- “We blacks do not like each other...”
Every time we meet and talk it is the same old moaning.
“We blacks do not like each other...”
Same old topic.
“Why do we blame everything on colonialism and slavery?”
Same old blaming.
Blame, blame, blame.
Thirty years ago, if you were to visit in London, you would see blacks nodding to each other on the street. Acknowledgment. Black power salute with fists. We loved each other, even if on the surface.
Not now. Not now.
Pure malice. Apathy. Distaste even.
You see another black coming, you look away. No recognition. Try and stare too long it is like...
“What are you looking at?”
WE LOATHE EACH OTHER.
Is that why, perhaps, we have all these continuous conflicts across the mother continent?
Try thinking about what would have happened if you had actually fully expressed the internal traffic jam in your intestines.
“Do, I know you?”
“Get lost, then”
Unspoken massacre. Inward slaughter. Laughter. Slaughter.
I remember in the 1970s, the phrase Brothers and Sisters was sooo, common. Popular.
“My brother, please help me...”
“Are you new in town?”
“Yes. Know where the huge market is?”
“Don’t worry my brother. You are actually not far from it.
Let me direct you.”
“Thank you so much, brother.”
“Thank you so much, sister...”
Both sides respectfully, acknowledging.
Speaking of sisters, what happened to the natural Afro hair? If famous black women like Oprah Winfrey and Michelle Obama are using superficial, relaxed, permed, chemicalised hair, sisal, twigs and wigs – where will our little girls go? The African American comedian Chris Rock did a documentary in 2010. Watch “Good Hair” on YouTube.
Anyway, it used to be brothers and sisters. Back then. Not now. Not now.
That would be say, 1977, 1973, 1981.
“Brother Bob Marley just died.”
“Brother Bob just died.”
“Do you like reggae?”
“Yes Bob Marley smoked marijuana. Reggae means drugs.”
“Not really. It is revolutionary music. Bob Marley and Wailers played during Zimbabwe independence celebrations in Harare in April 1980. Revolutionary music.”
“Yes, conscious music.”
Yes. Consciousness. Every generation, epoch, time frame has a catch phrase, a metaphor, a period concept. Forty years ago, it was “consciousness.”
“He is not conscious!”
“Him. Her. They just eat, sleep, eat, fornicate, defecate, operate.”
“What is wrong with that? It is called living.”
“Living blindly. Lacking consciousness and awareness.”