You live in a country of about thirty million folks. It is an independent nation, or so the annual celebrations assert – that through the genius of a man you fondly call the savior-man, your dear country became independent on such and such date in the twentieth century. Every year the fondness of Independence Celebrations is not lost on you. Since childhood you have learned that there was no such country before the day of independence. The story often goes that the savior-man rescued your country in much the same way that the ancient religious figure Osiris (the God of transitions) saved his disciples from the gates of purgatory.
No doubt, the savior-man—whose name slips off every school lip—remains the uncontested father of your nation. Of course, not exactly. There is no way one man, except a God, could have led an independence struggle. Although some revere the savior-man as if he were God. But he, in fact, led some kind of a peaceful revolution against a fast declining kingdom, a kingdom of bloodsucking terrorists, who until your independence had run amok throughout your land, brandishing fire breathing sticks as they plundered the Earth.
So the story goes that your savior-man was manhandled and a few of your countrymen’s blood spilled in a peaceful political revolution against the primitive tribe of invaders who had occupied your lands and whose queen was rumored to be a space-shifting lizard. But not exactly, either.
Some of your countrymen are alleged to have freely submitted to the invaders’ colonial rule without a fight. The historians claim that these submitters did so to ward off forest kingdoms daily harassing their southern neighbors—for salt, sea food and such. Whatever. The invaders and their lizard queen gave some of these countrymen a good protection—baby names so strange that the forefathers and foremothers of these country folk of yours could barely any more be recognizable. Their history is lost to time and eternity. And no one in your country cares, so long as the tea they still have been admonished to drink (herbs rolled in simple paper bags and soaked in hot water) is imported!
Let’s return to the man who saved the nation from the invaders, for there is more rumor. Some claim that before he actually achieved the feat of national salvation, he received a copious education in the home of the same invaders. It was there at the invaders’ home country that he became aware of the pharisaism of the invaders’ doctrine. The invaders had claimed that their whole purpose in life was to save the world from barbarism and primitivism. Of course, that was a lie—patently. The invaders used that line everywhere they went and plundered.
However, your savior-man led a political coalition that eventually forced out the invaders after a major world war in which your countrymen, by force or admiration, assisted the invaders to defeat other invaders. Although again to this point the exact history is still debatable—the narrative of one savior-man overthrowing a hoard of savior-terrorists is difficult to ignore.
What is not debatable is that your savior-man invited the space-shifting lizard to attend the independence celebrations of your “hard-won” freedom. Which makes you wonder today how much this savior-man of your dear country understood the lessons of his people’s exploitation. Was he perchance infatuated with the buttocks of the lizard queen (she had none and still has not grown any) or was he naïve? At those first celebrations, the invaders’ queen sat as a guest and slithered, “How can I get back my colony?” She belonged to the highest terrible order of space-shifting humanoids from outer space, newly plundering the surface of the planet for gold and oil. They wore clunky trinkets around their ankles, necks and wrists and for what they could not wear, they drunk—a fascinating acute case of primitive consumption.
The issue of the lizard’s invitation has always absorbed you. You have wondered why the savior-man of your country extended an invitation to the very queen of your suffering, exploitation and enslavement. Well, here again there is rumor. Your country savior-man did not actually after all liberate your country from the invaders. He signed a deal with the Devil. This deal mandated your new country—whose borders were drawn by the lizard queen and the rest of her primitive bloodsucking cousins—to stay together with the lizard country in a certain Common Sorority in which the lizard queen remained the indefatigable, unquestionable head.
So this free country you now call your own actually has a space-shifting lizard queen as its head, unbeknownst to the vast masses of your dear country. The hypocritical nature of this attainment of freedom confounds your imagination. For you thought, how does one gain freedom without a fight? Without war? Without a test of the will for freedom? How does one gain true freedom for country by fighting for the very invaders—in two world wars—in return for your own independent nation?
