Why are we still standing to attention for dreary anthems, half of which were written by colonial administrators who couldn’t tell a marimba from a mosquito net?
DOUGLAS RASBASH
Special to The Botswana Gazette
In a move that is as bold as it is overdue, Burkina Faso’s new revolutionary leader has declared war on the sartorial silliness of powdered wigs and judge’s gowns. These relics of colonialism – more suited to 18th-century European courtrooms than the sweltering Sahel – are finally being tossed into the dustbin of history where they belong. But why stop there?
The time has come to unshackle ourselves from every thread, tune and title that keeps us in servitude to imported traditions. Let the great purge of pointless pageantry begin!
The Cult of the Red Carpet
Ah, the red carpet! Originally rolled out for gods and emperors, it now serves as a glorified runway for politicians and celebrities desperate for relevance. Nothing screams “disconnect” like a dusty village square where people are queueing for water while a red carpet is unfurled for a mayor opening a borehole. Let us consign this fabric of faux grandeur to its rightful place – lining the kennels of overfed ceremonial guard dogs.
The Tyranny of Titles
Your Excellency. The Right Honourable. The Most Esteemed Pan-African Visionary of the Decade. Enough already! When did we become a people who need to puff up our egos with more syllables than a Latin prayer? Worse, these titles often decorate those who accomplish the least. A humble reminder: the guy who cures diseases doesn’t insist on being called “Saviour of the Nation.” Can we just go back to being Mr and Ms? Or better yet, just our names?
National Anthems: A Symphony of Silliness
Why are we still standing to attention for dreary anthems, half of which were written by colonial administrators who couldn’t tell a marimba from a mosquito net? Worse, we’re stuck with lyrics that sound like something a bureaucrat cooked up after too much sherry: “Rise, oh glorious land of shining future!” We could replace these dirges with something truly relatable – like a catchy Afrobeats tune that at least gets people moving.
Flags of Confusion
Let’s talk about flags, shall we? Why is every nation flying a rectangle of arbitrary colours and shapes, as if this geometry defines our destiny? And don’t get me started on the obsession with hoisting these banners at every occasion – whether it’s a school assembly or the opening of a new latrine. If a symbol is needed, how about something practical, like a solar panel or a bag of millet?
The Imported Three-Piece Suit
Surely, the suit must rank as the pinnacle of fashion absurdity. Picture a politician in a European-cut blazer, sweating profusely in the midday sun while extolling the virtues of local industry. The irony is so thick, you could cut it with a machete. Why not embrace breathable fabrics, tailored for the climate? Imagine a parliament of leaders in bold, vibrant kitenge discussing serious matters without looking like overdressed mannequins.
The Pomp of Protocol
And then there’s the endless rigmarole of state ceremonies. Guard of honour inspections, 21-gun salutes, and processions so long they could rival a Bollywood wedding. Do we really need half the military saluting while the other half struggles to find fuel for their trucks? Strip it down, simplify it, and let’s celebrate by planting a tree or fixing a pothole instead.
The Worship of Imported Languages
Lastly, let’s bury the notion that we need to sound like Shakespeare to be taken seriously. Why is every major speech delivered in French, English or Portuguese? Leaders often stumble through sentences that mean little to their audience. Instead, speak in the languages of the people. Who needs “universal intelligibility” when you can have actual understanding?
A Manifesto for Practical Living
In this new era of true independence, let us reject the relics of colonial and imported absurdity with gusto. Ban the wigs, burn the red carpets, shred the anthems, and swap the suits for sandals. Let us govern ourselves with authenticity and practicality, not the heavy burden of borrowed rituals. If Burkina Faso can lead the charge, who’s next?