OK, first things first, my heart bleeds for the people of Haiti, after living for centuries in abject poverty they had the terrible misfortune of falling victim to a massive earthquake (AND aftershock!) that has left hundreds of thousands dead and millions without food or shelter. An atrocity occurred there.. the world needs to do something. quick.
BUT! With all the world's attention on Haiti, people seem to have taken a break from caring about the rest of the world... shame on you CNN! I direct my disdain at CNN because not so long ago it was them that made Darfur so damn popular that even Angelina "I-want-to-save-the-world-by-adopting-as-many-cute-little-poor-kids-as-I-can" Jolie went there with her poodle of a Brad and had a few "glamour" shots taken... I hear Madonna got lost on her way to Darfur and ended up in Malawi.. too late Madge, Tomb Raider beat you - along with hundreds of German couples... but let's clap hands for you, at least you watch a "news" channel!
People continue to die every single day all across the African continent (yes, not just Darfur... it just made for a catchy title)... These people are dying from preventable disease, famine, hunger, pestilence... EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY... Do we care? I guess we can sort of say we do... if ofcourse we sit through the images of these hungry and dying Africans which are made available to us on our flat-screens just after dinner, while we drink some blood coffee... Hmmm, maybe I should sms that number.. I hear I can donate R7.50 to help feed a kid in Port-au-Prince! Done. That is it. "We care". Oh how very dare we? We sit and watch as our continent rots... and yet we jump at the prospect of "saving" people in Haiti! I'll have my hypocrite coffee with no sugar, thanks.
Lest people think that I don't care about Haiti, allow me to reiterate: I do. I get that Haiti seriously needs help and I congratulate all those who have done their bit to aid the country (which btw is the poorest in the Western hemisphere, and after this quake could very well become the poorest worldwide)... What I don't get is people who act like they care or offer a "helping hand" just so they can smile at the camera. Can the cameras please roll back to Darfur? Or did that stop being glamorous around 2006? Yeah. I thought so. Even Somalia's off our TV screens... at least now we can see "Africans" suffering elsewhere, right? It's not all that bad...
21 January 2010
A Tale of Two Cities (in one)
Harare, the sunshine city, the city that cannot afford to sleep… My home… Where the heart that beats within me is. Depending on where you are; rich city or poor city, the air is either clean and fresh, as crisp as a fresh mint leaf, or it is so rancid that it nearly chokes you, like the smell of a decayed carcass leaving its pungent legacy for those who did not honour it during its life ready to choke you with its sulphuric grasp. Harare. My home.
The dichotomy that exists in this city is marvellous to say the least… How else can one describe the huge canyon that exists between the haves and the have-not(hing)s? Where have all the middle-ground people gone to? It seems that in the months that have melted into years that I have been away from my beloved home so many have gained, while many more have lost… I dare not delve into the cause, I fear it might be political… and much as I love politics... this is not that kind of tale.
It’s amazing what time can do to a place… the vibrancy of Harare is slowly returning, but only for those who can afford… to the rest, Harare is unliveable, expensive and unbearably restrictive. Driving through town, the sights, the sounds, the smells change like a kaleidoscope… It is amazing how one city, small as it is, can have such diversity. You are rich. You are poor. You are nowhere in between. It is what it is.
Driving through Harare for the first time in a year, with my window rolled up and the aircon protecting me from the intolerable savannah heat outside I couldn’t help but wonder how the people on the other side of my window perceived me. The pedestrians looked into the car I was in, some with genuine admiration glistening in their hungry sullen eyes, others appeared to be seething with loathing… I pretended not to notice either, but I did. Something sunk in me, to this day I cannot tell what, but I checked if my door was locked anyway. I had to remind myself that these weren’t the streets of inner-city Johannesburg, that none of these people were carrying hammers or guns and chances are even though they were probably living from hand to mouth, the thought of hijacking or smashing and grabbing never crossed their minds. I did not lock my door. I felt safe. I was home.
