IN my case, I think the part I struggle to relate is the paradox of my upbringing. Although I am/was a “colonialist”, my mind was also deeply colonised, which is to say that everyone in the developing world looked to those in the developed world as our superiors. I guess I can relate to what Marechera (the Zimbabwean writer) says about “a savage who goes abroad” suffering a lot of cerebral shocks. Actually in this sense I was/am also a “savage”. looking up to my superiors and expecting much, much more from them than I eventually got.
Actually I am not so much into criticising Australia or anywhere for that matter, so much as the pretension of people to be beyond colonialism (hence we get the faux-leftism with its posturing of extreme impotence in relation to helping out those close to them — those far afield being deserving of our sympathy first, and unless all of these unknowns feel safe and secure in their identities first, we cannot begin to lift a finger or express ourselves in a mode of action.) They also do adopt a mode of superiority — not so much “father knows best” but “mother knows best” and that it is best to tear something down rather than to build it up.
These were MY cerebral shocks, which is why I consider the majority of folk within contemporary culture to be unconscious or unwitting trolls. It really is too much. My mind was extremely colonised by them, right from the beginning, in a more or less preparatory sense before I left Zimbabwe, but all I have encountered, in all honesty, is big dicks. And I have encountered a few petty cunts.
On the plus side, each encounter has of course been a revelation and brought an epiphany. Each shattering of an illusion or exaggerated sense of reverence has returned me to myself. That process has been slow but firm. And here I am.
Once my mind was extremely colonised, but then the faux-leftists attacked me. Nowadays I welcome the trolls, since they have bought me overwhelming good. They always reveal to me where they are most spiritually limited, and thus they set me free from my mental chains.
A SAVAGE, EARNESTLY IN SEARCH OF CULTURE:
To be able to read and write is […] only the first downward step towards the first circle where black fires rage inconsumably. Candide’s experience of the world is the nearest we can get to the series of cerebral shocks which await the savage who is earnestly in search of culture. ‘There is nothing here but illusion, and one calamity after another.’ The experience is not unlike that of one organism living on and at the expense of another. (p 33, The Black Insider).