Donald Trump on Letter From Vladimir Putin: ‘His Thoughts Are So Correct’ — Politics – TIME

December 23, 2016

President-elect Donald Trump on Friday released a letter he received from Vladimir Putin and praised the Russian president by saying “his thoughts are so correct.” “A very nice letter from Vladimir Putin; his thoughts are so correct,” Trump said in a statement, along with the letter, which is dated Dec. 15. “I hope both sides…

via Donald Trump on Letter From Vladimir Putin: ‘His Thoughts Are So Correct’ — Politics – TIME

Yesterday was an eventful day

December 23, 2016

I was hovering around between 1959 when I was a young lad who wanted to go places and the first IBM computer was installed in South Africa [long before Windows and IT]; then found myself on a cloud above Animal Farm passing over 1984, when I suddenly landed in the middle of modern IT with a well meaning young lady but she spoke in the strange new language that only they understand but which clearly illustrates that she doesn’t understand the business English which I grew up with.

 When she “revoked” a previous computer “advice” I had to invoke the name of the Chairman.  Hell, I know the guy well enough and he is my junior by 6 years.  He is the Chairman because he founded the Company of which one son is now the CEO and the other one COO, founded it in 1998 I should add; they are a big listed group today, one of the success stories of recent years in our Country.  When I thus invoked the name of the Chairman an ear deafening silence thundered through the skies above IT Land.

 When I aspired for greatness in 1960 we had no Managing Directors in big Finance Houses.  The top dog was General Manager and he was generally 55 or 60 years old with 30 to 40 years of solid experience.  Just after 1990 they all installed the Internet and 40 year old guys took over as Managing Directors.

 I had to look something up on the Internet and that made it necessary for me to check on one of the last lot I mentioned above.  He was “the boitjie” at hhmm … OK lemme call it Company A in 1990 and he would not have liked it if I called them Company B then, but he is long gone now, so is his successor … shucks, at Google I could not find any trace of where he is today neither any mention of the two successors after them.  Oh yeah, almost forgot; this Company was an old well-known name that listed on the JSE in 1990 with some others to make “all the botjies” Managing Directors.  You should Google for these things to understand this Post and you will laugh your heads off at some of these names.  They are the forgotten men of Yesterday in Time.  The big listed companies of previous times [the Anglo’s, De Beers, Rembrandt’s, quite a few] are still there and going strong but not from our shores; they have moved off to London and other places.  The ones of the 1990 “big boitjies” are empty shells.  They will deny it, … OK by me.

 Now the 1998 Company is leading the charge for South Africa?

 With a well meaning young lady who speak in tongues?

 For how long?

 Shane, and all the guys I tagged, I still dabble in a few shares; not enough to make me broke or rich, but the Torah does advise you to split your assets in three: one third in property another third in your own business and the balance in cash and/or shares in other businesses.

 So, I shall need to cut this short now.  I have a few rand in shares; currently in ACL.  Remember and save what I tell you now.  The clever economists and everyone right up to the Chair at SARB will tell you to invest for LONG TERM, meaning minimum 10 years.  Five to ten years are Medium Term; any term under 5 is Short and you must not do Short they tell you.

 That’s called IT!

 I say that’s BULL or DIT, to suit them with your money.

 The Truth is that currently Short Term is 2 days, from 3 to 5 days is Medium Term, and anything over 5 days is Long Term, the latter much too long for me because I go for Short Term, whenever I can just for a Day.  If you study the JSE volumes it is as clear as daylight in December that they all do it with your money and thus enrich them at your expense.

 Finally record this fact [you can verify it any time ad infinitum as long as the Internet stands that yesterday one person blocked the ACL share price for the second day in a row at 1149 cents with only 71 shares remaining at close of day and they will probably go at openers tomorrow Friday, December 23, 2016.

 IT is short for Information Technology, they say.

 I say that is BULL.

 There is a D in front that they don’t tell but that is the Truth.