(TBC...)
The dichotomy that exists in this city is marvellous to say the least… How else can one describe the huge canyon that exists between the haves and the have-not(hing)s? Where have all the middle-ground people gone to? It seems that in the months that have melted into years that I have been away from my beloved home so many have gained, while many more have lost… I dare not delve into the cause, I fear it might be political… and much as I love politics... this is not that kind of tale.
It’s amazing what time can do to a place… the vibrancy of Harare is slowly returning, but only for those who can afford… to the rest, Harare is unliveable, expensive and unbearably restrictive. Driving through town, the sights, the sounds, the smells change like a kaleidoscope… It is amazing how one city, small as it is, can have such diversity. You are rich. You are poor. You are nowhere in between. It is what it is.
Driving through Harare for the first time in a year, with my window rolled up and the aircon protecting me from the intolerable savannah heat outside I couldn’t help but wonder how the people on the other side of my window perceived me. The pedestrians looked into the car I was in, some with genuine admiration glistening in their hungry sullen eyes, others appeared to be seething with loathing… I pretended not to notice either, but I did. Something sunk in me, to this day I cannot tell what, but I checked if my door was locked anyway. I had to remind myself that these weren’t the streets of inner-city Johannesburg, that none of these people were carrying hammers or guns and chances are even though they were probably living from hand to mouth, the thought of hijacking or smashing and grabbing never crossed their minds. I did not lock my door. I felt safe. I was home.
(TBC...)
On Greatness...
"If you lose hope, somehow you lose the vitality that keeps life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream."
The words of Martin Luther King Jr... their echo never fades, almost as if they will haunt me forever... I keep hope alive, my dream is one of greatness... everyday, I light a candle and put it at my window so I can light the way for whatever greatness is to come... I do not want it to feel unwelcome, I do not want it to think I am not home... I want it to knock on my door, late at night as I sleep and ask me if it can come in... I wait each day as my candle burns at my window sill... for I have decided: when greatness comes, I will let it in...
Growing up, we are constantly told that “pride comes before a fall”… hardly encouraging words given that it somehow equates all our efforts at greatness to wasted breath. We find ourselves wondering whether our life really has a purpose if we cannot celebrate our successes, rung by rung as we climb up the ladder that is life. I agree that pride comes before a fall, but that doesn’t mean the fall will ever come.. it doesn't mean I WILL fall if I am proud of what I have achieved… Let’s not settle for mediocrity simply because we fear that if we do too much, strive too hard, we may just succeed and, the flying spaghetti monster forbid, that could very well mean we might just be proud… hence we might just fall… We cannot let that stop us; each of us is destined for some greatness…
From coal emerges diamonds… from the bowels of the oyster comes the pearl… so let not greatness be your fear… light that candle and grow… grow exponentially...
The words of Martin Luther King Jr... their echo never fades, almost as if they will haunt me forever... I keep hope alive, my dream is one of greatness... everyday, I light a candle and put it at my window so I can light the way for whatever greatness is to come... I do not want it to feel unwelcome, I do not want it to think I am not home... I want it to knock on my door, late at night as I sleep and ask me if it can come in... I wait each day as my candle burns at my window sill... for I have decided: when greatness comes, I will let it in...
Growing up, we are constantly told that “pride comes before a fall”… hardly encouraging words given that it somehow equates all our efforts at greatness to wasted breath. We find ourselves wondering whether our life really has a purpose if we cannot celebrate our successes, rung by rung as we climb up the ladder that is life. I agree that pride comes before a fall, but that doesn’t mean the fall will ever come.. it doesn't mean I WILL fall if I am proud of what I have achieved… Let’s not settle for mediocrity simply because we fear that if we do too much, strive too hard, we may just succeed and, the flying spaghetti monster forbid, that could very well mean we might just be proud… hence we might just fall… We cannot let that stop us; each of us is destined for some greatness…
From coal emerges diamonds… from the bowels of the oyster comes the pearl… so let not greatness be your fear… light that candle and grow… grow exponentially...
