As I started writing this, it was Thursday evening, 10:17 pm. I had had writer’s block toward the close of the week. I realized my mind was blank of a topic to write on. I often get thoughts about something and suddenly, the typing begins and before I know it, I have thrown in some Uganda rolex or takeaway joint references along with some relatable and retainable experiences. Well, here we are again.
After I completed my A levels, I applied to a university in South Africa where I did not know I would spend the next seven years of my life. These years would shape me in many unanticipated ways. One of the first gates I had to go through before acceptance to this school was an aptitude test which I wrote toward the end of 2008. The test was scheduled at the university at a tall white building close to the main gate. I do not vividly remember how I entered the gate but I would like to assume I had some cool rap song playing in the background of my mind as theme music. I had arrived in outside countries inside Africa which comes with a mixture of excitement and… anxiety. Surprisingly, I was to face an experience or insecurity I had never truly known I had.
At the entrance to the tall white building, we were ushered into different rooms by some helpful people. I remember sitting further back in the hall where I had a view of the entrance. This allowed me to see everyone who came in after me. As different people of different backgrounds and races entered the room, I felt weird anxiety. I noticed, for the first time, I was surrounded by so many white people and I was… uncomfortable. Growing up in Uganda, was a first for me. I had met white people before but not in those numbers and that proximity. I was quite anxious and had no idea where that feeling came from. For the first time, I was confronted with my anxiety toward white people. Maybe I was racist? Who knows?
When I was accepted to the university, this realization continued when I got to my hall of residence. Again, it was a new setting for me. All the perceptions I had of white people that I had never confronted seated at the back of my mind came to the forefront. I had maybe two clear racist incidents while at school though I believe there were many subtle ones I probably missed or did not care about. The latter included the undertone of the fake smiles you would get from some whites while walking on the school grounds that often seemed in-genuine. This was my experience with racism. Of course, compared to other experiences of slavery, apartheid and others, this is by far, nothing.
On a more positive note (white people can stop holding their breath now), the first friend to welcome me to his home was… white. He invited me to his home from where we travelled to another place, all expenses paid. The first person to notice me for the first job I got in SA was coloured, a lady I hold in high regard. The first people to sponsor my attendance to a prestigious industry conference at an amazing hotel, all expenses paid, where whites. I could go on and on. I also had black friends who were good to me but these experiences were opening up my eyes to some things I needed to appreciate. Contrarily, I had some blacks who did not like me probably considering me a foreigner who had come to take their jobs. I remember a black cab driver asking me directly once why I had come to South Africa. I was taken back a bit by his question but answered him the best I could. My experiences had one common factor, humans, not a race.
I think many black Africans share a sentiment of mistrust, bitterness and anger toward white Africans and others. We believe they stole our land, resources, made slaves of our ancestors, murdered, pillaged and did several other evil things. There is no denying whites have done some seriously evil things but here is what bothers me… black Africans seem to wash over OUR sins in the same regard. If we had a scale, we may consider our sins worse because we did these to those we claim are our fellow race, our so-called brothers and sisters. You only need to look to the migration and conquest wars within Africa and among black Africans to realize the level of damage we did to each other may far exceed what whites did or we claim they did to us. An interesting though the ignored fact is that blacks sold many other blacks into slavery. Several of us who remained are descendants of those who sold our brothers and sisters to the whites. Think about that for a minute. Alternatively, look to today, where we have African governments looting from their fellow blacks with fake promises and coloured words, xenophobia, rape and murder among ourselves. People are suffering in poverty while several continue to take and take and take unjustifiably. We vote several thieves into power and still look for a way to blame the whites for our issues. Somehow, we always seem to manage to trace every root of black suffering to whites? Delusional!
To rid oneself of this notion requires sincere observation and consideration. It’s easy to notice that as blacks, we are to a greater extent responsible for our issues yet we play the victim consistently. That does not take away the evils committed by whites in the past and more subtly in the present but at the end of the day, we are our murderers, thieves, rapists and destroyers. Our history and present diagnose us as the perpetrator. We are like those we blame… humans. Colour makes no difference. Like once sung, “Different colours, one people”. We have proven to be no different incapability to do evil or good. As long as we are human, the man in the mirror is us. Observe and truly consider, objectively. It’s not them, it’s us. It’s truly always been us. Later.
