Former United Party for National Development (UPND) vice
president Canisius Banda has weighed in on Hakainde Hichilema’s
Africa Freedom Award.
Below is Dr Banda’s Face book posting
ON AWARDS OF FREEDOM
[The Curious Case of the Coloniser/Master Praising the
I will never sleep again, you see.
Terrible nightmares haunt me.
Whenever I close my eyes and try to sleep, my eyes pop open
again, and they remain so.
The past is to blame.
It is not my fault.
Mine was the nastiest encounter with aliens.
Perennial wakefulness is now my disease.
The destiny conferred on me by tragic experience.
I opened the door to them.
Humanity is what inspired my hand.
When they entered my home I didnt know that they would forcibly
It was their nefarious attitude that will never leave my mind.
They raped my mother.
Yeah. I mean sexually.
I see it disgusts you.
It changed me for ever.
They killed my dad.
He was the headman, you see.
It was their head we were to follow thenceforth.
I saw them blow his head off.
Trauma has become me.
I see it annoys you.
It has badly scarred my mind.
My brain is now gliosed.
In chains, they got my brothers and took them away.
I have never seen them since.
I only see some creatures with skin like mine in lands that
These ones don’t behave like my parents.
They are mutants.
They said my name was a pagan one.
And gave me their own which, as an act of tolerance on my part,
I still have today.
They stopped me from beating my own African Drum.
Satanic they said it was.
What they didn’t know was that the drum and I were one.
Therapy and sanity ensued from the marriage of my song and
I was to dance to their beat;
Which, you see, is not in rhythm with my Africanness.
I tend towards peace.
But they caused violence in me.
I fought them.
And as if it was their land they fought back.
I only had ownership, faith and stones.
They had guns and arrogance.
Never forget David, my friend.
Goliath knows that good always wins in the end.
The rivers got tainted with the blood of dead members of my
That is how, threatened, and unhabitable my home had become,
Now they call me these people.
My friends, these people are now calling me.
They say come!
Come you African!
Come, we give you an award, an award of your freedom, of
My dead father says no!
Don’t go, my son.
My mother whom they raped and is now dead cries no!
Don’t go, my son.
The eyes of my enslaved brothers are wide open.
Seething with pent up fury, in silence, they watch me.
They want to see what I will do.
Is my mind still with me? They wonder.
Or is it that it is now in their hands.
Africa tells me that the most important award I will ever have
is the birthright for me to be me.
And that comes from God I am told.
Never lose that, my son, my dead father admonishes.
Never lose that, my son, my raped now dead mother cries.
And what, if I may ask, my friends, is African freedom?
Is it any different from that which the Universe knows?
My dear and beloved friends, when the enemy praises you;
It is follow to rejoice.
Why must a white man give me an award of my freedom?
Or has the slave forgotten?
Thabo MBEKI agrees.
White people giving black people awards of freedom will always
Why? Why? Why?
What cheek is this?
With eyes that will never close, I have tears, I now cry!