05 November 2009
This is my kind of Africa....
Walking to work this morning, I took a deep breath of fresh air laced with the soothing smell of the flowers whose beauty has been brought to life by the early rains... with solid steps towards my destination I felt an overwhelming feeling of love and pride... I was at that very moment a 21st century woman living in her kind of Africa... the Africa they don't seem to care much about on the supper time news... I was greeted by cheery faces and the occasional "dumela" ... the sun was shyly peering through the clouds, scared to reveal itself to the world beneath, yet my heart was filled with its warmth... these are my people... this is my land... This is My Africa...
Africa.... Oh Africa... so rich, so beautiful, so warm, so welcoming... few people know or appreciate just how truly magnificent you are.. your name is mentioned and those who think they care will take a deep sigh and lament your fate; those who only want to use and abuse you and leave you dying by the wayside find themselves with a wily snarl on their faces... you are their lamb, ready for the slaughter.. they will drive you there and watch as you take your last breath... but that is not the Africa I see... that is not the Africa that flows in my veins...
....My Africa is teeming with life... as vibrant as the village crier's drum at sunset and the crow of the cocks at dawn.. My Africa never rests... it toils even as the world sleeps... In its suffering it sees nothing but hope... It is... has been... and shall forever be at the core of my being...
My Africa never gives up... after years of drought and strife my Africa is brought to life by the early rains... each flower proudly displaying itself for all the world to see.. I take it all in each day as I walk on the soil of my ancestors.. I breathe in deeply... the clean fresh air..
My Africa. My Pride. My Love.
Africa.... Oh Africa... so rich, so beautiful, so warm, so welcoming... few people know or appreciate just how truly magnificent you are.. your name is mentioned and those who think they care will take a deep sigh and lament your fate; those who only want to use and abuse you and leave you dying by the wayside find themselves with a wily snarl on their faces... you are their lamb, ready for the slaughter.. they will drive you there and watch as you take your last breath... but that is not the Africa I see... that is not the Africa that flows in my veins...
....My Africa is teeming with life... as vibrant as the village crier's drum at sunset and the crow of the cocks at dawn.. My Africa never rests... it toils even as the world sleeps... In its suffering it sees nothing but hope... It is... has been... and shall forever be at the core of my being...
My Africa never gives up... after years of drought and strife my Africa is brought to life by the early rains... each flower proudly displaying itself for all the world to see.. I take it all in each day as I walk on the soil of my ancestors.. I breathe in deeply... the clean fresh air..
My Africa. My Pride. My Love.
27 October 2009
Why burn your bra... when you can be all woman... frills and all... (another note on love or something like it)
I've said this before, and I'll say it again... I'm a feminist, but I'll still wear my bra, occasionally wear make-up, shave what I feel needs shaving, wear a dress when I want to... I celebrate my feminity and don't get women who think appearing androgynous is "hip".. I am a woman and I love it! I most definitely do NOT see why I must masculate (sic) myself to show that I'm a feminist....
Now that that's out of the way... let me rant... from my girl-in-a-frilly-dress feminist stance..
I am tired of hearing women pine about how inadequate they are.. or how they need a man to make them "whole".. Yes, Beyonce and Rihanna, I'm talking to you! I'm all for relationships, long walks off short bridges and watching large amorphous gases from another universe shine brightly over my head at dusk.. I really am... In fact I am more than a closet romantic. My flat smells of lavender and camomile and at one point I genuinely thought Prince Charmings exist... hmmm... I actually still do! I've watched The Notebook five times and have cried EVERY SINGLE TIME.. that said, my self-worth is not and cannot ever be "completed" by any one - male, female, goat or cow... I don't believe in being completed by anything or anyone, I believe in complementarity. I believe that people do not make us better, but that we are the only ones responsible for our own betterment.. So, no I will not be shaking my not so ample booty and asking some boy to put a ring on it 'cause he likes it... what's a piece of worthless jewellery anyway if the person who bestows it loves me not... wholly, truly and completely?
