The Black Man's Story

Before I go any further, sistaz don't take offence - the title includes all black people - male and female, in the mother continent and the diaspora.

I've been delving into our past - precolonial. And it's been more than a little interesting. From the kingdoms rich in tradition and mineral wealth to the "empowered" women charting the destinies of nations. It's been an eye opener and has given me the final proof as to why we've been bombarded with images of Africans as knuckle-dragging neanderthals. It's akin to the passage in the bible that states that people's eyes have been blinded so that they would not see the glory.

Our eyes have been blinded lest we see the black man in his glory.

I must mention however that the past isn't all pretty. African kingdoms were engaged in mortal battles, African kingdoms lorded over others and horror of horrors - African kingdoms were very much complicit in the slave trade. Selling off their brothers to foreign legions bent even on their own destruction but blinded by the deceitfulness of riches. Much like what is happening today where the poor are ridden as horses by those in power galloping on democray to reach the ever elusive pot of gold at the end of a rainbow but I digress.

I think we should all invest the time to learn of our own history.

• Do you know how many countries there are in Africa?
• How these countries came about?
• The major languages spoken in the continent?
• The major kingdoms which existed prior the pillage?
• Who the colonisers were?
• What havoc they wreaked on this land?

This is a challenge firstly to arm yourself with knowledge. Some of us know more about World War II than iMfecane, more about the British royal family than the Zulu/Xhosa royals. We are not privy to the fact that while the British were roaming the fields Greek philosophers were being taught on this continent.

The second part of this challenge is to ask yourself what contiburion will you make in this generation. Fanon once said that every generation must discover it's mission and must either fulfill it or betray it. My blood was not spilled at Blood River, or in the battles Ndlambe and Makana fought. I was not on the battlefields at the Bambatha Rebellion, I was not witness to the Sharpeville massacre but I AM HERE TODAY. And there is still plenty to fight for and to work towards:

The shoulders on which we stand creak,

They sway with the weight of our fervour

To garner more, gather more, be grander more

Feet with cracked heels half bleeding from jutted, jagged rocks on which wars were fought

Legs numbed yet steady standing strong for the hope of a brighter day

Backs bent from carrying the white man's burden, lashes from the white man's whip

But shoulders creak

Why are we so weak

Can we not see though we blink

Are we blinded

Will we be the weak link?

Will we betray the shoulders on which we stand?