Searching for myself
I grew up in postcolonial Africa, an Africa that has everything and nothing to do with the stereotypes. That means that I grew up in tropical heat, and could drink fresh mango juice or Coca-Cola to cool down. It means that I learnt about African kings and queens in history but only in primary (elementary) school, Secondary (High) school history was spent sleeping through lectures on the Renaissance, the Industrial Revolution, the First World War. It means that I learned to read from “Peter and Jane” as well as “Mulenga and Jelita” books. It means that the Santa Claus (we called him Father Christmas) who came to our school every year to collect gifts for less fortunate kids was black, but the Jesus on the church wall was always white.
There are things that I would like to change about my childhood. I wish that we had not sung “Jingle Bells” at Christmas, what did I know about open sleighs? I wish that an African education system would have had as much value as a British one. I wish that there had been more of a local alternative to American pop music and TV shows. But in the end, how much complaining can I do? I am African and I survived past adolescence, I have the opportunity to further my education, I am not dying of AIDS. I’m one of the lucky ones.
I still get frustrated though, as I type in a search for Fela Kuti, political musician, pioneer of Afrobeat, countercultural icon, a kind of an African Bob Marley without the dreads.
“Did you mean fellah Kurt?”
I get kind of irritated when I am trying to make a PowerPoint on African women and when I do a Google Image Search one of the pictures that comes up is of Gwyneth Paltrow. Recently a high school student repeated the 1940 doll experiments, asking little African American girls which doll was prettier. Like in the original, the children were more likely to choose the white doll. I get a little irritated when the spellchecker recognizes Beckham but not Biko. It seems unfair that I had to learn about the American war of independence when you are allowed to live your life knowing nothing about the heroes who fought and died in the many African wars of independence. It is a little jarring when people look at my name and conclude it is impossible to pronounce. For the record, it’s Kah - Mpee - Ray, three syllables, Kampire.
I do not want to sound bitter, but maybe I am a little. My frustration grows the more time I spend in this country, each day I become less African and more American; you can hear it in my accent. I feel it as I grope for Zambian words and Ugandan memories that get farther the way the harder I try. You might feel the same way if you knew all that Africa had to offer and had offered up the world, culturally and historically, and yet could not find evidence of it anywhere. I listen to Marvin Gaye and hear ancient African rhythms, my hip stirs in response, I can’t help myself. In the lyrics of KRS-One I hear traditionally African pedagogic style and wordplay. Beyond the hallowed historical halls of Greek philosophers, I envision the original African centers of learning, the real antecessors of the American university I now attend because today’s African universities are too undervalued, and under funded. I listen to contemporary African pop music, with its poor imitations of Western celebrity culture and I don’t know if I should scream or laugh. We have our own beautiful, rich history but it cannot be seen for the sparkle of American bling-bling. It is from this partially obscured African past that a vision for an authentic African future must come. If I cannot find it on Google, I guess I just have to look for it in myself.
Poweful
I can't say I totally relate, but I do understand to a certain extent. I grew up in a Catholic household (thankfully for only eight years), which shunned homosexuality. My parents divorced because my mother was a lesbian. I had to work so hard to escape what I had learned to find myself. I am a woman, also shunned by Catholics. I am a identifying lesbian, though it is shunned and I do have a boyfriend (you can't help who you fall in love with.). I had to look under the glamour of religion and the darkness surrounding my way of life to find myself.
Everyone strives to find themselves when they're lost, strives to find where they came from, what they will be. Sometimes to find out what life really is, what living really is, you just have to look inside, no matter how lost things are.
Again, I cannot relate to you entirely, but I do understand what you are going through, even though my own experiences haven't been the same.
Excellent post. Although I
Excellent post.
Although I cannot relate completely, I understand the wish for more diversity, and an acceptance of it. I'm white, it isn't my background nor where I grew up, but I find African cultures very interesting. Sadly, we barely learn about it, so I don't know where I would even begin. It's not only those cultures either, but all the other ones that are so different, and therefore, interesting. Some Asian, Indian, Native American, South American, etc. cultures would be so cool to learn about and hear the music of (pop culture is NOT my thing) and see the different beliefs and styles of...
I freaking love this blog.
I freaking love this blog. Please continue writing about this subject because it's so needed. I hardly ever read anything like this, though this frustration and sadness runs deep through my veins too Kampire .....and I'm sure too, in millions of others.
(As expressed by Kym and Mollie here too.)
I too rarely express these things but it is so there --I this sense of stoicism, or martyrdom or lack of belief in others ? --prevents me from expressing these feelings anywhere near as much as I should. But really, your clincher line says it all--if we can't find the missing gold we know exists, we see scattered, few, but shining brilliantly, we will have to look for it in ourselves. And in a broader sense this is truth for absolutely every one.
Well I can tell you you've touched a nerve and brought tears to my eyes w/this, plus a knot to my stomach. I can't tell you how many times I've google/yahoo -searched for info., history, icons, on Africa especially, but also other marginalized peoples for example recently I was really depressed to find little on Native American women icons.
In fact you are reminding me that we must be the change we wish to see in the world. I have been wanting to amass the links I DO have which are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to basic info., incredible, incredible facts and histories re Africa! The motherland of us all. Drives me up a wall and then over it -- I want to cross over it.
THANK YOU FOR THIS BLOG. No apologetics for something so needed, please.
We SHOULD think, feel, write, act on these feelings of frustrations and the almost often seemingly secret knowledge we do have -- I say this as it is so obscured and so rarely if ever mentioned, as you express here.
By the way I adore Mavin Gaye too. :D He's one of the patriarchs of my life. :) Since the time I was four. :D
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo!!!!,
Jeyoani
This is such an awesome
This is such an awesome entry, I'm so grateful that you posted it.
I can relate regarding the frustration of seeing an ancient beautiful culture being obscured by the branded homogenization of our world. When traveling in China, it was amazing how the views of things like tiananmen square and the Great Wall were obscured by vendors hawking cheap imitations of them.
But you're definitely right about not being able to find much evidence of Africa, especially Africa before colonization. It's easy to oppress and imperialize a nation when you don't see them as a people with any purpose beyond meeting your own needs.
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