I fear that most of us are not honest with ourselves... those of us who claim it (I suppose I should include myself here) often find ourselves not pursuing our own goals, but those of a society that has never really cared much for our enhancement... So, here's to firmly putting your feet on the ground, mastering your destiny and not making excuses. If Prince Charming happens to stop in his modern chariot, then good for him, but he better know the wonders of a push-up bra wearing empowered 21st century woman...
It's 2009... I cook, I clean, I like the smell of roses, I know how to tie a tie... I also wake up early to go to work, make my opinion heard in meetings full of testosterone and chauvinistic male egos, do what needs doing and do it pretty darn well... I'm also not afraid to say it. Society placed a wall in front of me, I stood back and wondered whether to try go round it, dig a hole and go under it, go back from whence I came... or bulldoze my way through society's firm veil... 23years on, I look back at the dilapidated wall behind me... achievement it is, but with it I have lost my one key defence... I can no longer say "but I am a woman"... If the box needs lifting, let it be lifted... If the race needs winning... on your marks... get set....
07 October 2009
Watching the world go by
The years melt away...as seconds become minutes, minutes become hours.. that become days, weeks, months... years.. And while so much seems to be changing, so much more remains the same. I am the girl I was years ago.. scared, vulnerable.. yet strong and determined.. constantly trying to better myself, to shed my burdensome skin of negativity and yet realising that the more I do it the more I lose myself.. Constantly asking myself, what I will leave when I'm done here.. shall my little steps one day change the world? My thoughts, they take me away.. to a place that may never exist.. they choke me and at the same time give me life...
Today... like yesterday... and the day before.. I continue to search for my purpose, my being, my soul, my dreams.. these things... inextricably linked, intertwined and forever keeping me away from the edge.. away from the abyss that one day will engulf me, eat me whole and never spit me out...
In my quest I have learnt to love, to hate, to cry, to laugh, to embrace and to strangle... all this I have learnt from the world from which I come and to which I shall go. I look at the world in awe as it refuses to change even as the years go by... adamant, stubborn... like myself as I spread my hands out once more as if to fly... I laugh. I cry. I want so much to fly and yet I know it can never be so...not today.. not tomorrow.. but maybe in the next life I will watch the world go by perched upon a tree... until then, the years melt away...
Today... like yesterday... and the day before.. I continue to search for my purpose, my being, my soul, my dreams.. these things... inextricably linked, intertwined and forever keeping me away from the edge.. away from the abyss that one day will engulf me, eat me whole and never spit me out...
In my quest I have learnt to love, to hate, to cry, to laugh, to embrace and to strangle... all this I have learnt from the world from which I come and to which I shall go. I look at the world in awe as it refuses to change even as the years go by... adamant, stubborn... like myself as I spread my hands out once more as if to fly... I laugh. I cry. I want so much to fly and yet I know it can never be so...not today.. not tomorrow.. but maybe in the next life I will watch the world go by perched upon a tree... until then, the years melt away...
Love... or something like it...
Many lessons I've learned in this life of mine, yet none has quite managed to make me understand or truly know love... I know that I love, I know that I am loved... have loved... will love... but my conceptualization of love seems to differ from many people around me.. I have heard the 3words "I love you" said to a new paramour only weeks into the relationship like the premature ejaculate of an over-eager man... bile rose in my throat as I thought of the many lies that will follow this first one... I have heard them used after a "but" to excuse intentional transgressions.. I have heard them said between people who could possibly know no love... the words echo in my head like a broken record of a bad electro house song... I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.. The more I hear them uttered, the more I feel they have no real meaning.. a cliche? Perhaps.
