Kachasu

I am a white catholic woman who considers herself an African. But it filled me with great pride, sense of history and the roots of my kind on a recent trip to the UK. I took my two daughters along. They are being taught South African history at school and, as it always is, history has been written by the winners. They learn about the evil of the white man and African life before the arrival of the colonists.

I took them all over the place in London and Wales. We went to a church built in 475, still in use. I showed them how history works, where we came from. We whities are mongrels. The poms were colonised by the vikings, the romans and have encorporated all sorts of other cultures through victory, defeat and their own empire. But these are mine and my children’s historical roots.

Our tribe.

I refuse to let my children grow up feeling shame for the colour of their skin or guilt over what their ancestors did. Yes, my family was a long line of colonials and empire builders. And that I am proud of. The courage, faith and strength in us is abundant.

Of course there is always bad alongside the good. The crusades, inquisition, slavery etc – but history serves a solid purpose and that is to help us learn from mistakes. History should never be denied.

We saw museums, churches, cottages, grand houses, bridges – the focus this trip was on history.

This holiday I showed my children what giants they stand on the shoulders of. I never want them to feel like aliens in the place they live – I want them to be proud, not ashamed.

There will be many UK based things I write over the next few days as I let some of it sink in and be digested.