Slavery

Too many times have I heard it. Even when hearing it for the first time, I was already disgusted by it. I do not know if it's meant for self-pity, humility, or some sort of backwards form of exultation, but in my mind it's unacceptable. It only happens in conversation between an African and a Non-African. It's a simple phrase that begins like this:

“You know, we Africans...

...cannot trust someone else with our money like you people can.”

...want to marry white people. You white people are more desirable because you make love to your woman and consider how it feels for her.”

...cannot keep time the way you white people can.”

And countless others.

Whatever this phrase is, it reflects a deep mental division between race and culture in the minds of those who employ it. This mindset permeates deep into the entirety of African culture. In a grade-6 social studies textbook, there was a passage about the effects of WWII on Africa. There were nearly eleven effects listed, and eight out of the eleven were about the realization by Africans that the white man was not above them or inherently better than them. A few specifically went, “Africans realized that the white men were able to be killed.” or “Africans discovered that the white men could be defeated in a battle.”

There were four of us, two Americans and two Kenyans, speaking about economic differences and development in America compared to Kenya. One of the Kenyan guys spoke out, “You know it was you white people who exploited us Africans to build your country.” He argued. “It was the slaves who built the railroad, the slaves who harvested the cotton and the crops. If it weren't for the slaves, America would not be the great economic power it boasts today.” My colleague and I could not argue; we knew it was true. A deep silence ensued. The friendly conversation suddenly turned tense. From his eyes came a seeming glare, which cast a feeling that my colleague and I were the ones to have employed that abject system of slavery on him and his family. It was as if he believed that our very existence reincarnated the atrocities of the past. But then, the tense silence was broken by the other Kenyan clearing his throat.
We turned towards him. He stood there smiling amicably, an immutable aura emanated from him. “We Africans,” he began, dropping the usual phrase I so greatly loathed. He continued, “We did not care much about slavery or what not. We just noticed that the white man was so frail, so fragile. They could not do an honest bit of hard work like we could, so we felt sorry for the white man and decided we were most fit to do the difficult jobs.” He ended his thought again with a smile that betrayed a playfulness which, in conjunction with his words, dispelled the rising tension. I looked at him, he was a 29 year old who was just finishing up his senior year in high school, but there was a sense of clairvoyance in his expressed thought, a sense of paradoxical superiority which resonated with me.

I became lost in thought and reflection. So many of us are focused on retribution or reconciliation of the sins of the past, of the decades of slavery and oppression which have contributed to the inequality of resources and opportunity between races and countries. So many were schooled to think and believe that the oppressed minorities deserve some type of pity, while those same minorities were made to believe that they are not only entitled to but are in need of a head start, or a push forward. They are made to believe that there is a great chasm to cross, and on the other side stand the former oppressors, or the white man.

His comment seemed to rise above all the researched sociology, the oppressive history, and the deep seeded mental boundary that only serves to divide different peoples. Although all of the history is grounded and should be considered, what exists now inside many people is a form of mental slavery. But his thought was liberating. It shrugged off the past and all of its horrors and it embraced the only thing that truly matters, the present.

I smiled back at him, acknowledging the depth of his remark. He smiled at me again and then resumed the conversation by asking, “So which is your football team?”