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Harsh reality of farm murder in rural South Africa. True story told by survivor of another atrocity.

August 17, 2019


Words alone can not describe the brutality of farm attacks and farm murders happening in rural South Africa.



South Africa – True story, told by a survivor and a victim in his own words, He was raped, his daughters and wife also raped and killed. The reporters were warned that they will be arrested for obstruction of justice and charged with racism if they published anything about the case, before any arrests are made. Why? The criminals are still at large. 


These Atrocities Will NOT STOP Until They Are Made To STOP

*WARNING - Explicit content of private nature - This article is not suitable for the sensitive individual*


Rape of Afrikaner farmer, rape and murder of his wife and daughter.

(* The victim in this story has asked me to tell his story to the world. Some of the details and NAMES have been changed as he fears that his attackers may return, since no arrests have been made as at August, 17th, 2019. I have nevertheless tried to stay as close to real events as possible…)

REPLY BY VICTIM.

“This farm has been in my family for generations. My grandfather loved to tell stories about his grandfather and how he has bought the land piece by piece with the cattle he raised here. He was an excellent farmer and businessman and the nearby towns have come to depend on the products of his ingenious, but hard labor.

It is with this thought in mind that I look at my family in the typical farm kitchen with its huge yellow wood table that could probably tell as many stories, if it could speak. Yet sadness settles in my heart.


Sunday afternoons have become my most challenging moments since the farm attacks countrywide.

For their own safety, my wife and kids stay in town with my mother during the week and every Sunday afternoon we gather in the kitchen to prepare food for the week for me and my foreman, who stays with me on week days.


“I watch my beautiful little eight year old as she painstakingly lines my wife’s Tupperware with wax paper and I am amazed by the look of concentration on her face. Her blond hair and blue eyes resembles her mother as a child and I cannot help to smile at her when she noticed my staring at her and blew a kiss at me.


My little six year old boy is helping his mother kneading the dough for bread and I smile at the look of determination on his face. He will make a fine young man one day. His mother’s influence will see to that. My wife looks up at me where I am repairing the dishwasher and my heart warms at the love in her smiling eyes and I cannot help to quietly thank God for blessing me so abundantly… I cannot let this moment go by without reward and start to push myself up from my knees…


O GOD RUN, RUN QUICKLY.

“Suddenly I am aware of movement in the open doorway behind me and a sharp pain engulfs me as I stagger numbly forward. My little girl screams “Daddieeee” and my wife echoes “Oh God no. Run, ruuun, quickly” and I see her herding our two children out of the kitchen, a look of total bewilderment on their faces as they look back at me….

I can hear the excited instructions in Xhosa behind me and realize that we are under attack when another sharp pain shoots through my body. I involuntary grab at the object penetrating my lower back and try to turn around to fend them off, holding my other arm protectively over my head.


THE FARMER IS ATTACKED BY FOUR MEN WITH MACHETES, KNIVES, A PICK AXE-HANDLE… FRANTICALLY SLASHING HIS FLESH, INCLUDING HIS TENDONS.


There are four of them in the doorway. They are all strangers to me, except for the one standing the furthest from me. I look at him and want to ask why, but I am struck across my left shoulder with a machete.


THEY BREAK DOWN THE DOORS LOOKING FOR MY FAMILY.


I feel the blade ripping into my flesh and my arms go completely numb. Swiftly they surround me and strike at me with knives, a pick handle and a machete, wherever they can get to me.

Suddenly I find myself in a haze stretched out on the floor and just as quickly as the attack started, it stops. Two of them drag me by my feet through the kitchen into the family room and I can hear the others breaking down doors, looking for my family.


TWO BLACKS URINATE ON THE HELPLESS, INJURED FARMER – LAUGHING.

My wife and daughter’s screams cut through the air as I feel a burning sensation traveling up and down my body and through the blood on my face I can see two of my attackers urinating on me laughing.


One of them steps on my face and continues towards the other two holding my wife and daughter. They repeatedly ask where our weapons and money is kept. I try to answer, but there is too much blood in my throat and my wife tries to explain to them that everything is kept in a safe in town.


THEY RIP MY WIFE’S AND LITTLE GIRL’S CLOTHES OFF.


My little girl keeps on screaming “Daddy, daddy” and one of them hits her with the pick handle. My wife’s pleading, “No please don’t, she’s just a baby,” is ignored and start ripping her clothes off while the one standing over me starts tearing at my pants.


THE FARMER IS RAPED, FORCED TO WATCH THE GANG-RAPE OF HIS WIFE.

