Nightmares From The Past

I had a nightmare and in it was a white man. I did not recognise who he was until he introduced himself to me. This is what he said to me:

I am Jan Van Riebeek, just call me Jannie. I came to tame and claim in the name of Spain, Holland and Europe. I am Jannie, don’t diss my history.  I inspired Hawkins, Livingston, Mussolini, Botha, and Bush. I perpetuated hatred against redmen, yellowmen and with Blackmen I make no friend. I attacked the Nama, Khoi, the Khomani, and the Griqua, cut off their heads.

I wrote instead that the Blackmen ate them like bread.  I never told you this before but my chief navigator was a MOOR, you know the moors they discovered Spain, those blacks who came from the African terrain. The idea that the world was round I got from these same blacks in some little European town. 

Now you may ask what were blacks doing there but they ruled there for over 700 years. They made a great mistake then, because instead of enslaving us they made us their friend. Some survived, stayed alive, and fought the invasion, European division, English aggression, the fight between Europe and European expansion. I wrote your history for you. I did not tell you the truth that not all black men came as slaves.

Listen and you will know the truth in the waves that brought the ships; lips lie to keep intact oppression of black skin. I am Jannie, the church perched on the opportunity to spread the religion of the dead through misconception.  The assumption that this world was new was spread by me. i am Jan van Riebeek and I gave Europe power over all the earth, 500 years of your blood sweat and tears now and you celebrate recreate your death.

Let the glasses touch with the blood of your forefathers and mothers, give a toast to host my arrival, your dying is my survival and your land is still mine. Yes! The pope is still the divine. Yes! Drink your own blood and call it wine but nothing in the pages of my history will blot out your misery. You shall celebrate my victory and call it diversity; your children praise me because I am their only history. I am Jan Van Riebeek.

I died but you made me live, so, give me the sea once more and let me discover you again. I will not go, not from your mind. Restore me for all to see. Your ancestors cries will not be heard, word after word, pages of history written but the victims are once more beaten. 1652 to you is the beginning of western world democracy but 1652 to me the beginning of white supremacy.

I had opted to record these words that this man told me in my nightmare so that I may share with you.