Andre-F

You are being called. I know the ache in your chest. That fierce, stubborn pride that runs through your veins like the blood of the Voortrekkers. The pride that built republics on the veld, that sang “Die Stem” with fire in your throats, that stood unbowed through wars, droughts, and the slow unraveling of the only home you have ever known. That pride whispers to you now, "We do not run. We do not beg. We do not become refugees." But listen past the roar of that pride for a moment, because it is lying to you. It is not weakness to reach for safety when your children’s future is being stolen in front of your eyes. It is not surrender to admit that the rainbow has turned to ash and the promises have become chains. The real betrayal would be to cling so tightly to yesterday’s pride that you sacrifice tomorrow’s chance for your sons and daughters to grow up free, safe, and unafraid. Many stood where you are standing right now. Heart torn between love for the red earth that raised you, and the cold terror of what was coming. The word “refugee” tastes like bitter gall on your tongue. It feels like defeat. Like admitting the dream of your forefathers has failed. Letting go of the old pride does not mean becoming small. It means making room for a greater one. The pride of being chosen. Chosen not as charity cases, but as worthy additions to the greatest country the world has ever known. Chosen to stand beneath skies that still believe in liberty. Chosen to raise your children in a land where hard work is still rewarded, where faith is not mocked, where opportunity does not hide behind racial quotas and political terror. Afrikaners have always been a people who built when others tore down. Who sang when others silenced. Who endured when others broke. That same spirit is not dying, it is being transplanted into richer soil. So let the old pride go. Let the tears fall. Cry for the farm that must be left behind. Cry for the graves of ancestors we may never visit again. But then lift your heads. Be proud. Fiercely, unashamedly proud that you were selected by providence to become part of America. The shining city on a hill. The last, best hope for those who still believe freedom is worth fighting for. The country that turns exiles into citizens, dreamers into builders, and broken families into thriving legacies. Your children will never know the fear of farm murders in the night. They will never be told they are guilty simply for the blood in their veins. They will grow tall and free under stars and stripes instead of a flag that no longer protects them. That is not defeat. That is destiny. You were not cast out. You were called. This was never about running away. It was always about being chosen to come home.

South Africa won’t allow Starlink to be licensed, even though I was BORN THERE, simply because I am not Black! We were offered many times the opportunity to bribe our way to a license by pretending that a Black guy runs Starlink SA, but I have refused to do so on principle. Racism should not be rewarded no matter to which race it is applied. Shame on the racist politicians in South Africa. They should be shown no respect whatsoever anywhere in the world and shunned for being unashamedly RACISTS!

When President Trump called out the racism against white farmers and their families in South Africa.

🇿🇦Each cross represents a white farmer who was murdered in South Africa. And some people still deny that white South Africans/Boers are persecuted and say they don’t deserve asylum because they are white. This looks like a genocide.

When we first arrived in America, we had a truck (a bakkie), but with husband working out of town, I was left without a car. Our neighbor’s daughter had a cute little Nissan Rogue that had been standing idle for months. The gearbox was completely shot, total fodder. Her dad was about to send it off to the scrapyard for just $300. I stopped him, paid the money on the spot, and suddenly the car was mine. Everything else on it was still basically brand new. When my husband came home, I casually told him I’d ordered a gearbox on eBay and it was already waiting in the garage. 😅 He was not impressed. "eBay? Are you crazy?" The next morning he got stuck in, pulled out the old gearbox, and was about to fit the new one when the neighbor strutted over. His eyes nearly popped out when he saw car parts scattered everywhere in the garage. My husband just looked up calmly and said, “Don’t worry, if the eBay gearbox is right, by tomorrow it’ll be running.” Well, the look on that man’s face! 😅 The next evening we proudly pulled into his driveway in the now-fixed Rogue. The neighbor immediately came out with beers and camping chairs. We all sat together, cold drinks in hand, just staring at the car with big smiles. My cheeky little eBay gearbox special, the car that was almost scrapped before I saved it. 😂 I galavanted with that car like it was my most prized possession.