“It blooms graves, it warms the Unknown Soldier. You, my brothers obscure, nobody called you. " For the Senegalese Tirailleurs died for France, Leopold Sedar Senghor, Black Hosts (Tours, 1938)

Landed, humiliated, forgotten, 70 years later, they have erased you from their memories. Landed, swept, censored, your sacrifice does not seem worthy of their commemoration. Be the docile child, loyal, committed, they’ll have wiped out the celebrations. Your sacrifice and your contributions are soon forgotten. You sent your son you who defend the one you considered at the time as the bitter homeland, they have you humiliated, robbed, clear.

The world leaders welcomed, embraced fanfare, celebrating the return of peace to remember. They wanted to burn in the collective memory of the horrors of war and its outcome. So that never in history from repeating itself. They celebrated their heroes, their allies; they talk about history, integrity, and a symbol of remembrance. They invited the former enemies, those have become friends today. They exchanged hugs and kind words amid trumpets and drums. They remembered the common effort. But you no one remembers your contribution. You are transparent, insignificant, nonexistent.

I watched them twirl, twirl, bragging and my heart is filled with anger and revolt before bleeding pain. They simply ignored you; not once thy name was uttered at any time your sacrifice has been mentioned or suggested. You simply disappeared from their collective memory. You my mother, my roots, my native land, thou that You sent your children to war, you who immolas your most valiant son on the altar of the common good, they had no word to yourself, not a murmur , nothing, nothing. They’ll spit silence shouting their ingratitude and contempt in the face.

While I watched strutting in their regalia, the same questions were turning over and over in my mind. Where is l`hommage visited my brother sharpshooters? -t When we celebrate their bravery and devotion? Were they not men and soldiers like the others? How have they been able to finish the rank of forgotten soldiers? Are they not also heroes?

Ingratitude is insult added to the injury of indifference. 70 years after laundering and the massacre of Thiaroye , almost nothing has changed, your dedication is swept out of hand, your sacrifice has been plunged into thick darkness. They landed you, despised cleared. You who are yet so proud to have helped restore peace.

You’re perhaps not their dear eyes Africa but know that we your children, we know and we are grateful. We tell our son and daughters as the man entered the African story several times even though some want to ignore it. We will talk to them about their ancestors proud riflemen parties in battle and died as heroes for the Republic. We will tell them to stand tall, be proud because their ancestors fought at the front and they too have shed their blood to end a war that was not theirs.

This sacrifice will never be vain for us; we will never forget that it is also thanks to you skirmishers yesterday they have won and built the peace they so cherish today.

Reblogged from Gaou’s blog with permission.  https://lesgaousatoronto.wordpress.com/2014/06/20/schwarzen-soldaten/