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I hear a voice calling: Oh, give me a job, I’m young and strong. Again and again I hear him calling: I have a degree, but I’ll also work as a junior clerk. Oh, just give me a job, even if I have to clean up the dirtiest mess.

As a refrain I hear a thousand times a thousand voices in chorus. Oh, give us work before we die of hunger. With work in our country now limited to the utmost. Will we also move from our birthplace to another country.

Look, we have already stretched our pennies to the limit for the most essential things. Our government makes promises but fools us. Oh, we suffer great deprivation and just ask for a job.

On Sundays we pray in church but are still limited in all hope. From South Africa comes the helpless, imploring speech from the tortured, bitter mouth. Oh, give us work, we are young and strong.

The masses then become completely angry, berserk. They shout, give us work because we suffer great poverty. Give us work, before we die of hunger. I then see how columns of smoke rise over the entire country.

I see how the ANC is now quietly starting to withdraw from all this so “innocently.” After this, the whites are starting to gather in spontaneous groups for their safety.

The country is becoming wild, it is becoming a hellish, evil place. Yes, it becomes a place where no one goes out anymore, even if it is just to work for a pittance, for survival.