@TEDxAccra 2016 (This piece was first performed at TEDxAccra, on April 20th, 2016.)
“Agoo.. Agooo loo, Agoo, Nukporlawo, Nyaselawo,
Amadrowo kple dukormeviwo, Medo Agoo eeeerrr…
Our Elders in all their infinite wisdom say, when you enter the home of another you acknowledge your presence and signal your arrival ... that you may be seen and welcomed. And so once again, I bid you all - Agoo!!!”
My Cultural troop and I with Abeiku Santana in the speakers lounge as we get ready to mount the stage, @TEDxAccra 2016
I am from a land where the Elderly speak to the young in proverbs and to themselves they whisper appellations. No wonder it is said that the words of my mouth are as sweet as honey and as nourishing as the taste of breast milk from the tender breast of a mother onto the tongue of a newly born baby, so permit me as I serve you through my words, the wine of our ancestors which has been seasoned with their wisdom and fermented over time with the experiences of their very existence.
Bena miano nunyatsi si miatorgbuie gbledi tso blema kenn, eye miape nku na vuu de nyatepewo nti.
I am not here to downplay any culture or to insight anyone but to awaken the essence of the African culture in your minds. How can you rethink if you don’t know who you are, if you don’t know your roots and have lost touch with your origin and culture? It is only by accepting who we are that we can rethink and work to better ourselves.
Anyigba sese gake agama do na afor anyi blewuu.
(Though the earth is solid, the chameleon still takes cautious steps).
Akpa me dziavi wo dia dehe o!
The Offspring of a tilapia does not resemble that of a mud fish.
And so I will embrace my roots and learn from the footsteps of my kind.
For I have drunk wine reserved and preserved from the calabash of our elders and I have taken the first sip of wine from the glass of the young.
I find pleasure in the value of the wisdom of the old.
For no matter how far a river flows, it never cuts from its source.
And a flower that seeks to blossom, must bless its roots.
I am one of a kind ... this I know
You can search the length and breadth of this world.
You can dig into the depths of this earth.
You’ll never see one like me.
I am one of a kind.
I wield neither gun nor barrel,
My wrath knows no quarrel,
I seek no laurel, nor sail on souls as vessels.
I am one of a kind.
My tradition is my foundation.
Traditions as old as the time, are my foundation.
The ministration of your mission in my land is my frustration.
Your deceptions will I brew in the pots of my ancestral exhortation.
I know my roots and I preach about my pride.
I will paint in words your selfish attempts to rob me off my essence.
You may try to turn my children against me.
Tell them to embrace your grace and brand me disgrace.
But I never give up on my own.
I will never lose my roots.
I am one of a kind.
What can you boast of that I already don't have?
Religion … right or wrong … riches … purity?
Go back in history
Read the letter of King Leopold II of Belgium
to His colonial missionaries in Congo,
it had a simple massage …
“With tact they were to above all secure their country's interest.
Not to teach us right or wrong for that we already knew,
they were to extort from us in forms of taxes and offerings, receive our gifts gladly with two hands yet never invite us for dinner even when we offer them a full chicken. Teach us to read and not to reason”
Yet I am one of a kind.
You try to hold me in oppression by convincing me I am to be oppressed.
First you laugh at my God and my God concept,
next you convince my kinsmen to laugh at our God concept.
You may have succeeded in brainwashing them.
But not me.
For I am one of a kind and I am an African.
Look fellow Africans...
No one needs jail to hold us captive,
for our minds are in chains.
That's how we are trapped.
We have been miss-educated into believing
someone else’s concept of God and Perception of beauty.
How many Africans even know that the concept of trinity existed here in Africa long before our brothers from the West showed up on our shores?
Have you wondered why the African priest taps his drink thrice before he performs libation (his form of prayer)?
How many Africans tell their ancestral stories freely,
Like we do tell the tales of the Greek Gods and legends and that of the Israelite?
How many among you can visit your traditional homes
And shrines and not be afraid … .. None!
That is what they have succeeded in turning us into.
That’s what the media … the paparazzi
And the so called entertainment industry have turned us into.
Savages, who only kill and demonstrate evil against others
as shown in movies … especially the local movie industries.
Many of you are scared at the mention of the word shrine
Yet you do not know it's meaning.
Ask the Westerner, that if the shrine is a place for evil acts,
Why do their dictionary describe it as a holy and sacred place?
Will God call sin righteousness?
I believe strongly that showing is faster than telling
for when a beauty contest is held even in the kingdom of monkeys
too, a winner will be celebrated.
You are all Africans first before all other things.
Zego yibor mei akatsa yi dogo tsoe.
Though the porridge may be white, do not forget it was prepared from a black pot.
There is no shame in embracing your tradition.
Mido nkudzi be du ade pe gbagba yae nye du ade pe tutu. Eyata miga trormegbe de miape dekornuwo o.
Menorge boboe o. Eyata miatorgbuiewo do lo ade be,
tormedelae gbana ze.
Audience listening attentively as i serve the wisdom of our old through my piece. @TEDxAccra
It is only the one who kindly accepts to fetch water that may accidentally break the pot. I have volunteered to fetch the waters of my tradition to quench the taste of our generation, and though I may break a few pots in the process, it’s a price I'm willing to pay.
I am one of kind. What about you..?.
Ne lo lolo vuuu ha la, azimevi koe wonye.
No matter how large a crocodile may grow,
It was still hatched out of an egg.
In life, Ame nutor pe golomehe ye si na ame.
(Hurt comes usually from one's own knife)
We were a land once great and mighty, A land once rich in culture,
but gradually becoming a thing of the past,
And culture has become an abnormality in our own land,
A young man dresses in Kete fabrics, with beads,
And his fellow citizens ask if he is a royal
or going for an important ceremony.
Can’t one portray his culture in his African dress on any single day?
Our entertainers do not entertain us in ways of our culture,
Our arts do not depict our stories,
Man was made in the image of God,
yet the black artist cannot paint a black image and not be labeled
Our media propagate only the wrong and bad stories…
And if we get into international news, we are a charity case.
Our Media houses show the history of our people once every independence but show foreign movies and telenovela everyday.
How often will you turn on your television sets on to watch “The good old days”?
How often will you turn on your radio set and listen to five solid hours of continuous original local content?
And so I ask, who will tell our stories to the story tellers..
For Once a traveler asked an old man
What became of the black people of Sumer? For ancient records show the people of Sumer were black. What happened to them?
"Ah", the old man sighed. "they lost their history, so they died"
Now I ask,
Who will tell the tales of our many great exploits,, tales of our good gods, of, Togbui Chali of Tohazie the Red hunter, , Okomfo Anokyei, Yaa Asantewaa.
Of women with the hearts of lions,
Men whose strength equal that of a thousand horses.
Our people say no royal points to his hometown with the left hand
And so Like Boukman I say to you “you want to win, cast aside your Western gods, embrace your African Spirit. You are free". For an Elder who eats at the market square and refuses to look back shall carry the basket home himself. Your skin tone is not the problem, your mind set is so bleach your mind with the knowledge of self love and you will be just fine..
I am one of a kind.
You are one of a kind.
We are one of a kind.
Just relaxing after delivering my piece,:"One of A Kind" @TEDxAccra 2016
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