There was a time when metal shackles clanged around our necks and legs; forged, heated and tossed inside of our bodies with unending tears streaming down our veins. There was a time when our souls were lonely that family meant everything to us and we began to see all with the colour of our skin as our own. There was a time when we couldn’t identify our origin because we had been transported like goods over thousands of island. There was a time when we longed to go back home, but home was far away, and we decided that home was not where we get to be with those binded by blood, but where love embodied; where we are happy to be around the people we love. We formed a home when our ancestors who had been slaves had joined hands together to love one another even at the detriment of their long suffering.
There came a time when our ignorance was played upon and we were left to pick up the remains of our broken pieces. There was a time when we all stood together as brothers and sisters to fight and take over our rightful lands and properties, our human rights and undeniable freedom. There was a time when being black and African meant the same thing without any distinction from whatever part of Africa we came from.
Now a new wind of change has blown that we are so much blinded by the things we think is right. We throw stones at each other and let the detest in us take control of our emotions. The history of our existence, the long sufferings of our ancestors we forsake and forget and take to arms to send others to the world beyond. No matter the differences that have emerged over time, let us not forget the struggle of our ancestors who fought to keep us together, for their struggle be not in vain.