusting behavior, we can return a little humility back to her household, and thus hopefully set a better example for her children? Maybe that huge sacrifice I made will then not be such a waste after all?


With intention & focus we can change destiny – little by little, day by day, what is meant for you will find its way...??

Life is changed by one positive thought at a time. Positive thoughts combined with focus and action can change your destiny.

True words! But think many positive Affirmation sayings are thought up by people who haven’t suffered extended periods of trauma or abuse? People like to feel good about themselves. A short sometimes smug or flippant saying may sound good and make one even feel warm & fuzzy. Maybe help solve an inconvenient first world problem? Reality is it’s difficult near impossible to genuinely overcome. Severe trauma is a disability. A handicap we need to learn to live with it. A person bound to a wheelchair has a handicap they learn to live with. But it’s a visual disability so society steps aside and is more accommodating. Similar to autism, trauma is insidiously hidden. Our society is far less accommodating to hidden disabilities...

These days it’s popular to be a ‘victim’. Millionaire celebrities, well paid politicians, even Royals are now ‘victims? People and families from racial groups who have benefited from now generations of affirmative action, private schooling and university education are somehow still ‘victims. They know – they have the pigment, or pronouns to prove it... Lived experience - yawn, pffft, what’s that? – Those in chains love! Mental chains can be as restrictive, if not more so than those forged with cold hard steel – not diminishing the brutality that enforced slavery. A cruel world. Somehow time doesn’t change the cruelty of people.

Didn’t ever think of myself as victim. At the time it’s normalized, and your life revolves around the emotional whims of others and survival. Recently however after decades of keeping the lid sealed, instead of trying to suppress the haunting beast, it’s time to rip the bandage off, open the festering wounds and apply some disinfectant called accountability – Brace yourself for some unbelievable craziness...

INTO THE HOLE - Getting screwed by family 101. Masters of mental manipulation and entrapment

You can choose your friends, but not your relatives...

Gatvol - is a South African word that is a coarse way (it’s derived from a coarse language, yet beautifully descriptive) of saying you are totally fed-up! If you’ve had a gut full of all the shit in life, you’re ‘gatvol’! This blog may well have been called GATVOL. I was at that point. But that would’ve been a sob story. Does anyone want their lives to be a sob story?

For those feeling down – read this before you jump! This is a story of transformation so included are some ideas to UNGATVOL yourself – with great resolve.

For years after witnessing dad commit suicide, I have been trying to understand what would drive a person to such a thing?

After a succession of life smack downs, as you read in the previous blog, also faced those inner demons. Demons that drive a person towards anguish, loathing & suicide. You only make this choice once. No going back or changing your mind. How does one pull themselves back from the edge and redirect one's life towards positive goals and meaningful purpose? The outer appearance is you have everything. So ‘successful’? Life is great. What could possibly haunt you?

Reality is when we’ve been severely traumatized no ‘outer successes can calm the demons. The past haunts us and robs us of any chance of future happiness.

Trauma changes the way we think and how we view the world. It has a very negative impact on us. Altering the way we think changes the trajectory of our life. This is often worse than the actual trauma itself because of the long-term consequences. A negative mind will not give us a positive life. Realizing this and changing the way we think is the beginning of healing.

Nobody can do this for you. Associating with positive & kind people will help. An essential ingredient. But the refocusing of our minds – that’s something you need to step up & address yourself. Offloading onto ‘friends’ is no solution. You may now even lose those trusted ‘friends’ which adds heartache. Sharing trauma and personal experiences in the wrong settings and with the wrong people (Most people) usually aggravates any problem. Careful, careful, who you share tidings with. Bad or good.

We must acknowledge the trauma then put it to bed. Refocus our lives towards a positive & meaningful purpose just mentioned. Find happiness in life from now forwards. Dwelling on the past robs us & slowly destroys the soul. A lot easier said than done!

You cannot even think of new goals, success and happiness if you are caught in a victim mindset. Many people on welfare get caught in a mental cycle of needing lurching from one 'urgent payment' to the next 'crisis payment' to the next advance on their welfare benefit...

The way we think is so important, yet so overlooked. There's a reason why huge organizations including governments & their media direct vast resources into what and how you must think... and the study of all our collective behavior. Reduced to numbers we're mere lemmings. The years have subjected me a lot of 'therapy'? 'Therapists' with theory degrees and no real insight in how to lay a troubled mind to rest. Judgmental opinions and egos of their own molded by a questionable education system and even more questionable 'science'.


You're a victim?

P.S. Nobody cares!

Nobody gives a shit!!

The people who have wronged you will justify their behavior, even get a thrill from it, and everyone else is just trying to survive.

The law of indifference states that most other people do not have much time for or interest in thinking or worrying about how or what you are doing. A major traumatic experience to you is inconsequential to other people, even people close to you.

So, the first step to healing is accepting that nobody really cares – And finding a way forward.

This blog is a step for me to explore the healing process. Explore my own vulnerabilities. Search and hopefully be able to face my weaknesses. Search & explore the trauma origins objectively.

Both my role and others. There may be a few upset individuals, people don’t like abhorrent behavior exposed. Then step back, look upon it for what it is, discard it and refocus. I don’t know how memories are stored in the brain, but trauma does return. Trauma memories feel like they are still happening, right now in the present. What blocked them out and kept them away? Well, they never went away, but without thought I removed the coping mechanism that kept them at bay. What triggered their return? The clearing out of my trading account played a significant role, but wasn’t the only trigger. Exposing both circumstances and who caused that trauma. Including my own roll and the why I acted the way I did?...