For me love is not just a feeling, love is action... Love is not an impromptu champagne picnic atop the Eiffel Tower on a warm spring night... it could be... but it's not... Love is found in the little things, in the little acts of selflessness, in devotion, in faith, forgiveness, in pain... love is hard work.. it is the patience you should have as you wait to reap the benefits of your commitment knowing that they may never come... it is giving more of yourself even when you feel there's nothing left to give. . . and yes, love can be a candlelit dinner with some prime cabernet sauvignon... but that is not the be-all and end-all of it.. the words of many a drunken clergyman come to mind: "through sickness and health".. oh indeed. for me, THAT is love. . . and because of that I am not sure I have yet loved wholly, truly and completely... I feel it coming.. a dark cloud on the horizon promising rain that will soak the earth and bring her to life... but when it arrives, whatever the love; platonic, erotic, agape, ludus, storge, pragmatic, manic, obsessive... I'll take mine with a pinch of salt, a lemon and tequila...
For me love is not just a feeling, love is action... Love is not an impromptu champagne picnic atop the Eiffel Tower on a warm spring night... it could be... but it's not... Love is found in the little things, in the little acts of selflessness, in devotion, in faith, forgiveness, in pain... love is hard work.. it is the patience you should have as you wait to reap the benefits of your commitment knowing that they may never come... it is giving more of yourself even when you feel there's nothing left to give. . . and yes, love can be a candlelit dinner with some prime cabernet sauvignon... but that is not the be-all and end-all of it.. the words of many a drunken clergyman come to mind: "through sickness and health".. oh indeed. for me, THAT is love. . . and because of that I am not sure I have yet loved wholly, truly and completely... I feel it coming.. a dark cloud on the horizon promising rain that will soak the earth and bring her to life... but when it arrives, whatever the love; platonic, erotic, agape, ludus, storge, pragmatic, manic, obsessive... I'll take mine with a pinch of salt, a lemon and tequila...
11 August 2009
One step at a time...
If you had asked me a couple of months ago what I wanted to do with my life... I would have answered quite convincingly that I was going to help save Africa (with or without a cape)... that I was going to start small and hope my influence spreads like a benevolent virus (oxymoron?) and have the desired knock-on effect... RIGHT.
Somewhere at the beginning of my crusade, it soon became apparent to me that not only was I NOT going to save Africa, but that Africa (or at least its despotic leaders… yes… I have generalized) was not particularly interested in being “saved”. After all, the majority of us Africans have been brainwashed into believing that not only can we NOT be saved, but that IF someone were to save us it would most definitely not be a black African… I suppose if I were a blond briefcase carrying Swede I would still think I can “save” Africa… after all, when all else has gone to sleep, money keeps talking…
The sad reality is that Africans are locked in the vicious circle of a cancerous culture of dependency … Forget the “uneven” international playing field for a brief moment… this dependency is an illness that seems to have formed part of “our” culture… so real is this syndrome that I can smell it everywhere I go, I see it at every crossroad as homeless vagrants stretch out their hands to me and beg for “just twee rand sisi… I family to feed… just twee rand”...
Back to the greater world… Africa continues to wait for the "masters" to offer them a little piece of their cake, while they hold out the begging bowl... I am frankly tired of Africa being complicit in its own subjugation. Our continent is by far the richest in terms of natural resources, and yet we allow the rest of the world to dictate our terms of trade... The sad truth though is that Africans seem rather complacent about pulling themselves out of this unfortunate quagmire… like the begging vagrants on most urban streets on this continent… Our “leaders” couldn’t be bothered about pulling up their socks and actively seeking the continent’s development, on its own terms... In the Southern African Development Community only ONE out of FOURTEEN of the member state does not depend on donor funding for the bulk of its government budget… Unsurprisingly that country is pretty much run by the west… alas, even the non-beggar is a slave… But what IS alarming is that most of these countries have extensive resource wealth that far surpasses that of some grey island archipelago off-the-coast of continental Europe... and yet most of this wealth is "owned" by foreign "investors"... Anglo-gold, Old Mutual, Delta, British Tobacco...
