African shweshwe fabrics 1
Why are you reporting this puzzle?
My country is in chaos with rioting, marches and mobs looting, burning and attacking shopping malls and city centres. Ostensibly this is in support of ex President Jacob Zuma who was finally jailed last week after months of playing the Zondo Commission of Enquiry into State Capture, which he actually instituted while he was still President.
In reality it is, in two parts, firstly the reaction of people being told that there was another two weeks of Level 4 Lockdown, being out of work, hungry and desperate, and secondly, sheer criminality and opportunism. When people drive up in their Mercedes Benz and go in to loot big screen TVs and top of the range Fridges, it's not because they're hungry. It's because they've learned that politicians have been ripping off the country for the past decade with no legal results, so this is their chance to steal something for without risking prison.
I am very sad tonight about all the business owners whose livelihoods have been stolen and premises trashed. I am very sad about the breakdown of law and order. I'm very sad about the rise of despair and anger within and between communities. I wonder if the slide into anarchy can be halted and civility reinstated. I wonder where the people of ethics and decency are.
I can only think of the great poem The Second Coming by the Irish poet W. B. Yeats that encapsulates so beautifully the despair I feel tonight.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Pray for South Africa please.
Credits: Da Gama Fabrics - Three Cats Designs
In reality it is, in two parts, firstly the reaction of people being told that there was another two weeks of Level 4 Lockdown, being out of work, hungry and desperate, and secondly, sheer criminality and opportunism. When people drive up in their Mercedes Benz and go in to loot big screen TVs and top of the range Fridges, it's not because they're hungry. It's because they've learned that politicians have been ripping off the country for the past decade with no legal results, so this is their chance to steal something for without risking prison.
I am very sad tonight about all the business owners whose livelihoods have been stolen and premises trashed. I am very sad about the breakdown of law and order. I'm very sad about the rise of despair and anger within and between communities. I wonder if the slide into anarchy can be halted and civility reinstated. I wonder where the people of ethics and decency are.
I can only think of the great poem The Second Coming by the Irish poet W. B. Yeats that encapsulates so beautifully the despair I feel tonight.
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
Pray for South Africa please.
Credits: Da Gama Fabrics - Three Cats Designs
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