A Creed for a Caffre Country

By Morris Hulley

Every one of us has a creed of some description. That creed will dictate how you live. It could ruin your life or bring you happiness. That being the case it is of grave importance that the creed whereby you live has a solid foundation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9780244533267

Book preview

Copyright © 2019 Morris Evelyn Hulley

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-244-53326-7

Creed:

Noun: A system of religious belief; a faith.

A set of beliefs or aims which guide someone’s actions.

Origin: old English, from Latin credo - ‘I believe’.

Oxford Dictionary

Kaffir:

Noun: Offensive, chiefly South African.

An insulting and contemptuous term for a black African.

Origin: from Arabic kafir ‘infidel’, from kafara ‘not believe’.

Usage: The word Kaffir is first recorded in the 16th century (as caffre) and was originally simply a descriptive term for a particular ethnic group.  Now it is always a racially abusive and offensive term when used of people and in South Africa its use is actionable.

Oxford Dictionary

Commissioned

On a hill, far away, stood an old rugged tree, its branches all twisted with rage.  On a limb of that tree perched a sparrow so frail, trembling and weak with age.

The sparrow made no attempt to leave its perch.  To the extent that a sparrow is conscious of anything, this little fellow knew he would die there.  After some time, his muscles lost coordination, and his little body fell to the ground in death.  Life was never meant to end, and the whole earth groaned under the impact of this tiny body.

The sparrow’s fall was closely attended by the love of God, a love so awesome, it is impossible for man to fully comprehend its beauty.  Indeed, when living in God’s world, and there is no other, it is impossible for the sparrow or anything else to avoid His love.  This incredible Love is directed at you as an individual, despite your filthy life and your rejection of God.  While all men and women were in this lost state God sent His Son into the world, not to condemn, but to save.  If you, the reader, have any intention of reading any more of these pages, it is of grave importance that you grasp the fact that God loves you personally.  Nothing you have done can change that.  Jesus, the Name above all names, means "God will save His people".

I once killed a sparrow.  This heart-breaking incident happened when I was about eight years old, while walking along a sandy path through the African bush.  It was a hot, dusty day in the Orange Free State with towering purple and black clouds gathering on the far horizon.  There was a tension in the air; a feeling that something terrible was going to happen.  The odd flicker of lightning and ominous deep roll of thunder came from the distant cloud banks.

I saw the sparrow lying just off the path.  It was small and grey and black and flapping feebly on the dry, cracked earth.  It wasn’t flapping really; more of a twitching.  Anger flared in my heart when I saw it was covered with big army ants, the kind that has no problem biting your bare feet if you give them the chance.  There were hundreds of them all attacking the poor little bird.  There was no way I could just walk away from this, so I stood there looking at the bird and getting my feet bitten.  There were ants everywhere; I had to keep wiping the persistent little blighters off.  After a few minutes, having squashed half a hundred ants, I realized I would have to kill this bird as quickly and painlessly as possible.  It was not within my power to give it life, it had to be death.  In my anger the bird suffered for a while longer, while I fantasised about how effective a flame-thrower would be in wiping out this colony of ants.  Such was my thinking at the tender age of eight.  No doubt the fact my Dad had spent five years in a bloody war had something to do with it.  In my defence, I don’t think it can be expected of an eight-year-old to have grasped the concept of an ant’s total inability to be morally accountable.

I did not want to stamp on the bird or bash it with my fist – that would have been too close and personal – too messy.  Now that I am fifty years older and wiser – possibly not cleverer – I realise this is also the abortionist’s dilemma.  How does one kill without getting personally involved with one’s victim?  Killing another human being is an extremely personal experience.  The obvious answer is to do the deed while the least of these little ones is still in the womb.  That way you do not run the risk of hearing her scream as you take child abuse to its logical conclusion.  A little child’s screaming tantrums can be dashed inconvenient old chap.  You see, you need air to produce sound and there is no air in a Mother’s womb.  Killing your baby after she has yelled a greeting to her first day breathing the free air of God’s world would defeat the object of the exercise and also present you with the problem of getting arrested.  Why the timing of the murder of your baby should result in such differing repercussions is an irrational mystery.

So, where the personal touch would not serve in killing the bird, it was necessary to find an alternative.  There was a pile of rocks a little way off, so I went and got one.  Three blows with the rock smashed that little body to a pulp.  The use of the rock was only marginally successful in negating the personal element in the proceedings.  However, the bird twitched no more, and the colony of ants could continue their feasting without impediment. It was a somewhat depleted colony, but those still living didn’t appear at all concerned about their dead buddies.  Unlike humans; ants, birds and animals in general do not spend time contemplating eternity.

I moved away from the awful sight of that crushed little body – and the ants – and stood crying and sweating in the heat of the African sun. I stood there for what seemed to be a thousand years.  As time passed, I became aware that a light breeze had cooled the air, then, quite suddenly, the sun was blotted out and big drops of rain fell, raising miniature dust clouds where they hit the earth.  And then it rained in earnest – oh how it rained!  Those illusive commodities, time and space, were filled with flashing lightning, crashing thunder and lashing rain.  My dusty tears were washed away in the divine deluge.  From that day to this, I have loved the rain.  Sunshine can also be fun, but when it rains, my spirit soars with the wings of a sparrow.