 D stands Dis

 Thus DIT stands Disinformation Technology.  Or you should really and it would be wise to add a second D in front thus getting DDIT for:

 Deliberate Disinformation Technology

 That is at the Media stands for and that I why the World is in the mess it is Today.

Ike Jakson

Only Thirty more Days and Nights

December 21, 2016

Morning of this day Wednesday, 21 December 2016 has already broken over some parts in the Western Hemisphere and count down has started.  In just a few hours from this moment the entire Globe will be counting.

 After 8 long years we will count the last 30 days and thirty nights of the Bama and his pathetic family in the White House in Washington USA.

 The freak of a Man he is he has always wanted immortality but that even escaped his Role Model and the Icon of his dreams one named Nelson Mandela, whom every idiot in the World 20 years ago thought would make it but did not and vanished into obscurity in a mere three years.

 Bama and your ilk, in the name of God, GO!  The World with only a few exceptions bids you Farewell.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Merry Christmas 2016

December 18, 2016

Just 7 Suns from today will get us to Xmas morning 2016 and I shall start early this year because it will be my seventh one of Grace.  I hope for many more and my personal medical attendant says he cannot find any reason why I should not reach the ton; on my side I don’t want to rob anyone else going for it and thus as a human who has had his fair share:

Merry Christmas to all of you who contributed to another one for me and my cousin and Uncle Oom Wennie in my absence from Facebook.

Thank you Folks.  We have family in Oz, Paraguay, Netherlands, Ye olde country England, and quite a number with Uncle Sam.  Thank you all.

Let us remember the good things and the Blessings of our Lord God and Creator during 2016.

The year 2017 will be another year to deal with; for now it can wait.  I love you and yours for 2016.  Enjoy.

Merry Christmas 2016.

Screw the Day of Reconciliation in South Africa

December 16, 2016

I was only born in 1940 so I had to learn about the 1838 Day of the Vow more than 100 years after the event; to crown it all we were born in a family where liberal was not a political word; it meant kindness, sharing and respecting the elderly and your neighbour.  So as I grew up I went the way of the old Liberal and ended up as a Suzman Prog in 1971 and eventually devoted my entire adult life to a system of political sharing.

 However, though I voted ANC in 1994 and danced to the song of happiness with Beyers Naude and Oprah Winfrey, I soon became worried and the ANC left me when Thabo the Wimp in 1998 announced the vote for the prisoners for the 1999 Election.  Now they call 16th December the Day of Reconciliation; they can call it what they wish but I cannot in my heart, soul, mind, common sense and the basic Rule of the Lord by Nature reconcile:

 I cannot reconcile the right to life of the rapist of a 2 year old baby.

 Equality of gender allowing marriage between “parties of the same gender” and soon have them adopting babies to have a Daddy Daddy and a Momma Daddy each one fucking the little baby.  Every nerve is me says NO!

 Sex and screwing your little hearts out at age 15 and have Abortion on Demand

 Equality of Culture where my Culture does all the work and send the thief to jail where you slap him around a bit until he reforms himself, NO I cannot reconcile that with the right of the rats and common vermin with legs walking off with my garden tools.

 My right to have a dog and train him to attack the trespasser on my property where they come and shoot my Dog and the trespasser walks off with my electric drill

 NO South Africa, enough is enough.  You can take tour Freedom, your Democracy and all your Equality and shove it up your asses.

 TODAY, ON THIS 16TH OF DECEMBER, 2016 MY DESCENDANTS AND I WILL REINSTALL THE DAY OF THE VOW OF 1838 AND CELEBRATE IT.

The Jury Verdict on Nelson Mandela has just been announced in South Africa.

December 9, 2016

Well Guys, we all know the verdict on the Media by now; we don’t count in their eyes no matter what and I don’t see any possibility for change except to curtail or even eliminate Freedom of the Media drastically.  The original concept of Freedom of the Press, and that’s all, may do it but I am afraid the damage has been done.

