Africa Studies Bulletin No.69 December 2007
Africa Studies Bulletin No.69 December 2007
Africa Studies Bulletin No.69 December 2007
African
Studies
Bulletin
Number 69
December 2007
Editor
Jane Plastow
Book Reviews Editor
Martin Banham
The Leeds African Studies Bulletin
is published annually by the Leeds
University Centre for African
Studies (LUCAS)
Editorial Assistance
Saeed R. Talajooy
website: http://www.leeds.ac.uk/lucas
December 2007
Contents
Introduction
Notes on Contributors
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Departmental News
School of Education
School of English/Workshop Theatre
School of History
School of Modern Languages and Cultures (French)
School of Politics and International Studies
School of Theology and Religious Studies
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Articles
Supernumeraries of the human race?
Reflections on the African holocaust by Morris Szeftel
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61
Book Reviews
Journey of Song: Public Life and Morality in Cameroon.
Clare A. Ignatowski. (Reviewed by Bill Jong-Ebot)
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73
Native Sons: West African Veterans and France in the Twentieth Century.
Gregory Mann. (Reviewed by Ineke van Kessel)
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77
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(A) Public and Private Universities in Kenya: New Challenges, Issues &
Achievements. Kilemi Mwiria, Njugna Ngethe, Charles Ngome, Douglas
Ouma-Odero, Violet Wawire and Daniel Wesonga.
(B) Gender in the Making of the Nigerian University System.
Charmaine Pereira.
(C) Change & Transformation in Ghanas Publicly Funded Universities.
Takyiwaa Manuh, Sulley Gariba and Joseph Budu.
(Group Reviewed by James Gibbs)
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Introduction
By the Director of LUCAS, Jane Plastow
Welcome to number 69 and the 2007 edition of the Leeds African Studies
Bulletin.
This edition features three articles, all by scholars based at Leeds University. At
the heart of the Bulletin is the long article by Morris Szeftel. Supernumeraries
of the Human Race? Reflections on the African holocaust. A version of the
article was first given as the LUCAS annual lecture in 2006, where a very large
audience received it with rapt attention. Morris Szeftel here mediates a lifetime
of scholarship through a very personal response to the enduring horrors
experienced by so many Africans, subjected to regimes both colonial and postcolonial that treat people as the supernumeraries of his title. We are deeply
indebted to him for developing the article and allowing us to publish it here.
Secondly I have contributed an article which looks at a project developed by
LUCAS, which I believe to be unique, taking African postgraduate students into
local schools to promote understanding of, and interest in, a continent which for
many young people thanks to the ultra-selective nature of media interest in the
continent is still seen as a mixture of safari park and disaster zone. The article;
The LUCAS Schools Global Citizenship Project, explores the means taken to
engage young peoples interest in a more realistic portrayal of Africa and the
benefits we found the project brought to both school children and African
students.
Finally Martin Banham looks back to his experiences of Nigeria on the eve of
independence in Ibadan 1960, as he explores the optimistic creative and
political ferment that emanated from Nigerias first university in the decade
from 1957.
I make no excuse for the fact that all these articles have a personal aspect to
them. Nor do I claim that this came about by design. But in each case I think one
can see that high levels of scholarship need in no way be compromised by
allowing room for the writers consciousness to intrude. For none of the three of
us who have written for this Bulletin is the study of Africa an academic exercise.
Rather it is something we care passionately about; for all of us in our work and
writing in relation to the continent the personal most definitely combines with
the political.
LUCAS
News & Reports
threat(s) that such local resistance could pose to their extractive, profit and
energy security interests, given antecedents in other African new oil states,
particularly Sudan, where Chinese companies were targeted by rebels, and were
deeply involved with the state and dominant elite in mining oil and repressing
local resistance. The Nigerian oil industry was further explored by Wilson
Akpan. He adopted a sociological view in his analysis of joint venture petroleum
production in Nigeria, reflecting on the tensions between the economic and
social dimensions of the joint venture relationship. He argued that a new phase
is emerging in the relationship between the Nigerian state and private petroleum
companies one in which questions of socio-ecological sustainability will
increasingly become as important for the two parties as the economics and
politics of joint ventures have been over the years.
Drawing upon case study analysis from Ghana, John Childs critically examined
the potential benefits of reorganising the artisanal gold mining sector according
to the principles of Fair Trade, as well as the challenges of bringing such an
initiative to fruition. He highlighted the importance of understanding the
artisanal gold mining poverty cycle and questioned whether Fair Trades
emphasis on the producer-consumer interface conceptualises artisanal gold
mining adequately. Sierra Leone diamonds also featured in the working
sessions. Tunde Zack-Williams analysis looked at the relationship between
diamond mining, the rural economy and the war in Sierra Leone. He drew
attention to how political legitimacy during the war was ensured not by
strengthening state institutions, but by gradually building support through
patron-client relationships fuelled by revenues from diamonds. The fortification
of this shadow state meant that no serious attempt was made by successive
governments in Sierra Leone to develop a modern state that would encompass
respect for the constitution and the rule of law, and that would guarantee not just
the legitimacy of the ruling elite, but also the sovereignty of the state. Sabine
Luning moved the debate to Burkina Faso. She explored how liberalisation of
the gold mining sector has affected working arrangements of artisanal
goldminers in Burkina Faso. She demonstrated how the presence of
(international) goldmining companies works out for different categories of
miners and how their working relations are best understood in connection with
international companies and the political and economic agents they rely on as
facilitators and mediators.
