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					                                The Herero Genocide

                                      Classification
                               What makes us Different?
               You and I both have hands, a face, and a body to match it.
                          You and I can walk, talk, run, and sit.
               You Germans say you are better than us Herero, how so?
                      I never once saw myself as better or superior
                          because you and I are both the same.
                 You have this idea in your head that we are different.
                             Perhaps you Germans are right.
                    I see inside of you hate, disgust, and ignorance.
       All of a sudden I'm put into a category where I'm not treated as an equal.
                 It must be my skin color because you don't know me.
                                I am peace, you are war.
                             That's what makes us different.


                                    Symbolization
 As a Herero, I was forced to wear a metal disc around my neck along with my family
                         with a number that they name me by.
Germans put my family and me into crammed areas with the Okahandja tribe all around
                                           me.
                              Being put to work all day,
                                 With little food to eat,
                Watching our cattle being taken away by the Germans,
                         Could anything worse happen to me?


                                   Dehumanization
                                     I am human.
           This I know. Why is it that I am always compared to a creature?
                    Words are thrown at me like sticks and stones.
                       You are a baboon and filthy wild savage.
            I envy the German's horses so badly, munching on tasty food.
            Watching them only makes me drool and yell out loud moans.
             These men think we are worthless and not capable of living.
             Therefore, we shall die, but I refuse. I will die a free Herero
                     instead of living as a prisoner, I am human.
                                    Organization
As a German I believe if this land has any chance of becoming worthy then the Herero
                                can no longer live here.
     We will put them into labor camps and separate them from their loved ones.
          By the end of the day they will have no hope, only pain and fear.
           They will work in labor camps and be useful for exploitation.
The Herero need to realize that they are not needed in this world, they should be put in
                                        prisons.
                 Men, women, and children, it doesn't matter to me.
                                  They will all work.



                                      Preparation
                   German these savages are taking too much room.
        There is no longer going to be a Herero in this new and improved land.
Now that all the men, women, and children are all gathered up I will only leave them off
                                     with a boom.
                       Boom! Their homes will be burned down.
I have plans for each and every single one of them, I have it all planned soon this place
                                     will be grand!
 They have no chance of survival. I will send out 15,000 of my troops to finish the job.
 The Herero can try and escape, but in the end it doesn’t matter the Herero will have no
                                      where to go.
                     Watch as they suffer, scream, plead, and sob.
                    This land will become something, it will grow.


                                     Extermination
                                         Shackles.
As I watch my Herero family die slowly due to overworking and malnutrition, I think to
                            myself who are these white men?
       They hand out numbers one by one and meticulously record every death.
                  To my left, right, up, down, all I see is barbed wire.
     Uncooked rice, salt, and water is my daily allowance, a privilege, if you will.
 A woman falls, the German men beat her until all of her skin is a bright shade of red.
   Disease, rape, and lack of hygiene are just some of the ways they ended up dead.
          Woman are sex slaves, men work until they sweat blood and tears.
     I watch as the place I used to call home burns, I can see myself standing still.
                               We are all skin and bones.
                             Whipping, stabbing, shooting.
                               Repeat after me: I am free.
Denial
Death of thousands of Herero thrown at my face, as a German I dodge every one of those
despicable things.
Everyone expects an apology, so what if my people took some lives away?
Nothing happened, no such thing as genocide.
Its all in the past, don't worry about it.
All is okay, trust me.
Lunatics you are all, No lives were taken away.

				
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posted:11/1/2011
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