This work isn’t in the books or for the books

The no.1 thing Africa needs isn’t resources, isn’t education, isn’t political structure, isn’t infrastructure. It’s clarity.

We need clarity to be able to see what’s ours and not doubt it. We need to be able to see beyond the webs of deception that have been woven around and around and made us collapse in shameful defeat. We need to see that it’s not our task to remove the webs nor is it our task to make the recovery look good. We need the clarity to disconnect from the worst timeline of exasperation that opened us up for exploitation.

And understand that the abundance on the planet hinges on us clearing the energetic grids. The strongholds of the West which represents an overactive mind has its roots in our relinquishing what we know simply because it’s not as concrete or intellectual to be validated by the West. This isn’t about white v black. It never was. That’s just another idiotic delineation by a limited mind wanting to seek safety. It was always about the higher good which is the universal good. And we have those who oppose it amongst our kinfolk just as there are those who oppose it in the West. As long as we don’t realize the true baseline and the original crack, we’ll just be scrambling to divide what’s left into more precise pieces.

The powerful thing is, there is a timeline of abundance and holism active in Africa, much like Wakanda. It’s something we access, not create. And we can only access that by letting go of what seems so inevitable simply because it’s been around for so long. We can’t fathom the continent without violence and corruption because we’ve disconnected from the vibrancy that is the heart of this planet. We’ve forgotten our bearings completely and that is the sin we need to be redeemed of.

‘cocaine for breakfast’

The reason why so-called third world countries exists is because the people have had their souls fractured by the trauma of colonialism. It’s not because of the violence or power struggles per se, but the existential uncertainty in having a foreign and unknown force not only take over but take away the familiar to transplant their environment. Even when countries became independent they weren’t given space, or rather they didn’t recognize the need to have some space to recollect and figure out an organic way to proceed. They jumped ahead into the suits and footsteps of the colonialists, furthering the soul fracture.

You can’t succeed mimicking someone else, nor can you heal.

Where the spirits have migrated

I think that the reason why Africa as a whole hasn’t been able to flourish and progress as expected is because Africans have had a unique connection to the land that I’d argue no other place has. Everyone else has the experience of uprooting and migrating to foreign lands locked in their genetical memory, but Africans retained those strong roots to the earth. As such they developed this kind of symbiosis with the environment, a panpsychism that is like a living aura surrounding all things in interconnected consciousness. This was fragmented and destroyed by colonialism and the Europeans placed the mind as a wedge between Africans and the world ; insisting that the only civilized way of being is through thought and not feeling.

Africans haven’t been able to reconnect to what imbues them with vigor and animation. They were stranded in their minds by the colonizers after they had exhausted their mental force and decided to pack up and go home. They are still dissociated and disconnected from the traumatized land.

Impair the imperialist

We do not know the size and strength of our own manias until they fall upon us and drag us down, or the barrenness of our inner deserts until real loneliness, fear, bewilderment and sun-madness have cast us into them. There is something huge and dark in the African world which can chew through the defences of white men who have not been harnessed to that continent’s almost mindless friendship with suffering and annihilation. Concrete buildings, clinics and city settlements can hide it, almost, but out in the wastes you never forget that the friendly hyena is there to clean you if you should die in the grey grass among the thorns. It is truly a mighty continent and you feel it when you lie down in darkness under the stars, your blanket around you, and you listen to its powerful silence, a silence made up of various small sounds become one steady background drone and clicking, of cicadas, insects of every kind, mosquitoes, all whirring and hissing in one silence peculiar to Africa.

Of all the desiccated, bitter, cruel, sunbeaten wildernesses which starve and thirst beyond the edges of Africa’s luscious, jungled centre, there cannot be one more Christless than the one which begins at the northern foot of Mount Kenya and stretches to the foothills of Abyssinia, and from there to the dried-out glittering tip of Cape Gardafui where the hot karif winds blow in from where the long sharks race under the thin blue skin of the ocean. You can never think of those wildernesses without thinking of daggers and spears, rolling fierce eyes under mops of dusty black crinkly hair, of mad stubborn camels, rocks too hot to touch, and blood feuds whose origins cannot be remembered, only honoured in the stabbing. But of all the races of Africa there cannot be one better to live among than the most difficult, the proudest, the bravest, the vainest, the most merciless, the friendliest; the Somalis.

I knew an Italian priest who had spent over thirty years among the Somalis, and he made two converts, and it amazed me that he got even those two. The Prophet has no more fervent, and ignorant, followers, but it is not their fault that they are ignorant. Their natural intelligence is second to none and when the education factories start work among them they should surprise Africa, and themselves.