Focusing on East Africa, Luke Anthony Patey moved beyond an examination of
the influence of oil companies on armed conflict and analysed the determining
9
factors of corporate behaviour in Sudan. His analysis suggested that the strategic
behaviour of international oil companies in war-torn Sudan has overwhelmingly
been driven by political pressures from governments. The authority and power
of governments is the essential factor opening and closing doors for oil
companies in conflict-affected Sudan. Both the corporate behaviour of marketdriven, western oil companies and their parastatal counterparts from Asia are
guided by the positioning of states towards their operations. The debate on
Sudanese natural resources was taken further by Aisha Hommaida in her
presentation. She examined how historical marginalisation and new
marginalisation, driven by the processes of contemporary globalisation, has
necessitated the continued exploitation of resources in the Red Sea region for the
benefit of international interests, while the people of this region continue to
suffer loss of land, inequality and hunger. Her analysis suggested that these
historical and modern forces which have led to the marginalisation of
indigenous people in the Red Sea region partly explain the rise of grassroots
resistance by the Beja people. Issues related to growing support of the Beja
Congress were analysed in the context of growing demands for greater
representation in political life and a greater share of eastern Sudan wealth.
In Southern Africa, John Lungu examined the relationship between socioeconomic justice and natural resource exploitation in Zambia, raising questions
about corporate responsibilities and the obligations of government and
multinational corporations. He assessed the labour, social, and environmental
practices of the new mining companies in Zambia and their impact on mining
communities. Focusing on South Africa, Suzanne Dansereau argued that for
mining to enhance its contribution to development, it must not only minimise
harm on indigenous communities and the environment, but should also become
integrated into the local and regional economy so as to create backward and
forward linkages in a permanent, diversified and thus sustainable local
community. It must also organise production around a labour utilisation model
based on high wages and high skills, rather than the model so frequently used
that favours low wages and low skill levels. At the same time, it must invest in
significant training, not only to ensure health and safety, but make training
available to local communities so members can access all mining jobs, including
skilled ones.
Overall, it was reported by participants and by funders who attended, and
subsequently via African study networks in the UK and overseas, that the
conference met its aims and objectives. Two future meetings are now being
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planned to pursue the conference agenda and linked themes in Accra, Ghana
2008 and later in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. A schedule is under discussion to
publish selected papers from the conference in a special issue of the Review of
African Political Economy, Vol 35, No. 116, Summer 2008. Additionally, the
conference provided the opportunity for participants to get to know the Review
of African Political Economy, to meet its editors and to discuss opportunities for
future collaboration and networking.
Philani Moyo
and Fatima Guilherme de Castro and Solange da Costa from Brazil, all helped to
make visitors welcome and the event to run smoothly.
Leverhulme Professor Molara Ogundipe
Molara Ogundipe was with the University of Leeds for the first semester of the
2006-7 academic year, continuing her links with LUCAS, Centre CATH and the
Institute of Post-Colonial Studies. Professor Ogundipe gave a Leverhulme
lecture at LUCAS entitled, Citizenship and Illegitimacy in Nigeria Today. She
also gave a poetry reading of her work and contributed a lecture on Gender in
Africa to the LUCAS elective module Contemporary Africas. Her tenure with
us finished in December 2006 and we thank her for her contribution across the
range of gender, poetry and African literature areas in which she is a leading
Nigerian voice.
The LUCAS elective module
Contemporary Africas: History, Society and Culture
In the first semester of the 2006-7 academic year LUCAS for the first time
undertook the teaching of an undergraduate elective module. The module was
team taught (for free!) by academic staff on the LUCAS board, with seminar
teaching from our African postgraduate students, Henrietta Abame, Elinettie
Chabwera and Oluseyi Ogunjobi. For its first year the module accepted only 40
students. Lectures were wide-ranging covering an overview of post-colonial
history, Nigerian art, language, gender, theatre for development, Christianity in
Africa, NGOs and development, and case studies on Egypt and Tanzania. We
had a few administrative teething problems, as its not easy to coordinate across
departments and faculties but students were generally very positive about the
module and this year intake will be expanded to 80 students.
The module is deliberately targeted at students who need have no prior
knowledge of Africa. Our intention is to challenge stereotypes and to interest
and excite students about post-colonial Africa.
LUCAS Seminars, Lectures and Workshops 2006-7
In the 2006-7 academic year the following seminars were given at LUCAS:
Black Mineworkers and Apartheid: From Repression to Liberation by Vic
Allen (Emeritus Professor, University Of Leeds), the Writer of The History of
Black Mineworkers in South Africa 1871-1994. (4th October 2006)
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Departmental News
School of Education
Professor Audrey Osler of the School of Education was a keynote speaker at the
16th Commonwealth Education Ministers Conference in South Africa in
December 2006. The theme of the conference was Access to Quality
Education and the title of the presentation was Teachers Work and Childrens
Human Rights.
Gospel Ikpeme, who did an MA at the School of Education last year and took
part in the Language in Africa Event is now coordinator of a major project to
write and produce a series of English language Textbooks in Nigeria.
Frederick Odhiambo who also figured prominently in the Language in Africa
event (See LUCAS news) and completed his MA last year, has been extremely
active on his return to his old school in Kenya. He has recently been invited by
the British Council to run workshops in the teaching of writing for other
secondary school teachers in Kenya.
John Holmes,
School of English
Post-colonial studies
Sam Durrant has been on leave this academic year working on a monograph on
the invention of mourning in postapartheid literature. From October to
December 2006 he was a visiting researcher at the African Studies Centre at the
University of Cape Town, financed by the British Academy small grant. He
gave papers to the English departments at UCT and Stellenbosch and at an
international conference on Memory, Narrative and Forgiveness Reflecting on
Ten Years of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission held at UCT. An article
enitled Storytellers, Novelists and Postcolonial Melancholia: Displaced
Aesthetics in Chinua Achebes Things Fall Apart is due out later this year in
assays in Migatory Aesthetics, a collection he has co-edited with Catherine
Lloyd for Thamyris/Rodopi.
