Jim Jones and the Guyana Massacre 1978.
Don't know what happened to this post, so I am re-posting again.
The documentary was on SABC from 10-12pm. I went to bed immediately when it after. During the night I dreamt of the building where the women prepared food and children playing and immediately I heard a voice saying “we had to work’ and I felt like I was in that building. I saw the roof of our house change to look like the building in Guyana. The inside of our house has no ceiling it has wooden roof trusses and theirs was made of steel trusses. I felt it change and it looked like theirs and then the voice continued “before 2pm we were all dead.”
The dream reminded me of the situation that I’m in at the moment. I feel so trapped because I work from home because of harassment. I cannot go anywhere, most of the time I don’t even have money and there’s no one to help me and my daughter. I keep thinking hoping that something will come up or someone will come rescue us but I’m practical I know that will never happen I have to help myself. So I do house chores as well, while waiting for clients to call to keep busy. I keep hoping things will fall into place and the nightmare will be over.
Everybody, actors pretend to be us, writers write stories and book about us, producers make movies and shows about us, designers name their products after us (Flora?), musicians sing about us, advertising agencies make adverts about my life (past and present) and politicians name their campaigns after us and nobody wants to help. Everything we do appear and say appears on national TV in soapies and adverts. Everybody takes advantage of us. We are helpless, an innocent black woman and child from Africa nobody has ever heard of before, because of our names and the strong connection our names signify. So they stalk and abuse us for monetary gain, because they can and there’s nothing we can do about it.
The women stalkers in SA swear and call us names. I suffer from lactose intolerance and because of this condition ‘I smell’ they scream out loud to anyone who cares to listen, for days on end and nobody says anything.
They scream and say I’m HIV positive ( I’m negative) have certificate to prove it, because I suffer from Spastic colon ever since this problem started (Specialist diagnoses) were it not for the JJoko tea that I drink I don’t know where I would be. Sometimes I forget it’s incurable; it makes any food and the condition tolerable.
Yes I went to the police but they refuse to help us, I have to find out who the stalkers are,
When I show them proof they tell me they are a government institution and cannot take another government institution like the SABC court. Yes I’ve written letters of complaint to the soapies but to no avail, not even one of them bothered to respond or send an acknowledgement letter but the stalking is still taking place for 6 years we’ve been living this nightmare but still nothing changes. I wrote to newspapers and they never bothered to come back to me or publish the story, but every weekend I read on the very same newspapers things that are directly related to what I was doing or reading during the week.
So I spoke to lawyers, Human Rights Commission, reporters and political organizations to no avail. So I have to be comforted by dreams and even this is amusing to them. It’s revolutionary and entertaining. They all cheer on and offer advice but nobody wants to leave us alone. Dan Brown made a lot of money from his novel the Da Vinci Code. Now they writing about me, Florence, a member of ZCC,whose mother is Catherine, and childhood friend Sophie. Now they also want to make money by using our lives as entertainment.
They've discovered new information, a revelation. Everything has to be recorded; they have to be the ones everybody hears this from. So I stopped doing everything, I stopped visiting friends because they’ll write about them, I stopped talking because everything I say gets recorded, I stopped voicing my opinion because its “revolutionary” I even stopped working because of the nightmare I have to endure on my way to and from work and because managers and staff started to compete with me. They wanted to be seen, they wanted to be harassed and sworn at, they want to be the ones people talk about 24/7. Even my visits to the loo are material for someone to sing about. Everybody wants to be a part of this new revelation, the all want a ride in my train, a ride to fame.
Now I wish Robert Brown would come in person and help us, like the Robert Brown who went to Guyana to see the followers of Jim Jones and got killed trying to rescue them, and the Robert Brown who worked with Albert Einstein on his project and all the Roberts and Browns who are still living, and who are blessed because of the actions of these men. May God continue to bless them?
As I drifted off to sleep I heard another voice saying George is in Florence and I understood what this meant, it reminded e of George Vassarri of Florence, Italy. And the Georgetown branch of Jim Jones’ Temple and who were tragically killed because they truly believed in Jim Jones.
Then I remembered a few weeks ago I had a call from a man called George Toba from Cope(political organization) who wanted me to join them, I agreed but didn’t. That night when I was sleeping I heard a voice saying to me. “You must join the revolutionaries and stop wasting your time with the nobodies?”
My prayers and thoughts go out to the innocent lives that were tragically killed in Guyana and their remaining families.
They are in a better place.
