Quotessence
Home / Topics / African Quotes

African Quotes

Browse 136 quotes about African.

African Quotes

“Most people write me off when they see me. They do not know my story. They say I am just an African. They judge me before they get to know me. What they do not know is The pride I have in the blood that runs through my veins; The pride I have in my rich culture and the history of my people; The pride I have in my strong family ties and the deep connection to my community; The pride I have in the African music, African art, and African dance; The pride I have in my name and the meaning behind it. Just as my name has meaning, I too will live my life with meaning. So you think I am nothing? Don’t worry about what I am now, For what I will be, I am gradually becoming. I will raise my head high wherever I go Because of my African pride, And nobody will take that away from me.”

“Dear Black Man (Poem) ***** I love you because you make me feel things that I have never felt before. You erase my pain and you bring me so much gain. You embrace me and hide me in your well built African and manly body. You make me want to never look at other bodies. I love how you cut your hair. I love to feel your love in the air. The texture of your hair, so beautiful, so artistic. Your beautiful smile, so amazing; it reminds me of hiding places. You walk like you own the world; at least, I assure you that you own mine and the rest of my words. Black Man, you are beautiful. Your skin tone is so dark, it makes me want to bark. Please allow me to run my hands on the hills of that skin. You are handsome, my amazing king. The way you speak your language. The way you speak your Xhosa. Your Hausa. Your Zulu. Your Kituba. Your Tswana. Your Lingala. Your Venda. Your Gadomba. Your Tsonga. Your Shona. Your Bateke. Your Ga. Your Sotho. Your Igbo. Your eyes. Black Man, your eyes tell me a story never heard before. You teach me; from your wisdom, I learn. From your strength, I know 'I can'. Black Man, they enslaved you because they found you intimidating. But today, they look for you to be their mate in dating. You look at my stretchmarks with an eye of an artist. You appreciate my big behind with no judgement. You kiss my big lips with love. And in my big thighs, you hide. You love me when I have no hair. You love me when I have fake hair. Black Man, I thought of you and I wrote to you. All hail the Black king! From your Black Woman, (with African curves) .”

“And the Creator said: With this Afro hair, I crown you as kings and queens. The natural heirs of the Earth. I crown you so that you never need to place a material crown upon your head as proof of your royalty, one wich loses value with time. Your Afro crown remains valuable through all lifetimes. I set you apart from the rest. I keep you covered in a natural shade. I give you hair that retains water, so you remain cool under the Sun. I crown you with natural antennas, connecting you to the skies above. I give you Afro Hair to set you as trees that never decay. Trees that stand tall, firm, and strong through all seasons. I give you this Afro hair as a mark that you're my chosen people.”

“You can no longer see or identify yourself solely as a member of a tribe, but as a citizen of a nation of one people working toward a common purpose.”

“I knew there would be a talk coming, but obviously we couldn't let the food get cold. Or warm, in the case of the tuna tartare with benne seeds I finally got to compare to Jada Knox's review. It really did taste a little bit like coffee, which, contrasted with the cold, clean chunks of tuna and hits of acid, was the perfect mellowing factor. The red stew, with a tender chicken thigh nearly falling apart in the spicy, sharp broth, was both hearty and exciting, the bland, fluffy fufu it was served over the perfect contrast. And the curried goat with roti and crispy potatoes? The whole fried red snapper with jerk seasoning? All the contrasts of flavor and texture made me want to eat and eat and eat until I burst.”

“Mr. Megishima has already begun the broth. First he minced some garlic... and then onion, red bell peppers and perfectly ripe tomatoes, building a flavor with a deeply complex acidity and body." "What sort of stock did you choose?" "Chicken. Already got it going in a stockpot. In fact... ... it should be just about ready." "MMMMMM!" "Just the scent of that stock is enough to make you fidget in anticipation!" "Man, I'd totally be happy just pouring that over some white rice and chowing down!" "With the base stock ready, I'll add the veggies I cut up... ... along with some drumettes and other stuff. Now to let 'em simmer in the pot until their flavors meld together. Then the broth'll be done." "Another point to watch is the Char Siu pork he put together a moment ago. He made certain to rub it with a certain marinade before binding it." "A special marinade?" "Yes. It was made with garlic, soy sauce, sugar, sake, and one more intriguing ingredient... PEANUTS! Those, I believe, will be the key to his entire dish! "?! Holy crap! What the heck is with that overflowing giant tub of red peppers?!" "Yes... he will use peanuts... ... to bring out every last drop of deliciousness red peppers possess!”

“All of this could fall flat, feel too much like a caricature of a Sicilian trattoria, if the food itself weren't so damn good: arancini, saffron-scented rice fried into crunchy, greaseless golf balls; polpette di pesce spada, swordfish meatballs with a taste so deep and savory they might as well be made of dry-aged beef; and a superlative version of caponata di melanzane, that ubiquitous Sicilian starter of eggplant, capers, and various other vegetation, stewed into a sweet and savory jam that you will want to smear on everything. Everything around you screams Italy, but those flavors on the end of the fork? The sweet-and-sour tandem, the stain of saffron, the grains of rice: pure Africa. The pasta: even better. Chewy noodles tinted jet black with squid ink and tossed with sautéed rings and crispy legs of calamari- a sort of nose-to-tail homage to the island's cherished cephalopod. And Palermo's most famous dish, pasta con le sarde, a bulge of thick spaghetti strewn with wild fennel, capers, raisins, and, most critically, a half dozen plump sardines slow cooked until they melt into a briny ocean ragù. Sweet, salty, fatty, funky- Palermo in a single bite.”

