Dear Africa
There’s defiance and determination in your depth.
They came, they saw and they conquered. They plundered, as they they convinced themselves they were bringing light to your dark shores.
They convinced you to believe your darkness was ugly and that your past was shameful and they would teach you real salvation, civilization and sophistication because the things worth striving for could only be found beyond over the seas.
They took bits of your soul, your blood and bones and created a restlessness in you. How can you be anything but restless when the bones of your ancestors lay displayed in museums in foreign lands, when descendants of your blood struggle to relate with you?
How can you prosper when you were taught that the spirits of your ancestors are demons and communing with them is to practice heathen ways and to invite evil into your life? Commune instead only with the Holy Ghost and the One True God
How can you advance when they saw all the magic and beauty in your ancestry and called it witchcraft? Parts of it could have been malevolent but it all got heaped up together with the benevolent and cast away like a nightmare bedtime story..
See how they broke you, they taught you how to read but only after they rewrote themselves into your history and all you know about your past is how they wrote it juxtapositioned with how your own tried to rewrite it back and the truth, well, the truth, lies lost somewhere in-between because no one owns the truth.
See how they made you shun the melanin in your skin, the kinks in your hair and how you bleach it out and straighten it out as you weave for yourself a whole new identity.
How comfortable are you in your skin when everyday a struggle to battle the uncertainities that were bred into you when they told you the colour of all things evil is dark and light is all things good.
There’s darkness in your past, a past that fills you with rage and shame, but it’s OK because if it did not it would mean you don’t remember where you came from. The past doesn’t have to define you but that doesn’t mean you should pretend it never happened or it did not change you
You have changed ……
Like a child learning to walk, your footprints are all over the place; neither neat nor straight as you struggle to find your roots and your place in the world.
They broke you but the cracks are healing, filled with something different, something stronger…….. Divergence
You are no longer whom you were nor whom they tried to turn you into, you are different. Find peace with the new you and your divergent flavours, from the dark roasted caramel to the milk rich vanilla and everything beneath all the layers that make you up……
You were unmade and now you are remade, embrace all your Divergence.
You have a story to tell, don’t let anyone tell it for you but most of all, don’t let anyone else tell you how to tell it, find your voice…….
All my love
My Africa, My Words
~B
Becoming The Muse 
There were tough times. Now we have to all learn to live together – I wonder if we’re ready for that. 🙂
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Maybe being ready is a lot like dealing with the stages of grief:
the denial,
the rage,
the bargaining,
the depression
And finally the acceptance….
Looks like we somewhere between the rage and bargaining phases
~B
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Can we start telling our story by removing that offensive disrespectful statue of David living stone at Victoria falls? Omg they named the falls after their queen,can we take some time out?
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I remember in early primary school reading some history almanac about world explorers, Christopher Columbus, James Cook and David Livingstone among others Trying to understand how they would discover a place if the were already people there: I recall an account of David Livingstone “discovering” The Falls and totally disregarding the local guides who led him or their name for it, and declaring it Victoria Falls after Her Royal Majesty, The Queen Victoria….. I can’t even……
~B
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They came to Uganda and renamed our lake, one we had been calling Nalubaale to Lake Victoria… They also taught us that John Hanning Speke “discovered” the source of the River Nile. I remember thinking, weren’t there tribes that were living near this river already. It’s heart breaking.
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Let’s start renaming them,as long as they have those names we are still colonized
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They obliterated our history,all we know is the white man’s version of our history. Ours was lost, how do we get it back? Must we devise a time machine to go back in time and rewrite our own story? We can start writing what we know for the sake of generations to come. It’s upon us writers to save what’s left of our identity and ancestry. We have work to do! Thanks for this Beaton,this had me all rolled up in a bunch of emotions!
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Funny I was thinking about how a time travel might be the only way to get an accurate version of our history after all the butchery it’s been subjected to 😂 😂
But you are write we can at least right the history unfolding before our very eyes that’s part of why I write, to stop simply telling stories and start writing them immortalised in words.
~B
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Africa Africa restore you identity.
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That’s very powerful…
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It’s been a long time coming 😂
~B
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Dear B, this is some mighty fine writing indeed. Bravo to you nods head* 🌻 #spilledtruth #BlackExcellence
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Thank you D!!!
~B
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Loved this
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Thank you for dropping by
♥
~B
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Of course! I’d love your feedback on my post if you have time!
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Absolutely, I would have already actually but I cant seem to find your blog, the one associated with your gravatar doesnt
~B
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Oh! That’s so weird! It may be bc ive changed the pic
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drop a link so I can find you
~B
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https://ramblingsfromalosttribemember.wordpress.com/
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Was I supposed to feel like someone who is cutting onions?!! This is really lovely
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hahahaha the was no cooking in this post
~B
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