So close to the imminent death-knell of the earth and life as we know it, an ancient siren cries out to rouse the original inhabitants of the motherland. The call for a “new black man.” One that neither forsakes his humanity nor loses his culture. One that heeds the old yearning for Ubuntu that beats softly, with iron hardness in his breast. One that knows his brother Aryan tribes, lulled by a chimeric nirvana of capitalism, has been so sucked in by its unyielding, metronomic message, he as the master as become as trapped as the slave. One who knows that we felt the need for the transcendental reality of Pi to fulfil mathematics and discerned in millennia gone by that the universe takes 26 000 years to rotate on itself, long before the dawn of science.

This call is to the black man that is no longer captured by the “fool’s gold” of special statuses accorded one merely because of a lighter hue, but quietly and gallantly recalls the times when the repository of all that is and was to be known, was African. A black man that falls on his own unequivocal truth that all people born of the loins of a man and the carriage of a woman as equal. Those men in equal measure enjoy the wet enveloping feel of the oceans waters and the hot winds of the Sahara. That we bleed in direct proportion to the wounds inflicted on us and hurt inside with the same gravity. No more the falsehoods of generations that stack one above the other on the flimsy basis of one’s sight, but rather the capacity to love inside. 

One thousand may rage on one side, and ten thousand may bay for his blood on the other, but his certainty lays in the knowledge that it was his ancestors that built the foundations of the earth, his people who sailed the seas to transplant memories in distant lands, to remind the future generations that this earth was once adorned with a people who were people. A black man that gazes upon his brother who was poisoned against him and feels no pity, but understanding and empathy, willing to counsel and admonish him of the ways of a people that care, bound in a philosophy, that we are who we are because of the other. A black man that boasts not about the certainty of his humanity, but spreads a message of humanity and reteaches the forgotten principles of humanness. A black man that where, necessary, uses the evil systems not to replicate it, but to turn it on itself for the good and betterment of others and all.

No more the slave to someone else’s dystopian messages of betrayal and death, but rather the purveyor of a gospel of good news, that this earth is our Mother and our inheritance, and that we are all related by flesh and distant genes. For when they rail against him, he is reminded that no message that is good comes without approbation. It is the time now to reclaim first the broken boundaries and shattered geometry of our minds, and with patience and understanding, reclaim the earth piece by piece for the good of all mankind. 

We have been asleep long enough, foiled and fooled by their hypnotic plans for us, their crooked visions that will surely lead to a burnt-out world and a planet so soiled by the mess of their greed, that it retires from living for centuries to come. It lays with us the keys to the betterment of this grounds we traverse, the fields we enjoy and the brooks we wander through. Soon it will be filled with most of what is nothing unless we are fired up by their re-education and admonishment through us as a wise parent teaches a child.

It isn’t in us, the original keepers of the land to forgo a matter of such awesome urgency, but for us to gently wrestle back from them the keys to life and say, we have the answers, even though, the answers never quite look like they are true in the first place. It is time we showed them that this was once a Garden of Eden before the smoke blocked out the sun’s rays, the acid rain tore at our skin and the oceans no longer held its bounty of fish. It is time we went back to what was once real when people lived with each other, for each other and fought only enemies that were real not the fictions invented by the “God-men” who vampirically suck the lifeblood from us as if it is our destiny. Let’s cut our own path, choose our own course, unclutter our minds and go back to the beginning, it is our century. 

So let us make a pact with each other, that when we stare death in the face, we resolve to challenge it with life, a life born out of gratitude and to fulfil our destiny by living life sufficiently enough and diffusing it into everything we touch…..

Arise, Africa, Arise…