I WEEP OF CULTURE IN A WORLD WHERE MODERNISM RULES
“In a society where elements of modernity scuffles with elements of culture, there seems tobe no prudence chapter to write about. All that seems emanating are omens of madness, insanity acursing the fate of humanity with characters of diabolical and bleakness”.
Will culture ever survive this deadly blows punching hard in it face by these traits of modernism and technological insurgencies?
Where we are made to disregard our culture or treat it with great impudence, are we safe to the fate that lieth ahead?
We are made to feed on theories propounded out of modern context and are in turn made to think in suspensive reasons of a future where liveth the truth of robotic engagement. To be critics of our existence (culture), and play ironic fragmentation to our pride. That is what our souls are fed on in the lantern classrooms of higher learning.
Where do the survival flow humanity records in this dilemma streams of technological asset and trends?
I am concerned with the tales of truism, fate of iota starring deep in my face, and demanding realistic answers to the times ahead, and to the moments that yonder afar. In a society where the parlance of bleaching has become a “life-saver” to the beauty of the Afrikan. Where the truth that beholdeth fashion is only adorned by nudity.
Come to think of the baking and flaking remorse of our traditionalism sandwiched by “christianity and Islam”. Where virtue only accomplishes the stance of early grape eating of fornication. Where men are made to think in abstract of living in mars of a woman’s thighs as pride of self esteem, simply because, judgement is for the mockery.
What a world we are living! Where hopelessness, madness, craze, stupidity and abject shameless revolving around the axis of modernity. Truth now seeking, seeking no finding, finding no justification, and justification which knoweth no salvation.
A dirge dancing in a disco, and whereas life is still built in a sheet of mysteriousness. I am on appeal to a land materialism and fashionism where the rowdiness of the up-thinking minds are married to the rhythms and interludes of the hip-hops.
Clichè of thoughts they never ceases to amass the meandering holes of the dungeons in the mind’s castle. Be it toothless or plainful whims.
By the time I defend my thesis to the merit of a PhD in culture, surely I might either be strangulated to a miscarriage or either way be suffocated to my emptiness with a surgical tools of a heightened technogy. I better do what it ought of me as a true ancestor would have.
You are my witness. I mean you, you and the many of you here on this stage of a world. Witnesses to the oracles of our culture, customs and traditions. We all are a living ears to the rumours and whispers to the walking and stampeding threats of modernity and her fast evoking smoking pipe_technology.
Where do we stand, which path does this our culture leads to in a slumber where anti-rectroviral has made herbage a no importance but an impotent to the threat of modernity’s dreadful diseases. Aren’t we accursed by the traumas of technology which premiums a no human head for nature’s wonders? Rhetoric is at play….
I have decided, not to be a skate board to the exigencies of modernism. I have questioned my instinct not to result to resolutions given the demands of technology. I have made up my mind, a mind made up to defend what is duly of my very existence.
“The beauty of a people is in their heart, the soul of a people is in their blood, but the survival of a society is in the faculties of her culture”. Nana Tsiwah…
I have consulted the eye of the gods, incantated the spirits of the ancestors, they are ready and have call nature to walk me safely as I deem this fate of my campaign to wake the minds of the people of why I weep of culture in a world in which modernity reigns.