But If You Are Going To Wear

In The West The Past Is Like A Dead Animal. It Is A Carcass Picked At By The Flies That Call Themselves Historians And Biographers. But In My Culture The Past Lives. My People Feel This Way In Part Because Death Does Not Separate Us From Our Ancestors.

I Look At The Past And I See Myself.

You Are Damned And Praised, Or Encouraged Or Discouraged By Those Who Listen To You, And Those Who Come To Applaud You. And To Me, Those People Are Very Important.

I Ask You And All The Leaders Of The World: Would You Act Differently, Would You Keep Silent And Do Nothing If You Were In Our Place? Would You Not Resist If You Were Allowed No Rights In Your Own Country Because The Color Of Your Skin Is Different To That Of The Rulers, And If You Were Punished For Even Asking For Equality? I Appeal To You, And Through You To All The Countries Of The World, To Do Everything You Can To Stop The Coming Tragedy. I Appeal To You To Save The Lives Of Our Leaders, To Empty The Prisons Of All Those Who Should Never Have Been There.

I Kept My Culture. I Kept The Music Of My Roots. Through My Music I Became This Voice And Image Of Africa And The People Without Even Realising.