A Fact Made Crystal Clear

I have seldom doubted my perceptions concerning my status as a targeted individual. It remains clear to me that at a point in the past, around the early nineties, a process was set in motion that resulted in me being a victim of cause stalking, that has lasted till today. Some very powerful international players  felt threatened by my individual potentials and wanted me out of the way before it was too late. It was clear to me, from the get go, the very first time what I over time have come to consider "an unfortunate affliction I have to live with" began, that I was not delusional, imagining things, mistaking the symptoms of disease.

The signs that it was happening were that unmistakable. No sane person could have missed the anomalies. Few would have reacted like I did.

Ultimately, my stalkers became too keen to have me know they were on my case. Their confirmation of my target status, however, need not have been made for the fact to sink in. In fact, looking back at these instances when some intimate truths about my life were revealed to me by total strangers I passed on the streets, they were prompted by the fact I showed awareness of the attacks. In truth, it was taken for granted I would be down, and out, by a point in time. This, I reasoned, was how it usually went when others were
targeted.

I realize now it must have come as a shock to my assailants that I was warned and had survived as long. Their reaction, this decision to make sure I knew it was indeed so, is in fact the next logical step followed in such cases. There arose a need to change gear in order to succeed, in this case to rub the target status in, to make my desolation visible to me, if by this I could be made desperate. I use the word desolate carefully because, when the truth began to be spoken on the streets by stalkers, when, for example, I was told how
much I had been tortured the night before as I lay in bed, and it was a fact I had consciously undergone electronic torture for hours on end, when I was told about poisons, things I was doing privately, etc., I had become very desolate already. There was no way things could have stayed the same considering the "man on the run" status and state.

I was a step ahead of my assailants, that's for sure, but not far ahead enough to be a free man.

As I have mentioned before in my articles, I was quite aware from the very start why they had selected me, but not what they were using against me, be it biological, chemical, electronic, or all of the above. Looking back now, I realize it was all of the above. I also know that I was seriously affected physically. I could have died had I not taken to living like a fugitive, or abnormally, which included taking food with me, etc. Fearing for my life, I moved around enough, in some kind of frenzy, afraid to stay too long in one
place, and somehow evaded the worst.

As I studied the game, I became wiser and, come the internet age, became aware of others out there, the means employed to eliminate, and so on. I knew a lot gradually, and realized that, if I kept a level head, I would be able to sell my story. So much had happened to me, such things I saw that, even if there were no people to vouch for me, I would be believed if I only opened my mouth. If my mentality was intact and I told it as I had seen it, it would be too much for a lie. Keeping a level head was vital. I could not afford to become incoherent as this would unfortunately be a marker of insanity. The main marker of madness is indeed the inability to be pertinent and coherent.

I realized, however, that there were those things that would be difficult to sell as truth. For example, proving to people being bombarded with negative information about foreigners, that it did not matter where I lived, was hard. Many of them would be prone to think I had been rejected by the community I had migrated into and would be free from torture if I went away. There were also those things that I could sell to some cultures, not others. For example, convincing people who lived in Africa that I had not done anything worthy of the torment I had been put through in the West would be hard if they had never heard of such cases, or had poor imagination. They would remain of the belief I had done something wrong, very wrong, and a decision was made to destroy my life. They would see me as somebody hiding something from them, somebody they had to avoid. I would get isolated, and vulnerable, just as my attackers wanted me to be. What I had done wrong could not be conceived of as threatening to imperialism, but something criminal. Imperialism, many would argue, was a thing of the past.

Finally, I moved to Africa where, at least theoretically, nobody has reason to attack me covertly. I have never lived as an adult in Africa. Writers are quite often attacked in this manner. As a writer in the West, I have written many an article on African national politics, but, being a Pan-Africanist, beyond the provincial mentally, the bulk of what I wrote about concerned socioeconomic matters. I have seldom
found worthy the writing of articles concerning individuals and political parties in Africa, with the capacity to launch reprisal attacks if they felt slighted or threatened. In fact, the few people I wrote about, or mentioned, such as Taylor of Liberia or Chiluba of Zambia, are either no longer in power, imprisoned or dead. Zambia, or Africa, really has no reason to launch attacks on me ... no reason! Africa has no reason to fear me, nor hate me with the kind of venom I see in some people here in Zambia. Attacks are not supposed to be happening in Africa, not COINTELPRO style to the last line. Yet they are. Unfortunately, people exist who have just to be promised payments in treats and trinkets and they will do anything. Africans involving themselves in my elimination are being used like idiots.

The historicity of the place.

Here in Africa, a place where no cults exist that would make covert warfare a way they punish those who cross them or eliminate threats, the very same things that were happening in the west are happening,
with more intensity than before. I have actually read it before with other targets who moved from the west to their land of origin, or whistle-blowers who run to hide in these third world climes. It continues if it is not connected to where you lived. I have heard of satellite attacks before, but was skeptical concerning the verity of such reports. Now I am sure that they happen. I know that Star Wars did not die with Reagan. The attacks I am having in Africa are not only terrestrial, but appear to come from space as well, satellite
launched. There are those moments when, living on a farm, I have not found any area in the surrounding where attacks could be launched from, The trajectory (direction the attack is coming from judging by the entry and exit point of the beam on the body) is from the top down, very different from night attacks when there is a lot of cover for stalkers.

A lot has happened to me since I came back to Africa, the detailed telling of which I reserve for another book. Cutting to the here and now, a taster of the blatant reality revelations, cold nights in my home are pure hot hell in my bed. Should I suddenly happen to sleep somewhere else, then I will experience the chill others are going through. It comes as a shock to me sometimes how cold a bed can be these wintry nights, but then I should not be surprised. Being alone is how such attacks thrive. Trajectories indicate malicious human
action with intent to cause a condition (heart attack, stroke, blindness, odors, etc,). Definitely not the behavior of disease and the like.

Same old. It is very clear from the manner I have been followed that it had nothing to do with my being in the west. Obvious anomalies, and it is still impossible for me to doubt my perceptions.