By Morris Wambua

History, as we know it, has always been shaped by those who control the pen, the press, and the podium. For too long, the global narrative has been dominated by Western powers who have crafted a version of history that often marginalizes or completely ignores the African perspective.

From the colonial era to today, the stories we are taught highlight certain figures as heroes while vilifying others, often leaving out key aspects of African history.

These omissions and distortions are not accidental; they are strategic. The erasure of African voices serves to maintain the status quo, protecting the legacies of colonial powers and justifying their crimes.

As Africans, we must confront this reality head-on.

It’s time to rewrite history—not in the sense of fabricating new facts, but by revealing the truths that have been hidden for far too long.

We need to reclaim our narrative, challenge the selective morality that has painted certain leaders as villains while absolving others of their colonial atrocities, and recognize that the stories we are fed about global events are often designed to reinforce the power of those who have historically oppressed us.

Iddi Amin vs. Queen Elizabeth: A Study in Selective Morality

Iddi Amin, the former Ugandan leader, has been branded one of Africa’s most notorious dictators.

The Western world holds him up as the quintessential symbol of African despotism, with countless stories of human rights abuses under his regime.

There is no question that Amin's rule was brutal and marked by violence, but this begs the question—why was Amin continuously demonized in Western media, while figures like Queen Elizabeth II, under whose reign countless colonial atrocities were committed, are venerated as paragons of stability and leadership?

During Queen Elizabeth's reign, the British Empire was involved in some of the most brutal repressions in African history, including the Mau Mau uprising in Kenya.

Thousands of Kenyan freedom fighters, who were labeled as "terrorists" by the British, were systematically tortured, killed, or imprisoned.

Yet, when we think of Queen Elizabeth, these violent acts are conveniently omitted from her legacy.

Instead, her image is that of a benevolent monarch, a symbol of tradition and progress.

The disparity here is glaring.

Amin’s crimes are emphasized, while the violence carried out in the name of the British Empire is excused, justified, or simply erased from mainstream discourse.

This selective morality not only serves to vilify African leaders like Amin but also perpetuates a Eurocentric version of history that elevates colonial rulers above reproach.

It's clear—Amin, in the Western narrative, represents an Africa that must be controlled, while Queen Elizabeth represents a Europe that must be admired, despite its own history of violence and repression.

King Leopold’s Congo vs. The Holocaust: Whose Suffering is Validated?

No event is more frequently invoked as a symbol of human atrocity than the Holocaust, and rightly so.

The horrors inflicted upon six million Jews during World War II should never be forgotten.

However, there is a troubling imbalance in how the world remembers the Holocaust versus other atrocities, particularly those that occurred in Africa.

King Leopold II of Belgium’s reign of terror in the Congo is one of the bloodiest episodes in human history, yet it remains largely unknown to the global public.

Between 10 and 15 million Congolese were killed, mutilated, or enslaved as Leopold's regime plundered the country's resources.

Entire villages were wiped out, and the severing of hands became a grotesque symbol of the punishments meted out for failing to meet rubber quotas.

Why is it that King Leopold’s Congo doesn’t receive the same global recognition as the Holocaust?

This question becomes even more poignant when we consider the fact that the death toll in the Congo ranks among the highest of any atrocity in history.

However, this history is taught with far less intensity, if at all, in Western schools.

The selective recognition of suffering perpetuates the idea that African lives are less worthy of acknowledgment and that colonial violence, while regrettable, is not as important as European suffering.

By continuing to downplay atrocities like those in the Congo, we deny Africa its place in the global story of resilience and survival.

We erase the horror of what was done to African people and dismiss their suffering as less significant than that of others.

It’s time to demand that these stories are told with the same gravity, the same recognition of
pain, and the same commitment to "never again."

Chris Hani and umKhonto we Sizwe: Erasing African Heroes

Sadly, despite his sacrifice, Hani's legacy is often sidelined or framed in a way that diminishes the importance of armed resistance.

Western narratives frequently label such movements as "terrorist" organizations, ignoring the context in which they arose. Apartheid was a violent system of racial oppression, and armed struggle
was, for many, the only viable path to freedom.

However, because this resistance challenges the narrative that Western-supported governments were benevolent, figures like Hani and organizations like umKhonto we Sizwe are marginalized in
the global discourse.

The Western world was, after all, largely complicit in supporting apartheid during the Cold War, when anti-communism often took precedence over human rights. This is part of a broader pattern in which African freedom fighters, who took up arms against colonialism and oppressive regimes,
are written out of history or painted as villains.

From Patrice Lumumba in the Congo to Dedan Kimathi in Kenya, many who fought for true independence were eliminated by Western-backed forces, ensuring that the post-colonial states
remained under neo-colonial influence.

Meanwhile, collaborators and so-called moderates—leaders willing to maintain colonial structures—were propped up as heroes of independence.

The Legacy of Collaborators: How African Leaders Compromised True Independence

Post-colonial Africa saw the rise of many "founding fathers" who were celebrated as liberators of their nations.

Leaders like Jomo Kenyatta of Kenya and Mobutu Sese Seko of Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) became synonymous with African independence. Yet, upon closer examination, their legacies are deeply complicated by their willingness to collaborate with the same colonial powers they were supposedly fighting against.

Kenyatta, once a leader of the Mau Mau, eventually became a staunch supporter of Western capitalist policies, maintaining the very structures of land ownership and political power that the British had put in place.

Mobutu, backed by Western governments, particularly the United States,
transformed Zaire into a kleptocracy, where foreign interests continued to profit from the country’s vast mineral wealth while the people suffered.

In contrast, true revolutionaries like PatriceLumumba were deposed or assassinated with the direct or indirect support of Western governments. Lumumba, who sought genuine independence and pan-African unity, was seen as too radical, too threatening to the interests of the global powers.

His assassination marked the end of one of Africa's brightest hopes for real freedom from colonial rule, and it cemented the legacy of leaders like Mobutu, who were more than willing to act as agents of neo-colonialism.

Colonialism's Aftermath: Shaping Global Perception

 The shaping of global historical narratives serves the purpose of protecting the legacies of colonialism and those who benefited from it.

The vilification of African leaders like Iddi Amin and the glorification of European monarchs like Queen Elizabeth are not simply reflections of historical fact—they are tools of power.

The atrocities of the Congo, apartheid, and the Mau Mau repression are downplayed, if not erased, from global consciousness because they challenge the notion of Western moral superiority.

At the same time, stories of African resistance, struggle, and triumph are sidelined because they expose the hypocrisies and violence inherent in colonial rule.

The Western world’s selective memory is not accidental—it’s a deliberate strategy to maintain a version of history that legitimizes past and present inequalities.

Reclaiming Our Narrative

As Africans, we must challenge these global narratives and reclaim our history.

It is not enough to passively accept the stories we are told; we must actively seek out the truths that have been buried.

The heroes of our liberation movements, whether in South Africa, Kenya, Congo, or elsewhere, deserve to be celebrated and remembered with the same fervor that the West reserves for its own heroes.

Equally, the horrors of colonialism must be acknowledged and remembered, not swept under the rug to protect the legacies of former colonial powers.

By rewriting our own history, we can begin to undo the damage caused by centuries of misrepresentation. We can give voice to the millions of Africans who resisted oppression, who fought for freedom, and who continue to shape the future of this continent.

Our stories matter.

Our history matters.

It is time that the world recognizes the full scope of African history—not just the parts that serve to reinforce Western power!