Recently I’ve started a really intense and delightful journey of personal discovery and re-definition that has been triggered by a series of personal mishaps. Call me melodramatic, but this girl is not acting. I would choose to re-write the story of the past 18-24months if I could, but I realise it’s all part of the character-build. Experiences are in the past, they may be painful, sordid at times, but they should in no way define our future or who we aspire to become.
So, like the calming and altogether familiar smile of a doting grandmother, some things remain constant and provide inspiration through life's challenges. When we go through pain, remembering the familiar often brings peace, no matter how short-lived. And this post is as much cathartic as it is face-value. Take it for what it is, but remember it's inspired by the very personal experience of the author. In this piece, Africa is my reference point.I apologise in advance, if upon reading it, you’ll think I’m errantly mixing rather mundane daily experiences with obviously serious headlines about Africa. But if truth be told I like to draw analogies, some of which you may find unacceptable or even insensitive. I’m taking creative liberties:
I remember the Arab Spring – particularly the riots just north of the Sahara, that ushered in regime change by the masses and I think about those personal upheavals in my life, that ruffled and toppled the status quo. Things that I thought would never change, but ended up changing by force if you like. The moment when revolution, brings change, though not necessarily stable change. In fact political transitions like life's definning moments can be messy, and can stay that way for a very long-time. Then I am reminded of what started it all, the Tunisian street fruit and vegetable vendor Mohamed Bouazizi, 26, who set himself on fire in angst at the unending cycle of despair in his homeland, and harassment from public officials in a country that he obviously loved, and I wonder how far many of us would really go for love…....even when it’s unrequited.
I remember Nigeria’s general elections in 2011, a sleeping giant finally ridding itself of some ( but not all ) of its old election demons, then I wonder whether we’ve been sleeping for too long and need to surprise the world with our new found zeal. Unwittingly, however, we realise that expectations are too high. In some ways we win, and seek plaudits, but the cynics in our lives never change (guess that’s why they’re cynics, the stay the same even when the evidence is good). Meanwhile those who silently deride our resilient spirit, and are only too happy to see us fail or part-fail, have plenty of ammunition in reserve. But our core remains, despite the pain (like Nigeria) we’re still standing.
I remember the famine ( more politically correct to call it ‘drought’, though, rather incorrectly in my view!) in East Africa and the Horn of Africa, with images reminiscent of the starved young faces we saw on our TV screens when I was a child growing up in Lagos. But then I realised, that my personal drama was nothing compared to the lot of those less fortunate than myself. But I also wonder whether the flies that swarm on the open wounds and caked-out skin of the hungry are similar to the nay-sayers in our lives who batter us when we we’re already down, and then leave us alone, once we’re all bones and no flies?
I remember South Africa ANC youth wing leader and controversial figure Julius Malema’s fall from grace, and I’m reminded that not everyone will always appreciate a revolutionary or contrarian spirit. Perhaps they have a right not to, since these types of characters almost always end up on the extreme and negative end of a very long moral continuum. Or so it seems. One man’s meat…they say!
I remember the iconic 93-year old Mandela’s hospitalisation for illness in January, and his eventual relocation to his hometown later in the year, and I wonder whether we shouldn’t all try to bow out at the end of a long and fruitful cycle of endeavour like the old man did, so we don’t stay too long at the top, and potentially lose sight of our own personal limitations.
I remember South Sudan’s independence from the north in January, after a long and hard struggle, and I wonder whether breaking free is truly freedom, given our still innate dependence on that to which we had become so accustomed to? More poignantly what about those who refuse to let us go so we can stand on our own two feet? Especially when they think we should be forever indebted to them, since we have no real means of our own. Then I wonder whether Africa’s move from 54 to 55 states is like our usual reticent social protectionism where we find ourselves having to make friends with or admit the newcomer into our inner and familiar circle of friends.
I remember the wave of anti-gay legislation sweeping Africa, with all the emotions and arguments on either side of the fence and I wonder how we would react if we woke up to discover that we’re not really who we believe we are all this while? And I wonder whether we spend too much of our precious time mooning over low-probability, low-impact events, that we fail to realise the dangers of ignoring those other things that can spell the difference between life and death.
I remember Nobel Prize winner and Kenyan environmental activist Wangari Maathai’s death in September of cancer, and I’m saddened at the loss of this great, selfless and inspirational woman and I wonder how many of us already have an idea of the type of legacy we’d like to leave behind? The only way a tree becomes a forest is if it is protected, watered and cultivated, and more importantly replicated through planting. That’s legacy. Then I wonder why many of us should fear replication and see it as legacy building rather than competition?
I remember Cote d’Ivoire’s eventual resurrection (at least we hope), from the ashes of conflict earlier this year. Previously a country divided, at one time with two presidents, one eventually captured, the other allowed to ascend the throne, all after a troubled election. Then I’m baffled that many of us often carry around clearly wounded hearts, with conflicting emotions, (despite incredible potential), but rather than letting go and seeking reprieve and resolution, we hold it all in until we explode.
I remember Al-Shabab militants in war-ravaged and turbulent Somalia, and the activities of the Islamic militant group Boko Haram in northern Nigeria, and I am troubled by the unease and fear of the unknow. But I also wonder whether any of us is really truly prepared to confront the challenges we’ll face tomorrow in a complete information vacuum? Psychological inertia perhaps? We all would prefer to see the bigger picture right? But I also wonder whether the peacemakers in our lives who try to help us resolve these inner conflicts have any real inkling as to where the real problems started.
I muse over the regular and rather spectacular outlook for African economic growth and wonder whether Africa’s continually proclaimed and acclaimed emergence as the final frontier is really the figment of an outsider’s imagination. But I know it’s not, it’s probably true. So I stop wondering, and I remember that a book should never be judged by its cover. Good is always lurking behind every bad experience, sometimes we spend so much time reflecting on the negative that we’re all too surprised when light eventually shines.
Then I remember 2012 is only round the corner.