I never saw a Somali who showed any fear of death, which, impressive though it sounds, carries within it the chill of pitilessness and ferocity as well. If you have no fear of death you have none for anybody else’s death either, but that fearlessness has always been essential to the Somalis who have had to try and survive hunger, disease and thirst while prepared to fight and die against their enemies, their fellow Somalis for pleasure in the blood feud, or the Ethiopians who would like to rule them, or the white men who got in the way for a while. ¹


Wandering in the Shag were Somalis with some of the sharpest intelligences in the continent, nomads who had been forced into being parasites of the camel, for centuries, and could anyone ever find a way of using all that courage and intelligence? This unique people, with their great vanity, and their touching bravery in the way in which they try and cope with their difficult life, have no palm oil, no cocoa, no coffee, gold, no diamonds to sell, only their camels. ²


The Somalis bitterly resent the white man, and struggle continually, and admirably, by lies and intrigue, to fight off his influence which spells the end of their peculiar world. You cannot beat them. They have no inferiority complexes, no wide-eyed worship of the white man’s ways, and no fear of him, of his guns or of his official anger. They are a race to be admired, if hard to love. ³


There is no one alive as tough as the Somali nomad. No one.
An askari wounded in a fight in the Haud country walked fourteen miles holding his guts in his hand, was sewn up and lived to soldier again. And the women are as spiritually strong as their men. ⁴


Hanley, Gerald. Warriors : Life and Death Among the Somalis. Eland , 1993. [Scribd version]


¹ pgs.29-31
² pg.73
³ pg.153
pg.117

Black Panther

All of earth’s valuables are buried beneath the surfaces ; that of the earth and souls.


Wakanda is built, developed and maintained by empathy, integrity, authenticity, courage, harmony, self-sacrifice, love. And it made me realize why Africa fell to people like Klaue and Killmonger. The wealth and riches in Africa can’t be extracted and benefitted from by an unscrupulous being. So until the souls are refined, we’ll be punished by our spiritual degradation. The white man didn’t come until we had abandoned our nature and harmony to manipulate the abundance for our egos.

Neither will anything be set aright by focusing on the Klaue’s of the world, corrupt opportunists who only go where they are invited. Yes, we invited the colonizers, the tyrants. Maybe not expressly, but the soul leaks and leaves behind clues when it’s out of alignment with itself, unethical. Just like King T’chaka when he left behind his nephew who later came back as Killmonger, threatening the whole empire and indeed the world.

Respect the universal balance. Not everything is gauged by postmodernism and science. We must assume that the bigger picture is that in all of chaos and disorder, lies a perfect divine order. So you don’t fight the disorder, but you take responsibility for what in you invited the disorder then you counteract it with reinforced order.

I imagine most black millennials in the west would act like Killmonger. People want to take pride in African history and fashion, but do you hear of anyone wanting to connect to the plight of the Africans today? Why, no. It’s all a celebration of ego. To be African is beyond a colour, an event, a language. It’s a mysterious spirit that demands balance, that demands responsibility and that demands justice. It will take you to where pain is mined before you’re shown the vibranium mines.

Bad Beat

 

Self-hate is an extracurricular activity

Self-hate is taught –

When you grow up hating your hair because all the products were made for those with straighter and lighter hair

When you grow up with a different culture that makes you ashamed of your parents

When all the role models are white

When all you see in rotation on tv is white skin

When you become so hyped when your country of origin is mentioned in passing on TV because of how starved you are of representation

When you grow up always having to teach your teachers – who went to university for 4 years to TEACH – how to pronounce your name –

When you grow up never expecting people to remember your name, allowing them to make light your name because it inconvenienced their tongues-
/Oh, not only did I invade your white land, I also invaded your white ears with my inconveniencing foreign sounding name that reeks of spices and broken accents/
Except, I was born here…

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Outlive the dollar

Those who migrate across dangerous seas do so because of the utopia they’ve been sold by their brethrens in the West, through social media. ¹
I see we still have our nomad tendencies. Nomadic determinism. A myopic view of the world that somehow always comes back to currency. Not the currents of the turbulent waters that kill our brethrens. Currency, as in money.
We still act like the nomads on the arid plains of Somalia; here when there’s greenery for our cattle to eat, gone when there’s none. You see, in Somalia money *does* grow on trees. Or at least on grass. Our money is not paper. Money is anything that can act as a substitute for the inner freedom we lack. Any problem in life, we solve by throwing money at, treating life cheaply like a stripper. How can we blame the diasporians for selling a capitalistic fantasy, when in the same breath we try to convince others to come to Somalia by using the same capitalistic fantasies?
Sheeps are now dollars. Cows are cars. Camels are houses. The Somali man’s power is not his resilience or his courage or his honesty or his creativity or his altruism. It’s his money.

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