By Grace Omolola
The white whip lashes the black man, tearing his flesh and branding his skin.
His treasures have been plundered into an empty hole and there is nothing left in his treasury. The white man sneers, his face contorted into a gruelsome monster, He has the black man under captivity.
The black man gains momentum and fights for his life. Years go by and the white man realizes that his slave will die for freedom. His head whips up and he asks, “How do I dominate the black? How do I conquer him into the depth of nihilation?
He laughs like a mad man, “Make him come to us willingly. Wipe his memories and hand him ours. Strip him of all his pride till he grovels to be one of us - a miniature that will forever pass as knock-off. Plant our society into his and make him run into captivity for shelter. Tangle into his brain, our web of confusion and drive him into a sanity of inferiority complex. He is our bounty to hunt for centuries to come, and his children.”
“That is all in the past,” we all clamour but are we really sure? We have been freed from the whites, yet we voluntarily rush to their countries, subjecting ourselves to the second - class citizen status. We toil in our countries day and night, only to sell everything for a route to the “utopia”.
The white man may have left our bodies but he still controls our minds. His ways of life are considered superior and we try so hard to imitate their lifestyle. Many of us twist our tongues, only for half baked “fonetiks” to gush out. A french or british accent is sexy while an igbo or yoruba accent...? Ridiculous!
We don their ugly drab as official wears and are scared to wear ours with pride. Ask yourself, “How many traditional attires do I have?” Should we also talk about the misappropriation of our prints. Gucci and myriads of “international” brands took our designs without giving us our due credit. Or is it the ridiculous fact that most of our supposed african prints are actually nylon fabrics from China?
Let us take a little break and sit still. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Breathe in and imagine. There is a shut-down in all the other continents and all their creations cease to work for 48 hours. Will you have anything solid to stand on or will you be screwed?
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