Africa, oh Africa!
I am African, I live in Africa. I’m not your usual African. Not the kind you think of when you think of Somalia. No, I am a white African.
You see, I was born in Africa. And most likely he will die in Africa. Africa is in my blood. The sights, the sounds, the smells. The long dusty roads, the corruption, the roar of lions in a nocturnal slaughter. The dusty shantytowns with half-naked children with swollen bellies. And the tall grass on the plains, punctuated here and there by a prickly umbrella wattle tree. This is what I know. This is the image in my mind when I close my eyes at night.
Why, then, does everyone call us Europeans? We are not from Europe. In past generations, yes. But not anymore! I am African! Raised here, to die here! When I’m away, I don’t miss the British countryside or the fjords of Norway. Nor do I yearn for the plains of Holland or the mountains of Switzerland. No, I long for the vast open plains of the dry Karoo and the wild animals that I have come to know as the African that I am! I long to see wild antelope, like the Springbuck. I really want to see the deadly mamba and the alligator too. I know these. I love these so much.
Africa has never been domesticated. True, there are big cities, but the savagery is still there. And the abundance of military hardware, long since discarded by the West, is living proof of this savagery. The police officer clutching his AK47 keeps telling us that this is a wild place. But this is a place of adventure, of new mornings, which are followed by stunning red sunsets.
I find it strange when they talk about an ‘African American’. How can it be? How can you be from two places? Your heart only has one home. What do you think about when you close your eyes at night? Is he from the dusty plains, the garish jungle with a million mosquitoes, or is he from Houston or New York City? That is who you really are. It’s not about the color of your skin. No brother, it’s where your heart is. That’s who you are! Where you really want to be when you close your eyes!
Africa is the place of opportunity. It has few limits. Danger lurks everywhere, but so does opportunity. Just as the antelope jumps over the plains, your imagination can roam freely in Africa. It is not an easy place. The photos you see from Somalia are proof of that. There is very little to lean on. Life is hard. Droughts come and droughts go. Good times and bad times. Seasons of plenty and seasons of famine. But there is always an opportunity! Always calling!
Oh Africa, blessed Africa. How I love this wild place.
Leave a Reply