Brendon Nicholls has been awarded White Rose funding to lead a studentship
network on Southern Africa in the World. He has delivered a plenary paper on
New Comparativism and World Literatures and an invited seminar on African
Literatures and Cultures, both for the AHRC Doctoral Training in Colonial and
Post-Colonial Cultures at the University of Warwick. An invited conference
paper presented to the South African Association of Commonwealth Literature
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15
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PhDs
Adesola Adeyemi from Nigeria is writing up his study of the theatre of Femi
Osofisan. It should also be noted that he edited an important festschrift for Femi
Osofisan to which both Martin Banham and Jane Plastow contributed. Portraits
for An Eagle: Essays in Honour of Femi Osofisan, Bayreuth African Studies, 78,
2006.
Evelyn Lutwama from Uganda spent much of the year in her home country
undertaking field research for her study of the use of Theatre for Development
techniques in relation to promoting womens rights.
Oluseyi Ogunjobi passed his upgrading examination and travelled to Nigeria
for his fieldwork on the theatre of Duro Ladipo.
Simon Peter Otieno from Kenya passed his upgrading examination and
returned to Kenya in December 2006 to continue his split-site PhD studying the
use of theatre amongst Kenyan youth with a focus on HIV/AIDS prevention.
Saeed Talajooy from Iran is in the final stages of writing his comparative study
of the work of Iranian playwright and film-maker Bahram Bezayee and Nigerian
playwright and activist, Wole Soyinka.
Publications
Martin Banham, Subverting the Proscenium: A Brief Note on Femi
Osofisans Stagefcraft, Ed Adesola Adeyemi, Portraits for an Eagle: Essays in
Honour of Femi Osofisan, Bayreuth African Studies, 2006, pp 45-9
Martin Banham and Jane Plastow, African Theatre and the University of
Leeds, Research in Drama Education, Vol 11, No 2, June 2006, pp 247-260
Ali Campbell with Jane Plastow, Promenade Theatre in a Sudanese
Reformatory: Divining for stories: The Cockerel and the Kings Ear, Ed Michael
Etherton, African Theatre: Youth, James Currey, 2006, pp 61-77
Christine Matzke and Jane Plastow, Sewit Childrens Theatre in Eritrea, Ed
Michael Etherton, African Theatre: Youth, James Currey, 2006, pp138-150
Jane Plastow, A Debate on Tactics for the Best Way to Overthrow Vile
Regimes: Osofisan writes back to Ngugi and Mugo, Ed Adesola Adeyemi,
Portraits for An Eagle: Essays in Honour of Femi Osofisan, Bayreuth African
Studies, 2006, pp 193-205.
Jane Plastow, Women: Women and Theater
Martin Banham, Sam Durrant, Brendon Nicholls and Jane Plastow
School of History
The past academic year has seen the continued popularity of undergraduate
African topics within the School of Histroy. In addition this year the MA
module on The History of Apartheid recruited eight students, while Africa and
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the African diaspora features strongly in the new MA programme Race and
Resistance.
Shane Doyle spent July and August in Uganda, mainly gathering maternity
records from various hospitals and conducting a number of interviews. He
presented a paper on the demography of slavery at a conference at UCL in
March 2007, and a paper on parental attitudes towards death at a Cambridge
conference on death in Africa in April 2007. he has been awarded a British
Academy small grant for a project on changing patterns of naming in Uganda
and Tanzania.
PhDs
Will Jackson has begun a PhD this year on British perceptions of Africa and
Africans in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
Publications
Shane Doyle, From Kitara to the Lost Counties: genealogy, land and
legitimacy in the kingdom of Bunyoro, western Uganda, Social Identities, Vol
12.4, 2006, pp 457-470
Shane Doyle
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Kamal Salhi, Slimane Benaissa from Exile in the Theatre to Theatre in Exile:
Ambiguous Traumas and Conflicts in the Algerian Diasporic Drama, Journal of
North African Studies, Vol 11.4, 2006, pp 373-407
Kamal Salhi, Essentials for Rethinking Postcolonial Cultures and Arts: the
Problematic of Minoritizing in North Africa, in N. Boudraa and J. Krausse
(eds), Mosaic North Africa: a cultural Re-appraisal of Ethnic and Religious
Minorities, Cambridge Scholars Press, 2007, pp 26-62
Kamal Salhi
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Articles
24
The Annual African Studies Lecture, Leeds Centre for African Studies, 2 May 2006.
Colin Leys, (1994) Confronting the African Tragedy New Left Review 204, March April,
33-47.
1
25
In the decade since, although there have been some changes and even some
meagre improvements, it is very hard to be much more optimistic than Leys was
back in 1994. During that decade, millions perished in conflicts across the
continent and millions more became refugees. Even where conflicts did not
erupt, poverty, hunger and declining mortality rates have been all too normal (in
Zambia, the country of my birth, to take one example, the countrys Human
Development Index score declined annually for 15 consecutive years; and,
despite its being the worlds third largest exporter of copper, more than 80 per
cent of the population live on less than $2 a day).
What Leyss formulation indicates are two aspects of the problem that informs
this lecture today. One is this idea of barbarism, which Luxemburg saw as a
distinct likelihood where there was no agency to promote fundamental change at
the moment of deep capitalist crisis.2 In similar vein, I take Leys to mean that
the crisis of peripheral capitalism in Africa, in a situation where there is no
agency to promote transformative change or greater social justice, has produced
a barbarism of debt, hunger, famine, disease, warlordism and so on. The
brutality that Africans endure leads directly to the second aspect of the problem
set out by Leys: that this crisis results in them becoming supernumerary as far as
the rest of the world is concerned, in some way superfluous or irrelevant, not
worth counting. It calls to mind a comment made in the 1970s in South Africa
by the then Deputy Minister of Bantu Administration, one Blaar Coetzee,
justifying the eviction of African women and children from the towns: they
were, he said, superfluous appendages and these superfluous appendages,
some three million of them, were removed to rural areas to suffer malnutrition
and tuberculosis. It was one of the great crimes of the apartheid period.3 In the
last three decades, increasing numbers of Africans throughout the continent have
seemingly become superfluous and there is not apartheid for us to blame it
on.
