I would say colonialism is a wonderful thing. It spread civilization to Africa.
Before it they had no written language, no wheel as we know it, no schools, no hospitals, not even normal clothing.
-Ian Smith, Prime Minister of the British Southern Rhodesia colony
After my many assiduous years of studying African culture and politics, I am in absolute accordance with this man. My firsthand experience with the tribes of the lower Niger has left my appreciation of Western culture at an all time high. These tribes have managed to butcher Western culture’s gift to them: agriculture. The brutes needlessly destroy the few crops they manage to survive on in order to please a phony God. The brutes commit infanticide when twins are conceived. The most affluent brutes pay exorbitant amounts for mere statuses. The brutes kill unnecessarily. The brutes penal code is no more than a misconceived notion of Hammaribi’s, unsophisticated, immoral reciprocity. The most affluent brutes live open, polyamorous lives with more spouses than I could count on one hand. The brutes beat their wives and children. The brutes contribute nothing to humanity, and live no better than animals; eating, sleeping, dying.
In spite of this treacherous act against the way men are meant to live, God has a place for them, and it was my mission to put them there. I resolved long standing intertribal conflicts, which were unyieldingly brought on by their ignorance. I put an end to their infanticide. I begged them to put down their weapons, and find the love, the connection that exists between all peoples. I found the source of their unhappiness, the source of their belligerence, the source of their pain...God. I opened their eyes to the freedom, the joy, and peace that comes with the acceptance of the truth. The acceptance of the Lord.
Was it easy? No. Their intransigence was surprising considering the unimaginably poor state of their economy, their government, and their lives. I was drained to see the children be corrupted by the madness that is their culture. These children saw life unfiltered, infanticide, frequent murders. Acts the west wouldn’t even consider exposing their children too. They clung to it so strongly, their misguided way of life. But alas, I persisted. I set out many men, teaching the ways of the real truth that they needed to embrace in order to be free.
One relatively tolerable story, is that of the Umuofia clan, a lower Nigerian tribe that was a member of nine connected villages. A rash murder leads to the permitted kidnapping of an innocent virgin and fifteen-year-old boy. The are taken to the most callous brutes of the entire clan, one Okonkwo. A man so brutal that one of his wives (he had many) on what the locals called “the Week of Peace.” After three long years of what was surely a living hell for the young hapless boy, he is brought outside the view of the other villagers by his ruthless captives, and hacked to pieces with machetes.
At the funeral of a villager, the deceased’s son is killed by the pitiless Okonkwo. He was only sixteen- years-old. He is finally exiled on account of his malfeasance, however he is allowed to return in just seven years. In order to cleanse the village of Okonkwo’s sin, the villagers squanderingly burn his buildings and kill his animals.
I finally arrive, to see this mess these people have created for themselves. And I had no choice but to allow them to repent their sins. My men diplomatically enlighten the villagers, and for once in their history, something is solved by the shake of a hand, rather than the swing of a sword. But my conquests were never simple, and this one was no exception. After a frivolous incident regarding a new church goer and an ancestral spirit, the church we built was burned down by the same people it was built for.
I personally saw that this blasphemous act did not go unpunished. Upon meeting the leaders of the Umuofia, those undoubtedly responsible for the attack, I arrested them. They were of course surprised however of the treatment they received at our facility, for it was quite pleasant in relation to a rival tribe’s. They were promptly released, for I did not (unlike them) see much use in causing conflict.
Soon thereafter it came to my attention that a collusion was underway. And I understandably sent five court messengers to desist this meeting. Only four returned. The one man who had already caused those around him so much unnecessary pain, had cut down one of my good men in vain. Okonkwo soon committed suicide, irreparably damaging his people once again.