Screw it. And them! And my own ineptitude for allowing this to happen! This is unnecessary trauma lived over an extended period. Experienced daily. Doings, sayings, thieving’s & nastiness cannot be undone. Long forgotten to those who dished it up for a ‘lekkerkry’. Happiness to them at others expense & hardship. My hardship! Why should they not be exposed? Along with my own embarrassing fears, tears & weaknesses. People like to be tuff & strong yet we’re human & brittle and easily broken. How do we regain that strength? How can we sometimes overcome and endure the most extreme near insurmountable hardship, yet other times wither & fail at mere thoughts thereof? How do we transform ourselves from that state of despair telling us difficulty is insurmountable back towards hope thinking nothing onerous or unyielding? We’ll explore a case study of realisation and spiritual awakening. The stupidity of my own failings. Stuff it! It is what it is. Expose & explore some rude thieves & their behaviour. Explore my own failings & stupidity. Then find a way forward...

• A way forward with goals

• Changing the way, we think from abysmal negative back to the positive side of life

• Finding purpose again

No mistake, the trauma is real! We’ll explore some origins as it’s what motivated me to start writing. Yet as I write these words the ambiguous realisation there’s no other place I’d rather be. Beautiful family (immediate family, not devil possessed extended family) Beautiful kids in a beautiful neighbourhood in a beautiful country – yet I’m so mentally fucked with ghosts of the past haunting me in the most wretched way. Externally blessed, internally Cursed. How is this possible? The contradiction of living a hell in heaven? I don’t know enough about psychology and trauma, but it has something to do with when things get so bad it forces change or you break. Like a serious wound is not felt, just numb. The pain returns when healing. Something must break. Universal forces will not have it any other way. Even while writing the realisation that without an early death most of us stare at a future of dementia and suffering. Some worse than others. Now just a modest period of calm in a lifetime of unnecessary trauma. Consequence of a contentious mother, extended periods of childhood concussion – physical, as well as severe bullying – physical and mental, will not be escaped. Race is on to find that elusive peace before I lose my mind. You can read this and joke that I’ve already lost my mind :) It’s transformed or die because living in misery is a sad option.

How did we get to this point? How can one live a life of such traumatic stuff ups, bad decisions and failure yet get to this point?

It begins with a selfish story. Then again, it’s about selfish people. A Truth Pixie account of largely unnecessary trauma. Won’t say unprecedented as there are many millions of people who have suffered worse. But usually not by the doings of their own family? This is unique and until now undocumented. Some people will not like this account of events as it happened before their eyes. Some things are so bizarre they’re ‘unbelievable’. Shame, fuck off & keep your blinkers on. Go put your head back in the sand or back up your arse where it belongs...

Only realizing it years later and the profound & detrimental effects – to health, well-being - physical, mental & financial quality of life. Trauma can lead to a state of misery and no life is happy in a mental state of misery.

‘Wherever she is, whatever the day, she only has one kind of thing to say. Just as cats go miaow and cows go moo, The Truth Pixie can only say things that are true’...

Prayer and reflection. Prayer, meditation and self-reflection. Healing begins by being completely honest with yourself. Each lie to yourself leaves another hole. Only by being true to yourself can you begin filling the holes. Lie to yourself enough and you’ll never escape the abyss.

Don’t even know where to start except to say I have suffered from trauma. An accumulation of a lifetime of trauma Tristan thought he would manage to escape. How wrong. A minor event or commentary to some, coupled with aligned events triggers a wave of indescribable depression. PTSD has returned.

Nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, sleepless nights, and depression. Your memory becomes your worst enemy and time does not heal. Crossing an ocean & moving country does not rid you of the demons. Even moving Down Under to a ‘land of plenty where women glow and men plunder’... Don’t care what language you speak, being six-foot-four and full of muscles doesn’t save you from this kind of trauma - It’s internal, following you wherever you go, haunting your every move...

Writing this for healing. Yes, it’s selfish, but a childhood of concussion has taken its toll, and the download speed is slower now. Calling for a BIG thank you to those who helped! A fuck you to those who took advantage & couldn’t resist their greed driven crimes. They have thick skins. Calluses on their souls? So self-righteous in their dastardly deeds? Who takes enjoyment at causing others hardship & suffering? Mm, but will surely be quick to take offence with indignation & denial? Well people enriching themselves of course. Some evil people or rather just people driven by evil. Some even wrap themselves in the cloak or cloth of the church. People like a reason to feel good about themselves. That’s fine, except when it comes at the expense of others.

I don’t agree with scholars that say people’s conscience is self-corrective acting independently of their mindful state, we’ll explore examples and reasoning later. People (maybe even most people?) hate truth. Psychopaths and malignant narcissists simply dismiss truth altogether. They get enjoyment (‘n Groot lekkerkry) at other people’s hardship. When this is held as a mirror, a reflection on their character & soul, they hate it. People like to believe they are good, nice, respectable, decent, admirable, dignified, worthy etc. But you can’t have it both ways. If you get enjoyment at other people’s suffering & hardship, you’re a piece of shit. And this is what the mirror of truth reflecting the true nature of your soul reveals.

Of all the demons, I think greed the evilest. It destroys everything it touches. There’s envy / jealousy, up there being bad? The green-eyed monster? Maybe I’m biased as the trauma, the worst of it directed at me came because of people’s greed. Or pride? My mothers pride caused her and others around her such unnecessary hardship and suffering. But the greed of my brother was fuelled by my mother’s pride. Justifying the most abhorrent behaviour. These sins – demons often blind the perpetrators. It’s the fuckers who know their own behavior is evil yet continue anyway, who are the most odious.

Those that use others. Discard people they’ve used by victim blaming. Gaslighting. Those that knowingly hurt and break down other people – and get thrills doing so...

In summary: If you don’t like how these pages are written, cry yourself a river and fuck off. You’re a piece of shit and added to the trauma. Crime is crime and some behaviour is just indefensible. Actions have consequences including the ‘lekkerkry’ of theft, spite, and meanness. Wear your hats proudly motherfuckers – careful you don’t perjure yourselves with eager denial.