It is this combination of brutality and of indifference to peoples suffering, this
sense that they dont count, that it doesnt really matter what is done to them or
what happens to them, that concerns me today. Since that speech by Cabral, few
of us have much hope that development, democracy or a restoration of
sovereignty are achievable in Africa for the foreseeable future, or even that they
are still on the agenda. And, because Africas immediate future looks so bleak,
the complacency many of us displayed in the 1960s and 1970s about such levels
2
The alternatives for her were socialism or barbarism. See especially Rosa Luxemburg, The
Junius Pamphlet in Mary-Alice Waters, ed., (1970) Rosa Luxemburg Speaks, New York,
Pathfinder, 257-331.
3
See Laurine Platzky & Cheryl Walker for The Surplus People Project, (1985)The Surplus
People: Forced Removals in South Africa, Braamfontein, Ravan Press.
26
La Rgle du Jeu, (The Rules of the Game), Nouvelle Edition Francaise, 1939, directed and
scripted by Jean Renoir. The film can be read as a sardonic commentary on French society as
European fascism gathered force and the remark, spoken by Renoirs own character in the film,
as a comment on the tendency in democracies to mistake ideological self-justification for
principle.
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unfolded since Leys wrote his article are not new in Africa; indeed, that there is
a long history of suffering and indifference to it. Any understanding of the
supernumerary treatment of Africans must necessarily be rooted in that
history.
We see this pattern of brutality well documented from the beginning of colonial
conquest, for example in the case of the Belgian Congo. In King Leopolds
Ghost, 5 Adam Hochschild brought together a wide range of source materials to
present us with a powerful and disturbing history of how Leopold II of Belgium
and his agent, Henry Morton Stanley, annexed one-thirteenth of the African
continent in the Congo basin as a private colony of the king, and proceeded to
set up a militarised state which extracted its wealth through what Hochschild
calls officially sanctioned terror.6 Tens of thousands of Africans were pressed
into service as porters. Linked to each other by a chain around their necks, 7 they
marched long hours, to take Stanley from one place to another, to move goods
around what came to be called Stanley Falls, or to move inland from the river.
They became a transmission belt for disease. They also died in vast numbers.
Ivory, the initial source of Leopolds wealth in the Congo, was generally
collected by agents using armed raiding parties and then transported through the
conveyor belt of porters to the coast. Joseph Conrads classic account of a
journey up the Congo River in search of one such company agent, Mr. Kurtz 8
(transformed into the renegade Marine officer in Vietnam in the movie
Apocalypse Now), describes him as positioning human heads on sticks around
his house to remind local people of the cost of disobedience. Hochschild
suggests that Conrad modelled Kurtz on an actual Belgian official named Rom.9
Ivory was soon eclipsed by rubber and with it by a regime which was, if
anything, even more brutal. The wild rubber vines, which grew thick in the
Congo rain forest, required exhausting manual labour to extract the rubber by
cutting a nick in the vines to tap the rubber - dangerous work with a high
mortality rate. Not surprisingly, the local population were unwilling to
undertake it and so force was used to make the men work. Soldiers pressed
them into service and, to ensure their obedience, also rounded up the women in
the villages and held them hostage until the men returned with their quota of
rubber. Where they failed to make their quota, they were sometimes flogged,
5
Adam Hochschild, (1998) King Leopolds Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror and Heroism in
Colonial Africa, New York, Houghton Mifflin.
6
Ibid., 121.
7
In Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad describes the labourers building Stanleys railway thus:
each had a collar on his neck and all were connected together with a chain. The novel, he
wrote, is experience pushed a little (and only very little) beyond the facts of the case.
Quoted in Hochshild (1998), 143.
8
Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, Penguin, 1973, first published 1902.
9
Hochschild, (1998), 145-9
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sometimes shot or, sometimes, the women were shot.10 The practice of
amputating the hands of defaulters was institutionalised. Where whole villages
resisted:
State or company troops or their allies sometimes shot everyone in sight,
so that nearby villages would get the message. But on such occasions,
some European officers were mistrustful. For each cartridge issued to
their soldiers, they demanded proof that the bullet had been used to kill
someone not wasted in hunting, or worse yet saved for possible use in
a mutiny.11
The standard proof was the right hand from a corpse. Or occasionally not from a
corpse: sometimes, one officer told a missionary, soldiers who had used a
cartridge hunting animals then cut off the hand of a living man. In some
military units, there was even a keeper of the hands.
The death toll in this system was staggering:
Many men were worked to death, while the women hostages were
starved. Not surprisingly, the birth rate plummeted. Few able-bodied
adults were left in villages to harvest food, hunt or fish. Famine spread.
