Whiteness - The Reviled, The exalted
Beat the War drums – this is NOT a joke.
The carcasses you exchanged for wealth have refused to rot in silence…
Betrayal comes in many forms.
But none can defeat premeditated attacks wrapped in greed…
A black man entrapped in white skin, his was a hardened existence.
A life filled with caution and awkward stares, an albino, the reviled,
his fate was sealed.
Then came the one he thought was his friend … he learnt the hard way that even friendships formed in stone can disintegrate into dust.
They took a journey to Tanzania, ‘to see the sights’ his friend said.
They entered into a hut – a witchdoctor’s hut- his friend had sold him for some parts.
Of course he’d heard the stories: the number of albino deaths had risen – a strange belief in the sacrificing of the albino for health and wealth had taken root.
Their sale was booming business.
BUT never once did he think his dear friend would betray him thus.
Fortunately, a neighbour heard his cries, he escaped death by a whisker.
His hair is dyed red; his eyes are covered in permanent shades. His accent is imported, his ancestral land is forgotten.
He looks just like the white men, the exalted.
The ones who chased him from their hotels have rolled out the red carpet.
Those that hold a 999-year lease on thousands of acres their grandfathers spilled blood on, those that ‘accidentally shot some trespassers’ for setting foot in those lands have embraced him.
Those that order workers to be locked in factories at night, those who didn’t bat an eyelash when fire engulfed their employees alive, have
invited him to their table.
And his kin? He had to die in order to live.
When you unashamedly wipe out whole cultures and instill a culture
of oppression; revulsion and exaltation rise up
in equal measures.
But what happens when the scale tips?
In the wake of frustration, the target that’s in the vicinity becomes the
target that bleeds…
But what happens when the scope expands?
The drums keep beating faster.
Continue living your life – it’s not your fight yet.
See that which remains unseen
Caged birds never forget their nesting place, do they?