The Day After

I rarely have the time for something as petty as keeping up a diary. But on this day – The Morning After - as the sun peeped through the window curtains, it brushed against tracks of tarnished tears on my face. I made my first entry into a new diary. It started with “Barack….”.

My eyes are heavy from lack of sleep. I spent the previous night glued to the television set soon after I returned from the wild party at the bar down the street. It was then that I realized that I had to go to work, sigh.

In the corner of the room, the television screen beam pictures of people – thousands of people cheering, dancing, and singing. People of all race and creed huddle together and shed the same tear. Then I realized it was real. This is actually happening – There was an unusual party the night before.

Something else is unusual about the day after we made history take yet another shape. It was supposed to be chaotic, a day to spark payback for generations of inequality, but not on this day. Instead what I saw was a nation of people who quietly carried on with their day. It was a solemn acceptance as a maverick passed on the touch to a new generation. A white woman looks on in admiration as a new president spoke and tears quietly made its way down her face. A teenage black female holds her face in her hands in disbelief – YES WE DID IT. Indeed we all share a common destiny. As our finger tips pointed touched on a screen and pointed to a new direction, our resolve met bigotry. Over five decades ago, a black athlete pumped his fist in the air in defiance against social injustice; on November 4^th, a white man pumps his fist in the air jubilant of a victorious black man. I wished the abolitionists were here.

My memory drifts back four years earlier in a small classroom in the University of Maryland. My classmate and I talked about American history during one of our civil rights class session. I recall my white classmate nodding in agreement when I said that we will long become fossils before a black man is elected the president of this country. I remember vividly even now, the look in his face. I suspect I had the same expression as well. There was an uncomfortable understanding between us as we paused for a moment to think about the gravity of our conversation - It was surreal. We both wanted to see it happen in our lifetime but never believed in the certainty of it.

Who would have imagined then how far we were from the truth? Who knew that history lurked in the corner destined to prove us wrong? Who would have imagined that in the summer of 1961 destiny collided with faith and in 2006, on a cold February afternoon in the Chicago Illinois, our cynicism began its journey to reality.

On November 4, 2008, WE the American people gave the world a gift. Like Barrack Obama said, against all odds together “… we put our hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day”.

Even now as I let me emotions run through my finger tips. I am not ashamed to jot down in this diary that I too cried. I am still in awe about this historic occurrence in our nation’s history. That we choose common sense over racial prejudice gives me hope that a substantial part of racism died on November 4.

This victory should not only be registered in a column for Obama. As cliché as it sounds, it is truly a victory for all of us. It is not about the genius of the man Obama. It is about a nation of people who believe in the fundamental ideology that is America. It is about the citizens of the world who hear destiny’s cry from Washington DC to Nairobi to Kigali and respond with thunderous Unisom – WE ARE ONE!

As much as people would like to say that Obama is the first Black President of the United States of America, I am afraid to disappoint you. Obama is also white. He is the embodiment of the beauty when we unit. He may not be messiah but his voice makes us to lunge forward and take that leap of faith.

In his acceptance speech, as cold as ice, with all humility, a grandmother to bury and the weight of the world on his shoulders, he spoke to our commonsense once more. As the world watched, he spoke not of his victory. Instead he spoke of a vision for better understanding; a vision that will lead us through challenges of a new frontier.

I believe that the easiest part has been done. The tough road which lies ahead is in the hills of Afghanistan. We must rescue freedom in Darfur and we have to be our brother’s keeper in Gaza. But we can only achieve this if only you listen to that tiny voice that spoke as you cast your vote on November 4, 2008.

It is a voice that calls us to roll up our sleeves; get on our knees and rebuild this nation one brick at a time. For those who stand ashore and laugh in our demise, I say it is time we show them that the ideology that is America lives on. That ideology that is the wind pushed against the backs of our founding fathers and led them westward to a land where they can rub on the heels of hope and believe that anything is possible. I believe in the possibilities of this country. I believe God’s grace shines on us all. We must do our part to raise this nation once more. God Bless America!

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