On 28 March 2020 I came across a post on Facebook of one Melissa Redelinghuys, an attractive South African teacher somewhere in a Far Eastern country. She probably teaches there because her race is being discriminated against by racist blacks in her own country, and as a result young white South Africans are being displaced and forced to look for work in other shitholian countries.
I assume she tutors in China, but it may be any one of the other cat eating countries in that corner of the world too, like powdered-rhino-horn-poor-pangolin soup-slurping Vietnam.
Her post is in Afrikaans, so I used Google Translate to - you guessed it - translate her text to English before pasting it in its entirety a bit further down below.
What striked (stroked? I fucking hate English tenses!) me of her post was the way how she described her ordeal, the feelings that she experienced neatly articulated among quite a few grammatical errors. In her own mother tongue, mind you. I tried cleaning up some of it, but gave up hope and will let you, the reader, play mental ping ping yourself in figuring out what she wrote, and to guess whether it was she or Google that screwed up a sentence. But meanwhile, learn a lesson or two from her experience as well. Like packing food for the death camp, or hiding from the Gestapo (Chingato?) in time.
Afrikaans is the world's most poetic language, so some of the teacher's emotion was lost in cold-blooded Google's translation, and I kept her spelling mistakes in there too. But she did such a superb job of describing her experience that I had to make a quick article out of it, and I hope it will get all seven my followers the world over to start thinking about the nearby future when the virus is under control. What will the fall-out be, what will the reckoning be, and how will it affect you?
What we should remember is that hundreds of thousands of people will have her experience themselves this year as the China Virus - yes, call it on its real name - infects more people.
Naturally, as to be expected from Boerbarians, in each comment under her post Afrikaners dragged their mental Aids - the Religionosa Idiotica Virus, or RIV - in as well. 'Praying for you' and 'may you be washed in blood' and 'Goldilocks fell over the balcony for your sins' and similar shitty brain damaged utterances decorates the comment section there. And then people think the Chink Virus is deadly?! Try the Israeli Virus!
The more religious one is the worst the spelling becomes too, so be glad I'm not showing those idiotic comments of those products of incest here.
If only we could get a virgin to sacrifice by throwing her down a volcano. That should please the Christian god-thing so he can start protecting his children as that filthy Bible - which doesn't even work well as toilet paper, trust me - promises. Not sure if it'll satisfy the blood lust of them drooling geloofsgefokte boerbarians, but we won't know before we haven't tried, right. Even better idea, let's chuck them zombies into that volcano. That's real Hell.
But over to pretty Melissa...
Quarentine Day 9
An unexpected message that appeared on my phone's screen had me in tears immediately: "Melissa, The Government Will Come to Pick You Up Tomorrow. You have to go to a government facility for quarrantine. "
It's a day after they tested me for the virus ... I might be positive? Why should I go? The idea of getting trapped in a 3mx3m square makes me distress! Hurried and through my tears I start packing my suitcase. I wish I was at home. I'm looking for my parents! I'm afraid ... the thoughts grind through my brain and pull my guts into a knot.
I throw some pieces of clothes into a suitcase, but decide that I should rather use the most of the space for food. Apples, rusks, the one can of sweetcorn over in my closet, 2min noodles, Oats ... I'm not crazy about any of these items, but I know when you stared at a plate of food and the only thing you can identify is the rice, then tasting plastic emergency
The next morning I get my own moon pack, gloves and mask for the trip. I walk to the bus, knowing that all the sickly will now be transported together to the Government Facility. At the bus, the Moonman pressed a temperature gauge against my forehead before I was allowed to get in. "Only one person in a row and fill from behind!" Explain the Moonman for me in Chinese.
With the intrape blow hitting the smell of immeentant my right between the eyes and I want to sneeze. Oh hell! If I now bury me my assured alive! I hold my breath and sit down. We load up about 10 people and arrive an hour later at the Government "hotel."
After all, the bus is spread with disinfectant and then he leaves to fetch the next herd of sicknesses. The people are in the "hotel" entered and recorded to a room.
The Moonman points out with his hand to hockey number 168. I walk in and he made the door without a word behind me. With my moon pack, I stared at the 3mx3m hockey - neat and clean all I can think of. I throw my moon pack away, shower, wash my hair and then take for the first time I'm from my apartment is normal.
Three beats against my door. It's lunch time and I'm hungry! Three moonmas stand in front of me. One puts a small plastic chair at my feet and puts a tray with dinner. Another one pushes a dish and cloth in my hands and the third gives me 2 yellow bags and a choir pen. They explain that I have to take the stuff and then pull the door.
Uncertain me stare at the good ... What should I do with the dish? When should I measure my temperature? What do I do with the tray and leftovers when I'm done? (There will be many leftovers!) I send me HR Manager a message and ask that she please find me what I have to do with all the things! Moments later there is a beat again ... They explain to me about a Translate app - the yellow bags are for the garbage. You put your trash yourself, tie it and put it in front of you. The dish and cloth is to wash your room with disinfectant every day. Measure your temperature every morning before breakfast and give us the reading. The door goes again.
I wonder what did I get for dinner? Hungry I sit in front of my tray ... After just one look I stand up and fetch my can of Sweetcorn. I sit down my yellow bags at my door and climb into bed.
It was a long day.
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