And to readers interested, that there’s no doubt on the WHO I’m writing about, can view their mugs on

Time will tell. And show the law that forbids us from telling the truth? In search of healing, you come to realize there is something redemptive in honest speech.

John 10:10 The thief comes only to steal, kill, and destroy. I have come that you may have life – life in all its fullness.

Thief – Person who steals.

Wordnet 3.0

NOUN (1)

1. a criminal who takes property belonging to someone else with the intention of keeping it or selling it.

[syn: thief, stealer]


bandit, burglar, cat burglar, cheat, clip, criminal, crook, defalcator, embezzler,

heister, highway robber, hijacker, holdup artist, housebreaker, kleptomaniac,

larcener, larcenist, lifter, moonlighter, mugger, owl, pickpocket, pilferer, pirate,

plunderer, porch climber, prowler, punk, purloiner, robber, scrounger,

shoplifter, sniper, spider, stealer, stickup artist, swindler

My summary: A PIECE OF SHIT

When you work extremely hard through very stressful & difficult circumstances to create something that becomes your livelihood and a thief steals it, it robs you of more than that which they steal. It robs you of dignity, energy & drive, momentum, and thus a part of your soul.

In business the loss of momentum for whatever reason is the biggest loss. We’ll get back to this later. And why theft is preached as sin by most faiths and a crime in society? Or that’s what we’re taught? But today society morals & moral codes have degenerated from distinction between what’s right and what is wrong to “whatever you can get away with...” Including the legal system. The degeneration of ethics & honesty is prevalent in every society. Particularly South Africa... Every level is infected with “whatever I can get away with attitude”. The political class bureaucrats are obvious with their attitude of if they have access to money & government funding, they’re stupid if they don’t help themselves. Biggest handicap across the continent, thieving bureaucrats? And power of their self-interest rubber stamps. In America their swamp bureaucracy (yes, the one that doesn’t change no matter who’s ‘voted’ president) has hollowed society very self-righteously to American values unrecognizable. Lobbying is big business. ‘Interest groups’ and ‘donors’ get what they want & ‘the people’ - pay your taxes suckers. In Australia not much better, just entrenched into law. Their history is rife with graft & corruption. No matter where you live studying society critically will bring on a bellyache. And none more than some of the self-righteous thieving ‘volk’ of South Africa...

There are great Afrikaners. Friends and people, I admire and look up to. But as a nation they have a problem with honesty, and self-righteousness. There are just so many dishonest. Have I hit a nerve? Are you indignant reading those words? Maybe do some research of your own before getting defensive. Talk with police in stock theft units across the country and you’ll learn the classic profile of a stock thief is young, male, white, Afrikaans. This for a group that represents such a small % of the population. Surprised? Guy has a lifestyle to maintain not to mention his social standing in society. Maybe recently married to ‘n oulikke pop met die hare wat net so mooi geblaas is’? Add some debts and financial commitments and his Neighbour's (yes, the Neighbour he drinks beer or brandy & coke with – that one) stock starts looking awfully appealing. Sometimes may even be seen swaggering around NAMPO in a loud & boastful manner. Generally, the more they jump around in church, the more self-righteously dishonest they are. Unfortunately, that seems to be a theme worldwide. And across religious divide? Maybe how they came to being? Some would say a beastly race shat out of the medieval sewers of Europe and slave swamps of the East. Remnants of flotsam & jetsam left behind on the African shore by the receding Dutch East India Company and colonial powers. Don’t know, but when you’ve had an upbringing whereby if you had a $ every time someone from the ‘chosen race’ called you a ‘soutie, sout piel, rooinek or fokken Engelsman’ in a derogatory way you’d be rich, then observe supposed ‘friends’ slink away into a group for fear of being singled out themselves you may begin to believe some merit to those words?  

Thieves will justify their theft. Some get thrills from it. Some even think it’s their right, often learned from their parents and so it passes through generations.

Yes, some people steal through desperation like hunger, but they’re not the dangerous ones. Greed on the other hand – evil.



Tristan was born late 1974.

For as long as he can remember bullying was a normal thing, he was subjected to at the whim of his older brother Brent who was three years three days older. A big difference in children with a huge weight & age advantage in Brent’s Favour. In summary Tristan’s childhood memories are clouded by a blur of concussion & bullying. As a child I didn't know what concussion was. The constant 'dizziness' from all the hitting would often make me sick to the point of vomiting. Now we know it's brain trauma. At the time I was just dizzy. Then the hitting would begin again. Randomly. Often by surprise and from behind. BAM! More dizziness on top of the already dizziness. Now I'm falling down. "Don't tell mom - OR ELSE..." BAM! The accompanying fear and anxiety of when the next random attack would be unleashed, I cannot even describe it. Not just a few isolated incidents, Atrocious behavior that had been normalized my entire childhood. BAM! HIT! SMACK! RIDICULE & INSULT... So, I manifested uncontrollable nervous twitches, hand flicking, shaking. Sometimes unaware of it, sometimes completely aware of it yet still unable to stop. "You're weird"... BAM!

I raise this because at its core, this behavior was ignored by my mother, dismissed as 'don't tell tails or her favorite "it's character building". Character building your ass, It's child abuse! So, when Brent was murdered, my mother blamed everybody, including me. We both knew if I hadn't removed myself Brent would still have had 'his' punching bag to release that inner beast upon. She blamed me for removing myself. She blamed my wife. She blamed the police. She blamed the black family that arranged the hit, she blamed and blamed and blamed, BUT if she had intervened in the bullying when we were kids and not allowed it to be normalized, such a monster would not have evolved, and Brent would not have been murdered. By removing myself, I already knew what the outcome would be. It was inevitable. By marrying a racist driven to reawaken the greed monster it was fait accompli.

