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Neither white nor black, in pale grey. Between the brown and white stripes of the grey Africa-partridge. There the death-flag is hanging now, raised half-mast. Look, the fraudulent, false christian flag is also hanging completely upside down.

Listen, the wind has suddenly stopped. Also, nowhere the sound of full rivers bubbling and fizzing. I hear a scared woman softly whispering: Listen, somewhere something is not quite right. Her husband answers: In the plague of locust, rat and mouse, it is completely too late to delouse a volk from all her treason.

All of a country’s infrastructures already lie disintegrated and crushed. Death lurks terrifyingly in the vaccine of the test tube. Governments stand in denial, in self-justification, with their heads hidden in the sand like a stupid ostritch. With the useless solution of their answer, that is already perishing in the word: “supposedly”. Yes, the lights are on but there is nobody home. Raca now lifts his fist, bloodthirsty. But it is the Hand of God that will crush Africa.

From below the Southern Cross, the New Jerusalem will rise up. All of creation will praize her Creator for the New Melchizedek Order. So raise your banner now, oh Sion, to show the path to the Bridegroom. Look, – neither white nor black – the mongrel is turned away from the assembly of Elohim, for ten eons.