After a laborious scythe of the booky shelves, I was left no alternative than take a 'deep', meditative nap into the world of my subconscious. It was a hazy afternoon in the study of a respected librarian in the metropolis. The office, not in any way spacious than an oven, houses some thousands of classical works of ancient cultures and philosophies. As a habitude, I left home very early this fateful day on empty stomach for the library. Munching gently on the cookies prepared by my cousin, I flung my satchel across my body in ecstasy and sped off in the direction of the park. With my poor early morning sight, I scanned through the waiting crowd in search of a Nissan Micra heading towards Dugbe. Unfortunately, the view was kaleidoscopic with hues of colourful background of various school uniforms, beautifully contesting the best of a rushing Monday morning. The park was filled to its stretch, as no space was left for no 'matter to occupy'. I was pained to the bone when I realised my punctuality was not a worthwhile one. Few hours later, the extemporaneous wait was interrupted, as the once tightly packed park became 'lean' of heads periodically looking at the dial of their wristwatches. On getting to the study, my shirt was imbued to threads as my body 'wept' copiously streams of sweat. Never did I have the faintest of ideas of my time this day, as my nosiness burgeoned at the sight of classical texts, as did the hunger. In no time, my hand dived for the breast pocket of my shirt in search of the cookies' left overs. 'I'm sorry, young man. You can't eat in my Oga's study', a voice pulsated from behind of one of the shelves. Quickly did I recognise so well from whom such strong imploration could come from. No doubt, it was Mr Homer, the chief librarian's personal assistant! I turned my head about its 'axis' in the direction of the man's table. 'E k'áàrò sir', I stammeringly greeted. 'Didn't know you were there', I again sued. 'No problem. Just that your mentor travelled two days ago (referring to the librarian), and should be back in two weeks time', he informed. Mr Homer, a pseudonym of an extraordinary expert in classics and world history, and an internationally decorated Peace and Conflict cognoscente, is a man in his late fifties. His real name, Titus Bolarinwa Da Silva, has long been thrown into oblivion for his pedagogic dedication to classics, and his addiction to the quotes of the great Hellenist historian (Homer) added more to his eponymous pseudonyms among which are Alexandra, Hammurabi and Osiris (all of the ancient). Under his tutelage, I studied copies of almost extant and rarely displayed pieces of the forgotten world. In the euphoria, I 'faltered' and drenched consuming more than enough of materials that could bear my body, until I fell through at a quarter past the hour of Three to 'tame ashore the struggling horse' by taking that nap.
History (they say) is written by the winners. In the face of staged events did blades and swords served the one and most important, barely acknowledged 'good' of record keeping. Many a great civilisations pivoted their success on the fulcrum of this priceless window of influence. The greatness of Egypt the hieroglyphics (though more of religious beliefs) mummified, so was that of Assyria preserved in cuneiforms. Victorious battles were etched on bass relief on city walls depicting narratives of various encounters of civilisations in the field. The relics we attest to at various spots of monumental importance when classical accounts stop over to access. Sadly, every civilisation (extant or preserved) left an imprint of darkness on the substratum of man's making. This would continue haunting him, sometimes seeking to pillage his morals, as the edge of humanity was pushed beyond the extremes into a continuum of violations. One argues sometimes what the whole essence of civilisation approximates, as a correlation between it and accompanying scenes is failed to be established. Unarguably, sedimentation of various cultural brands paved way to finally 'perfect' the present model of man's way of life. Irrespective of our disparate interpretations of the final model, we perceive and feel more harm than was reported in literatures as to the march of civilisation. What dehumanises one than playing folly with his intelligence and saving extra trouble to say to his face he's stupid? That I liken to the body language of winner historians on innumerable accounts detailed in their works, and flung open for the world to believe.