“Palermo is dotted everywhere with frittura shacks- street carts and storefronts specializing in fried foods of all shapes and cardiac impacts. On the fringes of the Ballarò market are bars serving pane e panelle, fried wedges of mashed chickpeas combined with potato fritters and stuffed into a roll the size of a catcher's mitt. This is how the vendors start their days; this is how you should start yours, too. If fried chickpea sandwiches don't register as breakfast food, consider an early evening at Friggitoria Chiluzzo, posted on a plastic stool with a pack of locals, knocking back beers with plates of fried artichokes and arancini, glorious balls of saffron-stained rice stuffed with ragù and fried golden- another delicious ode to Africa. Indeed, frying food is one of the favorite pastimes of the palermitani, and they do it- as all great frying should be done- with a mix of skill and reckless abandon. Ganci is among the city's most beloved oil baths, a sliver of a store offering more calories per square foot than anywhere I've ever eaten. You can smell the mischief a block before you hit the front door: pizza topped with french fries and fried eggplant, fried rice balls stuffed with ham and cubes of mozzarella, and a ghastly concoction called spiedino that involves a brick of béchamel and meat sauce coated in bread crumbs and fried until you could break someone's window with it.”

“Red pepper is the theme, but there's no sign of it in the noodles or broth. Does that one little dollop of paste on the side really have the oomph to compensate for that?" "It's harissa, a seasoning blend said to have originated in Northern Africa. The ingredients generally include paprika, caraway seeds, lemon juice and garlic, among other things. But the biggest is a ton of peppers, which are mashed into a paste and blended with those other spices." Oh! That's the same thing Dad made when he visited the dorm. I think I remember him saying it came from somewhere in Africa. "The ramen's broth is based on Chicken Muamba, another African recipe, where chicken and nuts are stewed together with tomatoes and chilies. This broth forms a solid backbone for the entire dish. Its zesty flavor amplifies the super-spicy harissa to explosive proportions!" "That's gotta be sooo spicy! Whoa! Are you sure it's a good idea to dump that much of it in all at once?!" "Hoooo!Thanks to the mellow, full-bodied and ever-so-slight astringency of that mountain of peanuts he infused into the broth... ... adding the harissa just makes the spiciness and richness of the overall dish grow deeper and more complex with each drop! Extra-thick cuts of Char Siu Pork, rubbed with homemade peanut butter before simmering! And the slightly thicker-than-usual wavy noodles! They soak up the broth and envelop the ultra-spiciness of the harissa... all together, it's addicting! Its deliciousness so intense that my body cries out from its heat! African Ramen... how very intriguing! A dish that never before existed anywhere in the world, but he's brought it to vibrant life!”

“I still worry about Africa, we are slaves to western and Eastern Brands and we do not cherish and love our own. We are not even in charge of our economies because we depend heavily on what happens in the East or West, Worse-off we still judge each other based on skin color because those from Northern Africa and even some in East Africa believe that they are not Africans and they do not integrate with the darker Africans. For centuries we are still being victimized by other races from other continents, because they despise our dark skin and think that we are lesser than them.. Xenophobia still lingers and some have the cold heart to kill their black African brothers and sisters and yet the people who owe them reparation and economic freedom are originally from the western countries. We still are held captive by our governments , who abuse our resources only to feed their pockets at the expense our crumbling nations. Why should we continue to suffer when we can apply Pan Africanism and Rise above the Western and Eastern Countries, but sadly we do not because we are not united.. Africa must unite to solve its problems, Happy Africa Day”

“To some believers, being on the pill or using a condom is a nonverbal way of telling God to go to hell.”

“It goes without saying that even those of us who are going to hell will get eternal life—if that territory really exists outside religious books and the minds of believers, that is. Having said that, given the choice, instead of being grilled until hell freezes over, the average sane human being would, needless to say, rather spend forever idling in an extremely fertile garden, next to a lamb or a chicken or a parrot, which they do not secretly want to eat, and a lion or a tiger or a crocodile, which does not secretly want to eat them.”

“The last time everyone loved or at least liked everyone was when the world had a population of about 4.”

“Some people hate people who are overconfident, only because their overconfidence reminds them of their underconfidence.”

“The fact that the person who you are sleeping with is also sleeping with another person or other people does not necessarily mean that he or she does not love you. And the fact that you are the only person who someone is sleeping with does not necessarily mean that he or she loves you.”

“Some people are each holding on to a lover of theirs who no longer loves them and/or who they no longer love, only because they do not want to have a reason or another reason to be jealous of the person who would eventually be their lover if they let go of them.”