To the Unknowing black child

[think-it-aint-illegal-yet]

Ngugi wa Thiong’o

[think-it-aint-illegal-yet]

Fratricide

Am I my brother’s keeper?

A question that shadowed my mind as I was drowning in a master piece that was the first English novel to be published by an East African. “Weep not, child”

Funny how as Africans, we tend to perpetuate more or less the same mentality towards our former colonials a.k.a. the European. Some of us, though we might not admit it, secretly see the European as our savior. The blessing that came for a far land and gave us a unity-religion, civilization, a new tongue and a brunette long haired Caucasian God to worship. We have accepted that our way of life was of a barbaric nature, a bunch or no good savages if you will, and it’s better to opt for a culture and a way of living that came fresh of the boat. We are fully and wholeheartedly devoted to the Europeans way of living and sink our heads deep in to the well of his ideologies, myths and wisdom. Yes…..yes….oh how horrible it would have been for us to remain swinging on trees with bones in our noses. Massa blessed us with sophistication, as a matter of fact, you wouldn’t dare dream of having the ability to comprehend the characters of the script and make sense of them had it been not for him. An absolute wonder! While the savior only walked on water, he put men on the moon.

And then there’s the yang side of us. Those of us who see the devil in his purest form when we lay our eyes on the European. We mimic his fake smiles back at him knowing very well that if it was a different time, under different circumstances, blood would spill. We force ourselves to co-exist with our fellow brother from another mother never forgetting and perhaps never forgiving what his people has done to our people. We place blame without a shame. When going gets tough, we rather pull a race card than pull a ligament, you know because we can. Proud. Have weighed conversations about a revolution that is to come, and boy has it be coming. We often shy away from the fact that there’s more to a revolt than a having a fist in the air, or that there’s more to progress than marches. Many a time we hide our adrenalized hatred for the European behind masks of Pan African-ism. “They stole our land and destroyed our dignity”

But have we for once stopped to think? To think of how really blessed we are to be beautiful melanated people of the sun. The ever so dearly loved children of the one true God, the God who knew us and loved us before we knew him, wait! This is not an alter call, this is a wake-up call really. We have taken what and who we are for granted for way too long. The European white Jew can say he is the chosen man, the western Indian can say he is the native man, the middle eastern Arab Muslim can say he is the blessed man, but none of those statements can ever diminish the truth awakening fact that the black African man is the ORIGINAL man. The prototype that God presented to himself when he thought of his image on this earth. You see the way I see it is quite simple and straight forward, the black man is God’s first born, whom he loved so much that he created brothers and sisters of different colours just to prove is power and love. The fact that we are so different should not be used to lord one over others, but should rather be a clear indication that our creator is a creative being.

Only God can annihilate us as a human reality, we don’t die, we multiply. True unity, true organisation and a single cause is all we need to lead this world. Yes we pain, yes we have a mammoth of anger within us, yes we have lost, yes we have been disenfranchised, abused, used and still fall short of fitting in a world system that was never meant for our benefit. But we are still here…..we are still here.

After reading “Weep not, child” I could not help but wonder why things change just to ultimately remain the same. Why we rather pray on one another pray for one another, why throughout the years there’s always been this haunting perpetuated fratricide among us. Whether is comes in the form of envy, insecurity or misdirected anger, it needs to stop.

Before you forget, think, it ain’t illegal yet!

[think-it-aint-illegal-yet]

To the unknowing black child

Freedom is a compelling notion!

“The stories of hunting will remain weak until the lion itself canspeak.”  ~ It could be you~

 I am afraid my dearest child, that the history of you or your people won’t always be revealed in written records. And though it is vastly found in artefacts, culture and the traditions of your people, it will never be given significant recognition. You will be taught to know less and less about your distant past than any other child, least he/she is not as melanin blessed as you are. Never will you be told of how your history is far more valuable than the gold your ancestors found, manipulated and moulded into all creatures that surrounded them or those that existed in the confides of their imaginations. How they emerged from life-ending and beyond tough conditions to become prosperous and sophisticated societies. Yes, I said SOPHISTICATED! Though they remotely knew nothing of the word, their lives was a common expression of it on a daily basis.

 Dromedaris, Reijer and Goede Hoop will be shoved down your intellectual throat to feed your mind subjective stories in a form of “History” according to your teachers. What seems like a lucky pit stop will be portrayed to you as the coming of the messiah. But I figure that for a son of a surgeon, selling African wild life to the Japanese was nothing more than a simple incision. My  dearest original one, please note that simply coming across something and then recording it on paper does not mean that you have discovered it. That thinking alone will paint you as an indigenous minimalist and one of a selfish boastful nature. In my humble view, the triumphant tribes of pre-historic Africa knew of the source of the Nile way before John Hanning Speke wasted 6 years of his life trying to find it.

 If you ever wonder why some of your brothers and sisters find salvation and peace in Islam, please note that it is a reaction to a religious confusion pain of the past. Their direct ancestors were enslaved under the blasphemous ideology that Christianity was compatible with slavery. Even one of the great ships that took them away was named “Jesus”. I still can’t deal with the irony. But put no subjective blame to those that came, oh no my earth-made one. It saddens me terribly to know that some of our chiefs and tribal leaders back then were open contributors to this travesty of epic proportions. If you look really hard with a concerned eye you will realise that even today many in some way or another still do. I tell you this because of my belief that the truth should and will always be known whether it is convenient to you or not. The truth is so powerful that not even time can conceal it. Always try your best to lead a life of greater wisdom.

 My dearest child of the sun, I wrote you this letter because I know that while what you don’t know might not hurt you, it will always leave you as vulnerable open prey. I need you to know that you were not meant for this world but that this world was meant for you. You have to know that you are a unique creation of intelligence created by an intelligent being that left you traces in everything and everyone around you. Perhaps at this very moment you might be self-loathing and confused, I want you to know that I love you more than you will ever hate yourself or anyone else. Living in a darker hue does not mean that you are less worthy than one who doesn’t, oh no my cosmic baby. It means that you are made up of the same material that makes up the entire universe. It is pointless to tell you to be original because inherently you already are, you simply just don’t know it.

 Live to be greater than me.  

 Taetso Tau Mashile