The Observer
By: Naa Doodua Doodu
Imprisoned in our land, bound by ignorance,
Their honeyed words sweetened our ears,
The nicest voices we ever heard,
Yet behind our backs, they cursed us.
We believed their praises,
While they mocked our innocence.
The few with knowledge stayed silent,
Curious for more, despite their displeasure.
We abandoned our heritage,
Traded our treasures for their trinkets,
Mentally shackled, we embraced their ways.
Like canned beef, we were packed and taken,
Hoping they had goodness in store.
But we awoke to our worst nightmare.
Their language became ours, their names we wore,
“Sir,” we called them, unaware of its weight.
Since then, we’ve remained slaves—
Bound by chains unseen,
Dignity, freedom, and ambition lost
Through our negligence.
But how do we break these bonds,
Free our minds from this prison?
Together, let us rise, united in spirit,
For divided, we shall fall.
Freedom is near—let us strive for it.
This too shall pass.
If it seems to me a miracle that the precolonial African asked no questions before assuming wholly the culture of the colonist, it seems more puzzling to me that the African of today is as blind tame giant kept in the circus of the west, happy with the promise of a piece of sandwich for each day. But he forgets that his future children might never forgive him for his lack of vision.
First we were and still are overpowered and subjected to unimaginable death marching by our own kind before being handed over to those we called and still call “Sir”.
We should not forget that part, because we must first heal our minds before we can free our minds from the prison (mental slavery).