When I mooted the Media Test for all of you on December 1st in Facebook and suggested 8 days I knew the results that I expected.  The extra day since then merely confirmed the Result.

On February 10th in the year 1990 a man walked from prison after 27 years, illegally and disgracefully detained according to the Media; some reported it as illegal incarceration of an innocent man.

He died three years ago on December 5th 2016.   I watched a substantial part of the Media from December 1st until yesterday.  It is almost another 27 years sine 1990 and, surely I thought, a few people would remember him.

Nobody did; the Ego died.  I did not see anyone referring to the hoopla of 1990 or his demise into obscurity over the past three years; so much for Media Power?  The Jury Verdict sums it up so well in utter silence:  He was yesterday’s Icon and Hero; may he rest in his own place of Destiny wherever that may be.

Let us carry on with our Lives.

 

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and the Inconvenient Truth about Freedom and Democracy and of Farcical Elections

November 22, 2016

Much has been made of Election 2016 and no doubt the farce will continue with “New Revelations” from the Media, until the next one.

 Let us however consider the bottom line as presented by an independent Statistical Analyst.

 My source is:

 http://www.bbc.com/news/election/us2016/results

 It cannot be argued Trump was elected by a clear majority of Electoral Delegates.  It is done, and bar any disaster he will be sworn in as Potus on January 20th next.

 However, after all the hype let us look at the bottom line and you tell me who won and who lost the real election.  I am going to use percentages but drop the decimal points.  Qualified Analysts do it that way; if any other analyst finds fault with the method, you be the judge.

 In truth almost half of eligible American Voters decided not to take part in the farce and therefore did not vote; about 5% of the actual votes were cast for “others” that we must assume to be more than one because it is quoted in plural.

 In orderly societies free from Hollywood hype and the frantic and  fanatics of an immoral Media the small minority 5% for others may as well be discarded, or lumped in with the Non-voters.  Thus virtually exactly half of America did not vote in Election 2016.

 What the rest does clearly show is that America is still a strong two-party State; nothing shows that there has been any change.  And this time each of the remaining two candidates shared the vote, give or take, with the final choice so tight that only a fool will bother about it.

Allow me to summarize:

 Who won the White House?  Donald Trump did.

 Who won the election?  Nobody did.

 Who lost the Election?  America!

 Who won from the Election?  The Media did.

 Who lost from the Election?  All Americans lost.

 What have We the People gained from the Election?  Absolutely nothing.

 Out in Africa we sometimes say you can take them out of the bush but you can’t take the bush out of them.  Three quarters of Americans [that’s now the one half that didn’t vote plus the roughly 25% that voted for the Illary] still live in Hollywood of the mind; the incoming 2016 Government will have to try getting Hollywood out of them.  Maybe they can try, but I don’t have high hopes for that

 Note to President Elect:

 Mister Donald Trump, President Elect, Sir.

 We the People of the World salute you and look forward to calling you Mister President, Sir!  We supported you and this old humble guy will publish an Open Letter to you soon as he will also do to the honorable Presidents of Russia and China.  They aren’t going away and are in no hurry to leave to go away anywhere; you have shown a willingness to join hands with them; please do that soon for a better World for all of us.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

 

The American Popess

November 19, 2016

By Windows Outlook Express Email from Ike Jakson whose great Cousin Oom Wennie runs this through IkeLeaks.  Modern IT has failed Mankind but where they have failed Bill Gates still runs the only sure and decent Email System and delivers it straight to your hard disc where you can keep it safe for posterity.  Blah Google Gmail, Blah Facebook, Blah all so-called Secure Sites in Internet or Cyberspace.

 First I hand you the OE Email notes from my source.

