As Barack Obama made history by getting elected the 44th president of the United States, they yelled. They shouted. They cried. They laughed. They sobbed. And they sung. They clapped hands and hugged as Obama was proclaimed the winner.
I’m not talking about the African- Americans. Nope. I’m talking about the Africans. The Kenyans. Those chaps who take pride in the fact that Obama is a son of Kenya. That Barack Hussein Obama Sr. was the one person in thirty million who sired the first black president of the United States: the seat of top power. It seems to be somewhat of an irony that the first black president of the US isn’t someone whose family has suffered at the hands of the land or whose ancestors were once slaves but one whose whole life wasn’t governed by the concepts and dynamics of racism and whose roots are firmly entrenched in a small country on that vast continent that was once in the hands of the same white folks who applaud the coming of Obama to the highest seat in the land. Irony.
When Kenyan’s got a national holiday for the victory of Barack, the world laughed. You’ve got to love these people, people said. It implied that we are crazy. That our leaders are fools. That our pride is misplaced. After all, what will this one guy who is American to his toenails do for our country? What silly behaviour did our leaders exhibit by giving us a national holiday?
It wasn’t misplaced. And we aren’t fools. We do know and understand the fact that as President, Barack Obama will not treat us any different that he would the rest of the world. For him, for America, we will still be one economy that as yet, thrives on the dollar, and hence, is to be exploited. As usual. We know that. We aren’t fools.
But what we also get is that Barack Obama is 50% Kenyan. We also know that genes count for something. We know that without growing up in Kenya between his people, he exhibits characteristics that are only attributed to his father’s tribe. We know that he is half black, so he knows what we’ve been through. Racial memory counts for something. And we know that for one moment, for one day, we can have hope that we, as Kenyans, can enjoy the concept of freedom. We can enjoy the concept that the democracy that we have lost in our own world is still prevalent in other worlds, and that we can one day hope to assume that democracy. It’s not about Barack Obama. Or maybe it is. Partly. But mostly, it’s about us. And we have to let the world know this. We aren’t fools. We’re a people who believe in the audacity of hope. We believe. And therefore, we celebrate.
Comments
And no, you aren't fools.
I lived in hostel named for Kalpana Chawla for a year. There is pride in these connections - however much or little it is acknowledged.
Did you watch the inaugaration? I couldn't get over the look of hope in the faces of everyone in the crowd. The sheer human emotion behind his speech..it was really something..
http://mombasagirl.blogspot.com/2009/02/obama-fever_20.html