My mother had nurtured and grown an absolute monster. She is the one to blame for Brents behavior. She created the beast. Sadly, in our modern blame everyone else world, people, especially the women in my family don't carry blame. Society has cemented it's always someone else's fault. This blog came into existence because my brother's wife refuses to carry blame for disgusting and criminal behavior. Maybe by exposing her, her children will learn there are consequences in life? Facts don't care about your emotions and feelings. I loved my brother. We had some good times. When he didn't have my mother around under guidance, I saw times he had matured into an example of decency. Sadly, we become a reflection of those we associate with. When Brent hooked up with Wilemien, that decency disappeared. The monster re-emerged with such a vile and disgusting vengeance, even I who had lived it through our childhood was shocked. Like my mother, she knows how to elicit the worst from people. Guess this blog is evidence of that?

Brent & Tristan may have grown up in the same house, but they had completely different childhoods. This was most apparent when Brent would bring out old photo albums because he loved telling & showing & reminiscing. (The photo above was recently sent by a friend. I keep no photos of my childhood - no point, just a reminder of awful trauma). He was always ‘the big deal’. Something that returned along with Brent’s ego in adult life. To Tristan they just brought back a traumatic past. Later Tristan’s wife asked Brent for some copies of old photos. So, she could show their children a bit of where they came from. Brent refused. It was after Brent announced that he didn’t like Tristan’s wife & was going to “financially fuck Tristan”. “I’m going to fuck you!” “I’m going to screw you over!!” I’m going to “financially fuck you” “You fucking cunt!” “You fucking piece of shit!” “Why don’t you just fuck off and commit sewerage pipe” Brent’s play on words for suicide. Brent had been permanent force in both the navy and army so when the swearing & insults started, they took on a whole new level of disgusting. This type of speech from Brent directed at Tristan was by now the daily norm. How do you describe being given death threats, horrendous insults and physical abuse to a society whereby using even the wrong pronoun even by accident gets one 'cancelled'...? So, let’s roll back a bit...




Their Grandfather was an alcoholic. Their father was a heavy drinker. Whiskey being the favorite of both. Not single malt, the cheap shit because with them it was the volume that counted. This isn’t Tristan’s story, that will begin soon enough, just background to show how generational baggage gets passed on. The Grandfather Alan Gibbons was a playboy. Born in 1902 with a silver spoon is his mouth and proceeded to farm himself into insolvency on numerous occasions on multiple farms and each time his mother would set him up on another farm with livestock and the process would repeat until finally out of desperation she left a farm Ridgewater (anglicized from Bullefontein) to Tristan & Brent’s father Ted when he was two years old. Alan Gibbons had a life right, but still hated my father for that and the animosity was carried to his three older sisters who were very resentful of him. Brent named them the three fugly yisters. Brent had a derogatory reference for just about everything and everyone. He was “going to inherit the farm” and “how unfair” even though money was set aside for them, and they proceeded to strip the farm of all its livestock, heirlooms, furniture and loose assets, and many strings were attached when Ted, the father did take over quite late in life & then having to pay his father monthly according to his lifestyle until he was 90 something which the sisters never acknowledged. Alan Gibbons lived in a time that was like Gone with the Wind in the Karoo for sheep farmers. The wool farmers of those days were like oil tycoons of today. Expensive living and expensive habits as if it would never end. He swaggered through life in Cowboy boots and Stetson Hats with guns hanging off his hips. Trigger happy and whiskey’d up from early till pass out hour...

And Ted Gibbons grew up in that but lived in the aftermath. The 1970’s were a time of inflation and moderate interest rates so many farmers took on debt levels and got big heads doing so.

Wool prices were still relatively high, what could possibly go wrong? The 1980’s saw interest rates climbing, and climbing, and climbing – you get the picture and farmers that used to boast about their overdraughts were now basically slaves working for the banks. Ted even had a lucky run with a mohair boom in the early 1980’s. But expanded on debt and never consolidated. So, when first mohair prices collapsed, then wool prices collapsed, ‘hier kom so bitjie kak’ (the shit hit the fan!). He did try different things like speculating with livestock and selling insurance and growing vegetables, but never enough to stop the slow slide backwards. Farming with the noose of Alan Gibbons hanging around his neck as well as being handicapped by his sisters and particularly his brother-in-law Kay Donian who made sure there was no livestock left meaning he would be in debt from day one, and still paying his father a monthly sum according to the lifestyle he had become accustomed to. Something the sisters never acknowledged. Alan Gibbons and Kay Donian (AKA Die Winter Miskiet) were legally not entitled to strip the farm of livestock, but my dad let slide – to try keep peace in the family. Meant nothing. Takers never appreciate kindness and remain takers. Something I’ve recently learned firsthand.

Many farmers use debt. It’s when debt gets out of control that brings new levels of stress that affects the family in different ways, none are positive. But the farm was fucked by both family theft & vandalism and the 1974 floods when he took over a couple of years later.




Now to roll back a bit I still marvel at how a wool farmer can farm himself into insolvency during a wool boom. And decades of them to? But this explains Ted’s intense dislike of horses and people associated with them because Alan Gibbons as Ted would joke would go off to races and ‘play with fast women and slow horses’ – not a good combination? Importing expensive horses from overseas & breeding this way and that, like a mirage chasing the next elusive win. Even fat wool cheques battle to cover such an expensive hobby – and ego that goes with it. Ego, another word we’ll explore. That self-admiration, pride & self-importance. We’re all mere brief specs in the cosmos, little blobs of flesh passing through yet so many get inflated ideas of superiority. A ‘God given right’? – Satan has many tools...