During two decades of widespread but unsuccessful rebellions more
people died. Others fled the forced labour regime, but they had nowhere
to go except to more remote parts of the forest, where there was little
food or shelter. Years later, travellers would come upon their bones. The
greatest toll came as soldiers, as well as caravans of porters and large
numbers of desperate refugees, moved through the country, bringing new
diseases to people with no resistance to them. All these caused the
death of millions.12
In l920 a Jesuit missionary estimated that perhaps 80 per cent of the Bakongo
had died in this process. In l919 a Belgian commission of inquiry thought that
perhaps half of the overall population of the Congo in l879 perished as a result
of this political economy. Hochschild in various places estimates that between
five and ten million people died under this regime13 until, eventually,
international protest forced the Belgian parliament to end Leopolds private
ownership of the Congo. For Joseph Conrad what he saw of Leopolds
enterprise was the vilest scramble for loot that ever disfigured the history of
human conscience.14
10
29
Nor is this dreadful story all that unique. Within a decade of this system being
introduced in Congo:
similar forced labour systems for extracting rubber were in place in
the French territories west and north of the Congo River, in Portugueseruled Angola and in the nearby Cameroons under the Germans. For the
concession companies in the Cameroons, the model from which they
professed to derive their inspiration, writes one historian, was that
of King Leopold IIs ventures in the Congo Free State, the dividends of
which evoked admiration in stock-broking circles. In Frances
equatorial African territories the amount of rubber bearing land was
far less than what Leopold controlled, but the rape was just as brutal.
Forced labour, hostages, slave chains, starving porters, burned villages,
paramilitary company sentries and the chicotte were the order of the day.
The population loss in the rubber-rich equatorial forest owned by
France is estimated, just as in Leopolds Congo, at roughly 50 per cent.15
Around the same time, also, faced with a stubborn anti-colonial rebellion in
Namibia, the German general von Trotha took to trying to exterminate the
Herero. Mamdani suggests that in l904 alone perhaps 80 per cent of the Herero
were killed.16 If other colonial regimes in Africa were less brutal, they
nevertheless imposed a huge cost on African society: hunger, low life
expectancy and coercion were features of most of them.
In hindsight, that moment of optimism that we might reclaim our own history
now seems to be no more than a 15 year interlude in a long and continuous
history of brutality in which African lives have counted for little. The end of
imperial domination did not bring a post-colonial peace; instead Africans have
become the victims of inexorable global economic forces and of brutal,
rapacious and incompetent internal political forces. Thus the Rwanda genocide
unfolded as the ink dried on Leyss article. Its model (if one were needed) was
the slaughter of some 200,000 civilians in communal violence in Burundi in
l972.17 Since Rwanda, we have seen the RUFs atrocities in Sierra Leone and
Charles Taylors crimes against humanity in Liberia. Similar warlord predation
is ongoing in Chad, Uganda and Ivory Coast. The conflict in southern Sudan has
claimed the lives of untold numbers of non-combatant civilians over some forty
years (and seems likely to re-ignite when the question of southern secession is
taken up again). And then there is Darfur, from where eye-witness accounts are
15
Ibid., 280
Mahmood Mamdani (2001) When Victims Become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and the
Genocide in Rwanda, Princeton University Press, 10-12; and see Hochschild (1998) 282.
17
Ren Lemarchand (1994) Ethnic Conflict and Genocide, New York, Columbia University
Press. See also Mamdani (2001), 215, 235-6, 287.
16
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such as to make one wonder if the dead have not been more fortunate than some
of the still-living.18 And, as if the people of Congo had not suffered enough,
civil war and foreign incursion after the death of Mobutu may have accounted
for another 2 to 4 million dead.19 In the Kivus of eastern Congo, where private
armies replace the state and plunder local resources, the issues of the Rwanda
genocide are still being fought out. Even in countries which are not
disintegrating, the human costs are high: in March this year, for instance, a
Nigerian government document estimated that 3.4 million people had been
displaced by communal violence in Nigeria.20 These are not isolated atrocities,
therefore; nor are they small atrocities. Looked at historically, it is peace rather
than conflict that is unusual, suffering rather than human happiness that is
normal.
Africa and the Holocaust
Reflecting on the human cost of Leopolds African colony, Hochschild suggests
that it represents a death toll of Holocaust dimensions. 21 It is this allusion to
the Holocaust that was, in many ways, the trigger for this lecture, in that the
Holocaust informs fundamental intellectual and personal issues for me - as for
so many. The Holocaust is the lens through which I came to see Africa and the
world. Both the stories and the experience of the Holocaust were the stuff of my
childhood and their lessons shaped the way in which I have understood political
issues as both academic and activist. Long before I was able to engage with
African politics in the colonial society in which I grew up, my opposition to
racism and colonialism was formed out of the moral lessons of the Holocaust.
With your indulgence, I would like to make a few brief points about this
intellectual and personal legacy which have relevance for my subject today.
Setting aside those in denial, there have been two kinds of response to the
Holocaust. One is that it is unique, sui generis, and as such there is nothing to
learn from it about any other atrocity. The other is its seeming opposite, namely
that the Holocaust is not unique, that there have been similar atrocities in which
just as many people have died and that, therefore, there is no need to give undue
moral significance to the Holocaust.22 Both views seem to me to cut off the
18
The systematic use of mass rape as an instrument of terror against the local population is too
well-reported to be doubted. What kind of people do these things still remains to be revealed.
19
On Kivu and the Congo, see: Ren Lemarchand, (2002) The tunnel at the end of the light
Review of African Political Economy (29) 93/94, 389-98 and that issue generally; Mamdani
(2001), ch. 8; and Human Rights Watch reports which are constantly updated
http://hrw.org/africa.
20
The Independent (London) 15 March 2006.
21
Hochschild (1998), 4.
