Wetikos Among Us

Not having grown up on occupied Turtle Island, and never having read “Columbus and Other Cannibals", I was struggling to come to grips with the context and meaning of the term wetiko, and it was being discussed in the Derrick Jensen forums recently. I felt unable to understand exactly what was meant by this word which was being used with such ease by the good radicals and activists I love to interact with online.

This evening the partner and I popped in at a local shopping square (not quite a mall- the same shops, but built around the parking lot, facing in to it) for the weekend’s groceries. Just recently, this square has been the scene of a couple of grisly incidents: about a month ago, a young woman was raped and murdered with a hammer almost within sight of pub-goers and sports-television addicts. The perpetrator was arrested by a security guard on duty at a townhouse complex. Then a few days ago a very small girl was in the process of being lured into a strange man’s car when her mother noticed her missing from the ghastly industrial ‘play area’ in the square, and caught the abduction before it was effected.

As we walked through the carpark, partner and I were going over these incidents, and I opined that, wherever high numbers of the civilized are packed together, as in this area of endless concrete and steel ‘security complexes’ and shopping centres, there you will always find these civilized humans tearing insanely at each others’ throats.

“Fucking wetikos” was what came out of my mouth next, much to my surprise. At that moment, I realized that I had found the context in which to understand the term in my own locality.

Wetikos are Black, White, Coloured and Indian – the race is unimportant. They live almost on top of each other, as this enables them to have access to what feeds them – the feelings, fears and life-force of other humans. And also, in more than a few cases, their very lives. Wetikos live on others’ pain and suffering. There they are, stalking the paved-over roads beneath the ‘security’ lights. Zombie life forms seeking the stink of terror to keep themselves alive. Cruising down the tarmac in their ludicrously over-powered vehicles, shopping for the tastiest morsels of human life force to be picked off the streets.

Of course, wetikos also consume non-human lives and life-forces. But their distinguishing mark is, it seems to me, a need for sustenance from others of their own species.

Cannibals, indeed.

But are wetikos confined to men abducting little girls or your neighbourhood rapist-murderer? Of course not. They’re just displaying the qualities they’ve absorbed from the over culture. There are wetikos in government, for sure – the power over other people which the title of President gives is a certain source of wetiko nourishment. The ANC Youth League is, it seems to me, composed entirely of wetikos. Rather dim ones, but there you are. The media is another wetiko gathering place. Emiseration really feeds them. Corporate boardrooms are a natural habitat for these creatures, of course, as are golf courses – and here you see them feeding at more of a remove, as they plan together how best to gather the resources of the world to cram into their rapacious maws.

I’m sure that Columbus was a wetiko. He has thousands of incarnations today, under various names: Chevron, Texaco, Monsanto, CocaCola, Pacific Lumber. And he’s returned to Europe and pitched up in Africa in a more monstrous form. Human slavery, starvation, war and misery continues to vitalize him. Will we stop him?

Image: found at Eskimo.com