By Mvula ya Nangolo

IN 1964 while still a student in Berlin – in the eastern portion that then served as the capital of the German Democratic Republic (GDR) at the time, I witnessed a lot of political dramas that occurred without being published in the media but people nevertheless continued to hear what unfolded as stories were passed on from the mouth of one foreign student to another and let us not jump to conclusion here because the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG)  – the other half, was, at the time, not free from such racist developments, however, I will only cite one example out of the many unpleasant events that particularly happened to me and go on to broaden the issue further to warn that national peace and stability contribute to regional, continental and world peace. Utopia? Perhaps but I will still tell my story.

One Saturday morning during the summer of the year mentioned in the introduction, I went into a shop selling photographic equipment, etc., and placed my film on the counter and told the young   attendant what I wanted. She nodded and continued to write – finished, and handed me a receipt. She did not ask for my name. While wondering, I looked at the piece of paper properly, and instead of asking for my name, she simply wrote “Neger” (Negro). I said nothing but took the receipt to the manager of the shop who called her in and told her harshly in my presence that what she did was unacceptable! She was asked to apologise and write my name on the receipt, which she did.

We should learn to put down pain; the time has come to put our stones down, for hands clutching stones cannot play the African drum freely and hearts fisting the bloody past can’t freely sing – that’s almost the message I got while reading a certain book many years ago.

I have seen sad faces during the national liberation struggle and I have seen men and women with their children weeping endlessly on many occasions. They were hurt for they lost their loved ones in the war for liberation.

We must risk putting down the stone or stick or gun we are grasping, in order to build or touch or make music of any kind. There are people who would not let go of their ugly past but as long as the fisted history remains in the way, how could such people warmly embrace peace? The wound of the past will not heal in that way. Some have never healed but are we helping them to heal their wounds that were either not self-sustained?  All I am saying is that it is unavoidably true: hands must be genuinely emptied before they can be filled either with love or peace – it is the same with our hearts.

It is why courage, day by day, is necessary. There are so many bloody wars in history that came about because of quarrels between individuals, emperors, kings or so but let us remember that we are or were victims of those who conquered our people and territories. Let us teach the world how to play the African drum without clenched fists.