I Want My Name Back! By Um’Khonde Patrick Habamenshi

I Want My Name Back!

By Um’Khonde Patrick Habamenshi

If I am so well spoken, why is it that, whenever I try to speak my mind freely, my every word is met with indignation and contempt?

If I am so “articulate,” why is any attempt of mine to spell out the makings of my pain received with such grief and resentment?

Is my ability to put down in rhymes and break down in verse the mishaps of my race such a threat that I should be wise to stand mute? Am I feared of being so eloquent that my prose will ignite fires and my poetry will bring the world to a sudden stop?

Is my voice so powerful that upon hearing it, countries will tragically turn into shambles?

I don’t understand the commotion, really, because what I want is so simple: I just want my name back!

I want my name back! And no, my name is not pagan, animist, slave, runaway slave, nonbeliever or savage; not poor, hungry, colonial, war prone, underdeveloped, backward, primitive, unstable, refugee, third world, illegal alien, impoverished, tribalist, nigger, at risk, thug, gangsta, ethnic, inmate, visible minority or any other name I’m called! No!

I want my name back! My name that told the world in Akan, Baoule, Bamileke, Bemba, Bambara, Dinka, Haussa, Berber, Serer, Wolof, Yoruba, Igbo, Gbe, Mina, Fon, that I am where it all began, the cradle of Mankind!

I want my name back! My name that told Nations in Kinyarwanda, Kiswahili, Nyoro, Oromo, Tigrinya, Lingala, Luba, Songhai, Sotho, Shona, Xhosa, Sotho, Tswana, Swazi, Zulu, who I am and the glory of my ancestry and not what the world made me to be!

I want my name back! My name that stretched from Timbuktu to Meroë and Kerma, my name that crossed the Rainforest and the Savanna, my name that curved along the Nile, the Congo and the Zambezi, my name as high as the Kilimanjaro and as deep as the Tanganyika, my name that tanned under the Sahara and the Kalahari sun and was cleansed by the oceans.

I want my name back! My name depicted in hieroglyphs that confounded explorers, my name written in old Nubian that perplexed anthropologists, my name pronounced in Amharic that intrigued doctors of philosophy, my name in the Rift valley that contradicted the history of Civilization, my name in Gold and Diamonds that caused Majesties, Highnesses and Excellencies to lose their minds!

I want my name back! My name painted on Papyrus and Bark cloth that stood the test of time, my name symbolized in Adinkra that called upon Peace to the World and my name ritualized in Vaudou that caused the world to fear my Gods!

I want my name back! My name behind Dogon doors and Ndebele painted walls, my name on ebony thrones and leopard skins, my name clothed in Kente and Faso dan fani, my name crowned with precious pearls and gold, my name with copper bracelets and silver rings, my name with raised arms and painted faces.

I want my name back! My name violated but never replicated, my name in the mystery of the Pyramids and the mystique of the Sphinx, my name within the sanctity of Axum and the sanctuary of the Great Zimbabwe, my name under the vigilance of Alexandria’s lighthouse and the luxuriance of the Ngoro-ngoro!

I want my name back! My name on the lips of Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and on the hips of Makeda, Queen of Sheba, my name in the fist of Shaka and at the feet of Sounjata, my name on the shoulders of Barack Obama and on the chest of Mandela, my name in the voice of Lumumba and in the eyes of Soyinka, my name in the drumbeats of Doudou Ndiaye Rose and the songs of Makeba that captured the heartbeat of Humanity!

I want my name back! My name with the nonchalance of the lion and the elegance of the crown crane, my name with the speed of the cheetah and the grace of the impala, my name with the flamboyance of the red flamingo and the insolence of the baboon, my name with the quietness of the silver-back and the mercilessness of the black mamba.

I want my name back! My name moulded in Clay and melted in Bronze, my name carved in Wood and sculpted in Stone, my name woven in Cotton and interlaced in Sisal, my name painted on Bogolan and Batik, my name coloured in indigo and mud, my name in the nostalgia of Césaire and the Tears of Rwanda!

I want my name back! My name flavoured with Coffee and scented with Coconut, my name served with Atcheke and Aloko, my name blessed with Milk and sweetened with Honey, my name healed with Tamarind and sealed with Masé.

I want my name back! And no, my name is not pagan, animist, slave, runaway slave, nonbeliever or savage; not poor, hungry, colonial, war prone, underdeveloped, backward, primitive, unstable, refugee, third world, alien, impoverished, tribalist, nigger, at risk, thug, gangsta, ethnic, inmate, minority or any other name I’m called! No!

I want my name back! My name is AFRICA, A.F.R.I.C.A., AFRICA!

I’d like it back right now! Is that too much to ask?

www.umkhonde.com

“I Want My Name Back” is included in Um’Khonde Patrick Habamenshi’s memoirs ‘Rwanda, Where Souls Turn to Dust – My Journey from Exile to Legacy’, the remarkable story of his healing path to rebuilding his mind, body and spirit. He had to move away from the negative things that had been dominating his life, the loss of his loved ones, and the loss of his previous dreams. He rebuilt his life from the ashes of his old life in Rwanda, a life free of hatred, free of prejudice, and free of fears.