Africa is elusive. The farthest imaginable place from the West Coast of the States. An amorphous collection of ideas of places that somehow comprise that tapered continent so termed as exotic. Hemingway romanticized it, Conrad spoiled it and Goodall bridled it.
Indeed to Western media, Africa has a heart of darkness. Central African upset caused by conflicting belief systems seems to be rotting the equatorial vegetation and maiming not only the spirit of but also the bodies of the inhabitants. Death is as daily as our morning mochas and as ruthless as our economy.
The violence is especially striking. Rape.
While any other matter of injurious assault can happen before your eyes (in the newspaper or in person), nothing is as jarring and as personal to a woman as rape. Unfortunately, women are universally subjugated and oppressed. Minorities in the States may have to deal with discrimination but women of many nations bleed and bear the brut force of political and tribal conflict like a man at the stake. It is surreal to read about Africa and it’s conflicts. Bombings in Sudan, Aids in South Africa, corrupt leaders in the Ivory Coast. Spanning the continent, Africa is charred from distress. These collective injuries bring cohesive narrative to the story of Africa to the West. To us, Africa is fierce. To us, Africa is exotic. To us, Africa remains.
We of Africa protest that, in this day and age, we should continue to be treated as lesser human beings than other races.
Robert Mugabe
