" not all tradgey is tragic"
The fairy tale did crumble slowly and painfully… The death of Tapfuma the birth of the Cloud and the Ether, when I left Zimbabwe for Australia to attend university I was far from innocent but still full of hopes dreams and aspirations as most young people are. I had being warned of what lay ahead and knew it would be hard but even I was not ready for the demon that is racism ironic considering I grow up right next to and even visited apartheid South Africa. The culture shock was real coming from a people who actually had their own culture and a history that spanned eons (we existed before colonies) into another culture which seem young and confused. The shift from a community based culture which might have had its problems like any honest society but we were family oriented to the individualism of the west, shock was understatement silence and observation I felt like an alien, where I came from we respected our elder but in this place every second word that seemed to come out of people mouths including the children was "fuck shit asshole and cunt" . As I said I was not ready for it, it’s one thing to watch marathon on TV its completely different thing to run one it is the exact same thing with racism growing up in Africa I am the majority, no Caucasian in their right mind would call me nigger and expect to leave in one piece they might think it but not say and that’s fine with me, we had seen on tv and films and newspapers but I had never directly being afflicted by it until I landed in that land and what a rude awaking it was, my deepest regret was my approach to Australia and New Zealand in that I believed there was going to be genuine, Equality instead approaching situation and problems from the prospective of a second rate citizen . The question I asked myself a week after my arrival in Australia is the same question I still ask my self today in New Zealand as we deal with white supremacy and privilege “whats wrong with these people?" And is there any real hope of change ? what is it that fills them with fear anxiety hate and anger is it genetic or just plain simple ignorance and guilt?”. The fairy-tale crumbled both fast and painfully slow… American movies make you imagine university as this wild adventure with new experiences good and bad, wild parties stressful nights before exams, blissful romances, one night stands (sound of glass shattering and breaks screeching) just to walk into a mine field of their hate… emotional spiritual mental and unfortunately physical war fare, I have the scars to prove it…but I survived others didn’t make it (suicides rest in peace kings). As I say the racist in no different from a rapist and that’s the truth what those evil people do to someone’s body and dignity you do to our souls and you know it.
After
a year in the west again I was
tired, women let me assure you a mans
tired is different from yours not to down grade your tired but ours … its dangerous that how we die and
we do it silence the older the worse… I remember lying on my floor in the foetal
position, thinking of Mandela on a cold cell floor... Thinking of Biko’s
lifeless body on a cold concrete floor alone thinking… not yet dead can’t move just thinking dying still dreaming.
Too proud to cry and take my soul to the laundry mat tears crept down my cheeks
anyway, questions deep questions in mind from child hood… why do our
parents have to give us "the talk" at a certain age and would i have to give my child the talk? Nausea cramps and knots in my
stomach, my stomach churned so badly if I had drank milk I would of shat out butter
the next day (African humour to intense). I swear I tried to pray but nothing
would come out, lord knows I was going through it all I could manage was a hum I
assume that’s where the blues come from.
The
temptation was to call my mother… (Laughing gently) African mothers our strong
place, my book of knowledge , keeper of wisdom my second spine, a confused and
foolish blend of pride and wisdom would not let me … the reasoning was that she
had suffered enough in this lifetime
from a place of love for us, tears from child hood years I heard her cry behind
closed doors so many nights I did not want to be burden .
Questions so many questions the worst part was that the questions did not
start yesterday or when I arrived on the
shores they stemmed from deep in my child until to now, as close to being broken with
being broken right on the cusp, asking myself if things have really changed why
is it we still have to work twice as hard for normal, 10 times as hard for good
and 100 times for excellent and almost dam near give our life for phenomenal at
the expense of family…(angry yes and I dam angry). The cold finger of reality
touch my soul and the my idea’s of
equality spit in my face and laugh “ change haha change no! .... mututation yes a transformed system
never change just more civil if thats a word you can associate it them ”, I used to think the shackle around my wrist and neck I saw in
the dream world , sorry nightmare stayed they have shifted slowly while we were
sleeping into reality around our minds. Sitting on fathers lap asking questions “ I don’t hate
them but they hate me , I don’t fear them but they fear me I never stole from
them but they stole from us why?” Mr Gods
ask these people for me “what’s wrong with them ?” and when he spoke to them it echoed because he
spoke to empty heads who only new how to change stories to fit lies to exsonorate guilt. The knife
of racism pushed mm by mm pushed into my heart, tears crept from eyes as they
marched down my cheek so too did life from soul. “Ancestors where are you !?” Quiet … silence … alone and
forsaken accept for the distinct wails of African mothers haunting caught in time from when they
arrived on our shores to now, for fathers husbands son and the unborn killed in stone wombs, I was
almost provoked not to fight this death
thing... when I heard her shrill “what have you done to my baby … bring back my baby!” Moma her eyes please don’t cry ? a
change in past mm's to cm’s Mr God I know
you hear me while mama asleep comfort her
and tell her “ I done tried... mama”.
Nobody
knows you better than you and that is the worst person on earth to wage war with,
to win you must loose and only the scorch earth policy will do we leave no
enemy behind nothing… I have a beef with that part of me that makes me African Ubantu because it causes us to forgive certain
people to fast accept certain bullshit…
but they forget Ubantu demands me to
forgive you only if you tell the truth in sincerity, you have clearly shown you
cannot tell the truth to yourself so why would I believe you could tell the
truth to me which brings us to impass so until time heals these wounds and you get
some serious therapy forgiveness is a far gone conclusion. The knife of racism fast
approached the centre of my heart the home of the hope and the connector to the dream world , like Dr
king I to had a dream not of freedom equality I thought our parents had already
paid that price another lie, my dreams was simple and boring but it means the world
to me, "to be like my father the best husband and father I can be and maybe
change my community", I feel the pain slowly cut away at the dream rootz, I am ready …I can
tell you from experience deaths touch is not cold often for those who live with
integrity it is welcome, I knew it was time because the ancestors surrounded
me and I didn’t feel cold anymore,
from me there was no resistance, I smile among my ancestor a most welcome face “Father”,
I got up off the floor I am not sure where I was but I was not in my room any
more… I am don’t know if death hurts or not but I was ready as the knife moved,
then it happened tugging on my pants with a huge smile light brown eye’s
with her tiny hands up to me … thinking to my
self-death looks cute so I picked her …waiting for the moment of truth, she
said something I didn’t hear so she wrapped her little hands around my neck “daddy please wake up and fight for me... please?”.
Anew level of numbness and a new mind of understanding of what pain felt like, if racism had knife past half way through my heart hope just put a shot gun to the back of my head and said "you better fight" … Oh Dear something was wrong I could feel something just one emotion rage … not anger not hatred not animosity pure un-adulterated virgin rage …I squeezed my baby like sun holds heat and the northpole the cold the for ever hug. They would dare steal this from me … they would steal her future, her safety her innocence and make her work twice as hard for normal …rage..! they would make her ask one day "daddy why do they hate us” with tears in her eyes, they would let her live in poverty to the point she would only find value in her ass and whats between her thighs and not between ears and hidden in the left side of her chest Rage, I squeeze her hard enough not to hurt but like I would never let her go ever ever ever… Death finally whispers in my ear “give me one second I know” I say . I put her down smile kiss her forehead “ go to grand dad ." Die ? yes i am going to die to my self and for her .... yes you i smile and wave as i head home ... when i die to win this war i have only two option to come back sub human or more than an average man , normal just wont do.... My fairy tale crumbled that's true ... to my unborn i will die a million times and comeback before i let them near you.. hurt you or make yor fairytale crumble
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