Once in 2015, my mother and I were leaving Troutbeck, which is in the Eastern Highlands in Zimbabwe and going to collect my daughter from boarding school in Marondera. The car license had just expired and there was a police roadblock at the T-junction just outside Nyanga. I asked my mother to stop the car just before the junction so that I could run across the road and make sure with the police that there was a grace period to get a new license, so that if we were stopped along the way by other police, we wouldn’t get a fine.
So one of the policemen came across with me to look at the license disk on the windscreen, then without saying a word, opened his book and started writing out a fine on the pink sheet. So I jumped in the car and told my mother to drive. And they all shouted, ‘Hey iwe!!’
We turned right instead of left and drove into Nyanga to the post office to get a new license. Everyone was in a buzz with our story and rushed around issuing the new license disk which took about 10 minutes. I asked if there was a back road to get to Marondera but there wasn’t. On the way out of Nyanga towards the police block, I told my mum, ‘we’re going to jail’ and prayed for God to send His Holy Angels ahead of us to make every crooked path straight. And there was only one policemen standing there who didn’t even notice us. The rest had vanished.
The next day driving into Nyanga, a policemen who was there the day before, pulled us over at the same T-junction and said that he’ll ignore what happened the day before but that I need to pay a US$10 fine for one of the worn tyres. I chirped him and he said ‘you speak with authority, what is your name?’ So I told him. He then told me he had a box of wine in the bush and would I like to have a drink with him. I just paid the fine.
That’s who I am. And since you have assaulted my character by dosing me with Prednisolone first. And then Olanzapine. Your perfect recipe. And then even dare to stigmatise me – I’ll keep stomping until someone recognises me.
When I got £50 stolen from me playing a deceptive game on the Queen’s walk near the London Eye on Christmas Day 2018 and came across them again another day on the Westminster bridge. I stomped in a straight line across the bridge, over all their mats to mess up their game and scatter them. So the leader shouted at me in his foreign language and I shouted back at him in my foreign tongue, and ended it with ‘Taka!!’
Then yesterday when the lady from mental health at the Abbeyview surgery calls me to ask if I would like to come in for a physical check – to weigh me, measure me, take my blood, ask me stupid questions about precisely how much I drink and smoke – And I ask her ‘why would I want to do that?’ And her answer is ‘Well some people think it’s fun’. Then surely I’m allowed to think, ‘Oh fuck don’t insult me!’
And to the doctor I met briefly at St Ann’s hospital with the surname, Smith, ‘Pasop!’ You do not have the authority to label me, you fool! And to your colleague who didn’t want to hear my story in July 2018 when I said, ‘If you just hear my story, you’d understand.’ And he replied, ‘Do you really think we have time to listen to everyone stories?’ Threatening me that he had the power to keep me locked up at St Anne’s hospital. For what crime may I ask?! I say, ‘You are filth to the core!’ And I have labelled you – psychopath. I can sense your type instinctively and hate your eyes.
This is my makeup, given to me by God for His purpose and Glory alone. So I warn you to stay out of my Father’s business. And for what I went through in those 40 weeks, Yeshua says He will split you. You brood of vipers!
I had a vision early this morning while sleeping, 30 March. I had left my car on the side of the road. It looked like the white conquest that I had driven in Mafikeng. I walked up a few rocky steps, just ordinary type terrain with a bit of green bush on the right. I was telling someone something interesting about a young couple ( I couldn’t remember what it was when I woke). As I got up the steps and turned right, I suddenly thought I shouldn’t be on foot, I need to get in my car and then looked straight ahead and I physically actually entered into my dream. It was so alive. Like a virtual reality game that feels so real. It was exhilarating.
I was on top of a mountain range and in front of me were light brown, huge rocks with smooth surfaces. It looked like a short bridge but I guess it was the actual ridge which was flat. And on the other side a medium sized, brown wolf appeared from behind a rock. He looked at me and I could instantly tell that he knew me and that I had surprised him but he was also slightly amused that I was standing there. And then I recognised him. Not by sight but sense. I was so excited that I finally found him and charged towards him with great determination to destroy him.
There was no time for fear and I knew I had the most powerful weapon. My right arm was straight down by my side and in my hand was a sword. And then it stopped as if I was just there for an introduction. And then I saw transparent grey shapes streaming down. Like at the start of matrix with the codes but this was shapes, like rectangles and some odd shapes, like in Tetris. It’s difficult to explain but if I saw it I would recognise what I saw. At one stage there was a squiggly line of turquoise blue dye.
The words God gave me were – besides dye because I thought ink – Serbia. Coding. Blueprint.
And Yeshua says,
‘You can’t make her’.