Alan Gibbons treated Ted like shit & history repeated So, I don’t know if it was because his father mistreated him, but Brent bore the brunt of their father's scorn and humiliation. I still remember my father calling Brent stupid on occasions and asking, “are you thick or something?” To a six-year-old? Seven-year-old? Nine-year old? 12yr old? It was a theme and Brent grew to resent him... A bad school report from a bad school. I was a little kid still running around bare ass and barefoot when my parents moved to the farm. But Brent was school age and at 6 years was put in the local school (Karel Theron) in Middelburg as a boarder. To say my mother was naive is an understatement. As the only English kid in that hostel meant he was so badly bullied by the Afrikaans kids – Some still today ‘baie opregte mense in die gemeenskap’ he even had high school kids coming and beating on him. Six years old coming home asking “mommy, mommy what’s a bor war”? ... Most bullying pales when compared to the bullying and mistreatment Brent was subjected to. The world is a daunting & horrid place for a kid held in contempt by his father. Add that level of school abuse and Brent was living a hell. I understand why years later Brent detested his father and renamed him Mr Bottom. A play on the character in Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. Ted played that role during a school play. When he was at Grey School PE. Brent corrupted it to Mr Bottom in Midsummer Night’s Wet Dream. Ja Nee (Yes No, a common expression used in South Africa. Explains why so many people don’t know if they’re coming or going?) Don’t understand some people. Put up to that behavior and thought process by parents. One of the worst handicaps parents can give their children is prejudice and racism. It is a learned behavior. A child’s brain is like a sponge absorbing knowledge and information from its surroundings. I’m no expert and don’t know what order of importance but parents, teachers, peers, the church, maybe the church isn’t such a big factor these days but in times gone by it played a major role in the next point, society attitudes. They all wire children’s brains accordingly. To unlearn racism and prejudice & rewire a brain after years of indoctrination is a very difficult thing. Not called brainwashing for nothing and there is no less today. Advertising, social media, ‘fake’ news just to name a few examples. All designed to sway emotions, feelings and opinions or bias – so important to guard your heart and guard your mind! It’s another step to healing. The way we think is habit forming.

Habit – our best friend or worst enemy. I’ll get back to this point because it is so important which ones we feed when exploring healing.

So, Brent was removed and sent to a small farm school at Fish River and stayed with the Milnes who at the time farmed nearby. Only mention this because Robert was maybe a year older than Brent and will return later in this book. I was younger. As a younger kid you remember older kids that bully. And you also remember older kids that don’t. Robert had a kind nature and never bullied. Something a younger kid who’s subjected to a lot of bullying remembers and appreciates.

Fortunately, I escaped the hostel at Karel Theron – a school where English kids were given mediocre marks on principle yet excelled at other schools after leaving. A Mr. Kruger was the headmaster... hope it’s improved since his time? Tristan was sent to a school in Plettenberg Bay. Beautiful! Beautiful views of the bay from above the Beacon Isle Hotel. The school’s since been moved, but it was good times. I stayed with my grandparents in Natures Valley and where my first happy memories formed. I will re visit this as well as it’s probably the single biggest deciding factor to motivate me to write this. An unfortunate event that superimposed a bad memory onto the few good ones – like a virus corrupting a computers software.

Maybe because of this toughness by Ted towards Brent, Tristan was so tolerant of the bullying? Who knows? I was very tolerant. Our father, Ted, later renamed Mr Bottom wasn’t so tuff on me so maybe I allowed Brent to offload on me? Ted maybe not so hard on me because of the bullying? It needed to out somewhere and being the younger brother was the obvious choice. I had no choice and no escape. Well, he offloaded way too much. Constant fucking bullshit being directed at me. And when there were other kids around, I was the one targeted and the showing off at my expense was horrible. Relentless. So yes, I am a loner today and prefer avoiding people. It’s like when you love a puppy, the dog grows up with a different personality to a puppy which has been kicked about and abused. Kids are the same. In hindsight I think my father gave a little back to Brent because of the bullying as he didn’t have a nasty nature. So, it was a cycle and unfortunately, I was at the bottom of the shit pile. My mother’s response was to ignore it, then dismiss it as “character building”. Character building my ass, it was child abuse. Unfortunately, as a child you’re not aware of these things and just surviving because there are no alternatives.

Cry me a river – no one gives a shit – Lesson one, Read the books of James & Proverbs. Then read them again... you get the idea.



Tristan was aware of his father’s love of debt from about 10yrs old. During a time of rising interest rates and falling commodity prices that is not a good love to have especially when your income is linked to commodity prices.

Add international sanctions and ruthless banks squeezing the poor & middle-class people of South Africa and the mood of the country was generally somber. You hear of a farmer here or there you vaguely know of taking their own life and think to yourself surely, it’s not that bad? What would drive someone to such a thing?

Tristan remembers an event when he was about 12 or 13 years old when home from school holidays and his parents had taken him along (and told to sit in the back and not make a noise) to a talk given to farmers in the district by an economist about agricultural economics. Basically, even a kid in junior school could understand the simple message of interest rates are going up, reduce debt, get out of debt. At that time, they had risen from around 8% to 13% in a fairly short period and were only heading higher. Everything the economist had said made sense to a kid. But Ted, he knew better and was so scornful & derogatory in the car on the way home. That was the moment Tristan knew his father’s farming business would not survive. In his bones he knew that if he ever wanted to farm, he’d better be ready for a shit show.

During his high school years, moved to St Andrews Bloemfontein from Grahamstown for a few reasons: Wool prices had fallen, and they could no longer afford it was quoted. But main reason was to separate the brothers because of Brent’s bullying. During this time interest rates jumped to 16% 18% 20% even 24% for a time. Add ‘penalties’ to that & in plain language you’re in shit.