How can anyone even have the energy to attempt to save a continent where people have decided that aid and donor funding is the solution? I have been taught that you can only help those who want to be helped… so here I am throwing in my dirty white towel until my fellow Africans wake up and realize that they are the help they desperately need and not the help they keep seeking.
Africa needs to tap into the continent's vast potential. This continent is by far the richest... and whoever says that the West will cease to demand our resources if we unilaterally declare independence, as it were, has never looked at the fingers of many an engaged woman in the streets of Milan, Paris, New York, London and all the other little towns and cities... Has never passed by a cafe on a cold winter's night and smelt the strong aroma of Kenyan coffee and South African rooibos... of Zimbabwe's citrus in the juices...
Or late at night snuggled under a warm cotton blanket, while sending a text message from a phone whose functioning would be impossible were it not for DRC's Coltan and Zimbabwe's chrome... Or passed by an emaciated model with her fingers wrapped around a Virginia Thins cigarette as she desperately tries not to indulge in yet another bite of chocolate cake...Thank you Ghana!
Combined with the Middle East, African produces the bulk of the world's oil... the oil that turns the cogs of Western capitalism. If African countries would metaphorically and literally close the oil tap, the tables would turn as the West looks to our continent for the oil it so desperately lacks and even more desperately NEEDS.
Our problem lies in bad governance, the spirit of corruption and elitist neo-patrimonialism... cutting out bad apples won't do... the tree must be uprooted and a new one planted.
Somewhere at the beginning of my crusade, it soon became apparent to me that not only was I NOT going to save Africa, but that Africa (or at least its despotic leaders… yes… I have generalized) was not particularly interested in being “saved”. After all, the majority of us Africans have been brainwashed into believing that not only can we NOT be saved, but that IF someone were to save us it would most definitely not be a black African… I suppose if I were a blond briefcase carrying Swede I would still think I can “save” Africa… after all, when all else has gone to sleep, money keeps talking…
The sad reality is that Africans are locked in the vicious circle of a cancerous culture of dependency … Forget the “uneven” international playing field for a brief moment… this dependency is an illness that seems to have formed part of “our” culture… so real is this syndrome that I can smell it everywhere I go, I see it at every crossroad as homeless vagrants stretch out their hands to me and beg for “just twee rand sisi… I family to feed… just twee rand”...
Back to the greater world… Africa continues to wait for the "masters" to offer them a little piece of their cake, while they hold out the begging bowl... I am frankly tired of Africa being complicit in its own subjugation. Our continent is by far the richest in terms of natural resources, and yet we allow the rest of the world to dictate our terms of trade... The sad truth though is that Africans seem rather complacent about pulling themselves out of this unfortunate quagmire… like the begging vagrants on most urban streets on this continent… Our “leaders” couldn’t be bothered about pulling up their socks and actively seeking the continent’s development, on its own terms... In the Southern African Development Community only ONE out of FOURTEEN of the member state does not depend on donor funding for the bulk of its government budget… Unsurprisingly that country is pretty much run by the west… alas, even the non-beggar is a slave… But what IS alarming is that most of these countries have extensive resource wealth that far surpasses that of some grey island archipelago off-the-coast of continental Europe... and yet most of this wealth is "owned" by foreign "investors"... Anglo-gold, Old Mutual, Delta, British Tobacco...
How can anyone even have the energy to attempt to save a continent where people have decided that aid and donor funding is the solution? I have been taught that you can only help those who want to be helped… so here I am throwing in my dirty white towel until my fellow Africans wake up and realize that they are the help they desperately need and not the help they keep seeking.