It has never been my intention to be a killer, but looking back at my life, I find that I could indeed be defined in those diabolical terms.  It is all part of either being a kaffir or having the remnants of a kaffir mentality.  To be a kaffir is to be a killer and I can assure you, without any fear of contradiction, that we kaffirs have made killing a fine art form.

The resulting crushing despair in which most of mankind languishes cannot be ignored.  As my life on this earth draws to a close – I guess I have something less than twenty years to go – I find my thoughts are dominated by the desperate plight of my depraved fellow humans.

It will seem strange to them, but there is a people group in the United Kingdom who have the distinction of being specifically referred to by God.  Sadly, this people group, consisting of the majority of the nation, do not acknowledge His presence in any meaningful way and will consider what He has to say as being a bit of a laugh.  Be that as it may, the following is what He has to say:

For my people are foolish; they know Me not; they are stupid children; they have no understanding.  They are ‘wise’ in doing evil!  But how to do good they know not.

The fact that you are breathing, conscious and sane, means you believe in something.  The only way to avoid believing in something is to die.

The observation of human behaviour primarily in Africa and Britain has forced me to rethink my interpretation of this term kaffir.  It is indeed a disgusting thing to be a kaffir – I know – I have lived as one.  Why should I or anyone else, having lived as a kaffir, confess to the fact?  Why not keep one’s life secret?  One reason is that hypocrisy is a disgusting character trait, and another is that secrecy cannot be maintained indefinitely anyway.  The latter is probably not a reason which could stand up to the rigours of ethical questioning but does very seriously impact the lives of men and women created in the image of God.  Rather late in life I have decided the time has come to dispel some dangerous delusions.  In the hope of helping suffering humanity avoid the futility of living a kaffir life I am driven to place on record the horrors of life when thus lived.  So, let’s look at our lives; I know I’m a lot like you.

There is no hidden agenda in all that follows and anyone reading this should know that it is meant to be personal – to me and to you.

As it has been difficult to know where to start, I decided that the previously mentioned remote hill with the twisted tree would be a good place.  As kids we used to call it Misery Hill and I have climbed it more than once.  To you here in Britain this hill is about 5600 miles away – in the southern part of Africa.

There are not many things in life that can be considered an absolute certainty, but, as with the sparrow, death of the mortal body is one of them.  This is so obvious, serious and inescapable that it is almost universally ignored by those capable of abstract thought.  For a kaffir, seriously thinking about death should result in unmitigated terror.  To think seriously about death involves not making a joke of it – not nervously passing stolen clichés.  My experience has shown that it is almost impossible to get the average westernised kaffir to do this until the thought is forcibly brought home by death being imminent.

Even though my mind has been blighted by my life as a kaffir, I still have, by the grace of God, some hope of telling of His Love.  The Lord of all of creation has said to us; Go into the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation. Along with any other human liberated from sin, I am commissioned to tell dying humanity there is no need to die, all the while wondering why such a tremendous truth should be so abhorrent.

Using the term kaffir with reference to myself or anyone else, is meant to be insulting and it is tragic that such a slur should be attributed to a being created in the image of God.  In my interpretation of the word – and I have vast experience of its use – it implies the person thus addressed is foul in the extreme.  In the southern part of Africa, kaffir – sometimes spelt caffre – was and still is, erroneously used by people with white skin to refer to people with black skin.  Those with white skin have, in thus using the term, adequately shown that they have no idea what the word is meant to convey; the vast majority of them are themselves kaffirs.  The correct usage of the word kaffir is not in any way related to skin colour – it has absolutely nothing to do with race.  One of my intentions is to correct the South African error and use the word in a way similar to what the 16th century Arabs intended.  To them anyone who did not believe as they did, were kaffirs – infidel – unbelievers. In my usage of this disgusting word, I will be referring to anyone who does not hold to the fundamental truths of the Christian faith.  I understand that this is no superficial undertaking, but my deep concern is that those who are slaves to sin are in very serious trouble.  Although trivialised by the Darwinian error, this is in fact a matter of life and death.  To live the filthy life of a sinner is no light-hearted matter, and the requirements to have culpability removed cannot be met by the endeavours of mortal man.

It should be clearly understood that the differences between the religious and the Christian reaction to those whom each group would define as a kaffir or non-believer, cannot be reconciled.  The reactions are opposites in an absolute sense.  Religion advocates the death of the kaffir, either through being left to die from a lifestyle geared in that direction or by deliberate attack with intent to kill.  Christianity seeks to save the life of the kaffir, to raise the kaffir to heights of pure, crystal-clear joy, undeserved and undreamed of.

I have every confidence that the majority of readers will be shocked to hear that the Darwinian delusion is included in my definition of religion.  Darwinism has untold millions of fanatical followers, many of whom may be found attending a Christian church on Sunday, incredibly quite