Nearly 1,400 people came to Borgerhout on Monday evening to listen to Papis Dia’s personal story. The father of Sanda Dia (20), who died in tragic circumstances at the end of December 2018, presented his book, They killed my son. Dia recorded his personal story, his fight for #JusticeforSanda.
The result: a monologue about love for Sanda, a life without hate, about the children of the Flemish elite, about what he calls class justice, and about the role of KU Leuven. Dia also provides an extensive look at his own journey that started in Senegal. “What have I learned in recent years? That anger and hatred will get you nowhere.”
Not just any accident
Dia does not believe that his son’s death had anything to do with racism. “It wasn’t just an accident. They dealt with Sanda extra hard, harder than the other two because he was black, the son of a welder as well,” it said. “They killed my son. Legally that statement is questionable, but no matter how I look at it, that’s what it comes down to.”
The book discusses, among other things, the night when father Dia received a call from his bed with the announcement that Sanda had been admitted to hospital. That’s where he first hears about Reuzegom. “Sanda wasn’t dead yet, and the whole club already had a lawyer. If only they had taken action quickly for my son.”
About the process, Dia says she felt like no more than a spectator. “Everything was about the future of the Reuzegommers, and at no time was I even considered.” He therefore asks the judiciary to learn lessons from the case. For example, he advocates more attention for victims.
Seed against indifference
Dia says that she did not receive any answers after the trial, but that she also did not feel any hatred “because that leads nowhere”. “It doesn’t mean I don’t have anger in me,” he writes in his book. He talks about how he tries to deal with the loss: “There is a bucket of congealed sadness inside me.”
He is convinced that there is class justice in this society. “Anyone who does not see that is blinded, perhaps by their own position,” writes Dia. “What if the roles in this tragedy were distributed differently? Eighteen young Muslims, eighteen young blacks, eighteen workers. Suppose they had humiliated the son of a white notary or lawyer from Brasschaat or Knokke for two days, resulting in death, what do you think would have happened?”
Dia hopes that Sanda’s death “can be like a seed”, for peace and love and against indifference and hatred. He calls on young people to help make a difference and not to leave anyone behind.
Acid? “A young guy with a good heart”
Dia also addressed the fuss surrounding influencer Acid in recent days and weeks. The young man was convicted of distributing the personal information of several Reuzegommers, and wants to donate what remains of the many donations from his fans – who want to contribute to paying his compensation – to the Sanda Dia Foundation.
“There are many acids in our society,” says father Dia. “But not everyone has the resources to do something like that. In the short conversation with Acid via FaceTime on Sunday, I learned that he is a young guy with a good heart. What he has done is a very clear signal.”
“There is a big gap,” said Makemu Meunier, Papis Dia’s wife. “It is a socially supported feeling. People who haven’t studied law don’t understand Justice. Then people don’t feel safe.”
Poisonous cocktail
In the book, Dia speaks about his life in Senegal, where he dreamed of a future in Europe, how he made the dangerous journey to the old continent, how he arrived in Brussels and built his life in our country, and how he faced racism in came into contact. “Racism and power are a toxic cocktail. You should never accept that such people make you a victim,” he writes.
He also cites an anecdote in which his mother asks him why he only has one child. “With one child you are not sure, you don’t know what life will bring,” she told him. These turned out to be prophetic words for Dia. “Sometimes I compare my current situation with my first years in Belgium. I’m in a kind of waiting mode. The difference is that back then I was waiting for papers. It is not clear to me what I am waiting for now.”