Africa needs to tap into the continent's vast potential. This continent is by far the richest... and whoever says that the West will cease to demand our resources if we unilaterally declare independence, as it were, has never looked at the fingers of many an engaged woman in the streets of Milan, Paris, New York, London and all the other little towns and cities... Has never passed by a cafe on a cold winter's night and smelt the strong aroma of Kenyan coffee and South African rooibos... of Zimbabwe's citrus in the juices...
Or late at night snuggled under a warm cotton blanket, while sending a text message from a phone whose functioning would be impossible were it not for DRC's Coltan and Zimbabwe's chrome... Or passed by an emaciated model with her fingers wrapped around a Virginia Thins cigarette as she desperately tries not to indulge in yet another bite of chocolate cake...Thank you Ghana!
Combined with the Middle East, African produces the bulk of the world's oil... the oil that turns the cogs of Western capitalism. If African countries would metaphorically and literally close the oil tap, the tables would turn as the West looks to our continent for the oil it so desperately lacks and even more desperately NEEDS.
Our problem lies in bad governance, the spirit of corruption and elitist neo-patrimonialism... cutting out bad apples won't do... the tree must be uprooted and a new one planted.
15 July 2009
Dotdotdot
The other day I was seriously contemplating finding a time machine... setting the date to sometime in 2008 and just staying there for a long while, while I regroup and figure out how I ended up where I am today... Then someone pointed out that even though I might feel like I want to be in the past, I know I really don't... so here I am... 6 long months into 2009 and realizing just how much I've come... and how much the world has gone... time has not stopped for me... and alas, she never will...
Whatever changes have occurred... one thing remains certain... all can never be undone. and even if some could be undone, whatever change we think we have made is likely to unearth just how much we cannot do... plus ca change... plus ca reste la meme... Indeed this year is really no different from the last or the one before...
So we find ourselves in that uncomfortable position where we realize our own insignificance in the bigger scheme of life.. and yet we do not give up... we should not... we cannot... for our significance lies not in the things we consciously hope to be appreciated for, but in the little things we do not even realize we're doing... the little change... I am told if I were a butterfly my flutter could cause a tsunami miles across the world... so each day I attempt to fly... hoping that my work can change the world... each day I fail... but tomorrow I will wake up, forget my failings of yesterday and take another leap... One day, I tell myself, one day I will fly..
Such is the way of spirited life...
Whatever changes have occurred... one thing remains certain... all can never be undone. and even if some could be undone, whatever change we think we have made is likely to unearth just how much we cannot do... plus ca change... plus ca reste la meme... Indeed this year is really no different from the last or the one before...
So we find ourselves in that uncomfortable position where we realize our own insignificance in the bigger scheme of life.. and yet we do not give up... we should not... we cannot... for our significance lies not in the things we consciously hope to be appreciated for, but in the little things we do not even realize we're doing... the little change... I am told if I were a butterfly my flutter could cause a tsunami miles across the world... so each day I attempt to fly... hoping that my work can change the world... each day I fail... but tomorrow I will wake up, forget my failings of yesterday and take another leap... One day, I tell myself, one day I will fly..
Such is the way of spirited life...
03 June 2009
I will remain a soldier...
First thing's first... these are the ramblings of an angry pan-Africanist... yes... I am a pan-Africanist and I won't even attempt to justify my position.. So, if I may, allow me to clear my throat of 23 years of repressed bile...
Now, while I do declare my firm stance as a Pan-African, I can't help but lament the constant invocation of this "idea" by many an African leader as a means through which to escape responsibility or to rally the support of their "brothers"... This note serves as an overdue love-letter to the many African leaders who have manipulated the notion of pan-Africanism to this end... I write my "letter" weeks ahead of a scheduled conference in which African leaders are expected to "unite" against what they consider to be a western backed conspiracy by the International Criminal Court against Africa..