The ‘penalties’ were something Tristan re visited with the bank years later. The bank backed down. We’ll get there later as this also is some origins of trauma.

When Tristan came back to the farm to ‘help out’ they had settled back to around 18 – 20%. Remember a little relief psychological when the banks reduced them from 19% to 18.5%.

Trying to keep a timeline, the atmosphere at home had changed. Tristan didn’t enjoy high school. He just didn’t settle or ever seem to fit in. Tristan and the headmaster detested each other. The headmaster Roy Gordon encouraged his prefects to “Pull that boys head in” because “he has a bad attitude” I can “see it on his face”. This is how the fucker would talk to all & sundry within earshot about me. What a prick. All Tristan was trying to do was survive. Especially the jealousies from the wannabes in his cohort. So, becoming even more introverted. The headmaster's family were nice, good people. Tristan and his roommate Guy (one of the few people Tristan appreciated a friendship with) once debated if the headmaster's wife was battered or not? Was it only psychological? Or physical and psychological? Maybe Roy Gordon had good intentions, but he had his head influenced by a complete dick head who had been a teacher of Tristan at St Andrews Prep in Grahamstown. A Mr Sinclair. Peter Sinclair had arrived at the junior school from Zimbabwe, proceeded to have affairssss & other outlandish behaviour and moved on to be a headmaster at a then black school near Thaba Nchu. Being not far from Bloemfontein he was present at some school fund raising function where Tristan was serving as waiter along with a few other boys. At that function Tristan observed the two headmasters in deep discussion. With him being the topic of that discussion. The huddle was obvious. Roy Gordon’s attitude and treatment of Tristan changed after that fateful day. Tristan lost all respect for him. A person who cannot form their own thoughts & opinions and is swayed by others is as far as Tristan was concerned not worth a stuff & definitely not fit for headmaster. To Tristan Roy was just another bloody ‘when we’ with a drinking problem. ‘When we’ being a term coined for white Rhodesians leaving Zimbabwe. Many taking teacher roles & spinning yarns about “when we...” even to a kid it became a bit painful to listen to over & over & over about “when we...” you get the idea... Steve Elkington, another dickhead who arrived at the Prep junior school same time as Sinclair was the worst for his lying bullshit.

Kids that suffer trauma begin withdrawing from life. Withdrawing more & more, Tristan started quitting the few things that made school bearable, even enjoyable. With no adult guidance or encouragement for inclusion he quit scouts. Quit the choir. Quit music, one of his few escapes & enjoyments and had become proficient with a few instruments. Except this school's music teacher was tone deaf & dreadful! Quit all summer sports like swimming & cricket etc. Started disliking & then detesting team sports, or basically any interactions school related. Being good at something and enjoying it are different. The big head wannabes liked having Tristan on their team. He had a good hand off & more speed than any other kid on the field so could score points & win games, but they didn’t include him in the after sports social Ra Ra bullshit. Which was fine but also led to far more temperamental performance. The less one cares the less effort one applies. When you stop giving a shit...

A headmaster really sets the tone of a school. Roy Gordon had set a bad tone, particularly for Tristan.

Hating school and hating that he couldn’t tell his parents how much he hated school. Oh wait, he did, but was ignored. Told “how lucky he was to go to a school like that” Didn’t change that I hated it. But he had a good house master & most of the teachers were pretty good and in fairness kids are kids & most were normal. Also just trying to survive. But for those few knobs... So, to keep the peace he stuck to it. Later he had a good athletics coach who coached at the university. And Grey College. Reason I mention Grey College is there seems to be some brainwashing that happened at that school? Old boys always seem obsessed with telling one where they went to school? You know it as they can’t help themselves? At university within 5 minutes, you know who went to Grey. You visit friends in Brisbane Australia (who’ve never been to South Africa) and the guy asks, ‘what’s this grey college place'? You inquire why? And he says well that guy living across the road, one of the first things he said to me was ‘I went to Grey College’? ‘What is it? Is it like special or something?’ (Aussies especially the kids tend to add the word like to nearly every sentence) Nice enough guy running a plumbing business comes over and I kid you not after the greeting his first words were ‘I went to Grey College’. Most people in Australia don’t even know where Bloemfontein is & be assured no one cares.

Don’t even remember the guy's name yet remember that defining feature. Even the ex-SA cricket captain, Joke at one time hired by the Taliban to hit President George Bush got it wrong & instead hit a Bush near George (yes, lame joke, don’t laugh, never claimed to be a comedian) was obsessed with telling the world whenever possible where he went to school. Surely adults mature past that phase of life. Didn’t help his moral compass? Oh wait, the devil made him, do it? “The Devil made me do it” was even the title of Zapiro’s cartoon book that year. Greed is an evil. In that case the devil made my brother and his wife defraud & rob me to? Did the devil vandalise my farm or Brent? I’m confused? I mention this not to insult or make corny jokes, but rather to raise another issue, and that topic is temptation. There is more truth to the SA ex cricket captains claim than you think. TEMPTATION, we’ll revisit this word. Don’t dismiss his claim too quickly. He had makings to be one of the best captains in SA cricket history – but for that word TEMPTATION.

 *** (The three asterixis throughout indicate where I intended to return to add content) Maybe still will because this word temptation will return...