May their souls rest in peace.
Flora M. Shoko
The documentary was on SABC from 10-12pm. I went to bed immediately when it after. During the night I dreamt of the building where the women prepared food and children playing and immediately I heard a voice saying “we had to work’ and I felt like I was in that building. I saw the roof of our house change to look like the building in Guyana. The inside of our house has no ceiling it has wooden roof trusses and theirs was made of steel trusses. I felt it change and it looked like theirs and then the voice continued “before 2pm we were all dead.”
The dream reminded me of the situation that I’m in at the moment. I feel so trapped because I work from home because of harassment. I cannot go anywhere, most of the time I don’t even have money and there’s no one to help me and my daughter. I keep thinking hoping that something will come up or someone will come rescue us but I’m practical I know that will never happen I have to help myself. So I do house chores as well, while waiting for clients to call to keep busy. I keep hoping things will fall into place and the nightmare will be over.
Everybody, actors pretend to be us, writers write stories and book about us, producers make movies and shows about us, designers name their products after us (Flora?), musicians sing about us, advertising agencies make adverts about my life (past and present) and politicians name their campaigns after us and nobody wants to help. Everything we do appear and say appears on national TV in soapies and adverts. Everybody takes advantage of us. We are helpless, an innocent black woman and child from Africa nobody has ever heard of before, because of our names and the strong connection our names signify. So they stalk and abuse us for monetary gain, because they can and there’s nothing we can do about it.
The women stalkers in SA swear and call us names. I suffer from lactose intolerance and because of this condition ‘I smell’ they scream out loud to anyone who cares to listen, for days on end and nobody says anything.
They scream and say I’m HIV positive ( I’m negative) have certificate to prove it, because I suffer from Spastic colon ever since this problem started (Specialist diagnoses) were it not for the JJoko tea that I drink I don’t know where I would be. Sometimes I forget it’s incurable; it makes any food and the condition tolerable.
Yes I went to the police but they refuse to help us, I have to find out who the stalkers are,
When I show them proof they tell me they are a government institution and cannot take another government institution like the SABC court. Yes I’ve written letters of complaint to the soapies but to no avail, not even one of them bothered to respond or send an acknowledgement letter but the stalking is still taking place for 6 years we’ve been living this nightmare but still nothing changes. I wrote to newspapers and they never bothered to come back to me or publish the story, but every weekend I read on the very same newspapers things that are directly related to what I was doing or reading during the week.
So I spoke to lawyers, Human Rights Commission, reporters and political organizations to no avail. So I have to be comforted by dreams and even this is amusing to them. It’s revolutionary and entertaining. They all cheer on and offer advice but nobody wants to leave us alone. Dan Brown made a lot of money from his novel the Da Vinci Code. Now they writing about me, Florence, a member of ZCC,whose mother is Catherine, and childhood friend Sophie. Now they also want to make money by using our lives as entertainment.
They've discovered new information, a revelation. Everything has to be recorded; they have to be the ones everybody hears this from. So I stopped doing everything, I stopped visiting friends because they’ll write about them, I stopped talking because everything I say gets recorded, I stopped voicing my opinion because its “revolutionary” I even stopped working because of the nightmare I have to endure on my way to and from work and because managers and staff started to compete with me. They wanted to be seen, they wanted to be harassed and sworn at, they want to be the ones people talk about 24/7. Even my visits to the loo are material for someone to sing about. Everybody wants to be a part of this new revelation, the all want a ride in my train, a ride to fame.
Now I wish Robert Brown would come in person and help us, like the Robert Brown who went to Guyana to see the followers of Jim Jones and got killed trying to rescue them, and the Robert Brown who worked with Albert Einstein on his project and all the Roberts and Browns who are still living, and who are blessed because of the actions of these men. May God continue to bless them?
As I drifted off to sleep I heard another voice saying George is in Florence and I understood what this meant, it reminded e of George Vassarri of Florence, Italy. And the Georgetown branch of Jim Jones’ Temple and who were tragically killed because they truly believed in Jim Jones.
Then I remembered a few weeks ago I had a call from a man called George Toba from Cope(political organization) who wanted me to join them, I agreed but didn’t. That night when I was sleeping I heard a voice saying to me. “You must join the revolutionaries and stop wasting your time with the nobodies?”
My prayers and thoughts go out to the innocent lives that were tragically killed in Guyana and their remaining families.
They are in a better place.
May their souls rest in peace.
Flora M. Shoko
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