 “I had the privilege of attending the play, The American Popess, at the Witwatersrand University theatre during the year 2001. At the time, the performance was in English. The play was translated, I think, from Italian. It was a great performance, a one-man show par excellence. It was one of those experiences in the theatre that will always stay with me. Cilliers presented as an ephemeral presence, temporarily available to the audience as an embodied voice, speaking from the future. This excellent piece has been translated into Afrikaans and will be presented as the radio play for the Thursday night feature, at 8 o’clock in the evening, on RSG, and I am certainly going to take off the time to listen. Cilliers is 15 years older, and it will not be with unkindness that I say that she could possibly carry off on radio what she would no longer be able to do on the stage. But I can say that only because I am the same age, and I know that I have to compromise with my body on a daily basis. The Thursday when this will be broadcast will be 17 November 2016. Make a plan and have a listen. I am quite certain that you will not be sorry.

 I have uplifted a review from the Internet. This was in regard to the play that was presented at the Witwatersrand University, all those years ago.”

 There is a Copyright; please respect that:

 Review: The American Popess

Artslink.co.za

03/12/2001 00:00:00

Copyright
Artslink.co.za
© 1997-2001

Then: well, here we go.  Sit down; make yourself comfortable and ENJOY!

A woman has already ruled the White House – according to some opinion, anyway – but has yet to run the Vatican.

The prospect of a woman pope is even more remote than that of a female US president: the Roman Catholic Church disbars women from putting a foot on the first rung of the ladder to the heaven’s gate. No women priests, no women popes. QED.

Esther Vilar’s play ostensibly examines the acknowledged ascent of the first woman to the papacy (there was an earlier woman incumbent, turfed out on discovery of her true gender). Set in 2033, the play has the shock of the futuristic in its depiction of a transformed Catholicism. The accumulated wealth of the church has been divided among its poorer constituents by a predecessor of Joan II. All the dogmas, doctrines and ancient practices have gone: papal infallibility, liturgy, even the Vatican as the Pope’s home and global capital of the religion has been sold off.

From a tiny 1000-square metre space ceded to the church in perpetuity by the Vatican’s new corporate owners, Pope(ss) Joan II addresses the faithful few – and they are few, one-tenth of the old numbers – by a TV transmission studded with ad breaks. Jana Cilliers holds the stage as Joan II. (Galeboe Moabi has the thankless task of being silently supportive throughout in a curiously superfluous “role”.)

Cilliers is always fascinating to watch, inherently a class act. It’s good to have her back and set to appear in a number of other works to be presented by Opdrag Productions, the theatre company she and director Mark Graham have founded. Performing artists whose work is dependent on the traditions of proscenium arch theatre have to exercise this active option: to expect hand-outs as a creative birth-right is unrealistic and narcissistic.

Joan II is a difficult, unsympathetic role. You don’t have to be a Catholic traditionalist to be startled or even upset by the cynicism of this papacy – or, at best, its accommodation with the grubby realities of the world. Joan herself is an atheist for whom evidence of the existence of a god would be an interesting manifestation, worth at least a few million religious recruits.

But if Vilar’s play seems iconoclastic and virulently anti-religious and anti-catholic, it is exactly the opposite. It is a stout defence of the status quo in the Roman Catholic Church that relies on shock, worst-case scenarios to remind people of what they have before they discard it. You could look at it impishly – Vilar doesn’t – as making a case for not throwing the infant Jesus’s religion out with the holy bath water.

Vilar is cautionary, reminding believers that they should beware of what they wish for, in case that comes true. A liberalised church is not on the playwright’s agenda any more than a woman pope, which is the ultimate anathema, the reductio ad absurdum to which all the seemingly positive liberalisation would lead.

Pope John Paul II would probably approve of The American Popess. It is a scare-mongering propagation of the faith. I found Vilar’s reactionary defence of the church difficult, in small part due to bronchitis and the effects of antibiotics when I saw the opening night performance, but largely because of my own long-abandoned Catholicism, and 12 years at Catholic schools. Now if only John Paul I had not died (or been murdered by elements in the Curia, according to David Yallop’s conspiracy-raking book), my attitude might be different.

