Why Jizzie Doesn't Smile Anymore.......

Day 268, 01:48 • Published in South Africa South Africa • by Deus Ex
My friends (and enemies....), what you are about to read is the very true and tragic story of one of our fellow countrymen who was stranded behind enemy lines following our recent war. I want to make it apparent that there is no racism, sexism, classism, ageism, or any discrimination contained within. These are true events related to me by a distraught man who is lucky to be alive after the evil Japanese armies captured him. So please show some respect.

-Deus Ex

Many of our comrades remain trapped behind Indonesian (slang for Japanese?) battle lines after the tragic war, which ripped our beloved country apart. Some of us have managed to escape and retell the horrors of living in Japanese captivity. This is the tragic story of one such man, Jizzie McGuire, who bravely survived months at the hands of his Japanese captors.....

In happier times, Jizzie recalls, he had a good life. Despite the rampant unemployment and skyrocketing inflation in South Africa at the time (and which still persists to this day), Jizzie had a job building houses. The pay, of course, was very low and left him completely destitute, but that was only a precursor to the horrors that would follow.

When the African-Japanese war began anew, Jizzie bravely sharpened his sticks, like many of our courageous countrymen, and trekked to the front lines. He fought in some small skirmishes with the invading Japs, but always lost once it became apparent that they had REAL weapons. It was only a matter of a few days before they captured him and he became a permanent POW in his own land. The terror of the Bamboo Cage awaited him...

"it wasn't so bad at first..." he recalled, his hands trembling and his sad, lonely, strangely enlarged eyes on the verge of tears. "They shoved me in a tiny bamboo cage. It was kind of relaxing. I could sleep, not have to worry about much, listen to the Japanese talk amongst themselves in their visceral, tongue clicking language, very relaxing. But then that first day of work came and it all went down hill very quickly."

At exactly 4am the following day, Jizzie was rudely awakened from his pained slumber by dozens of sharp jabs. The Japs had taken a cue from him and learned to sharpen their bamboo sticks. They jabbed him fervently in the ribs, stomach, and buttocks shouting, "Wake up Joe! Wake Up!". This torture continued for several minutes and was joined by a concerto of relentless tongue clicks and pops that rose into an all-encompassing noise that drowned out the world around him. Not unlike a beehive at full volume. One can imagine...

"I couldn't hear myself think. I was crying and screaming like a terrified schoolgirl for the entire ordeal. I wanted my kittens!"

After clawing his way out of his tiny bamboo prison Jizzie worked, every day, a grueling 18 and a half hours in the Kimberley Rice Paddy Concern and Distribution Center. All the while the evil Japanese overseers shouted, "You work Joe! Work Fast!" as he slaved away planting, harvesting, and cooking rice for his tormenters.

At the end of his grueling shift Jizzie would return to his prison cell for another round of poking and prodding, followed by a meal of raw fish guts and chicken gizzards. The constant shouting of "You Eat Joe! Eat! Eat Now!" still rings in his pumpkin-shaped head.

"It was awful food." he whispers, his coke bottle glasses thrown astray, his face in his hands. "But at least they had food. Not like Starving South Africa..."

This harsh treatment continued for several months and was continuously made worse. He was randomly violated and humiliated by bored Japanese troops who popped and whistled at him all the while. "I still can't look at tentacles the same way." he bawled out, tears over flowing from his cupped hands. "And I can never walk past a bamboo stalk again. Never!"

Jizzie's mind and cultural beliefs were violated as well as his body. He was forced to convert to the Japanese national religion, Hentai, while being held. He was subjected to scores of crudely drawn comic books and short films. He still cannot erase the images his innocent and eager mind.

After suffering for so long, Jizzie's friends who had avoided captivity in South Africa were miraculously able to scrape together enough cash for a moving ticket. Jizzie snuck out in the middle of the night and boarded the first donkey cart headed for South Africa, heading to Mmabatho.

"I learned how to cook rice and seaweed from the Japs." he explained later after regaining his composure. "The people at Bong Belly gave me a job because I was so skilled. Now I can make food and live in my home country again....without all the clicks and grunts...and being poked by sharp sticks..."

The PTSD he's suffered from his experiences as a POW gets the best of Jizzie sometimes. He is still not a well person. He is prone to fits of British, randomly spewing out meaningless phrases such as "'aving plates of meat shoved up 'is Jack and Danny was not 'is Rose Lee, mind you! If 'e could, Jizzie would 'ave their guts for garters, 'e would!" when asked about his experiences. He often accentuates his normal speech with cheers of "Pip Pip!" and "Jolly Good Show, old bean." He plays Cricket frequently in his off time, despite not having a team, the required equipment, or apparently even knowing the basic rules of the "sport." he also refers to himself in the third person often.

But despite all of this, Jizzie is glad to be back in his home country of South Africa. "I can help rebuild it." he says. "And I finally have my kittens back. My precious, precious kittens."

And isn't that what we're all looking for in life? Just a few kittens?

So, the next time you see Jizzie or any other South African who's returned from the occupied territories, show a little respect. They've been through a lot for their country and you owe them a chance at rebuilding South Africa, which has been torn about by irresponsible government and war. And for God's sake, don't you dare touch their kittens!