For Such A Time As This
Your right to picket or demonstrate is not determined by an external force. You do not need to be paid or influenced to recognize oppression.
When I started writing this week’s Letters from Felgonah, I had my sights set on GenXers and why some of us are the way we are. I looked at how GenZs had debunked our upbringing in a week. When we were growing up, we had three Babas.Â
Baba aliye mbinguni (Religion)
Baba Moi (Government)
Baba ('Discipline' from parents or any adult in the neighbourhood)
Our relationships with all our Babas required key ingredients. Fear, suffering and hope. They instilled fear so that we did as we were told without questioning. We suffered and they sold us hope for the future. Milk and honey, leaders of tomorrow, we will be good citizens with good jobs in offices when we grow up.
Because of our fear, love of suffering and constant expectation for good things to magically happen in the future, we do not understand how these Genzs can bypass all that and expect to change our country. Hence the sniggering from our generation.
Then I moved to the lessons from some of the GenZ’s strategies. You know the way they come for you and everyone around you. Because no one acts in isolation. There are people who enable your behaviour, and it is the people around you. You cannot be my husband, wife, friend, uncle etc and I have absolutely no influence. I appreciate the way they hold everyone accountable. Our generation is the type to pretend. We hope that you will figure out that you are causing us distress and when you do, you change your ways. In the meantime, we pray for you because Baba aliye mbinguni and suffering. And then we are forced to forgive and forget.
Yesterday, my friend and I discussed how Genz is like the child that sits in a room where adults are having grown-up conversations. No one pays them any mind because they seem engrossed in whatever they are doing in the corner. Then when we least expect it, the child regurgitates everything that was discussed, verbatim. These kids heard us all the years we discussed politics and our history. They watched us, unhappy, suffering and fearful. They have become our hope. Only this time, not by magic. Accidentally maybe, but our hope all the same. Children of destiny, for such a time as this.
By the time I was going to sleep, amid abductions and fear-mongering, someone said, our ancestors have risen to fight. So, as I got into bed, I had another angle to think about. This is the reason why it is impossible to identify a leader, sponsor, mastermind, or organizer. The leader is everyone and no one. The leader is the wind, it is the water, it is the fire. GenZs are benders. Formless. A growing animal with no head. And why would it have a head? Having a head means you can smite it to kill the movement. This is truly supernatural.
Whether you are spiritual or not, one must acknowledge the role of something bigger than tribe, political affiliation, social class, religion and I dare say gender. They have a common goal across the country: freedom!
Everyone is welcome, all ideas are valid and everyone is needed. This is new but, at the same time, very familiar. The one thing they refuse to accept is the ‘sheep’ mentality we are used to. They are not interested in herding you. They share information freely. They break it down into different dialects so no one is left out. Easy access to information ensures that everyone can make informed decisions, leading to a shared understanding.
A story is told of an activist who, upon completing his assignment, drew back curtains and revealed spaces that had been thought holy and out of reach to the common people. Information had been hidden and fear-mongering abound. And just like that activist, GenZ has debunked a lot of what held us hostage. Nothing is out of our reach, information shared freely is an advantage and your right to picket or demonstrate is not determined by an external force. You do not need to be paid or influenced to recognize oppression.
This is a resurrection. This is life even in the face of the threat of death.
Rest in peace to the fallen heroes. May your spilt blood cry out for justice until you feel avenged. Identify all your killers before you return to the ground. Jowi! Jowi! Jowi!