None of which detracts from the focus, frightening steeliness and aching hollowness that Cilliers brings to her character. This is a high priest stripped of all illusions and announcing to her followers an apparent reality that in other, simpler times, would have been regarded as unspeakable, the ultimate heresy: there is no god.

Actors don’t create without directors, and Mark Graham’s eye and hand are much in evidence. His commercial credentials are proven; with Opdrag and his creative association with Cilliers, his aesthetic talents can come to the fore more noticeably. I look forward to more Opdrag, more Cilliers and more Graham.

Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and Illusions in Great Tales of Time Part Two and of the Inconvenient Truth for England

November 6, 2016

Today in History, I bring you a somewhat different view of the Inconvenient Truth as oppose the common illusions of Time gone by.

 This day in 1605, November 5th were it not for one Englishman warning his brother who was a Lord not to go into Parliament that day and him, the Lord one, putting the warning out Guy Fawkes would have blown the Mother of Parliaments into smithereens and with it probably could have saved the World from Freedom and Democracy.

 When they became a Democracy is of course, a matter of conjecture and many Tall Tales of Illusions; only someone disavowed of all common sense would have called it a Democracy in India and their Ceylon, the latter occupied by that name they had given to Sri Lanka to which “The Great Mother of All Democracy” had banned and delivered by ship all the able bodied men who had resisted them in the Independent Republics of Transvaal and Free State that they had invaded for our gold, leaving a scorched earth and the lonely wives with children behind to die while their Husbands and Fathers suffered their fate in a distant land.

 What a pity Guy Fawkes failed?  He could even have saved the English from themselves and left a free Scotland and Ireland, the latter whom would not have sunk into the immoral mess the UK is today.

 But the mess as is evident in the collapse of their NHS may just run its full course and rid The World of the fallout that must follow on the demise of the Illusions of Freedom and Democracy.

 Good Lord, why did America want to save them from Hitler?

 In closure, my email address below still exists but I have been barred from accessing it myself, by the graciousness of a Party [or Parties] who are no fond of the common Truth.  I have checked in so far as any human being can do and Google through time and endless efforts clearly states that I exist but they can’t recognize me.  Anyone emailing me, do remind Google of my plight if you can locate a human brain hidden somewhere amongst the machines.  In the meantime WordPress still recognizes me and you will reach me with any comments in this Post, or in my Facebook.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com

Of Time and Illusions and Tall Tales of Time and of Where We Are In Time Today

October 31, 2016

Dedicated to my friend JP the Great El Campeador of Election 2008

A Story for JP

Hi JP, here it is as I once promised.  This Post has been with me for a long time and I have had more Headlines in mind than would fill ten pages.  In the end I decided to call it “My story for JP” to make it easy to find while I was developing it.  The Headline as it appears above I selected moments ago because it fits in with what I have to say.  The idea started of with:

My 76th Birthday Notes

In South Africa it is 8/2/2016 11:04:17 PM on my Computer clock right now as I have just drawn it from the keyboard.  I don’t know how to tell you why I am doing it but there is a reason.  I don’t do things without a reason, except when I sit down or lie down, which I do very often, to do absolutely nothing but to think.

I go to bed at sunset; doing that for years now, and wake up anytime during the night and work on the keyboard.  Eventually I go back to bed and get up again at sunrise.  Living on my own by choice I can do these things.

In a way, having woken up before 11 tonight, there is a subconscious reason; yes tonight it may be there because I am now as I tap the keyboard less than one hour from age 76.  Perhaps I shall take this up in a Post in my main WordPress Blog one day.  Oh yes, I shall do that; a thought has been going through my mind on and off lately to do a Post on “Days of my Life” or something like that, to highlight other events that occurred over a full year of my life and influenced, or guided or cautioned me about my journey of life and where I am going.

For now, having only forty minutes left of age 75 I will close this down and find a place to publish it.  If it is someone else’s birthday too tomorrow, Heppie Heppie we say in South Africa.  If someone else is also 76 at twelve, do send me a note.