Everywhere you look in your country, the mystery of the nature of your independence escapes even the astute mind. But you remember one Noble Queenmother of one famous forest kingdom who led her courageous people to fight the invaders tooth and nail until she herself even in defeat refused defeat. At least, she had dignity and she understood above all else that true freedom was gained through the pouring of blood. This part has only been well articulated in an anthem—that is yet to become the national anthem—by one of the greatest musicians of your country. You also remember Our Dear Mothers’ Army of the savanna, forged on the most exciting intellectual religious doctrine the world has ever known, who torched their own villages even in defeat, to refuse defeat, and to refuse submission to the lizard armies of the oceans and the sellouts across your terrain. At least, these Warrior Mothers knew the price of freedom. They fought and died with dignity.
Freedom, from every part of your ancient history has never been cheap nor has it been peaceful. Freedom has been won only through war, and red war. Well, that was the notion up until the fight for the independence of your new country. This much you know. So you wonder how no such war occurred in your country? The very nature of the political revolution (the peaceful protests in which a few intellectuals bloodied their noses) which led to your independence has become your curious endeavor. The sublime mystery of your independence is no longer lost on you when you hear that groups of disgruntled nuts who seek to secede from your country actually pen letters directly to the very lizard queen—the very despicable, bloodletting, bloodthirsty and blood-drinking humanoid of the highest terrible order who your countrymen once sought to overcome.
Every now and then you wonder how your countrymen went from the Noble Queenmothers of the forest and from the pulchritudinous legendary Warrior Mothers of the savanna—mothers who truly knew how to fight for freedom, to wrest freedom from the bloody jaws of the ugly space-shifting lizard queen—to the kind of men who have been selected by the invaders’ own school system and appointed by the invaders’ own organized elections, men who sit in awe of the flat buttocks of the allochthonous lizard queen that now acts, unchallenged, as the very head of the Common Sorority of Nations?
What is common? There is more to this befuddlement. Your independence savior-man, despite his shortcomings, even had a political opponent, a proud blonde-wig-wearing fellow countryman—whose tradition today staunchly basks after his lizard-loving self—who saw actual angels circumambulating this Common Sorority of Nations even more matter-of-factly than anyone could have ever imagined it. This blonde-wig-wearing countryman, without a memory of the Noble Queenmother, sought rather to have his blood curdled and sucked by the space-shifting lizard queen than live in a country led by your savior-man. The blonde-wig-wearing countryman perceived his rationale as a “rising upwards to meet the rest of the world in economic development.” All he meant by advocating to secede from the union—with which his own ancestors had forged economic, political, religious and ethnic bonds over centuries—was to use the very means of the new market for dust to forge a more palatable blood-drinking feast with the terrorist lizard queen.
To engage in this primitive accumulation, your blonde-wig-wearing countryman wanted neither the political bonds nor the ethnic ties hewn and perfected over centuries to survive. He wanted these relationships severed. For good. Such was the baselessness of the lizard-loving human who had been summarily indoctrinated in the highest terrible schools of the invaders. There is more to this backwardness. There is more underlying the very bloodthirstiness that most blonde-wig-wearing men who jump for secession from your country seek even today.
For instance, your leaders have been educated enough to admit that a stable currency need be tied to a special dust. Or so they claim. Although the same dust in the ground on which you daily walk and farm cannot be tied to the independent currency of your country. Your leaders have been bamboozled to accept that your country’s currency must only be tied to the allochtonous lizard currency, which is invariably tied to the special dust in your ground. For your leaders have accepted without thinking that the genocidal lizard currency is itself special and remains the only means by which your leaders can put your country folks to work.
