EUGENE TERRE BLANCHE
1998/12/19
AMAC wrote in
message <[email protected]>...
>Tell that to a fully armed Zulu Warrior !
>Or to Eugene (before he falls from his horse)
Ja, well, no fine. This inspires me to the following bit of
doggerel, with apologies
to the immortal English poet who penned the original.
How We Brought the News from Ventersdorp to
Vetkoeksfontein.
I jumped to the saddle, and Eugene and he
We galloped and galloped and galloped all three
Quite frankly I'd rather have got in my car
(The one that my Oupa calls "rooie gevaar")
But Eugene said, No, just forget your Cortina
A Boer on a horse looks much tougher and meaner
And so we upsaddled and put on our hats
And rode out of town, shouting, Down with the Nats
The Boere are coming, in triumph apace!
Till our triumph was struck by a speeding Hi Ace.
Our second attempt fared hardly much better
Two kays down the road we got hit by a Jetta
And so I suggested to Eugene, the .....er, silly old codger
That the traffic would hardly permit such a stunt.
He agreed that perhaps the dirt roads would be quieter
Till I mentioned to him that they wouldn't be whiter
And perhaps if the bantus to us took exception
We could meet with a vocal and hostile reception.
"I'm not scared of kaffirs," said Eugene defiant
And indeed on his horse he looked quite like a giant
But still I believed that an army of darkies
Could cause him to shit his redoubtable khakis
I urgently pleaded, again and again
That we shouldn't be heroes, and just take a train.
At last he agreed, and we went to the station
And bought ourselves tickets to go save the nation.
Eugene wasn't chuffed with the new S A R
There were blacks in the cabins and blacks in the bar
I explained that apartheid had come to an end
And I wasn't quite sure what was left to defend
But Eugene said, Fok, ek is nou mos die hel in
Ek sweer op die boude van daai Jani Allen
Met swartes te drink is ek glad nie bereid
Ek weier eenvoudig om hier in te grate.
Pretoria at dawn was a sight for sore eyes
Especially as bleary as Eugene's mince pies
He fell off the train. We unloaded our horses
Then breakfasted lightly on biltong and worses
Wondering deeply what plans he had made
For impressing the Boers who would be on parade
Because, you recall, the Burghers would meet
At an AWB gathering on Paul Kruger Street.
At last we upsaddled, and Gee, we looked fine
Riding our stallions precisely in line
Our saddles were gleaming, our rifles were burnished
'Twas just a great pity no bullets were furnished
But that model Mauser is long obsolete -
Perhaps, just like us, as we rode down the street.
But our pride took a knock at the start of this day
When we realised Eugene had quite lost his way.
We stopped at a garage, the pompjokkie stared
At my short khaki trousers and Eugene's long beard.
Then Eugene enquired if the fellow perchance
Knew the way. He replied, I don't speak Afrikaans.
Now Eugene went red, like the necks of the British
And I noticed his horse getting really quite skittish
If you only speak English, he said to the jokkie
You're in for some kak in the future, ou bokkie.
The jokkie just answered, with twinkling eye
"You dumb, stupid Dutchman, let's just see you try
My cousin's a neef of that Nelson Mandela
And I myself hail from the lower Tugela
We don't hold with grudges, but there's still scores to settle
So don't call me black, you lily-white kettle.
Just ask what you want to, then be on your way
Or you'll learn a new meaning for old Dingaan's Day.
Jeez, Eugene was narked, he could hardly hold back
The anger he felt at being cheeked by a black
More important, however, was the fact we were late
Which saved the young bugger a terrible fate.
And Eugene calmed down, and said, Lissen, ou beet
Where are the Burghers, that we've come to meet.
They're assembling at ten, in the heart of Church Square
And I and my colleagues have got to be there.
The jokkie looked up, and he answered "Well, Sir
We've only Macdonald's, or Nando's, or Spur.
If it's burgers you're after, I must make it clear
Those are the only ones recognised here."
Of course Eugene knew he was taking the mick
And of course he is known for reacting quite quick
And without even waiting for either of us
He put spur to his stallion and went off like a bus.
He galloped down Andries and up Van der Walt
Then left into Church and he screeched to a halt.
With a cry he proclaimed, "I will show you who's baas!"
-
And that was the moment he fell on his arse.
The gathering all cheered - pray, what else could they do?
Now that their hero had made such a blue.
But next time you think that we're governed by arses
Be grateful indeed that we're not ruled by baases.