For posterity the recorded date of birth of the Bama is given as August 4th 1961.  Wherever he was born we got to accept that the Bama was born, and the date is as good as any; he will be 55 years old on this day August 4th of 2016.

He is not done with America; don’t let him fool you.  Watch his last move the day before the next President moves into the White House to make it white again.

JP ole Friend, the foregoing stopped there, but I continued to collect and compile stuff that is needed to synchronize my thoughts with reality; there is so little real in the World today and I have a need to find it, even if it is just for me but all sorts of things interfered and my notes started to look like a dog’s breakfast [my sincere apologies to the noble race of the dog; it is not my intention to insult the dog World] but the old cliché exists and nobody would understand it if I describe what I saw as “an utter mess as only the human race can make of his life.”

I believe you are a wise man.  We have had very few differences but the two of us know that we can learn from differences and we have done so.

I came to realize as we would all react to being thrown into a large pool filled with icy water and chunks of frozen ice on a bitterly cold winter morning, when it struck me that at the rate we are going right now we will never reconcile all the differences between all the aspirations, hates and prejudice of cultures, languages and the only way out is to withdraw into self and sort the latter out first.

I went on to collect just a few things about our country.  The links are here but you don’t have to read them all now; do it at your leisure when you have the time.  Just remember however, that these are a few illustrations of reality where we are today

http://www.ourcivilisation.com/cry.htm

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/apr/09/university-cape-town-removes-statue-cecil-rhodes-celebration-afrikaner-protest

 https://ikejakson.wordpress.com/2012/02/13/judge-ruth-bader-ginsburg-and-the-south-african-constitution-of-her-dreams-2/

 https://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/61197/Man-shot-dead-in-South-Africa

 http://southafricatoday.net/media/hard-news/the-white-ghettos-of-south-africa/

 On the last I made a note: “To my friend JP in America number one.  Would you like this?  Note that is what the Bama has for his ultimate goal for you all. But I didn’t send it out or published it.

 At that point in time a while after my birthday, I continues to read but could not find a connection point until one night I found this on Google:

 “The Berlin Wall. During the early years of the Cold War, West Berlin was a geographical loophole through which thousands of East Germans fled to the democratic West. In response, the Communist East German authorities built a wall that totally encircled West Berlin. It was thrown up overnight, on 13 August 1961.”

 This piece comes to you in here verbatim [by copy and paste] and you can check it out but I didn’t even bother to copy the link.

 There is a reason for not bothering about the link because that was what chucked me into the freezing water.

 I sat up and heard myself saying to myself with my own mouth: “Hey, but this is nonsense; that is not what I have previously been leaded to believe about that wall.”

 Since then I have made a thorough and detailed study of that Wall from that night [as quoted above] and right through to the end [including President’s Reagan speech at the Wall until its demolition.

 I am still off Google Gmail and doubt whether I will ever care to return.  It’s really a lot of crap; the only decent email system [I don’t care if it is contradicted by anyone] is in Windows as in Gates, name Bill, but I considered all the young fools of today reading that Google excerpt and believing how that Wall went up “overnight.”

 But I am here and hope to be around for another little while.  Let me get back to the main purpose my intended Post; please also take that be my swansong in case I should depart from this here old World and you can’t find any trace of where I gone.

 Back to the icy water in my face that I mention two or three paragraphs above the South African links.

 It struck me like a bolt of hot lightning; we are all living behind walls.

 I then had it and put it into an “innards pocket” of my mind; it has been with me for some time to complete the keyboard work up to this point, I have to do all my Internet work this way because of my eye impediment.  The keyboard is set up to key every small bit or a long article in MSWord in a large font that I can still see; when it s done I send it through the spell checker where after I reduce the font size to Verdana 20 and then I  copy/paste to the Post.

 Back to the Illusions, the Tall Tales and the Walls.

