“A caste system is an artificial construction, a fixed and embedded ranking of human value that sets the presumed supremacy of one group against the presumed inferiority of other groups on the basis of ancestry and often immutable traits, traits that would be neutral in the abstract but are ascribed life-and-death meaning in a hierarchy favoring the dominant caste whose forebears designed it. A caste system uses rigid, often arbitrary boundaries to keep the ranked groupings apart, distinct from one another and in their assigned places.” – Isabel Wilkerson, Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents (2020).
Once upon a time not long ago, there lived three wise men from three different parts of the world. They were once persecuted in their own countries but had the courage and commitment to defy whatever barriers thrown at them, including imprisonment and death threat. They were hailed as true heroes but nothing of that mattered now. You could say they were just the ghosts from the past and out of political frays. While out sitting in their respective backyards and moon gazing, there appeared a big star from the east. This was no coincidence. The big star was summoning them to travel in a specific location. They had nothing better to do with their time, for their time became not of this world, so all said in unison: “Why not!” They set out to their destination, flying without wings, and arrived simultaneously. The site was on top of the mountain overlooking a magnificent horizon where time stood still. There were three adjacent tents set up as their living quarters, although really they didn’t need them, for sleep was no longer necessary; and in the middle was a bonfire pit which symbolized the freedom flame. All three figured out that the purpose of this congregation was to tell one another their individual life experiences in their struggle for freedom. So every night, while the moon and stars listened amid the burning flame of logs, the three wise men congregated. The following were a few of the many conversations they had before time erased them completely.
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The one called Bapu spoke first…
I am a man of few words. I speak so softly you have to stretch your ears so you can hear me. I am not a good speaker but I force myself to speak up, for the forces of evil must be confronted with courage, energy and commitment. But before I earned my moral authority to lead my people against British imperialism, I was nothing but a shy and inarticulate barrister who got a law degree from a British institution of all places. I started practicing law in Rajkot at the behest of my brother Laxmidas Gandhi who had a thriving law career. But I was a failure immediately, unable to speak up even in a ten-dollar court case. I left India to seek a better future in Natal, South Africa. My first case was in Pretoria, the capital of Transvaal. I had a first-class train ticket. But during the trip, a white man saw me, withdrew from the compartment and reappeared with two railway officers. I was told to move to another car. I refused and they summoned a policeman who kicked me out of the car together with my luggage. I still could have returned to the train but on the third-class car. But I stayed in the waiting room of the train station, shivering from the cold air of the mountain and brooded. If I went back to India, that would be a total embarrassment. But if I faced my fate with courage here in South Africa, I could be with my people fighting the evilness of racial discrimination. I decided the latter. That frigid night at the Maritzburg station transformed me into a social protester. I became a different person.
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I am a lawyer myself, said the man called Madiba. I’m sorry about your bad experience in my country. Yours is just a tip of an iceberg of racism called apartheid. This is the law of the land and every one of our race born and raised in this country gets the brunt of its force while the colonizers enjoy every right and privilege. I never knew the extent of its evilness until I came to live in Johannesburg. I was not political at first but the injustices done to me and my people every day cannot be taken lightly. So there’s no epiphany, no single moment of revelation like yours Bapu. The steady accumulation of a thousand slights, a thousand indignities, a thousand miscarriages of justice, a thousand moments of forced incarcerations produced in me a lot of anger, a sense of rebelliousness, an eagerness to fight an unjust system and liberate my people from its imprisonment. Therefore I joined the African National Congress for that purpose. But time after time, our peaceful efforts to protest were met with arrests and prosecutions. Soon our movement was banned to do anything. “Die wit man moet altyd baas wees (The white man must always remain boss)” is the phrase that entrenches white supremacy forever. I cannot live with that. Bapu, we followed your principles of non-violence you called Satyagraha. The white regime couldn’t be convinced. It’s time for another strategy. I became a freedom fighter. It didn’t last long. I was captured and found guilty of treason. I served prison for twenty seven years. Then I was freed and walked that long road to freedom.
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You two are blessed, the man with the initials MLK said. For I could only dream and see the promised land but wouldn’t be there to celebrate with my people. Like you Bapu, I died a violent death, although I resisted violence to define our protest movement. I led the civil rights movement against racial injustices suffered by my people. To be black is like leprosy. We have to be separated from the pureness of the white people. To mingle with them will cause us to be harmed. Yet they allow us to serve them for their convenience. They don’t see moral contradictions for they believe God has given them the authority to rule over us. After all, our descendants were slaves and we should remain below the totem pole for that was our natural heritage. I am a preacher so I know how to talk. I speak with a booming voice to be heard well, not only by my people but for the white folks as well. I lead marches in calling for more rights and justice. As our movement grows we are joined by liberal-minded white people. I can see a growing sense of racial pride and consciousness. We are gaining a little bit of the ground but not victory. The majority of the white people are still powerful and resistant. They don’t want change that will cut their share of the pie. It will take a seismic event to make them relinquish a small piece. A seemingly quiet lady named Rosa Parks lights the spark of defiance that propels our civil rights movement to greater heights. By refusing to vacate her seat in the front row of a bus, she dismantles the power of the bus segregation in the country. She becomes an important symbol for our movement and I admire her for that. She gives me the words to say that “there comes a time when people get tired of being trampled over by the iron feet of oppression; there comes a time when people get tired of being plunged across the abyss of humiliation, whey they experience the bleakness of nagging despair; there comes a time when people get tired of being pushed out of the glittering sunlight of life’s July, and left standing amid the piercing chill of an alpine November.” Then my beautiful words of speaking would be silenced forever.
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The three wise men have experienced the cruelty of racism. They share with us their individual stories about how it affected them. They want us to know that the struggle to live anywhere without racial discrimination is far from over. We must always be vigilant, for the force of evil is as strong as the virtue of goodness. Their lives and struggles are well-documented if we only have the time to read them. But they are fading fast from our minds, a consequence of history’s timeline. Their coming together is their way of making us aware about the danger of complacency and indifference. We are such a discriminating creature so racism will never go away. The powerful and mighty will always find a justification. From apartheid to segregation and now white replacement theory. Although there’s no compelling evidence to support the theory, it resonates to the white Evangelical Christians who love power and status. They will make a lot of noise, passionate of their cause because they always win. Let’s be clear, the white people can never be replaced nor be the victims because they hold still the levers of power in businesses and in the government. The laws have been codified in their favours. And they have the money to keep their future generations well-secured and financed to fulfill their ambitions.
Upon the peep of the early morning light, the three wise men have decided to part ways. They are not sure whether this one-time congregation can make a difference. But like any struggle, more so with freedom, there can only be a hope for better tomorrow.
8 February 2023