TALES MY FATHER TOLD ME

   

 When I was young, my father told me tales about my father's land, Africa. He told me how we were formed, created and how we started existing as Africa. He told me how we were captured, tortured and compelled to bow to authorities. He described the pain and sorrow our ancestors passed through in order to fight for our freedom. Oh! Africa.

My father told me how they named us BLACK, and how our fathers where called monkeys and are being compared to baboons that lived in the forest, just because of our skin colour, Black. He showed me pictures of how we were enslaved in our land of birth, threatened with death, all for the sake of civilisation to triumph. He described the way our ancestors fought the good fight of faith just for our freedom. Oh! Africa.

He described how we were treated with shame and despair in our father's land, our origin. How fear embraced us and we became timid. My father explained the meaning of Racism and the extent to which it applied to us, just because we were Black. The fight of bravery that many men of valour of our origin fought to change our story, all this he explained to me. He told me how our ancestors fought for our freedom. Oh! Africa.

I can remember that late evening, inside that hut where fire glows from an ignited firewood at the other end of the room where papa told the story amidst tears, pain and sorrow. On his dying bed were he laid, with me squatting beside him as he told me this story, and with sympathy and aggression I weeped cause of the pain and shame our fathers went through to secure our freedom. Oh! Africa.

Yes! Right before my eyes, my father cried in anguish as he surrendered his life to the cruel hands of death, after struggling with him for decades from a gunshot he got while fighting for his father's land. Right in my presence, the wind took his soul high above the sky that I could see him no more. Right before my eyes, I lost my father to the fight for freedom.

I could remember all my father told me but one, which he almost said before death smiled at him. My father didn't tell me who committed all these atrocities against us. He forgot to mention the criminals that victimized us. Peradventure I'd have taken war to their coasts. Oh! Why father, why have you decided to keep this from me. Their identity you kept with high secrecy. Why Father!

Fine, my father kept their identity from me, but he didn't fail to announce to me that our ancestors got our freedom. Now the question is, why are we using this freedom against ourselves? Why do we wrestle one another and prepare graves to bury each other? Why are we using the freedom our fathers laid down their life's for against ourselves. Why is my father's land in a state of Confusion?

Is it that our captivators didn't give us unity when they issued us freedom? Or is it from our self desire that we threw peace into the river of death? Crisis increases on daily basis, yet nothing has been effective to curb it. It now seems life was even better when we were enslaved by strangers than being enslaved and tortured by our colour mate.

Africa, why have you decided to bring shame upon the strength of your ancestors? Blood has stained your white garment and Theft has become your armour of virtue. Corruption is our capital city and judgement has being abolished. Why Africa?

There are many questions parading my mind out of frustration, yet no one seems suitable to answer them. Father please can you come back to give soothing answers, God can you spare a chance for father to come and complete his story.

This I know isn't possible, but reconstructing our foundation in Africa is possible. Father can't be brought back alive, but unity and peace can be. Judgement can be revived and corruption, theft and massacre nailed to the cross. We can do this only if we embrace change.

Mind you, change isn't by the words of our mouth or by proclamation, but by the actions one takes and the attitude one portrays. Change comes from the heart not from the mouth, from within and not outside. Change can be made happen by we alone, because, only we understand our languages better. Change begins from you, change begins from me. Together we can help Africa become great, together we can bring the best out of Africa. Yes we Can!

Africa my father's land. God bless me, God bless you, God bless the 54 countries in Africa, God bless the islands,God bless the North, The East, The South,and The West and God Bless Africa.


WRITTEN BY; SANUSI EMMANUEL