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Friday, 10 April 2015

I am african

 I am African…
I was not told to stand by the wall when I was naughty.
I was not deprived of my favourite toys because there were none.
My share of the house work was the same as that of the paid helps.
That beautiful shrub your mother watered daily so she could smell the flowers? My mother watered hers so it could produce strong canes for my ass, back, hands…wherever she could reach while I ran for my life.
Those shoes that deceptively lay on the floor were not there by accident for they were kept for their ability to double as a weapon that would catch my fleeing back.
I was beat up for talking to boys, for in their world girls and boys could not be friends and talking to them would lead to pregnancy. I was 10 years old!
I was beat up for burning the evening meal because I was watching TV at the same time. For how will I take care of a home if I burnt meals. I was 8 years old!
Mother told me she brought me into this world and so had the right to take me out!!
My shoes were not bought because they were beautiful, they were bought to last, when my legs got hurt from the tough leather, I took them off and held them under my arm, for to go home without them was a suicidal.
I ran, switched off the TV, cleaned the living room and put a book before me when I heard father's car horn, for to be caught watching TV meant the money for my education was a waste. This greatly improved my hearing, because not hearing the car horn meant I would eat my dinner with an aching body!
I feared expressing myself for saying the wrong thing was asking for a caning. It was better to keep quiet and listen to the adults.
I am African… My parents shaped my future. The beatings disciplined me. The lack of toys did not make me feel deprived. It made me inventive in creating my own toys and now know I can live without some things. I never compare myself to those behind me but those I aspire to be like, or beat. I hear your lies because I have perfect hearing.
I am African…Unlike you, I cannot claim to have been damaged by my parents. I am what I am today because I am African!

15 comments:

  1. Thanks for reminding us (and them) that black is brainy and beautiful. Our roots are strong but rough but we grow up learning (how) to withstand every whirlwind.
    Bright words, ma'am.

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  2. Wowwwwwww I'm impressed by this. Did you compose this? This is beautiful on so many levels. I'd love to repost it.

    www.mololasblog.com

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  3. Interesting, I like the vividness and spirit!

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  4. Wow...this is actually one of ur best works I've read. It's like the article has got a soul of it's own and it speaks to the reader on a whole different level. Keep it up babe

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  5. I reposted this on my blog. Check it out http://www.mololasblog.com/2015/04/i-am-african.html?m=1

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  6. Lovely piece. So real. Nice blog too.
    Leeznijis.blogspot.com

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  7. Thanks Elizabeth, I am one of the ghost visitors on ur blog

    ReplyDelete

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