There is a distinction between evil and tragedy. Life is filled with tragedy that is not necessarily evil. Evil comes from consciousness. The decisions we make consciously. Introducing these characters now for illustration purposes and will investigate their behavior in more detail at a later stage. Their evil actions – conscious actions causing others hardship heartache and misery:

Fritz Labuscagne assisted by his son Izak didn’t accidentally steal cattle from us. It was conscious decision in line with that ‘whatever one can get away with attitude’ highlighted earlier. Brent Gibbons, his wife Wilemien, his mother in-law didn’t accidentally defraud my business, vandalise and strip my farm and humiliate me at every possible opportunity. We will revisit these characters with more detail as I wouldn’t be writing this had they not taken those conscious decisions. I at times speculate if the tragedy of my own father’s death was caused by a conscious evil my mother inflicted upon him that I sometimes suspected, but only confirmed years after his death. We’ll revisit these actions taken – consciously, and you play judge if you wish. Remember, judgement redirects and wastes our energy. It’s not for us. There are two things none of us escape: death and judgement. And it’s not our place to engage in either. We’re here to live a life and those are distractions. What’s a life? Every gravestone will tell you – a hyphen between two dates.

Writing of events.

Training with university students and coming back & competing at school level, well it led to more of that jealousy referred to earlier.

Side note, Tristan loved his coach. He was one of those Afrikaners who was invited to join the Broederbond but declined the offer & was ostracized for it. The Free State University was full of Broeders at the time. Broederbond was a club of super Afrikaners who were basically an organized crime syndicate. The pathways of Afrikanerdom were structured so that ‘good Afrikaners’ could rise through the ranks with the ultimate prize being invited to join the Broederbond. They took over and ran the country prior to 1994 with tentacles into every state entity. They set up all the corruption channels the ANC inherited & expanded. South Africa is in many ways fucked because it’s been run by thieves for too many decades. White (National Party) thieves & later Black ANC thieves. For example, it’s false to assume the white government didn’t spend money on black development. Always well over half the national budget was allocated towards ‘black development’. There was a time in the 1970’s – during Apartheid heyday that the RSA flag the UN condemned was spending more on black development than ALL the other flags combined.

The money would flow into schools, hospitals, universities and township development with sporting facilities and homeland development so each separate tribe would have a homeland – with its own military and police etc. etc. the money kept flowing. South Africa’s black population grew exponentially with first world health facilities and exceptional primary health care. Even during the height of apartheid many black people from across Africa were risking their lives to get into the country, not out – food for thought? Especially if you live overseas & have been fed a diet of anti-white media propaganda? For the same reasons people risk their lives to get to Australia, the USA or Canada, or Europe - And P.S it's not 'democracy'...

The money would flow - at taxpayers’ expense, into townships, homelands you name it, BUT ultimately flow back to Pretoria (the then Capital) in the form of contracts. Not any Afrikaner could benefit, no, but if you were connected to a super Afrikaner mm mm you would be RICH. Of course, the Volk received a disproportionately large amount of funding which could be seen in the facilities in their schools & universities (got to keep the voter base happy, whites only of course) but only the super Afrikaners really benefited. This could really be seen in the Agricultural sector. After all they were ‘die boere nassie’ (the farmer nation). Really? ‘n Englese Boer – wats Dit’. If I had a dollar every time, I heard that statement I’d be rich. State funding flowed for decades to promote & sustain this Affirmation.

When the ANC took over the faces changed, but the channels of corruption were already there...

This spending was weaponized to. Black people were regarded as ‘die swart gevaar’ (the black fear) but English people ‘was nog die Engelse veyand’ (still regarded as ‘the enemy’). Many super Afrikaners were still fighting the Boer war. It was not difficult with a trained eye to spot the ones that hadn’t left their laager yet.

From not enjoying school to not enjoying going home to the atmosphere. Don’t even know how to describe it, constant tension, walking on eggshells? Firsthand experience of psychological abuse? Control & Bullying? My mother Antoinette was proud, strong willed & had a strong disgruntled psychological control over the family. ‘Pride’ another demon that grips people. My mothers most notable demon. My father Ted was often the life & soul of a party. Yes, everyone needs an out & when he escaped & could relax was very good at spinning a yarn & telling a tale. Obviously the more he drank the taller the story but amusing & fun & one just needed to divide by about 5. But in the house battled to crack a smile. Tristan started to suspect foul play. Something wasn’t right. His mother was... can’t describe it? But something is not kosher in this house. They tried the pretense of ‘family’ during holidays. Kids see bullshit for what it is. Brent was away in the navy during this time when Tristan was in high school. A bored border in Bloemfontein he would think of himself.

Sometimes during school holidays, he would just go and camp somewhere on the farm so he wouldn’t have to be in that house. He sometimes did some biltong hunting and sold it back at school for pocket money.

Their father Ted always had another place to be. For the last few years as in at least 7 - 8 years (all the years from the start of Tristan’s high school until his death) there wasn’t one day, not one that he spent a whole day on the farm. Ted was always jumping in a vehicle and going somewhere. Tristan thought ‘what trauma are you running from’? Deep down he knew. He was escaping the household atmosphere. Where you walk on eggshells & dare not attract any disapproval. He would leave the farming to staff and be off somewhere, anywhere, but not there. Off to sell insurance, the bowls club, watching cricket, lodge (freemason lodge – Tristan had started to distrust ‘the brothers’ and years later wondered if or what role they played in his court case? Who knows? & now who cares? Another organization that likes to make people feel important?) his girlfriend in Bloemfontein or just the club for a drink. Always escaping. Years later Tristan worked out why, but at the time it seemed most bizarre. On the advice of his girlfriend Mariette Du Toit in Bloemfontein Ted started seeing a homoeopath who gave Ted little bottles of ‘potions’ which seemed to cure Ted every time. He would come home feeling much better. Then after a day or two his health would start to deteriorate & he was off again to the homoeopath for more quack potions. Little bottles of water having such a profound effect? Seriously? Tristan thought maybe it was the drinking, or cutting back thereof? No, it’s more than that. Tristan had a suspicion because he knew his mother. He even asked her because there were a lot of oleander plants planted in the garden, particularly around his Gibbons (maiden name van Heerden grandmother’s grave. (Alan Gibbons had been engaged to two women at the same time which was most taboo in those days & with baby on time & wedding delayed...) His mother’s mother-in-law who his mother detested, and Tristan knew his mother’s sense of humor re the oleanders around her grave in the garden. But are you giving dad oleander in his food? "Don’t be daft! What would make you think such a thing?" Was the reply. I had asked this before and both times were ignored. Mm, Tristan knew his mother too well but didn’t push the issue. Years after my dad’s death I confirmed these suspicions to be true. Out of the horse’s mouth herself. In hindsight it was obvious. Disgusting! The slow poisoning of my father had such profound and long-lasting negative effects on our family. Including his suicide. I had blamed myself for being short & blunt with him on the day and him for the deterioration of his farming business. When my mother openly confirmed with gloat and glee that yes, she had been poisoning him his behavior started to make sense. We will revisit this encounter with my mother. There is no horror movie that would come close to making you hair and skin crawl like seeing the demonic speak through someone firsthand. Especially your own mother. My mother is a proud, poised, highly intelligent and very well-spoken person. What was coming out her mouth wasn't from her. It was coming from something inside her. Something demonic. Pure evil speaking out through someone I really loved and cared for. Loved being past tense. There's no love left for her. Only sadness.