I've tried accessing every aspect of the present man's engagements with his immediate environment. My conclusion has been one and same with those of the seemingly anti-west figures, who for one reason or the other, despise every notch of 'friendship' with the Whites. Research have shown the present representatives of collaborations, engagements and deals of 'whites' with other 'non-whites' are elemental to the plunders of ancient times as brutally executed by the Greeks, Persians and mostly Romans. Often times wrapped in precious concealments that appeal to their 'buyers', the deceits played vital in bringing the second largest continent by landmass, alongside its oceanic population to her knees. As more reasons why 'Rome was not built in a day' hit straight at me in succession of their atrocious campaigns. No empire loved and adored war, as did Rome during her climax as an empire. A republic of a humble beginning overnight turned the nightmare of existing civilisations with the mercy of no one at heart. Forget about the bright stories of her arts and science, Rome was built on tyrannical subjugation of various ill fated states not as propitious as she was. Her leaders were wild beasts who would run over lives of innocents only to cast horror in their breasts, and usurp wealths not entitled to the sniff of any Roman citizen. One of the many tyrants-emperors rarely written on by historians was Caligula (little boot Caesar) who loved filleting prisoners of war with a saw blade, starting with the spine, then to the crotch and finally to the chest. Too much blood in the brain prevents sudden death, after which the two eggy rolls of his victims were severed and chewed. What of the crimes of ethnic cleansing during the Punic Wars, the massacre of Illugua, and other various campaigns in Sicily, Asia minor, the Mediterranean and even Arabian peninsula? Prisoners of war were (according to classical philosophy) non persons at the mercy of their masters through a law christened 'Dominica Potestas'. They could be killed, worked to death or used for sexual gratification at the discretion of even a six year old if willed. That again accounts in depth of what the aristocrats stand to gain from huge amphitheatres and Colosseums built to the appetite of cheering crowds at gladiatorial contests, which are 99.9% alike to present day wrestling sports as WWE WrestleMania. You know how much we loved watching fighters box, punch and kick at random, charging at opponents with chairs, tables, chains and even hammers every Saturday morning on that station known to all. Just two days ago, a wrestler of the aforementioned circle demanded that matches be staged at Colosseums once used by gladiators to bring back the memories as of old. 'Ó Jo gáté, kò Jö gàté, óhún fêsè méjéèji tiro o' which loosely translates: 'Looks more lame than upright, though limps. However, it walks'.
Again, the memories of the British and French invasion of a flourishing Africa under different local civilisations still reverberate across its deserts and forests. Not left out are the Germans and the Belgians who inflicted the most severe of butchery on the continent. Though, with not so much but restricted spread of her influence, Belgium through the draconian king, Leopold II was rated the meanest of all, with an unprecedented massacre record of over 10 million slaughters! Even Britain and France cried out loud to the 'committee of nations' alleging this nefarious beast of genocide. All in the name of rubber tree, millions were amputated (as shown and attested to in photo albums) and the resources of the Congo (formerly Zaire from the misspelt name of Nzere river) were rudely exploited to the favour of the country with the happiest people on planet Earth. From jaw dropping rape of the country's fortunes, its population was subjected to the harsh treatment of the chicotte (a fabricated dried whip from thick hippo skin drawn into sharp corkscrew shape). The chicotte was applied on bare buttocks, with 20 strokes sending a grown up into unconsciousness. A hundred strokes can prove fatal, as this was the reins with which the Congolese were goaded to exhaustively work out their energy with little or no food. Another tyrant worth of mention in this article is the good for nothing German animal, Lothan Von Throta who had it rough with Namibia and its locals, especially the Herero nomad tribe of this peaceful nation. Homes were invaded with towns, villages razed to the ground all to neutralise the strife encountered during the planned encroachment on an independent province like any other European country. Resistance was mounted heavily on the Germans as Von Throta ordered the levelling of every Herero owned properties (including their cows) without taking a single man as prisoner of war! By the end of his onslaught against the 'black apes who have their heads embedded in their breasts', hundreds of thousands had been sent over to the great beyond. What a perfect display of the Roman 'Serves non habet personam' law which states: 'A slave has no selfhood nor persona!'. 'So, kill them! And their resources turned over to us!'. At a stage, to minimise cost and save bullets, victims were bayoneted using rifle stocks, so to ensure no Herero nomad escapes. No Geneva convention was organised in order that cases as these are addressed. All the Roman arts of war (of which massive rape of women and prepubescents is among) was deployed in Africa, as they are deployed now in Syria, Yemen and Afghanistan. Not a day passes by without having an observance on the United Nations' calender . International day for this, world something day for that...as fundamentals are left unattended to. I'm aware a day is set aside to specially celebrate the woman and the girl child, those they once regarded as soulless and even argued about their selfhood. In classical Roman law, women were only viewed as mere asset one acquire in addition to other assets. Even in Christendom, theologians have once gathered to debate the persona of women at the Council of Macon in 586 CE. They argued women had no soul, and should they, were they of animals or humans with an exception carved for Mary. Until 1805 when the law was abolisbed, the English law permitted a man to sell his wife at a cost not more than six pence! Even King Henry VIII of England forbade women from touching the bible as they were regarded impure! Oh! Could that have been a mismatch of personalities for women slaves or what? Little of Rome's horrible past (enveloped now in various shades of civilisations) is known to the public, as they present themselves as messiahs to all and sundry.
Before we throw open our arms to embrace their fine gestures, then 'ventilating their malodorous closet' should make one think twice.
Adelakun Yusuf is a student of Geology, University of Ibadan, Ibadan and a public affairs commentator
Culled from gafar4real.wordpress.com
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