22
If numbers of victims are our concern, for example, more people may have died in the Congo
than in the Holocaust and more died during the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union. Such
evidence can be, and has been, used to diminish the Holocaust among some sections of the
31
Holocaust from the rest of history and thus to limit our ability to learn important
lessons from it. As Zygmunt Bauman 23 has suggested:
There are two ways to belittle, misjudge, or shrug off the significance of
the Holocaust for the theory of civilization One way is to present the
Holocaust as something which happened to the Jews; as an event in Jewish
history. This makes the Holocaust unique, comfortably uncharacteristic, and
sociologically inconsequential. Another way apparently pointing in an
opposite direction, yet leading in practice to the same destination is to present
the Holocaust as another (however prominent) item in a wide class which
embraces many similar cases of conflict, or prejudice, or aggression. At worst,
the Holocaust is referred to the primeval and culturally inextinguishable,
natural predisposition of the human species At best, the Holocaust is
dissolved in the broad, all-too-familiar class of ethnic, cultural or racial hatred
and oppression .24
I would suggest that we can learn about Africa from the Holocaust precisely by
understanding its uniqueness rather than diminishing it in an attempt to make it
fit other concepts and paradigms more comfortably. The Holocaust was, and
remains, unique. There is no other case in history where the technology of an
advanced industrial economy and of a modern state administration were put to
work for the purpose of exterminating an entire people (indeed, two peoples):
not to subordinate them, not to punish them, not to expropriate their possessions,
not to injure or torture them, not even to ethnically cleanse them; but, instead,
to exterminate them. Only in the case of the Rwanda genocide of 1994 do we
find an African case where the intentions were similar. And even then,
Mamdani25 notes that:
Unlike the Nazi Holocaust, the Rwandan genocide was not carried out
from a distance, in remote concentration camps [it] was executed with
the slash of machetes rather than the drop of [gas] crystals, with all the
gruesome detail of a street murder rather than the bureaucratic efficiency
of a mass extermination. Whereas Nazis made every attempt to
separate victims from perpetrators, the Rwandan genocide was very
much an intimate affair.
So the Holocaust is different. The millions who died as a result of the
exploitation of the colonial economy and brutality of the colonial state were the
Left. Why that should be so is not easy to explain but, among some groups, it may have owed
something to Stalins personal anti-Semitism which then became intellectualised through the
Comintern and transmitted through satellite parties throughout the world.
23
Zygmunt Bauman, Sociology after the Holocaust, The British Journal of Sociology XXXIX,
4, 469-97.
24
Ibid., 470.
25
Mamdani (2001), op.cit., 5.
32
victims of very different policies and processes than those operating in the Final
Solution. We cannot slap the label of Holocaust on these other crises, at least
not without distorting and destroying its meaning and doing disrespect to the
suffering of their victims. 26 And yet, I want to suggest, there is a sense also in
which Africas atrocities are comparable with the Holocaust: in the scale of
human suffering, in the cruelty of those inflicting suffering, and above all in the
indifference exhibited to this suffering - these things are often comparable.
Further, even where the differences are marked, there are still lessons to be
learned. Moreover, when we go beyond the military-bureaucratic apparatus
employed for the extermination of Jews, to events on the ground and in more
remote localities, or to killings that occurred before the full apparatus of
extermination had been set up, we see that the killing often did have the face-toface cruelty, the intimacy of which Mamdani writes with regard to Rwanda.
And this brings me to the personal factor in my interest in the Holocaust and
Africa. To explain, I need to tell a little of my family story. Ivye (sometimes
Iwie), in what is today Belarus, is a small town of no great significance, other
than that it stands at the junction of several regional economic routes. From the
16th Century, Ivye was transferred from one country to another as boundaries
were adjusted by various treaties; it belonged successively to Lithuania, Russia
and, when the Holocaust came to it, to Poland. This gave it a mixed population
of Polish Catholics, white Russian Orthodox, Lithuanians, Muslim Tatars and
Jews, who had become 76 per cent of the district population in 1921, largely as a
result of people being displaced there by Russian purges, pogroms and ethnic
cleansing; by 1938, there were just over 3000 Jews, most of them poor
villagers.27 In July 1941, the area was invaded by the Nazis who quickly
ghettoised the Jews and won over the rest of the population by organising a
violent pogrom in which the local participants were rewarded by being able to
loot Jewish possessions. About six months before I was born, on 12 May 1942,
the SS and Gestapo, supported by Lithuanian collaborators, surrounded the
ghetto, separated out various families (mainly according to skill: medical
personnel being among those spared, for example) and marched the majority out
into a forest nearby. They were made to dig a mass grave, and then shot so that
they fell into it. The accounts of survivors (mostly those detailed to cover the
grave) indicate that babies were not shot so as to save bullets and fell into the
grave in the arms of their mothers to be buried alive. The wounded, too, were
buried whilst still alive and members of the burial detail who tried to reach them
26
Because of this I have used the term with some caution, referring to the African holocaust in
my title, rather than to the African Holocaust, which would be a misnomer. The current
tendency to appropriate words to promote a political cause, regardless of how inappropriate they
might be, is not one I wish to join.
27
Meyshe Kaganovitsh, ed., (1968) In Memory of the Jewish Community of Iwie (Ivye, Belarus)
http://www.jewishgen.org/Yizkor/ivye/ivye.html, ch. 1
33
were shot. Today a monument at the spot records the death of 2524 Jews; the
necrology of Ivye lists among them my grandparents, an aunt and various other
relatives. 28
The Ivye massacre was a small one compared, for instance, with that at Babi Yar
where more than 100,000 were shot over a period from 1941. But it illustrates
the way in which the Holocaust, on the ground and at the periphery, resembled
much more the intimacy of violence and cruelty to which Mamdani refers.
Reading the descriptions of witnesses, there are clear echoes of what happened
in Ivye in the massacre conducted by Portuguese troops in Mozambique at
Wiriamu in December 1972.29 There, too, Africans were made to dig mass
graves, before being shot and thrown into them. In the early l980s, the Fifth
Brigade conducted a campaign of state terror in western Zimbabwe, in
consequence of which mass graves were later uncovered (this time the victims
all had their hands bound).