A bit more expatiation on this instance is useful. Imagine that on the day of your independence celebration, your countrymen need to build a tiny roadway leading from your capital to the Noble Queenmother’s hometown. This is what you must do for her memory. First, you need to dig the special dust; second, sell it to the lizard queen for her lizard currency; and third, convert the lizard currency into your local human currency. Lastly, you can now hire the laborers to dig the road in your currency. Why—you ask? Without this process of giving the space-shifting lizard your special dust for free within the framework of her Common Sorority of Nations, no man in your country shall lift a finger. The enormity of this zig-zag independence is further compounded by the very need for the lizard and her offspring to feign helping the desperate and the very poor in your country—with aid, and loans, which only further cripples your country.
There is more to this mummery. Often your leaders are too lazy to dig the special dust themselves. Pot-bellied men are hard to put to work. They bring in foreign direct “investment” to dig it up for them by allowing the lizards who put your hardworking countrymen to work to take the better chunk of the special dust away. In fact the lizard queen encourages these leaders to undertake such projects. She accomplishes this tutelage of your leaders through the tailored systematic economic education in the terrible schools of her bloodthirsty empire. Of course, even the lizard queen knows well that this foreign direct investment is the code name for foreign direct bloodsucking of your country-blood. But few of your country folks know this, and hence the devastation continues.
Now, even the food you eat is under lizard attack for the land is needed to dig up more of the special dust. The river (the God) from which your ancestors have been sustained for millennia is needed for the lizards to dig up their special dust. And the food itself because it makes you human, must be swapped for what does not make you human any longer—the genetically modified poison (Frankenstein crops) you must now ingest. And when you fall ill, the herbs your forefathers used for medication are all, by and large, under lizard attack. The lizard queen and her offspring cannot have enough of them, so they patent every bit of your traditional medication and then call it by another name. In this atmosphere you are prohibited from growing your ancient herbs. When you are caught with them in your backyard, you go to jail and often for a long time. Your freedom in your country is measured at the bloodletting tables of the lizard queen and her subjects who daily plan what bloody meal they must have next.
Aha. The only way this cunning is achieved is by another name: globalization, or yet (neo) liberalism. Which simply means that every single man, queenmother and mother in your country must share in the same dreams and aspirations of the space-shifting lizard queen even as your country folks remain her sure victims. The common sorority has been further expanded beyond the suspicion of the majority of your countrymen! The lizard and her offspring have military bases everywhere in your country. For your protection, they claim. And your leaders sheepishly believe them. Why? So long as your leaders engage in fighting for the crumbs from the spoils of the plunder of your own countryside, so long as your leaders and their intellectual disciples engage in debates and disagreements about who in fact was the savior-man.
So the structure of your independence looks like this: Your country is independent but your country is actually just a branch of the lizard queen’s company, which she mapped in consultation with her terrorist cousins. Your leaders think they lead a sovereign nation but they do not; the lizard queen is still the head. Your leaders think they make their own decisions, but they actually receive instruction and direction from the lizard queen and her other atomic bomb-dropping genocidal offspring. You think you have a central bank, but that bank is actually a branch of the lizard queen’s coffers. You claim you own land, but you must pay taxes to your leaders who deposit these taxes in your central bank that is truly not yours. You claim you have the special dust, but it is not yours for your leaders give it freely to the lizard queen. You celebrate Independence Day but what you are really celebrating is the crumbs collection day.
Instead of seeing through this cunning of the bloodthirsty, bloodletting lizard queen, your leaders and your so-called intellectuals would rather engage on who was the real savior-man of your country. Not realizing that the savior died and the country is still yet strongly under the tyrannical grip of the lizard queen and her atomic bomb dropping genocidal offspring. Like the story of Osiris, the savior’s blood was poured not to automatically save you but to awaken in you the spirit of wanting to be free, to awaken in you the spirit of the Noble Queenmother and the courage of the Warrior Mothers. The followers of saviors must continually die for the cause, to be saved themselves; they must rise upwards to the grace of the freedom of their mission; they must don the armor of the savior and march daily into battle to free themselves from the tyranny of Satan herself, the bloodthirsty queen whose hold on your country continues, in one form or another, unbeknownst to the vast masses of your dear country.