Until this time like any atheist, I dismissed religion as mumbo jumbo. Walking on water? Virgin births? yeah right - actually I still have a little skepticism... But the message of love, kindness, forgiveness and tolerance is a sound foundation to build a life AND society on. Later will explore more about these as we go through examining the mentality and behavior of the people mentioned...

Reflecting upon this encounter - with the demonic and observing these forces of evil over the next few years flow through my family, myself included which we'll come to later, is today why I pray in the name of Jesus. Not the light the inquisitive search for, rather the darkness I was running from. No seeking the 'Christian' way or searching for 'meaning' or whatever (Will dedicate a later blog to examining the hypocrisy in the Christian churches), but rather a deeper study of faith and what it is while simultaneously exploring these demons objectively. There is only one protection from this kind of evil... Without sounding like captain obvious. This may sound silly in our now pagan society. *** Proverbs 9:10, 'The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding." There should more about fearing Satan. When people are gripped by the demonic, they aren't aware of it - mostly? It's insidious. Always justifying. Greed, spite, meanness, thieving, jealousy, gluttony, always a reason why they're entitled... And the enjoyment from hurting others, yet somehow still a victim - then being the biggest shouters in their "Christian church". Thinking of some members of the Middelburg police, Kay Donian and the Labuscagne stock thieves in particular. We'll get there.

It was after the court case where the support of the community made a huge difference in overcoming that evil. We'll examine the engine of state justice and the actions of the police involved at a later time. Individuals in the Middelburg police at the time who would jump around in church, yet still justify their behavior. We'll take a deeper look at their horrendous mentality later. There's an unholy relationship between power and hedonism. Later I'll write about the mentality of people while they're engaging in the vilest behavior. Being on the receiving end was given a front row seat viewing evil unfold before my very eyes. Starting with Narcistic, psychopathic and Machiavellian, leading to the sadistic...

It should have been the best times of life. The murder trial was over. The financial stress wasn't there because of a monumental workload and effort yours truly had put in. BUT the evil flowing though my family, I now faced alone. Yea, the devil looks after his own... Psalm 23: though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:

To say I was furious at my mother's gloating admissions was an understatement. People go farming for the enjoyment of it. Being outdoors, working with animals, but Ted was off here, there, everywhere, anywhere & the farming was just left. He’d bark out some orders to farm staff and disappear in a hurry & cloud of dust. Fortunately, he had a very good stock man William Seiko who tended the livestock. Antoinette for all her insanity was actually very good at stock farming & selecting breeding rams. So, years later Tristan enjoyed taking her to ram sales because she was a well of knowledge about what to look for and what to avoid.


William had run away from the ‘young comrades’ (a time when the ANC was still banned but was waging a people’s war against mostly black South Africa) He was horrified at how cruel they were to their own people. They weren’t called terrorists for nothing!

It was a time when Africa was used as proxy during the cold war waged between interests of USA and USSR. USSR was attempting to flood South Africa with small arms in attempt to destabilize the country. Fortunately, due to the effectiveness of the SADF relatively few made it through. And the downplay by the state-controlled media. Still the bombing of restaurants and places where civilians gathered happened. The Spur restaurant bombing in Queenstown towards the end of 1992 really hit home as Tristan, Brent and their family had frequented there quite a few times while Brent was at Tech. in East London. Queenstown being a convenient stop over. This also following shortly after the horrendous attack at the King Williams town golf club. These attacks only mentioned to illustrate the times and not diminish the multiple of other horrific attacks which had occurred.

But still however bad ‘white’ South Africa had it, black South Africa had the fear and intimidation multiples worse. These attacks came nearly a decade after the infamous Church Street bombing in Pretoria. Yeah No, they weren’t freedom fighters, they were terrorists. Don’t be fooled by propaganda.

It was a silent war the public was for obvious reasons kept oblivious to. Never good for a government to have too much fear going around. Now and then a report would come over the news about ‘two men who blew themselves up with a mine’ or some or other failed bombing. The SADF would at times not destroy the arms caches found, but rather alter the detonation timing of the mines for a shorter delay.

Meeting people who did some of those alterations was interesting and a whole story of its own. There were other bombings and acts of terrorism, but this isn’t about that. To escape recalling pain of my past for this blog, began writing from time to time a fictional story set in SA during the same time period. Sometimes more 'truths' can be conveyed about a time period using a fictional setting. It's why Shakespeare, Charles Dickens and Leo Tolstoy to name a few are such timeless writers. Why the bible lays such a foundation of wisdom and guidance?

Will need some heavy editing because I don't know if our new woke world can handle the horrors of those kinds of truths even in a fictional setting...