In all these cases, the cruelty of the tormentors is matched by the helplessness of
the victims, their sense of isolation, and the inevitable psychological damage
which is created among the survivors, and which is irreparable. As I grew up I
came to realise increasingly that those around me were often severely damaged
people. It is impossible for me to begin to imagine how one lives with the
experience of genocide or with the guilt of being a survivor, or with the
knowledge that there were (are) people who thought one needed to be
exterminated, or even with the knowledge that those around you did not feel all
that bothered about your possible extermination.
Now one sees similar kinds of psychological damage in the faces of some
African survivors. Just this weekend, I watched television news-footage of a
woman in Darfur who had suffered multiple gang rapes; every time the
janjaweed arrived on their horses and destroyed her village, she and her
daughters were raped. She sits mute in this newsreel, unable to speak to all the
Western journalists pottering about around her and trying to extract some
28
Ibid., Necrology for Ivye. Unsurprisingly, various members of my family had different
experiences. A small group of younger people led by an uncle of mine, and including his wife
and youngest sister, escaped the roundup to hide in the nearby Morin Forest. Here they
eventually became one of the partisan groups attached to the Alexander Nevsky Brigade of the
Soviet Army and, at the end of the war, the two aunts were among the four survivors of this
group and were decorated as Heroes of the Soviet Union. Another uncle survived in
Auschwitz, though his wife and two daughters did not. Another aunt spent the war interned in
Siberia with her daughter; her husband did not survive detention. None of the experiences was
good.
29
The massacre carried out at Wiriamu by the Portuguese army on 16 December 1972, was
described by Domingos Ferrao, a Mozambican Catholic priest and published in London in The
Times by Adrian Hastings.
34
comment from her. Her suffering has reached a point where she is absolutely
silent and there is instead a resignation, an exhaustion and a rage. How will she
endure these memories in the years to come? I recall a report of girls at a school
near Kigali requiring mass counselling. They had heard the sounds being made
nearby by actors portraying the Interahamwe during the filming of Shooting
Dogs and become seriously distressed. And I remember some years ago seeing
video footage of a peoples court session in Rwanda involving a Hutu man who
had taken a machete to his Tutsi wife and their children, killing the children and
leaving the wife for dead. Now, having completed a period of imprisonment and
re-education, he asked to be allowed to rejoin the village. His wife, on the other
hand, wants him to be executed for what he did (though this is not an option
before the court). As the court debates the matter, we see the two protagonists.
Neither is able to speak much: he is silenced by shame and contrition; she is
mute with anger as the villagers and court over-rule her and grant the man his
request.
It seems that this crime was not unusual during the Rwandan genocide.
Mamdani 30 records that in Ntarama in April 1994, about a third of Tutsi women
were married to Hutu men. The Interahamwe insisted that these men first kill
their wives, to prove their loyalty, before going on to the rest of the genocide;
those that refused or argued were themselves killed. Shaharyar Khan, the UN
special representative appointed immediately after the Rwanda genocide wrote
that even the killing fields of Cambodia and Bosnia pale before the gruesome,
awful depravity in Rwanda. He describes how the Interahamwe would kill
children in front of their parents by slowly dismembering them, and then kill the
parents after they had been forced to watch their children die. 31
The damage done by such atrocities is not ended by the restoration of peace or
even by bringing them to judicial account. Against such suffering, the banalities
of reconciliation and counselling are of small value. People cannot simply
move on, however impatient bystanders are for them to do so; these are things
that people carry with them for the rest of their lives. It shapes the way history
unfolds subsequently. And that makes it even more urgent that the world not
tolerate such cruelty.
What my grandparents in Ivye and the victims in Africa have in common most
of all is that the world stood by, in silence, and allowed them to be massacred. It
is a complicit silence: sometimes it is a silence of helplessness, sometimes of
indifference, sometimes even of approval. But it is always a silence that
30
35
facilitates the killing and dying. All too often the silent take refuge in the
prejudice that the victims have brought their suffering on themselves.
The Indifference of the Bystander
I have been greatly influenced by the work of an old and close friend, Norman
Geras, who has explored the philosophical implications of the Holocaust with
much distinction. One of his books 32 examines the lessons of the Holocaust
precisely from the perspective of this question of the bystander as a silent and
complicit figure. He describes situations in which people were marched off to
the death camps whilst onlookers stood by, some of them passive, some jeering
or laughing or spitting, some so appalled at being unable to do anything that
they turn their backs and go away. Geras refers to this as this mental turning
away, a process that leaves for the victims the loneliness of the doomed, their
own sense also of having been abandoned. 33 For the Holocaust to have been
possible, he notes, it was necessary for the German people to be indifferent to
what was taking place, and for a process to occur which, in Baumans words,
increased the physical and mental distance between the purported victims and
the rest of the population. 34 Today it is rather more difficult to remember that
few if any noticed or cared or knew the names of those people in Ivye when they
were shot down. That we now do know something about them is, in fact, one of
the points of my story a point to which I will return later. But this idea of a
mental turning away from people at the moment they most need help is at the
heart of the African malaise also. It is a process that, I would suggest, continues
even now, even with our knowledge of the atrocities that have occurred and are
occurring. If the self-styled international community can spring into action,
however belatedly, over Bosnia or Serbia, it remains reluctant to do so over
Somalia or Darfur or Zimbabwe.
Now there is an obvious objection to what I have been saying. It is that, in
arguing that the world doesnt care that Africans die, I completely ignore, or
belittle by implication, those who have struggled all their lives to awaken the
worlds attention and so end suffering. In every catastrophe, there are those who
resist and work to save lives, usually at the risk (or cost) of their own lives. One
of the most moving sections of the remarkable Yad Vashem museum in
Jerusalem honours the righteous among the nations who worked to rescue
people from the gas chambers. The film, Hotel Rwanda, pays tribute to Paul
Rusesabagina who saved some 1200 lives in terrifying circumstances. And we
should never forget that a quarter of the 800,000 slaughtered in Rwanda in 1994
were Hutu moderates, so-called presumably because they did not go along
32
Norman Geras, (1998) The Contract of Mutual Indifference: Political Philosophy After the
Holocaust, London, Verso
33
Ibid., 6, 8.
