Have I said that friend, guide, and translator, Julius, is also quite a philosopher? We’ve been having some great conversations the past couple of days, discussing the differences between cultures and the influence of the cultural ethos upon individual and societal behaviors. Sound deep? Well, in my opinion, one of the only ways we can hope to break down- or cross- barriers between different races and cultures is to talk…discuss…openly and honestly. And I don’t know of a better way to build and deepen a friendship.
Yesterday, Julius finally told me the story of how the races began, as told to him by his grandmother when he was a young child. I say finally because this discussion was begun last summer and was never completed. It began with my asking why all the representations of Jesus I saw here in Kenya were white. And in reply, he offered to tell me this story- but other things intervened and it never happened.
The story goes something like this:
The first man had three sons. One day he came home drunk and was falling down. His first son laughed at him and did not help him up; the second son hesitated and, not knowing what to do, did nothing; but the third son helped his father up and got him to his bed, covering him. The next day, when he awakened, the father called for his sons and said to the first son, “You did not help me and so your skin will be as black as your heart and so will that of your children.” To the second son, he said, “You are in the middle, undecided, not knowing what to do, so your skin will be neither black nor white, but in between, and so will that of your children.” Then he turned to the third son and said, “Because you helped me, you showed me your heart is pure, so your skin will be as white as your heart, as will that of your children.”
When I admitted to being more than a bit horrified by the story, Julius went on to say that the story was accompanied by the admonishment to be good and treat other people well, so that eventually he could become white. This story was told to all the little children in his tribe, and when a wise child questioned why their grandmother had not yet become white, she would point to her white hair and say, “See, it is beginning!” Clearly the message being conveyed was that white skin color was preferable and black skin color meant that you were not “good enough”, with the aspiration being becoming lighter and lighter.
So, I asked him, what effect does such a story have on the culture, the societal ethos over the centuries? And what effect has it had on the shaping of the self-image of countless black African children? On their cultural and familial descendants living in the United States? And did this story spring from the Biblical story of Noah and his sons, or was it the outgrowth of white-dominated colonialism as a way- an effective way, I might add- of keeping the black man “in his place”, the place of “lesser”…of “inferior” to the powerful, wealthy white colonials? How in the world could an entire people- beautiful, intelligent, wonderful people- accept such a myth as literal truth? And what effect does it continue to have upon the relationships between black and white throughout the world? I don’t know…I’m just asking…and neither of us, it seems, has “The Answer”. Do you?
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