I am an African. I pause for breath because that is something I hold with such
pride. I take a second to make you fully appreciate who I am, what I am and where I am from. I was born off the loins of Shaka in the South, with the magic of Kinjikile in the centre and from the womb of Sheba in the North. I was nursed on the bosom of Cleopatra herself and raised in the warrior traditions by Queen Amina of Zau Zau to stand as tall and proud as I am today. I have stood on the shores of the great Atlantic and watched in the horizon as the ships that shackled my brethren sail away to the new world where they would be used as cheap labour, dehumanized and beaten like animals. I saw the tears on the women’s faces as their sons were sent to fight and die in not one but two great wars for the pale skins in lands unknown yet they were told they had no homes of their own. I heard the calls of the Reverend who had a Dream and for dreaming, for having and giving hope they gunned him down like a stray dog on the street. In spite of all their trials and tribulations I saw them march back over the mighty Zambezi, drinking water in the Limpopo and scaling the Drakensburg just to come home to the ululating women and embrace their children with huge smiles that exposed their ivory white teeth. I have seen my people become slaves in the land of their ancestors, driven to abject poverty by unfair laws, beaten for trying to find an identity and experimented on because they with pale skins thought they were less than animals yet they could not break us. I was there when they took poor Sarah and threw her in a circus because she was different and i watched them humiliate her for she was like me and you, different! Yet in spite of all this I have seen the goodness of our hearts shine through when after twenty seven years of torture and imprisonment our great leader came out of prison and told them that we did not desire revenge but wish them peace and harmony. Ours might be a dark skin but white and pure is our hearts. Mine is the blood of the warriors of every African man and woman whose blood watered our great plains and sacrificed their lives so that one day i can sit here by the fire roasting my cob and tell my grand children that I am African and they died for freedom. On the day when the shackles fell off my weary hands and feet I vowed never again would i allow myself to be a slave to any man, woman, child or animal. I have witnessed nature at her greatest glory on the Kenyan plains as the great herds move north for pasture in what surely was the heavens greatest garden. I live in a land where every man is my brother and my neighbours happiness is my happiness. I come from a people that believe in the spirit of ubuntu and whenever I fall down i can look up and find someone there trying to help me up. I have travelled to many a great lands over the seas yet no matter where i go i have been made to appreciate what i already knew that my roots are deep in the land of eternal sunshine and beautiful maidens. I owe my gratitude to every smile i get from the women of my great land who work day in and day out to feed their families with not only food but the melody of their laughter. Today i was woken up by the men singing in the mines and the women ululating at the harvest and i told myself that I really am of noble origin. I have been lucky enough to witness the great spectacle of the sport of the masses grace my backyard and I picked up my vuvuzela to herald to the world that today it feels good to be an African. I have opened my arms and said to the entire world welcome to the land of my forefathers for today you are like me and I am like you. We are both Africans and can proudly stand on one leg as the Masai do and tell all those that could not join us that we are Africans!