The puppet race

The Puppet Race
What happens when civilization knocks the door, becomes your guest and imposes itself in your home
turning you into its slave. I have vague memories of how our life used to be before the white man
invaded our lifestyle with the Good Book on one hand and all the injustices one can do to the entire race
on the other hand. But through tales that were past down the generation, these realities came alive to
us as if we got them first hand.

I am made to understand that men and women would dress in pieces of skin that barely covered their
private part but no one thought it as a big deal. Boys would run around playing, their "Johnies" in
synchronous motion would oscillate asking questions the boys knew not of. Women had their "boobs"
flapping in rhythmic codes and no man would have an urge to grab them. Their "haggaz" swung with a
swag and no man went "gah gah" about them. Then came the white man and suddenly it became sinful
to even peep at the cleavage of a woman's chest. We had eaten the forbidden fruit.

They made us dress in clothes that covered all our body parts which we thought was cool because it was
a form of civilization. We embraced their culture, initially became part of us and later it became us. We
were them and us no more. We no longer existed as us. This went so fine until they went.

Thinking that we had seen the last of them. The white men came again but this time round with clothes
that looked a modernized version of what used to be ours before they invaded us. One would wonder,
on what road to Damascus did they see the light?
But because we had gone too far,
but because we sunk too deep,
but because we had "eaten the forbidden fruit",
our eyes became open and realized how naked they were. Suddenly men would get aroused at the slight
glimpse of a woman's legs. Women writhe in painful excitement at a peep of a man's chest. We became
definition of this New World Confusion. The order of the day had been defiled and unprecedented one
set in. Funnily enough we fall for this confusion too. We became PUPPETS! Marionetted at a white
man's will.

This leads me to inquire into the origin of this race and the source of its civility. Whose agent is it? Is it
the creature of the Almighty, or the creature of the foreign Agents?

I have not allowed myself to look beyond my generation, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess
behind.

I have not cooly weighed the chances of preserving our identity when the bonds that unite us together
shall be broken asunder.

I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of confusion, to see whether, with my short
sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below; nor could I regard us as a safe counselor in the affairs

of this race, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the race may be best
preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it should be broken up and
destroyed.

Beyond that I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that curtain may not
rise! God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind! When my eyes shall be turned
to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shine on the broken and dishonored
fragments of a once glorious Race;

"What is all this worth?" Civility first and Identity afterward. May God grant us wisdom that we may take
in what is right for us. That we may hold the cue stick of sense to uncharted territories that lies a head to
the generations to come where Civility and Identity, now and for ever shall be one and inseparable!

The puppet race

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