Wednesday, July 29, 2015

It takes an African

Federal Government College, Sokoto student
c.1983
Been reconnecting with school chums from back in Nigeria. And I have to say; it's been gratifying and, well, completing in a way. I will say more about the experience, but something came up in discussions around alumni networking that I am surprised I don't seem to have said on this blog before. And part of the experience overlaps with the whole flap about Rachel Dolezal and being African American. But I digress. Here it is, ab imo pectore, as the other S. Ashraf would say:

We do try to not let things remain unsaid. It's one thing that makes me most grateful to have spent formative years in Africa—and where we were specifically. Over the last few years I have said, it made me very proud to be just a little bit African when I read, for example, of Nelson Mandela standing next to the president of the United States and saying:
"I have also invited Libyan leader Gaddafi to this country. And I do that because our moral authority dictates that we should not abandon those who helped us in the darkest hour in the history of this country. Not only did they support us in victory, they gave us the resources for us to conduct this struggle and to win. And those South Africans who have berated me for being loyal to our friend, literally, they can go and throw themselves into a pool."
It takes an African. It takes a Nigerian. And I am grateful for having been born in Sokoto, as we say, Birnin Shehu da Bello
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