Why So Sad, Africa?

“Why so sad, Africa?”

“I have a headache. I haven’t had anything to eat for a while now, and the stomachache has turned to headache because I don’t know where the food will come from. I have a farm but no water. Spades and hoes but no plants to harvest. I went to the office to ask for help.”

“What did they say?”

“Tomorrow. Yesterday is tomorrow. Today is tomorrow. Tomorrow is tomorrow. Next month, next year is tomorrow.”

“Why not trust them? I’m sure they have your best interest at heart?”

“They have interest, yes, but not ours, and it’s nowhere near the heart. Time. Time is the only thing they give in abundance. Anything else is always on the way. On the way. Just keep waiting. It’ll get better in time. Time has not healed Mama Mbogo’s cervical cancer. Neither has it given Juma back some land after his was taken to make way for the black snake that is yet to slither its way past here. They killed the green snake to make way for the black one, but the black one’s poison kills slowly. Our children and our children’s children will feel it many moons from now.”

“Is that why you’re sad, Africa?”

“My nose has been running lately. No one has been able to catch it. It went far away and brought back much maize and cassava for me and my family. All the villages far and wide know about it. My nose is still with me. My hair, however, was cut and most of it has not yet been recovered. Some grew back, but the rest hasn’t returned. It is on someone else’s head now. A big head with hair from many villages.”

“Why not demand your hair back? It’s yours after all.”

“It’s easier for the hair to come to the head than the head to go to the hair.”

“Is that why you’re sad, Africa?”

“I was sleeping when they came. The other villages, they had a council. I had been arguing with my cousins for some time. I didn’t have time to get ready because they came when I was sleeping. They took most of my beads and my cousins’ beads. Now, we don’t look as beautiful. The office wasn’t there at the time because I was arguing with my cousins. The office came after we woke up and chased them away. The office is the one that takes away our beads now. Maybe one day we’ll also get some beads.”

“When do you think that will happen?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Is that why you’re sad, Africa?”

“I’ve been to the other villages. Some of their villagers came to see us. They were impressed I knew their language and asked if I wanted to go see their village. I said yes. Their village is very beautiful, and their office doesn’t say tomorrow so much. Their beads are bigger, and it’s easy for more people to get them. They let me keep some in exchange for my songs and hair, but they said my cocoa wasn’t good enough. Speaking of hair, I found some when I was there.”

“Did you take it back?”

“I wanted to. I didn’t know where to start. It looked so different from when I last saw it. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it was mine in the first place. My head isn’t the same either. New hair grew where the other was removed. Sometimes when I reach back there, there’s a small patch. Maybe one day it will find its way there. One day.”

“Do you miss your hair?”

“Does my hair miss me?”

“Is that why you’re sad, Africa?”

“Come. Walk with me down this road.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the homestead in the south. My cousins live there. Sometimes we fight. They fight us. They say every time we visit, we take their beads even though we are very few and couldn’t do such a thing if we tried. They were the last to wake up. They didn’t chase away all the villagers from the council. The council villagers are few, but they have almost all the beads.”

“At least they’re no longer fighting.”

“I agree. But at the end of the day, who’s really in charge?”

“Is that why you’re sad, Africa?”

“I put too many spices in my food. Spices from north, east, west, and south. The meal I’m trying to prepare doesn’t need all these spices, but I put them in anyway. Most of the time, one or two spices are too strong upsetting the dish. I try to make it again. I try again. I try again. The spices are too many. I’m stuck. The recipe I’ve used all my life says all the spices should be there, but every time I eat, I get stomach upsets. There should only be one spice, one flavor, one taste.”

“Is it just you who gets the stomach upsets from the food?”

“No. My neighbors, my neighbor’s neighbors, and their neighbors too. We all make it the same way. We all fell ill around the same time. All we need to do is get rid of the other spices, but no one listens. It’s not always the office that’s the problem.”

“Aren’t all the spices in the food what it makes it special?”

“Special from the outside, poison on the inside.”

“I’ve asked you many times. Why don’t tell me why you’re sad, Africa?”

“I wish I could, Rest Of The World, but the anger in me boils like a sufuria ready for maize flour. My children have become a symbol of poverty. Every time you talk about me on the magic box it’s something bad. You only show me fighting with my relatives, and how the people in the office have stolen and keep stealing our beads. It is this anger that turns to sadness, but that’s not why I’m sad.”

“Why are you sad then, Africa?”

“I’m sad… because everything I’ve said is all true.”  

END

I wrote this piece at not the best of times as you can tell by its tone. Seeing what it really means to be African and the way things happen on this continent can be really depressing, but at the same time, when people from outside point this out, many Africans get offended and become defensive. Why is that?

Is it because they’re tired of being portrayed as poor all the time? Besides the animals and maybe good weather, why would anyone from outside want to come to Africa? I didn’t write this to express some form of self-hate. However, I’ve always wondered: if these bad things about Africa weren’t so prevalent, wouldn’t there be less negative things to say about it?

Granted, every country has its struggles and various things it would rather be kept secret, but after living in an African country for the majority of my life, there’s no denying there’s a lot of work that needs to be done if life is to improve even a little bit. Has that work been done? Barely. That’s why I wrote this.

I’ll end with a quote you can interpret any way you like. If I was a really tall person and someone shorter than me walked up to me and said, “Hey, Short-Stuff. How’s the weather down there,” I would laugh at them because chances are, I’m looking down at them saying this, and they look ridiculous. On the other hand, if I was really short and it bothered me all the time and someone taller came to me and said the same thing, I would probably lash out in anger at them. Why would I do that?

I’ll let you guys decide.

Cheers!