 JP, ole Friend, you know, I carried this around for months and tell you some Tall Tales of Great Men, of grand history, of Money and Men of Money, of Ambition and Memories; many of these Tall Tales could be like that of President Reagan [the Grand Old Man of recent America] that stood at the Brandenburg Gate of the Berlin Wall and challenged Russia with the call “Mister Secretary, take down this Wall” but it would serve no purpose.

 Walls are part of our lives, sometimes just in our homes; then there is the fence with the neighbor.  As manufacturing developed walls and later high security walls went up around factories; as crime increased walls went up around entire industrial complexes; when the rich started building their multi million homes it was erected to include a wall right around the entire property; in South Africa of recent times security fences and walls with spikes and/or barbed wire rolls were erected around the entire village or the neighborhood as each one would decide.

 I now live in a small hamlet; having to let go of my own scrub fed chickens [for years had my own eggs] and the dog when I moved to my present place; found a neighbor I liked and we started talking about getting dogs and scrub chickens.  You have to talk to your neighbor when you want to do that because you cannot tie your dog down, or tell a scrub chicken not to cross the line into the vegetable patch that you and the neighbor had as we both did; my neighbor became a good friend.  We planted in tandem, shared our crops and did the same as we put in fruit trees and handed each other some that the other did not have on his place.

 My neighbor friend died of cancer at the age of 45 three years ago [a sad affair, tragic and sad] and a farmer bought the property on an auction for additional accommodation for a worker that is also needed in town [many of the wealthy farmers do that] and though the new occupant is a nice person they are hardly ever there.  That’s at the back of my property; on my right I have a cop as a neighbor and friend and they have a little Jack Russell dog that befriended me; he barked one night about a year ago [so I have some protection] and the day after when I walked around my abode my tall fruit ladder was gone.  Let me cut this short; the police came and the ladder “walked back all by himself and parked in the same spot behind my dwelling virtually right outside my bedroom window, where I have now chained and padlocked him and the police have circulated the town about the “Old Oom” is happy for the return of his prodigal ladder.  That’s how things are done in rural South Africa because that is all the Police are allowed to do in our land where we have the most modern and most beautiful Constitution and Bill of Rights for We the People; don’t take my word for that; just ask your American Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg; she called it that.

 A few nights ago a bundle of fire barbeque wood walked of my place from just in front of my front door in my barbeque area.

 Three years ago the drought hit us followed by three very bad winters with black frost and severe damage to my fruit trees, but I managed to keep two orange trees and one fig alive, and our entire olive tree hedge that can survive anything.  My now deceased neighbor and I had planned it together so we had half of the olive trees on his side and half on my side with a sprinkler system fed by my pump on his borehole on his electricity.  We harvest buckets full of black olives and I can a lot myself.

 Anyway, between drought and black frost by the start of winter this year I only had one orange tree in fruit this year; by early June 2016 it had exactly 12 beautiful oranges nice yellow but not ripe yet.

 One morning a short while later a friend knocked on my door one morning and asked whether I had picked my oranges because he had always noticed them as he walked by and he noticed that morning that there were none.  I walked to the tree with him and he was right.

 Now JP, a navel orange blooms in late September and is covered in blooms during the whole of October; the blooms are down and the tiny little dark green fruits are there by early November; they grow from light yellow in April and May to bright yellow round and a sight to behold by end May but that fruit is ripe for picking and eating by about the 29th of June spot on every year, sweet delicious, healthy and wholesome from a tree for which an old man had made the hole in the ground, planted the tree and nursed it through more than five seasons of summers and winters and he was hurt that Monday morning.

 Late afternoon Sunday the previous day a group of small beggar children aged between say, 8 and 9 years old had knocked at my door asking whether they could have some oranges and I had told them that I always in good years share my fruit with the hostel children but that the fruit was not ripe yet this time when one interrupted me with “but they are ripe,..” but the annoyance was turning into bile in my throat when he dared to inform me that that had been to the tree and the fruit is ripe, and “they would like some “ because they were hungry.