" Dear Omar al-Bashir, Robert Mugabe, Hissene Habre, Thabo Mbeki, Mwai Kibaki, Abdoulaye Wade, Col Muammar Gaddafi, the late (but not quite gone) Lansana Conte, Idriss Deby, Mahmoud Tandja, Joseph Kabila... and your fellow despots who continue to kill the continent with your corrupt dictatorial governance... silencing dissent with the muzzle of an AK-47 and thinking up Western conspiracies against the "African brotherhood" to allow you to suck the life out of our beautiful continent.... I can only say this to you:
"Let not the dreams of our forefathers be clouded by your neopatrimonial desires to cling to power... leave not the African continent bleeding and crying for mercy. Have you not shamed your children enough by your kleptocratic governance? Must we continue to suffer as you bloat your bellies with the innocent cadavers of many who have died because of your misrule and greed? As you pillage our continent's resources and wash your hands with the blood of Africa's children, for just one second I dare you to stop and think of the legacy you leave with us your children, your grandchildren... because of you there are so few of us who still desperately cling to delusions of a united Africa... united not in strife... but united in a vision for a better tomorrow where Africa takes its position at the head of the table... lifts itself from the ashes and establishes itself as an equal... *sigh*
It is true that our greatest enemy is ourselves... As we strive to extricate ourselves from the vicious cycle in which you have placed us... we find ourselves blaming the disarray of the continent not on our failure to stand up and fight but on you... This is what you have made us... We are only as strong as our weakest point... you have brought us to our knees...
Have you no shame? Have you no heart? We cry, but you do not hear us... Ours shall not be a violent revolt... for the pen IS mightier than the sword... as I stare into the metaphorical barrel of the gun before me I have this to say to you: I will not give up... I WILL remain a soldier until this war is won "
Now, while I do declare my firm stance as a Pan-African, I can't help but lament the constant invocation of this "idea" by many an African leader as a means through which to escape responsibility or to rally the support of their "brothers"... This note serves as an overdue love-letter to the many African leaders who have manipulated the notion of pan-Africanism to this end... I write my "letter" weeks ahead of a scheduled conference in which African leaders are expected to "unite" against what they consider to be a western backed conspiracy by the International Criminal Court against Africa..
" Dear Omar al-Bashir, Robert Mugabe, Hissene Habre, Thabo Mbeki, Mwai Kibaki, Abdoulaye Wade, Col Muammar Gaddafi, the late (but not quite gone) Lansana Conte, Idriss Deby, Mahmoud Tandja, Joseph Kabila... and your fellow despots who continue to kill the continent with your corrupt dictatorial governance... silencing dissent with the muzzle of an AK-47 and thinking up Western conspiracies against the "African brotherhood" to allow you to suck the life out of our beautiful continent.... I can only say this to you:
"Let not the dreams of our forefathers be clouded by your neopatrimonial desires to cling to power... leave not the African continent bleeding and crying for mercy. Have you not shamed your children enough by your kleptocratic governance? Must we continue to suffer as you bloat your bellies with the innocent cadavers of many who have died because of your misrule and greed? As you pillage our continent's resources and wash your hands with the blood of Africa's children, for just one second I dare you to stop and think of the legacy you leave with us your children, your grandchildren... because of you there are so few of us who still desperately cling to delusions of a united Africa... united not in strife... but united in a vision for a better tomorrow where Africa takes its position at the head of the table... lifts itself from the ashes and establishes itself as an equal... *sigh*
It is true that our greatest enemy is ourselves... As we strive to extricate ourselves from the vicious cycle in which you have placed us... we find ourselves blaming the disarray of the continent not on our failure to stand up and fight but on you... This is what you have made us... We are only as strong as our weakest point... you have brought us to our knees...
Have you no shame? Have you no heart? We cry, but you do not hear us... Ours shall not be a violent revolt... for the pen IS mightier than the sword... as I stare into the metaphorical barrel of the gun before me I have this to say to you: I will not give up... I WILL remain a soldier until this war is won "
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