the Gospel of my African Fathers

I’m thinking of going back to the roots of my culture and following in the religion of my fathers.

My fore-fathers where Africans, they didn’t care about who Jesus was, or who the Holy Spirit is, or some Western God. Somehow, I’m feeling that the West has sold us lies in effort to draw us continually into conformity and make us forget our culture.

I pointed out in an African Studies class that voodoo is not necessarily about harming others, it is the remains of our tradition that we can boldly identify with…unfortunately, even my dad doesn’t want me to where traditional outfit because they are ‘demonic’ or ‘evil’.

Oh Westernization! I’m young and my heart is already bleeding for how my Nigerian, and in the macro sense, African culture is being substituted for a culture-less state. Maybe I will end up becoming a champion for our return to our roots, young and old alike.

I bet it wouldn’t be easy; how would I convince you that not only is God made up, the gods our fore-fathers believed is more alive.

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