South Africa, we stand up and salute you with honor and pride. So many have been stolen from us by your enemy, and those that remain, continue to get up each morning just to lay down our heads each night, under your skies and under your stars. You serve your countrymen just like you served our fathers before us. You nurture our lands for our sons to cultivate after us; to grow up contented and free just as we did and just as our ancestors did before us.

We wake up each morning, here where our souls live, just trying to be fathers raising sons and nurturing daughters. We spend our days offering our everything to someone else, and we close off our nights just to do it all over again tomorrow, here where we call our lands home.

Bright and early we begin our days; dressed in old pairs of jeans, scuffed pairs of boots and old straw hats that the sun beats down on from sunrise to sunset. We don’t do it for the wealth or the bills we must pay; for there is no glory in farming our lands, yet, we do it anyway.

We work our fields for our sons and for our daughters; we get up each day and work tirelessly on their future. Just as our fathers had once carved out our dreams for us, and just as his father had carved out the same dreams for him.

For your enemies have emptied the streets that once bustled with life. Women in bright dresses have laid down their baskets and no longer search through windows for fine clothing and little luxuries. The laughter of children playing amongst crowds have become silent and all we are left with are filthy streets and eerie echoes that wail out in the distance.

The enemy continues to march over fractured sidewalks, leaving empty shells and broken windows on their paths to destruction. The tense hatred as they hurriedly find their next target to scorch, hangs like a dark, sickening smell in the air.

South Africa, as they continue to burn you down, spill our blood in your soil that flows into your rivers and seas, we no longer cry or fear like we used to. We are mourning with you, our beloved home – our beloved South Africa.

Our war isn’t about soldiers carrying guns, preparing to meet the enemy on level playing fields. It has come to find us by the colour of our skin; it seeks out our mothers, fathers, children and babies. It seeks to destroy all that is Godly and all that we call home.

So, while the enemy fights to push you closer to the end; in the soil of your lands, in the heart of our country, we will draw the line. We will hold up our heads, all the way from our farmlands to our towns.

We’ve had to rough it out once or twice before and while we are faced with the darkest of days, we are going to tough it out once more for you, our sacred home. From our cornfields to our cattle; from our sunflowers to our wheat, we will once again rejoice in our home-country pride.

We could never be run out; for our souls wander and roam these lands. This is where our freedom lies; this is where we fall to our knees and look up to the sky. This is where we find our grace. This is where we find our strength. This is where we get up, stronger and braver than before.

From every mountainside and every ocean shore; from the bush to our forests, we will bow our heads once more, fold our hands and close our eyes. Our mountains and our hills; our valleys and our wilderness, our forests and our deserts, our coastlines and grasslands leave us breathless as it reminds us of what we are struggling for. The best of the entire world is under your sun, and it is what our fathers gave their lives for.

We have faced ferocious thunder storms and intense rains, but nothing has prepared us for the wickedness of your enemy, our enemy. In the cowardly faces of your rivals we see the malice in their eyes; we feel the hatred as our African skies turn to darkness. We suffer the shadows in their souls as their hunger for blood and destruction grows stronger. Yet, they have already lost to us; we aren’t able to surrender. We have never been taught how to admit defeat as we linger on our knees and cast our eyes upon the heavens of God and of country.

For, with every beat of our hearts, our love for you grows stronger, and with every beat of the enemy’s heart, their hatred intensifies, yet, weakens them.

The opponent we face from our knees; a battle we can never lose; a combat that will again, set us free from those who have become our attackers; those who lead armies against your men and those who are blindly led into robbing us of our freedom, our lands and our lives.

As courage continues to grow and trickle inside of us, we extend to you, our country, our love and our loyalty, our hearts and our souls; the inferno in our breaths as it fills the air with thunder and lightning so that we can lay down the flag the enemy uses to cover the shame of destroying your people, in your name and as if it’s God’s will. We lift our arms to our home to cherish your history so that we can romance our heritage once again.

For the call to warfare is something the world would never hear us say, instead, we hear the call from our hearts.”

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