I kick at him and he grabs hold of both my legs and stabs me in my upper legs. Then the unthinkable happens. I am turned on my stomach and my head forcibly turned so that I can see what they are doing to my wife.


MY WIFE IS TIED UP AND REPEATEDLY, BRUTALLY, RAPED.


She is tied up next to my little girl’s limp little body and draped over our favorite couch, her legs drawn wide open…

A feeling of total despair and animosity overwhelms me as they force me to witness the raping of my wife.


“I feel something penetrate my anus and can feel the weight of the man on top of me, but nothing could prepare me for the barbaric and satanic way my wife is beaten and raped repeatedly.


I close my eyes and a deep shame washes over me and I start to vomit uncontrollably… I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I am aware of is that the house was totally dark and strangely quiet…


I try to see how my wife and child are doing but it is too dark. “I have to get to them,” I’m thinking and try to get up, but I keep on slipping in my own blood…. I try to crawl, but my legs won’t move and I lose consciousness again…


Suddenly I am awake again and can hear the familiar sound of my foreman’s voice. He was arguing with the police. I am turned on my back and two paramedics are tending to my wounds. I try to lift my head and inquire about my family’s well being, but am told to remain still.


“You have lost a lot of blood Mr. Cilliers. It is a miracle that you are still alive.” I try to speak again, but my tongue is swollen badly and I weakly submit to their instructions.


BODY-BAGS ZIPPED UP.


The sounds of zips closing make my body jerk and the significance of these sounds gives me enough strength to sit up and I hear myself calling out, “Wait, wait.”

My foreman rushes over and puts his arms around my shoulders and only manages an uncontrollable “Shh, shh, shh. We’ll get them Jan, we’ll get the bastards.” I look at him in total shock as he eases me back and tears burn down my cheeks as he disappears through the crowded living area.


A BLACK SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE CAPTAIN, THE SMELL OF ALCOHOL ON HIS BREATH, SAYS: “YOUR WIFE AND 'GELL' IS DEAD… WHERE IS YOUR BOY?" (spelling mistake intended)



— A police captain crouches next to me and I can smell the sour fragrance of alcohol on his breath and his brash words cut like a razor through me; “Your wife and gell is dead sa, where is your boy?”

— I look at him in amazement and shock and for a brief moment every fiber in me wants to squeeze the life out of his emotionless black face, but I feel myself slipping away into darkness and his voice echoes something in Xhosa…


MY LITTLE BOY SURVIVED.


I wake up again and immediately realize that I am in a hospital. With a start I notice my little boy’s face staring at me. I see the look of resentment in his eyes and a deep sadness settles in my heart.

I look up at his grandmother next to him and lose control of my emotions.

She quietly escorts my boy outside and I surrender to the deep sorrow inside of me. “You cry as much as you like now, my boy, because tomorrow that little boy is going to need his daddy back,” my mother says as she gently cups my cheek.

“Mom it was terrible, they raped my girls and slaughtered them like sheep and laughed while doing it,” I responded and her body shook uncontrollably as she held me to her bosom…


THEY CUT MY TENDONS SO I CANNOT GET UP AND HUNT DOWN THE MURDERING BASTARDS… FOR A WHILE.


A week later, I was sitting in a wheelchair in my mother’s garden explaining to my little boy that my tendons were cut and I would not be able to get up to hunt down the murdering bastards for a while, when the same police captain arrived.


“We cannot find them Mr. Cilliers. People say they have gone to the land. We cannot go there,” is all he could say, followed by an uncomfortable silence.


I try to search his eyes for the truth, but he won’t look at me directly and turns his back on me and walks away, leaving us with emptiness that will haunt us for the rest of our lives…


(As reported by Willem C Rossouw).

SOUTH AFRICAN POLICE SERVICE (SAPS) DID NOT COLLECT ANY EVIDENCE… THE POLICE REFUSED TO INCLUDE THE ONE ATTACKER HE HAD RECOGNIZED, IN THE DOCKET…


(According to said victim, the police didn’t collect any evidence to enable a search for the perpetrators. When he named the one person he recognized, the police captain refused to include it in the docket that was opened.


REPORTERS TOLD TWO MURDERS NOT ADDED TO ANY STATISTICS YET – ‘SINCE MURDER HAS NOT BEEN PROVEN YET’…


When reporters approached the police for a comment about the frequency of such attacks, they simply responded by saying this attack, like many other unsolved cases cannot be added to any statistics since murder has not been proven yet.


The reporters were warned that they will be arrested for obstruction of justice and charged with “racism” if they published anything about the case, before any arrests are made.

Source - Eddy von Maltitz reporting on the incident. South Africa Today.


Published for interest and information by Break The Silence About South Africa.


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