The Upright Man!
“We Are All Sankara’s”: The Flame That Refused to Die. He lived for the people. He died among them. And even in death, they never let go.
In the dusty heart of West Africa, Thomas Sankara dared to dream—and to act. Born in December 1949, he rose like a storm and passed like a meteor, gone too soon in October 1987 at just 38. Yet, his four-year presidency transformed not just a nation, but a mindset. When he seized power in 1983, Upper Volta was a name left behind. He rechristened it Burkina Faso, “Land of Upright People,” a reflection of his ideals—and himself. Sankara was upright in character, fiery in truth, and unwavering in justice.
In a world that too often trampled on women’s voices, Sankara raised them. He banned forced marriages, championed girls' education, appointed women to leadership, and declared, “The revolution and women’s liberation go together. We do not talk of women’s emancipation as an act of charity, but as a basic necessity.” This was no mere rhetoric—it was policy, it was action, it was belief. He lived simply, shunning the trappings of power. He sold government limousines, took a modest salary, and even rode a bicycle to work.
But truth is a dangerous thing. On October 15, 1987, Sankara convened a meeting with 13 close allies to discuss the nation’s pressing issues. It began at 4:15 p.m. By 4:30, the meeting room echoed with gunfire. The first to fall were his bodyguards and driver. Sankara tried to protect the others. Always the shield, never the sword. But this would be his final act. The bullets that rang out that day didn’t just kill a man—they tried to kill a movement.
Yet the revolution did not die. At his humble grave, a note once appeared:
“Do not worry, Mama Sankara. We will avenge the death of your son. We are all Sankaras.”
No truer words could honor him. His spirit—unshaken, unyielding—still echoes in classrooms, protests, speeches, and songs across Africa and beyond.
Let us remember this: A man may be killed, but not his convictions. Thomas Sankara proved that when you live for the people, you never really die. You become the people.
“We Are All Sankara’s”: The Flame That Refused to Die. He lived for the people. He died among them. And even in death, they never let go.
In the dusty heart of West Africa, Thomas Sankara dared to dream—and to act. Born in December 1949, he rose like a storm and passed like a meteor, gone too soon in October 1987 at just 38. Yet, his four-year presidency transformed not just a nation, but a mindset. When he seized power in 1983, Upper Volta was a name left behind. He rechristened it Burkina Faso, “Land of Upright People,” a reflection of his ideals—and himself. Sankara was upright in character, fiery in truth, and unwavering in justice.
In a world that too often trampled on women’s voices, Sankara raised them. He banned forced marriages, championed girls' education, appointed women to leadership, and declared, “The revolution and women’s liberation go together. We do not talk of women’s emancipation as an act of charity, but as a basic necessity.” This was no mere rhetoric—it was policy, it was action, it was belief. He lived simply, shunning the trappings of power. He sold government limousines, took a modest salary, and even rode a bicycle to work.
But truth is a dangerous thing. On October 15, 1987, Sankara convened a meeting with 13 close allies to discuss the nation’s pressing issues. It began at 4:15 p.m. By 4:30, the meeting room echoed with gunfire. The first to fall were his bodyguards and driver. Sankara tried to protect the others. Always the shield, never the sword. But this would be his final act. The bullets that rang out that day didn’t just kill a man—they tried to kill a movement.
Yet the revolution did not die. At his humble grave, a note once appeared:
“Do not worry, Mama Sankara. We will avenge the death of your son. We are all Sankaras.”
No truer words could honor him. His spirit—unshaken, unyielding—still echoes in classrooms, protests, speeches, and songs across Africa and beyond.
Let us remember this: A man may be killed, but not his convictions. Thomas Sankara proved that when you live for the people, you never really die. You become the people.
The Upright Man!
“We Are All Sankara’s”: The Flame That Refused to Die. He lived for the people. He died among them. And even in death, they never let go.
In the dusty heart of West Africa, Thomas Sankara dared to dream—and to act. Born in December 1949, he rose like a storm and passed like a meteor, gone too soon in October 1987 at just 38. Yet, his four-year presidency transformed not just a nation, but a mindset. When he seized power in 1983, Upper Volta was a name left behind. He rechristened it Burkina Faso, “Land of Upright People,” a reflection of his ideals—and himself. Sankara was upright in character, fiery in truth, and unwavering in justice.
In a world that too often trampled on women’s voices, Sankara raised them. He banned forced marriages, championed girls' education, appointed women to leadership, and declared, “The revolution and women’s liberation go together. We do not talk of women’s emancipation as an act of charity, but as a basic necessity.” This was no mere rhetoric—it was policy, it was action, it was belief. He lived simply, shunning the trappings of power. He sold government limousines, took a modest salary, and even rode a bicycle to work.
But truth is a dangerous thing. On October 15, 1987, Sankara convened a meeting with 13 close allies to discuss the nation’s pressing issues. It began at 4:15 p.m. By 4:30, the meeting room echoed with gunfire. The first to fall were his bodyguards and driver. Sankara tried to protect the others. Always the shield, never the sword. But this would be his final act. The bullets that rang out that day didn’t just kill a man—they tried to kill a movement.
Yet the revolution did not die. At his humble grave, a note once appeared:
“Do not worry, Mama Sankara. We will avenge the death of your son. We are all Sankaras.”
No truer words could honor him. His spirit—unshaken, unyielding—still echoes in classrooms, protests, speeches, and songs across Africa and beyond.
Let us remember this: A man may be killed, but not his convictions. Thomas Sankara proved that when you live for the people, you never really die. You become the people.
