My African Dream: Derick Matsengarwodzi

By Derick Matsengarwodzi

MY birth was welcome by the piercing rays of the October African sun, in a township clinic. 

The unrepentant sun’s rays never bowed downed until we reached our rented apartment. Inside the room, I choked in the paraffin smoke as visitors showered me with gifts.

Soon, we left the town for the village, leaving father to toil in the industries.

Every Friday, he came to the village. In the village, the struggle for emancipation was at its peak. The world was following our footsteps. I went to night vigils while strapped on my mother’s back. More slogans about liberation boomed from everyone.

After this experience, you can call me an African; a son of the soil born and bred in the true values of Africa.

Back in the ghetto, we chased the plastic ball on the dusty streets until our mothers summoned us home. And at night we shared the petite room with far-off relatives searching for work in the city.

We never protested. We shared every morsel of food without contest.

Later at night, we heard our fathers humming their favorite tunes on their way home from socialising with friends. They brought parcels for us. The next day they left before sunup. At weekends, we all shared a special family meal. Life in the ghetto was not easy but sustainable. Our parents worked hard.

School became an important part of our lives, without it you could not be anyone in the society. The most respected people were educated; they earned their living through hard work. I saw those families owning mansions and cars, and admired them.

So my dream was to be successful like them.

Our parents were politically active. Back then, people bothered less about political leadership because life was affordable. Slogans were chanted, promises made and delivered. So, everyone left the gathering satisfied.

We were all comrades then. When death struck, elders went to offer their heartfelt condolences. Even the poorest member would be afforded a decent burial. Humanity was still intact.

My late father was a gifted fisherman. After a successful catch, he would offer neighbors some. For those who wanted more, he gave them a rod not an extra portion.

As I grew up, my dream became blurred; my Africa had become alien to its sons and daughters. Along the way we have embraced other cultures. This is universal and acceptable and cannot be stopped. But along the way our African status has suffered.

My dream as an African is to witness the unity of purpose from the city of Ouagadougou, to the shores of Durban. My believe is that people of Alexandria, in Egypt are not better off than their dark brother in Senegal. When we see the exodus of people from southern Africa into the bright lights of Johannesburg, let’s welcome them and not chop their heads off.

Religion is a show of diversion, then Africa can we have dreams greater than hatred and bigotry. Tell me, what good do we derive from a suffered, raped and maimed child. What price do we earn from charred bodies on the streets of our cities brought by the sweat and blood of our fallen freedom fighters?

Tell me, what do we lose if respect one’s identity and origin rather than attack him for his colour of his skin?

Africa, I still believe in you. Africa, you still have hope for the future.

Today, the mountains are echoing, the rivers are flowing with blood of maimed and innocent civilians. Their call is what we have done to deserve these heinous crimes. The answer is: we have become selfish of our actions and we have forgotten how to respect.

In spite of all this, my dream lives on, I still have hope for Africa.

Today, I dream about the day we avoided death by hiding in the bushes. I always wish we could find that common understanding and have the same undertaking as humanity. Let not our differences be defined by the past, but rather shaped by our quest for a better united future.

Let not our history be spoiled by our selfishness but rather move towards the same goal of togetherness. Our personal interests cannot fulfill the will of a nation; they cannot meet the undertakings of the world. Our world today demands selflessness, icons and the right direction.

Africa, I know you still harbor esteemed those individuals.

If yesterday you fought your brother, the moment to unite is today. If you were in arms with your political opponent, shake hands and lay the arms down. If you still harbor that hatred, the time to bury it is today; for today is a day of forgiveness and let Africa surge forward.

Never shall we be labeled the Dark Continent, for we have decided to leave the darkness of our sins behind and uplifted the torch of light. No more shall we get joy from humiliating our opponents but to engage them on the same table.

Derick Matsengarwodzi is a freelance writer based in Harare