Decolonising the Mind: When we tear each other apart

Even history books can confirm how long black people have been in competition with one another. Divided by skin complexion as house and field Negroes, we were forced to create segregation within our own race. Trickling down from generation to generation, black people seem to still embody this desire to compete and tear one another down. Recently on my travels abroad, I was shocked by my black brothers and sisters' attitude towards me. It sort of reminded me of the book I read when I was at the University of Zimbabwe some twenty years ago called 'Decolonising the Mind' by Ngugi Wa Thiong'o. I never thought twenty years on I would be making reference to the book. Indeed, some of our black need their mind decolonized. I was traveling with a white friend of mine who wanted to see my country. From the UK we were treated equally as far as I could tell but the moment we got to Johannesburg things changed. While we both had British passports, I was always treated with suspicion- to the point of being told by a black sister at the O.R Tambo International airport that my passport photo was too black and was asked to step aside for further investigation. Hello, this was a passport photo accepted by the British Home Office. Meanwhile, my friend the mulungu/muzungu was being treated like royalty.As if that was not enough, upon arriving at the Victoria Falls International Airport, another shock. The immigration black brother wanted me to say I was working for the lady I was with. It would not simply make sense to this immigration officer that I could also go on holiday. It took me another 10 minutes to explain that I had a career back in the UK and just happened to be bringing a friend who enjoyed travelling and wanted to see Victoria Falls. At this point, I thought maybe I was over thinking. My ten-day stay was interesting. Whenever we visited a restaurant, I always got served last and it would take between 10 to 15 minutes in some places before my food was brought to our table. At one point I asked the manager if my dollars were so different from my friend who seemed to always get first class service wherever we went. When paying for whatever we had purchased, my dollars were scrutinized as if I might have fake ones. I saw taxi drivers bowing down to my friend, something we do not even do in my culture. It was all rather bizarre to watch. On my return from having been seeing the falls from the Zambian side, the immigration officer who was taking seconds to check people's passports and visa, took about fifteen minutes with my passport doing absolutely nothing with it: I suppose to make me sweat, honestly but why? I never thought black people after years of freedom still see themselves as inferior. To make it worse, some are even willing to drag down other black people with them. During this trip, I saw a people who are still unsure of who they are and I suppose tied up with the colonial mentality of feeling inferior to others. My passport photo was too black. I wonder what colour it should have been considering I am black? I couldn't possibly be on holiday unless as a carer for a white lady? I couldn't possibly afford to pay for my meals hence slow service for me 

Indeed we need to 'emancipate ourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds'... Bob Marley