 JP, I had kept my temper under control that Sunday but told them with a voice that I controlled as well as I could that they can come back at the end of the month and I would give them some,  Then I shoved them off and closed the door.

 That Monday morning I took my pick axe handle from my storage and called the police.  They arrived on the dot; our police are well trained, good decent civil folks trying daily and putting their own lives at risk every day but “their hands are tied behind their backs” by a Law of Freedom and the Right of these Vagrant Children to Life and Happiness, and seemingly to come and take my oranges during the night.

 Anyway, I have now been carried away by my frustrations of the moment, that Monday I told the policeman that they had better put the word out that if that happens again they would have to bring the man from the morgue in to fetch the corpses of three vagrant children with their heads and brains smashed into pulp by a prodigal pick axe handle, and I showed them that item.

 JP, forgive the outburst but I must finish this [will consider revising or deleting it before publishing] but I must explain it before I can deal with the Walls around us.

 Every one or most in any event of these youthful innocent “chillun o de Lor” of course has a mother.  That is determined as such by the Laws of Nature.  The mother is invariably the child of a drunken father, who has been unemployed for most of his life, and she delivers her first child when she is barely 15; by 16 or 17 she has the second one.  They are all hungry all the time because most of them don’t know the father and in many cases the mother cannot tell you who the father was.  Let me stop the tirade now.

 I realize now that there is a wall between us; it is an invisible wall but it is high and impenetrable steel.  We have to erect it to survive.

 Ingenious Mankind figured out how to make clocks, watches and other timepieces to tell us the days and dates and days and time accurate to mill fractions of one second.  In many older towns the time clocks sit in towers above the City Hall; in many countries there will be huge monuments of Time to their Nations, as Big Ben over the River Thames in London OK is a good example.

 These are however, just mechanical showpieces of the Greatness of Mankind and often merely a showcase of our achievements.

 Real time has a Master Clock that is called the Time Clock of the Earth and those that occupy its surface.  Some [and I place myself in that category] call it the clock or the timepiece of Nature; many others [in which I once again place myself] will call it Clock of Creation.  It has a pendulum that ticks along and measure the only Time that really matters.  It is not in the least relevant to me how old the Globe is or how it came to be or whether or how it will continue.  This Clock tells me that Time is infinite.  Mankind cannot measure how old the Globe is; modern man can hardly record anything with meaning more than 500 years ago.  All we know about that is that the World was different World to the one we know today.  Some nations, like Egypt and Israel have located some old artifacts from which they can trace their origins back to 2000 ago, but that is all.

 What does it matter anyway?  All that we seem to be able to agree on is that the past is finite, simply because there has to be a beginning.

 While we argue on is that the Great Pendulum swings back and forth into all eternity, as far as we can guess what eternity is.  It is all conjecture; the answer is simply that we don’t know and don’t need to know that.  It is merely an illusion that we have to know more.

 In the meantime I want a Huge Wall between me and the rest of what is called Democracy in South Africa.  In fact, I am beginning to think that the word Democracy is an illusion in the first place.  Freedom?  What is Freedom when somebody can walk into my small piece of dirt and pick my oranges?  How do you define that Freedom and his Right to live if I get a dog [at this stage I want to get two Rottweiler dogs and two pit bulls and train them to rip to shreds and kill any vagrant entering one inch of my property] but I am not allowed to let one dog touch the little piece of shit when he sneaks in to steal my oranges.

 I am suppose to take his little hand and escort him to my gate, give him my oranges and some meat and cake and kiss his little ass.  If he so much as scratches his little hand at the fence the police must come and shoot my dogs and lock me up for assault.

 Is this what Freedom has brought us?  Is this Democracy?

 No JP, I am getting out of it and build my walls.  No man is an Island, they say, to which I say “then you will find a heck of a lot of small Islands in my area as we say: and Up You to Freedom and Democracy.”

 To be continued in Part 2.

 Ike Jakson

In Americus GA saka Americoon

ikejakson@gmail.com