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Aye-aye the pied crow (from an Afrikaans song: “Aai-aai die witborskraai”), from right to left has been swung around. And for a rugby ball a country and a volk-heritage have been shamelessly betrayed. But what was sown is now reaped. And from the ashes of the drunkard’s barbecue, blood is running, red, thick, dark and sticky.

Desperately the guns are now loaded. Without hope of victory in reloading. For it is too late for liberal to turn around. Aye-aye the pied crow, listen to the song of renunciation and betrayal. It is the rooster that crows three times in Judgement. Before the knave of spades comes to reap his great harvest for the realm of the dead.

In South Africa’s ports and in her quay, weapons of great destruction will soon be unloaded. Over the control of the African continent, the great powers are now interfering in each other’s affairs. So, aye-aye the pied crow, after thirty years the page is turned back to yesterday.

Yes, to where a once chosen volk would betray their Divine heritage for a rugby ball. From right to left they have shamelessly swung. In their political winds of change, their Divine identity has been blown away forever.

In the Ubuntu spirit they shamelessly bathed rampantly. They grieved the Set-apart, Holy Spirit, they scorned Her. So, aye-aye the pied crow, there is no way for liberal to turn back.