Africare- NewPublications <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2007
16:15:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Africare- NewPublications <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: Fwd: The Africans Of My Youth
Date: Sat, 25 Aug 2007 10:33:03 -0000
Subject: The Africans Of My Youth
The Africans Of My Youth
By Sabella Ogbobode Abidde
If you need to reach me you may do so by clicking here; but please,
do not ask me about religion. I get the evil look every time I tell
people I am an agnostic who teeters on atheism. My world resolves
around ethics and the rule of law. That's it. I have no use for
religion: religious convictions are not part of my existence -- the
laws of man are good enough for me.
I have lived in several cities: Seattle, Miami, Norman, Minneapolis-
Saint Paul, Saint Cloud, the District of Columbia, Houston, and
Mankato. I am not sure where I am going to live next. And I have
never really had a profession, only jobs: been a cook, a dishwasher,
a civil servant, house cleaner, university instructor and researcher
and so on and so forth.
Every so often I get questions concerning the role and place of the
African woman. Well, I don't know; at least not with any certainty.
What seems to work best is when both partners work as a team:
cooperate, coordinate and collaborate their marital efforts. And they
should be mindful of the insidious effect of modernization on the
African family.
"One generation plants the trees, and another gets the shade"
(Chinese Proverb)
During my formative years in Lagos, Ilorin, and Jos, people, places,
culture and politics were all part of my everyday existence.
Especially people. And so people are at the center of this treatise.
Forgive me if I profusely effuse over the Africans of my youth.
Forgive me if I sound too nostalgic. Forgive me I idolize them and
idealize a time that once was, but now seem to be on the passing. I
grew up at a time when giants roamed the African continent. I grew up
at a time when -- to borrow a popular parlance -- "men were men."
These were persons of high intellect and strong persona. And even
those lacking formal schooling walked and spoke as though they were
products of Makerere, Ibadan, Harvard Cambridge, Ife, and other great
institutions. Most were charismatic, introspective. And most were
large, and in some cases, larger than life. Comparing then and now,
one could say "nature and nurture" no longer create such men (and
their female counterparts) in great numbers. Although a few of such
personalities are still around, their numbers are dwindling. My guess
is that most Africans, of admirable standing, now live in the West.
Ronald Wilson Reagan it was who said "Each generation goes further
than the generation preceding it because it stands on the shoulders
of that generation." Forgive my sense of disillusionment, and
hyperbolic language; I am inclined to think Africa of the last
fifteen years will be hard-pressed to name two hundred Africans,
living in Africa, who are of the same or comparable in status to
those of yesteryears. The newer generations seem not to have measured
up to the previous ones. Perhaps the values and priorities are
different; perhaps times are different. That said; it is not lost on
me that every generation has its own heroes and heroines, bastards,
beacons, crooks and vagabonds. And indeed, every generation has its
distinctive culture and value system.
Let me say, here and now, that the Africans I have in mind were not
gods or saints. In fact, most made very bad political mistakes. But
that's not what I am after; this is not about their failings and
shorts comings. I'll leave that to others to write and talk about.
This is about a group of people who stirred my soul and made me think
and wonder; this is about a group of people I was fond of: a group of
men and women, scattered all over the continent, whose deeds,
talents, courage and pronouncements gave me the impetus to imagine
life's endless possibilities. In spite of its follies and foibles,
the Africa of my youth was a nourishing estate.
This is about a group of men and women who secured our independence.
This is about Africans who were proud to be Africans. This is about
men and women who walked the unknown path despite its challenges, and
who crossed stormy seas and spiked tributaries in search of our
liberty. These are Africans who gave their lives just so we may live,
go forth, and prosper. Others were singers and song writers,
painters, lawyers, members of the armed forces, and of various
vocation and avocation. They touched my life and the lives of my
friends, my equals, and the public.
In the Nigeria of my youth, we read about these men in the pages of
the dailies, books and magazines; and were also told about them by
the grownups. I don't remember them all now, but I do now remember
AmÃlcar Cabral, Adu Boahen, Agostinho Neto, Kingsley Ozuomba Mbadiwe,
Jomo Kenyatta, Patrice Lumumba, Samora Machel, Sam Nujoma, Moses
Olaiya, Tunde Nightingale, Camara Laye, Oginga Odinga, Julius
Nyerere, Dennis Brutus, Mariam Makeba, Kenneth Kaunda, Ngũgĩ wa
Thiong'o, Joshua Nkomo, Obafemi Awolowo, Benjamin Adekunle, Fela
Anikulapo Kuti, Salim Ahmed Salim, Tai Solarin, and Ibrahim Adetunji
Taiwo. The list goes on and on and on. And really, one could create a
Nigerian-only list comprising more than seven dozen of such group of
people.
Sadly, the life and times of these and other men are not properly
documented in books or in movies. Africans are not very good at
writing biographies and autobiographies. When our leaders,
intellectuals, artists, and heroes die, we mourn their passing for a
week or so and then go about our daily lives. There are hardly any
monuments or institutions named after them. Streets may be. But there
are hardly ever books and movies dedicated to their lives and
accomplishments. What a shame! It is my hope that this essay will
nudge a reader or two into looking into, document, and then celebrate
the life of Africans who lived for us. At the very least, I am hoping
that some readers will develop interest in the life and times of
these giants, and be thankful of their struggles and sacrifices.
Somehow, one gets the feeling that the younger generation does not
care about a time and a place that was once. It is almost as if they
have no sense of self and of history; as if they have no sense of the
society they are growing up in, and as if they have no sense of the
men and women on whose shoulders we rest. If Nigeria is any sign, the
African continent is in peril: she faces the dearth of unique
talents. Where are our orators and philosophers, economists, and
scientists, and especially artists in the mode of Fela Anikulapo
Kuti, Haruna Ishola, E.T Mensah, Dan Maraya, Bobby Benson, Osibisa,
and Rex Lawson? Is that era over? I hope not. Africa has a lot; she
still has a lot to offer the world.
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