No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be thought to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.
NELSON MANDELA
Long Walk to Freedom (1995)
When the renowned sage, Nelson Mandela made the above statement, his sole aim had been to set a new course for later generations after the successful extirpation of the enigma in the form of apartheid. In an environment where the minority white populace held sway in a rather notorious way, he stood his ground to ensure that the people’s liberation was not only fought for but that a new nation predicated on the notion that all men are created equal was also realized.
Clearly, the dichotomy that existed then and still exists came to be as a result of man’s skin color. Those times where the presence of melanin in your skin, however the amount readily makes you the prey whose life’s ambition was no more than to survive and any thought of career goal was no more than a mere flattery of a bloated dream.
Years afterwards, one begins to wonder if the deaths of some of the fallen heroes of the apartheid regime have not been in vain. Had it been what exists today is still the dichotomy of our skins, this article wouldn’t have been all that necessary and in fact, its aim would have been so obsolete and mundane that you begin to wonder if I had written out of sheer idleness or the absence of assignments that could take my youthful energy and time…...NO!
In a world where most European countries now vehemently oppose racial abuse, tackling any occurrence of it legally, isn’t it appalling that the products of the ‘prey of yesteryears’ now discriminates even among themselves? Or how do one explain the discrepancies that now occurs among tribes of the same nation and the discrepancies among people of the same tribe in the same nation. A new one far venomous than apartheid that is.
Five years ago when I was going about my registration having gained admission into one of the prestigious Universities in the country, an incident happened at one of the offices of the Students’ Affairs Unit, an incident which I found strange probably because I was just facing life in the real world outside the strict supervision of house masters and teachers. On receiving my credentials, the man that was attending to me had abruptly stopped on sighting something, his facial expression had come with that feel of resentment as opposed to that which welcomed my arrival into his office few minutes back.
Swiftly raising up his head and in an hateful manner, he asked if I was from Ijebu as evident from my surname and I answered affirmatively. Without prior warning, I had suddenly become alert and was preparing for his verdict. He suddenly ranted on about my tribe in some unprintable names right to my face, to say my ears were filled is saying the obvious. I stood rooted to a spot while he went on hurling various kinds of insults on my tribe, I almost wept at that instance as I could feel hot tears race from within but decided to show bravery else I’d be giving him ‘cheap victory’. To cut the long story he stalled my admission and instructed me to travel home for a document which was negligible, the painful part of it was that I had been on a very long queue since morning and the joy of being a fresher had made it a whole lot of fun because I had felt it would be worth the wait after all, at least until he screamed blue murder hours later.
I was instructed to travel all the way back home to get a document he waved aside for other freshers, my offense was that I’ve an Ijebu background. At that moment, I didn’t feel entirely surprised even though I had found it strange until I discovered to my amazement, that this man happened to be a Yoruba man also but there was still a difference in that I came from a different State. I never saw it coming, that I could be so treated in that manner by someone of the same tribe would have only been an illusion if the thought had ever crossed my mind. I had felt going to a South-Western University would readily make me feel at home…..never knew I was still an alien on a terrain I had thought familiar. My name had become an issue to no one but a fellow Yoruba man, a betrayal of sort.
The bane of it all is that among the tribes in the country, we the Yorubas seems to be the ardent enforcer of this practice. Old folk tales of rivalry or supremacy between towns and states also exacerbates this, individual experiences also creates a misconception that everyone from a particular area is the same. Even with the level of education we attain today and despite the emergence of civilization, these beliefs that ‘they are all the same just wouldn’t die. Most parents even go to the extent of giving advices on the particular area a girl/boy should marry from, the kind of people we should associate with and the likes.
In some places, children are fed with the bad sides of a particular town in the same state as theirs based on old beefs that just wouldn’t go, creating the illusion that some people aren’t human. Is it until we come from the same family before this ‘fire’ is extinguished?
Shouldn’t the slave trades our fore-fathers went through be enough reason for us to be in unity?
Shouldn’t the long years of being subjected to degrading atmosphere that was the epitome of their resolution that the least they could do was try and survive be enough sacrifice?
On a wider scope, when an Ekiti girl suddenly gets treated badly in her marriage by an Ijebu man, it is suddenly believed that all Ijebu men are bad husbands and wife beaters.
When an Urhobo landlord treats his tenants badly, it is believed that all Urhobo landlords are bad. An Ibo guy dupes an hausa man, it is hastily believed that all Ibos are fraudsters.
An Ijebu man ‘jazzed’ a woman and it is believed that the people from that area are all herbalists.
If an Ondo State girl flirts around, then a fallacy emanates that all Ondo-State girls are prostitutes. When you have a friend that is so stubborn to a fault and happens to be from Ekiti, it is assumed that all Ekiti people are stubborn. An Ibadan girl abused you, then everybody from Ibadan abuses. An Edo girl was caught in the act of prostitution, then you tag all girls from Edo as prostitutes.
The man that stalled my admission then because of where I came from did it because of his personal experience with an Ijebu man despite being begged by a female colleague on my behalf that he should make me sign an undertaking instead of having to travel a long distance back home. The woman in contrast to the man’s belief told him she once rented an apartment that was owned by an Ijebu man and till today, they still visit the man at Lagos every Christmas because he was so nice to them.
When I was in my third year in school, I asked out an Ekiti girl but she started being advised by a fellow Ekiti girl not to give in to my proposal because I’m from Ijebu and it would be unheard of if she was seen dating me. Everything worked to my advantage eventually because the ‘agent of doom’ never knew the girl’s mum was from Ijebu.
This is an age where a fact shouldn’t be premised solely on a person’s personal experience with someone from a particular place. According to the Orange prize winner for literature the fast-rising Nigerian female Author of ‘Half of a yellow sun’ and ‘The purple hibiscus’, CHIMAMANDA ADICHIE, she buttressed this though in a different way that there is a great deal of danger in a single story. A story that tells of just the bad sides of a group of people, or their sufferings, or their woes. It’s a kind of story that erodes the worth and ingenuity of those people.
By extension, I say an individual’s character should matter most and not his background. Religion-wise, It would be very unfair of me to assume that all muslims are Boko Harams and that they all share in the cruel cause of the sect. I have numerous muslim friends and their way of life and individual character has not only shown me that they are peaceful but that their ingenuity can never be questioned.
I hope for an era perhaps soon, where the tales of old folks would be taken lightly, where the hatred they create in the minds of the innocent young hearts would fade away with passing time. An era where hastily generalizing that everyone from a place is bad is shoved into the archives of ‘once upon a time’. An era where Ibo, Hausa, Yoruba and other tribes’ are not treated lowly by a person from a different tribe because of varying bad experience. An era where the happiness of a girl in marriage wouldn’t be measured by the tribe of her partner.
I’m proud of my heritage, of my tribe and background and I’d always proclaim it wherever the tides of life takes me. The beauty in an individual should be explored and rated above his background else the struggles of those who laid down their lives for the extinction of racism would have been in vain and we would always ask….WHERE IS THE LOVE?
Written By:
OKUSANYA AFOLARIN TEMIDAYO
arc.afolarin@yahoo.com
+2348056870511
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