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I smell the fragrance of invasive eucalyptus in wet tree gum. I listen to the African lion growling pathetically, softly. I look at the silhouette of dark figures gathering around night fires. And in the rhythm of the African drum, the bastion stands dumbfounded at its own words.

I listen to the ancient message of Solomon coming to Sheba. It goes like this: Oh, Africa-Kush, your treasures still belong to the temple of the Jewry all this time. Look, their bloody, false, shalom-of-peace stretch over your plains. Their idol Mammon reigns over your entire continent.

He gives your gold as a footstool to his harlot, Babylon. She sells your resources for dollars, rands and pounds. She sells it by weight of carats, barrels, and gallons. Woe oh woe therefore to the day of the vulture Edom. Look, Russia now soars over the African plain like the mighty falcon. With China as its ally rallying around the remainders.

I smell the fragrance of invasive eucalyptus trapped in wet tree gum. After this I see the Jewry old, decrepit, and crooked. I listen to the bastion, stunned and dumbfounded over its own message. He cries: Who really was the gentile, the hideous goyim? It was the half-bred Jewry itself all along.