This is a question I am asked daily: Why am I flying in the face of the dominant narrative? I am a grandfather.
ay Naidoo has graced the BizNews community once again with another from-the-heart contribution, for me the best yet. From ancient times, orators were taught the difference between good and great work lay in how they applied Logos, Ethos and Pathos – reason; trust; emotion. Whether deliberate or not, these legs of an expert communicator’s stool have been applied below by the former trade unionist and ANC leader. Naidoo, now 68 and comfortable in the role of Elder Statesman, applies his mind to the obvious question: Why risk a reputation built over decades by engaging in the hotbed of agenda-driven Covid narratives? His answer is simple and quite brilliant. He’s a Grandpa. Read on. – Alec Hogg
I am a grandfather, and a watchdog
By Jay Naidoo*
The powerful piece below by Struggle Icon Jay Naidoo is not one I ever expected we’d be publishing. (…) Yet here he is, fighting one of the least popular of causes. Because, he says, it’s the right thing to do. (…) Given the wide and justified mistrust of Big Pharma and allegations of bureaucrat “capture”, Naidoo’s calls appear entirely rational — Alec Hogg
This is a question I am asked daily: Why am I flying in the face of the dominant narrative?
I am a grandfather. Three beautiful grandsons. After having three children which my wife raised pretty much on her own because I was so busy helping change the course of history. I grew up in a country which tore families, communities, friends and organisations apart based on one of the greatest injustices of humankind: that we were less than human because of the colour of our skin. They used propaganda, the media, the laws, the bible and even science to justify apartheid.
I play with my South African grandson today and he roams freely and happily in parts of the country I was forbidden to set foot on at his age. I look at the work we did, to free the shackles of tyranny, through my grandsons eyes, discovering nature anywhere he wants, playing with friends and family, not one of them the same color or shade, singing and dancing to French, English, Zulu, Sotho or Sanskrit songs. I let him trial and tumble, learn and experience, but I am also a hawk, a watchdog, being mindful of where he plays—some broken glass, a nail?—of what he watches on TV—violence?—of what he eats—processedugar?
My grandson just turned four, last week. It was his first birthday without masks and rules. The first lockdown happened on his first birthday. That was the day our lives changed. All of us.
What I see now, three years later, are families torn apart, including mine. I see brothers against brothers, children fighting each other and parents quarrelling. Communities divided. I see intolerance and hate spread across social media. The social fabric of humanity is unravelling. I see censorship, fear and coercion the dominant paradigm.
And most of all I see mounting data relating to those who are suffering vaccine injuries. In my own family. And all around me. Last week, someone was telling me of this seven-year-old boy, Rayn Cronjé, who collapsed and died, in Rustenburg. Heart attack. A few months ago, an 11-year-old boy suffered a heart attack at a primary school in Pretoria West. Then 12-year-old Rick Hendricks collapsed and died on the rugby field in Pretoria. And 19-year-old Helené Jansen Van Rensburg, and 18-year-old Jessica Matthews who collapsed and died. Same as 24-year-old Carla Steytler who died suddenly. I have read newspapers all my life and never have I seen so many cardiac arrests in children and youth.