The Boy that didn't forget his root


I just want to share the story of my village Damba. My grand parents and mother are from Damba and my grandfather was called Sebastiao Mabanzila. Myself wasn't born in Damba but I still have that connection from that village that I spend less than year over there. Damba is a village that situated in north of province Uige that is north of Angola. Good part of first Angolan migrants who decided to live in Europe are from Damba(Uige). I remember Damba used to be very vibrant village in contrast with others villages around it. Despite I was 8 yeald hold when I left Damba to go to Luanda(Capital)to live but I still have that nice memory and green place that Damba is. My grand parents had nice life and few houses also big land, I don't know if all these things still exist until now.

When Damba was attacked from rebelion group(UNITA) my grand parents and family members scaped to capital and the village was destruid many people from Damba scaped to find safe place in Capital. Not long time go my cousin handed me a DVD that it was a film from Damba recently it seems the Damba just come back in life again. It was just nice to see where my root come from. Doesn't matter how long that I lived in London (Egland) in I'm still the boy from Damba.

Moreover, Specially black or African people are shame of their roots, they preferred to identify themselves as Black European but there's no such thing as black European. You must have a root, a seed of rice it can't grown mangos but it just rice. That the same with human being roots we should never been ashamed about our roots even if so bad where we come from because that our identities.

It doesn't matter where you go but never forget where you came from.