Trigger Warning: This article briefly mentions sexual assault.
Dictionary
Definitions from Oxford Languages
La•ment noun: a passionate expression of grief or sorrow
We’ve gotten used to each other’s company, Lament and I. When Lament wraps its hold around me, my soul pours tears that fall on my ribs like drops of Jupiter. Lament has a song; it’s the Kenyan national anthem, but depending on who you ask, that question may vary. Lament has a feeling; it’s the feeling of a heavy heart sitting low in your rib cage for the past 20 years.
I find myself hopelessly holding onto the vision of what my country could have been, gripping onto the version of myself I would be if my country had been “granted” permission to thrive. To soothe my soul I hold onto the scattered memories I have of when my country felt like home. We’ve buried too many African countries to keep track of, but I ask that you take out your all-black attire, one last time. But this funeral is not for the motherland, today we bury the hands that held the knife. The knife that struck the “colonies.”
The Blood that covered the colonies:
When my parents packed up our lives in five suitcases and took us to America, “the land of opportunities” they called it, I don’t recall thinking much about the country. But from our 18 hour layover in Britain, one thing I do remember feeling is cold. That was Britain’s welcome for me; it’s as if she remembered the blood she spilled on my land, and guilt launched into her throat. 07/1920: that was the year my country was bound with chains and although we have since been freed, the marks those chains left still pierce our skin. You see, while British children are told stories about William the Great, Kenyan children are told stories about how the British raped their great-grandfathers with barbed wires, brutally abused their women in every way possible, purposely starved babies and children and permanently traumatized a whole generation. And the worst part is that Kenya’s story isn’t unique, it’s identical to 56 — yes, you read correctly — fifty-six other countries’ stories. In each conflict and colonized country, kill squads were deployed and populations were terrorized. And of course, before leaving the newly independent countries, the British torched hundreds of documents to make sure they never came back to haunt them.
This manifesto would be incomplete without the inclusion of the personal narratives of the immigrants who have emerged from the impact of colonization. Despite the fact that personal accounts cannot be replicated, all 11 of our stories seem to overlap. We all believe that much of the reason our countries have yet to develop is due to the mark of colonialism. Coletta Mwangi and Perez said it best. “I believe that for my country to recover and stabilize from colonization, it will be extremely difficult due to how deeply rooted external powers such as China, Britain, and the US are involved in our economies. These countries repeatedly abuse the fertility of our land and exploit those whom they promised better lives,” West Chester student Perez explained.
While some may argue that colonization has brought good Western influence to Africa, Victor a West Chester graduate student, believes that if Nigeria had never been colonized, the country would have developed by itself, regardless. He stated, “We would preserve a more cultural way of life. I believe if we had not been colonized, our indigenous civilization would have evolved at a faster pace.” While all of us expressed such a deep love and admiration for our countries, we understand that it’s rarely a parent’s dream to raise their children in a developing country, let alone in poverty. College students, Juliet Ngorimo and Sumayyah Herzi described this struggle with precision, Sumayyah stating that “Growing up in a country where poverty is widespread, affecting your relatives, your neighbors, and even your friends would have an impact on anyone. The poverty found in America and the poverty found in Africa is not the same. Growing up in a country where extreme poverty exists — a country where millions of people have died due to lack of food — is heartbreaking.”
West Chester student Ateka and Temple student Bernice Thiga phrased the ‘immigrant guilt’ feeling perfectly. “I have a mix of emotions; in short, I feel privileged in more ways than one because I just so happened to get this opportunity that many hope and pray for. But I also feel a sense of responsibility for my family and for my people back home, which gives me the motivation to keep striving for more,” Audrey explained. It’s appalling that this is how the script was written, for almost every country affected by colonization. No one should have to consider growing up outside of their country as a “privilege” because of how destabilized said country is. College graduates Diana Kahindo and Suzie Njunge further explained how this creates a feeling of care and a need to give back to our countries through education and career paths.
Temple student Cynthia Kuria took the words out of our mouths when she said, “Colonialism has become ingrained in every part of our country’s heritage and being. I also believe that at every chance we get to rise, just as seen in our history, the Western world will find a way to take what we have away and put us at the bottom, where they believe is our rightful place.” The world turned its back on us when we were invaded, and then failed us once more by refusing to hold our attackers accountable. And to make sure we never have a seat at the table to voice our cry, they have destabilized us by continuously exploiting our resources and people.
To my heart which woke me up crying, I have written and now I understand. I am mourning a country that will never exist, I am mourning a country that will never be given the chance to write its Manifesto. So here in its place, on behalf of the colonized, I give to you, an “Immigrant’s Manifesto.”
Perpetual Kahindo is a third-year Political Science major. PK973548@wcupa.edu