Sometimes being South African feels like a blessing. But when you carry the fire of Black Consciousness in your heart, you see the curse beneath the surface. Yes, I am an author — I write books, I dream of traveling the world, meeting people, seeing nature. Yet the world looks at South Africans with suspicion, with contempt. We try to tell them: not all of us are barbaric, not all of us think with violence instead of reason. But the world refuses to listen, because the loudest voice they hear is Julius Malema — the only man who dares to speak against xenophobia.
And what do South Africans do? They poison themselves with lies. They claim foreign nations poison their children with food in the shops, then turn around and loot the very same food. Hypocrisy at its ugliest.
I will not beg for favor, nor pretend to love what I despise. South Africans are lazy. Spoiled. Always waiting for the government to provide, always demanding without working. The government has fed this dependency until it rotted into entitlement. Looting shops of foreigners is not hunger — it is hatred dressed as hunger. It is xenophobia disguised as survival. Attack the suffering foreigners, drive them out, and keep what they built — that is the twisted logic.
And the government? Silent, not because they care, but because they fear losing votes. They tremble at election days, afraid of the promises South Africans make to remove them.
The only satisfaction I feel is knowing that one day, when the government collapses back into the hands of our enemies, Africa will not come running to save South Africans again. There will be no Mandela to sacrifice 27 years in prison. There will be no mercy. The white birds will rule again, and they will make sure the black birds never taste power. Give it just a few years — you will see what I am saying.
— Themba T Twala III
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