Victors write history as it suits them. In their version of events, they are always the just and conquering heroes, overcoming evil in the face of great odds, propelled by a fervent belief in principles, values and virtues that are as deep and universal as they are sound. Theirs are the embellished tales of heroes standing for justice, selflessly sacrificing whatever it takes to win a victory for the greater good; inspiring tales that also serve to vindicate the heroes every time the story is told.
The conquered begin their story from their last memory of standing upright. Their version shadows the victors story - defensive, apologetic, deflecting blame, always told in reference to the victors version, never daring to re-write the story and shift perspective on the events.
We need new histories for this great continent. We cannot change the events of the past, but we can change how we tell them them. What if we replaced the stories of victimhood with the stories of courage of its people; what if we remembered that we come from a proud ancestry that would never accept corruption, selfishness and greed as attributes of any leader. What if we rejected the version of history that casts us as inherently corrupt, divided and in need of saving, coaching, mentoring and training. What if we recalled that giving has always been as important as receiving, what if we re-told the stories emphasizing how much we have to give. What if we pegged our histories to the pride of place given to hard work, to being your brother's keeper and to working for the greater good of your community.
Our history as it has been told to us and as we continue to tell it is a burden. It gives us an eye that is constantly disapproving of who we are and critical of what we have and what we do. It makes us too familiar with shame and teaches us that we have is little to be proud of. It endorses the counter narratives that say our darker skin tone relegates us low down in an imposed hierarchy of the human races. It plants doubt in who we are and allows us to believe that nothing intelligent, authentic or good emerges organically from us. The telling of our history suggests that who we are and where we are going must be authenticated by a standard that has been set for us, without us. Ours becomes a struggle to measure up to this standard and be included, and the debate is shifted away from asking who determined what is important for our present and our future and how we are to get there. We rehash a version of history that leaves us self-effacing, self-loathing, constantly competing among ourselves in a bid to meet a standard that we hope will elevate us from the lowest rung of the imposed hierarchy, or at the very least, distinguish us as individuals and demonstrate that we are better than the lesser rest.
Often it is not the events of our history that burden and choke our present, but the versions of it that we believe, accept and re-tell. In the versions we have told, we are never enough and always need saving. We remain a people with permanent deficits.
History happens in the past but it is written in the present. We must choose our version of events, and in so doing we inevitably choose the shape of our present. We must re-tell our stories with flourish and embellishment and in each tale, emerge as admirable, courageous, ode-worthy heroes. We must allow history to lay for us a proud and inspiring foundation on which our present stands. For this is indeed what it comes down to: the version of events that we choose to tell, believe and use in defining who we are. The history we paint today is the backdrop for our present.
1 Title inspired by Emeli Sande's album of the same title
