π¨ I was pulled over just now by these traffice officers on the N1 on my from my farm to Bloemfontein.π¨
The male officer informed me that my drivers license expired a week ago and that he is going to take my car keys to prevent me from driving any further.
I told him he must write me a ticket because I have 3 kids in the car and cannot be without my car, and that I am going to call my husband to come assit me, because he is not being reasonable.
He then tried to take my car's keys and my telephone and I closed my window so fast because he was getting aggressive. I told him that he cannot do what he is doing, and he said he can do anything he wants to, because he is an officer of the law and not me.
He started writing the ticket and then went to his car to call a female officer. On her arrival I opened my window again to talk to her and just as the conversation went a bit south, she put her arm through the open window and slapped me through my face twice.
I struggled to close my window with her arm halfway through it to get another slap at me, and was so shocked! She called me a fucking white person and said that they are not scared of me and she will hit me when and if I get out of my car.
I sat there while they shouted at me over and over that they are not scared of me and they will show me that I am not above the law. It looked like he was taking pictures of me and my car?? To do what with? To harass me on the roads?? I shouted at them that I will lay charges of assault against her, and she said I can go ahead.
My husband arrived and this is a video of their attitudes. We were advised by a police officer of Glen that we must go to the station - we will be helped there with the charges and with my statement.
At the police station the 1 officer and the captain started yelling at us to keep quiet, because we must not tell them how to do their jobs and they want to listen to the officers.
After about 20 minutes we had to leave, because the police was not interested in taking the traffic officers names or to have my statement, because they "have to take the traffic officers' statements first to hear what they have to say and then they will take time to listen to us".
I told the police captain that I was just slapped twice through my face by an officer in front of a 12 year old, 11 year old and a 10 year old who are now so scared of a traffic officer and that I want to lay a charge. And she just said she does not need to take any statements from me and I must stop telling her what she must do.
Even Botha realized that there is absolutely NOTHING to be done and we better leave before we get arrested for trying to speak!!!!! If you open your mouth, you get shouted at in Sotho by police officials!!!!
I cannot even lay a charge at a police station, because they say they don't have to hear anything I have to say and that the traffic officer says she will never do something like that!!!!!Now here I am.
What the hell!!! Go back tomorrow to just get another useless SAPS officer? And get pulled over by the same people obviously now going to target me, as this is the road I have to drive to the city?
PLEASE SHARE that their faces and this absurdness can spread as far and wide βοΈ
@SundayWorldZA She died from a broken heart, it happens. Daughter is a criminal master mind, husband aided and abetted in daughter's activities. Its too much
I had relatives in Cape Town who pretended to be Coloured all their lives and the parents kept it as a dark secret from the kids that they were Africans. It was my dad's aunt, my grandmother's younger sister and her husband. They moved there in the 50's. They came from the Free State and obviously could speak Afrikaans. The advantage for them was also that they were light in complexion.
Oupa worked for Trasnet Railways and took a job in CT. When they got there, he realized that Coloured people had better living conditions and were paid better salaries. He so maar changed their surname, from Sebolai to Bolly. π They got a house in Elsies River. He managed to pull the whole thing off somehow.
Now, my dad was a priest, 'n Predekant in the former Dutch Reformed Church or NG Kerk. Also trained in Afrikaans at College, he and my mom and the rest of the uncles and aunts who were teachers, spoke fluent Afrikaans. So they used to visit the Bolly's for holidays and just played along. π€·π½ββοΈ
My mom used to tell me crazy stories of how whenever they went to visit, the first day they arrive, the ladies would be locked in the bedroom and have their hair relaxed with hot stone and wore their doeks tied under the chin like Muslim or Coloured women did. The kids were not supposed to get even a slight hint that they were Africans. My dad was their favorite because our church was Dr. Alan Boesak's church, so they could boast that their Oom Solly is ook 'n predekant van NG Kerk. π
Now when I went to study in Cape Town, a young 18 year old, my dad asked them to look after me especially since my mom had just died. They were the ones who took me to the airport when my my mom died. So shem they loved me so much, but had subtle racist tendencies, especially their kids, who were much older than me. They were racist but, sadly, were dark skinned, darker than their parents, even darker than me. I used to look at them giving me attitude and I would get so bored and just think "mxm you, only if you knew." π The eldest son looked exactly like my dad, but he was darker.
Whenever Oupa and Ouma came to fetch me from Res at Fuller Hall for Sunday lunch, once a quarter or so, they would be so nervous and walk on egg shells because firstly, I wore my hair short, always did till today, and I refused to speak Afrikaans, I didn't know it that well anyway, so I spoke to them in English or Sesotho. My poor grandmother would say "at least your hair is nice and short, please don't do braids like girls from Gugulethu and Nyanga". ππ We spoke Sesotho in the car and switched as soon as we got home. When we get home, before we eat, the two of them will take me to the bedroom and pray in hush voices in Sesotho. I always found it funny and sad. π
Then I would be pampered with roast chicken, potatoes, seven colours, take some back to res, with rusks, sister cookies. My friends knew that whenever I went to Elsies, I came back with all kinds of goodies.
They have since passed on. Their kids, we lost contact with them. They are probably old or it's the younger generation that is left. Wherever they are, they don't know their real background and chances are that they continue to think they are better than Africans because that's how they were taught.π
I just remembered this experience when I watched the Adhoc Committee appearance of Hon. Fadiel Adams and his interaction with Hon. Sauls.