34
Ibid., 18, quoting Ian Kershaw and Zygmunt Bauman.
36
with the excesses of Hutu Power. In the international community, too, there is a
line of people, from Wilberforce on, who have spent their lives in struggle
against the sort of events we have described here. In the case of the Congo, for
instance, there is E.D. Morel, an employee of Leopolds, who noticed that ships
arriving in Antwerp brought ivory and rubber but returned to the Congo loaded
with soldiers, guns and ammunition; that there was no trade, only plunder. He
began a world-wide movement, joined by Roger Casement, Arthur Conan
Doyle, Mark Twain and Joseph Conrad, among others, which was ultimately to
end Leopolds personal control of the territory.35 Today a multiplicity of NGOs
work tirelessly in Africa. And what of those who went to Darfur to look after the
suffering, trying with few resources to keep people alive? What about the people
who campaigned to make poverty history? What about all of them?
I have no wish to diminish such efforts in any way. On the contrary, I regard the
contribution of many such bystanders as heroic, deserving of all honour.
Sometimes, where movements or groups have articulated a clear message and
objective, as in the Anti-Apartheid Movement or in Morels campaign, they
have even changed history. But, in response, I would still insist that, overall,
widespread indifference prevails. Firstly, for all the valuable and remarkable
effort of all these people, they remain a tiny minority. The vast majority go on
with their lives and do not notice or couldnt care. We honour a Wilberforce, a
Morel, a Rusesabagina precisely because they are so unusual. Secondly, there is
a tendency for support for victims, even where aroused, to be fleeting, to
evaporate all too quickly. Hochschild observes that, once Leopold had been
stripped of his control of the Congo, support for Morels campaign quickly
dissolved (despite the fact that little had changed on the ground), to be followed
by what he calls the great forgetting. 36 Morel bemoaned what had happened
to the campaign: the Belgian parliament took over the ownership of the Congo,
removing the worst excesses, but the same illiberal policy went on.
[He] considered the Belgian takeover of the Congo only a partial
victory. He knew that the system Leopold had set up would not be
quickly dismantled; it was too profitable. The same men who had been
district commissioners and station chiefs would now simply get their
paychecks from a different source. The Force Publique didnt even
bother to change its name. The new Belgian minister of colonies was a
former official of a company that had used thousands of forced labourers
to build railways in the eastern Congo. As long as there was big
money to be made from rubber, white men, with the help of the gun and
the chicotte, would force black men to gather it. 37
35
37
To the end of his days, both as MP for Dundee 38 and after he left parliament,
Morel fought for land to be restored to Africans, insisting that they could not
have a viable future otherwise. But the world had long since had enough of the
Congo.39 And, finally, thirdly, I would suggest that, at the level of officials and
functionaries, whether of governments or multilateral organisations, one too
often finds cynicism and indifference. All too often there is a tendency to move
on an issue only when the public is sufficiently agitated about it, and then as
minimally as possible and only insofar as it will draw the teeth of the protest.
Sometimes, and here I would go further than Geras, indifference actually
becomes embedded in the process of intervention itself as in Rwanda.
The Obscenity of Indifference in Rwanda
We see this problem starkly illustrated in the Rwandan genocide and,
particularly, in the failure of the international intervention that took place. Here
we are fortunate to have the chronicle of the Canadian general who was in
charge of the UN peacekeeping mission to the country at the time.40 General
Romo Dallaires harrowing account, Shake Hands with the Devil, is an attempt
on his part to make sense of what was going on around him. It provides an
agonising description of events as, day after day, the violence continued and,
day after day, his efforts to end the killing proved futile. Dallaire is a soldier
rather than a politician or social scientist; his book often lacks the analytical eye
which either could have brought to the situation. But, precisely because of that,
he is able to provide us with an unvarnished record which illuminates the
magnitude of the failure of humanity in Rwanda (his sub-title). One sees, at
every level, the kind of indifference that I have been talking about, the sense that
Africans dont matter all that much, the mental turning away that took place
once it was clear that Rwanda was a difficult problem.
Dallaire starts with a mea culpa:
I was unable to persuade the international community that this tiny poor,
overpopulated country and its people were worth saving from the horror
of genocide even when the measures needed for success were
relatively small. 41
38
He was elected in 1922 after being released from prison for refusing to support the war effort.
He defeated Winston Churchill, one of the ministers who had had him interned.
39
The Congolese, however, did not forget. At independence in 1960, there was an upsurge of
rage against the white settlers in the mining areas of Katanga, many of them being forced to flee
to (then) Northern Rhodesia as refugees.
40
R Dallaire (2003), op.cit. See also, for an equally disturbing account of the genocide, Peter
Gourevitch (1998), We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our
Families, New York, Farrar, Strauss & Giroux.
41
Ibid., 515.
38
42
Ibid., 515-6.
Ibid., especially ch. 14. And see also the report by Stephanie Maupas, Le Monde, 7 April
2005, which alleges not only that some gnocidaires were given asylum by France but also that
documents lodged with the International Criminal Court in Arusha indicated that extremists had
met in the French embassy after Habyarimanas death to plan setting aside the interim
government of unity. Frances unsavoury role in Africa has a long history, going back to the
rubber trade in the Congo, as we noted.
44
In 2004, former President Clinton attended a ceremony in Kigali to commemorate the dead in
the genocide. He apologised publicly for Americas inaction, saying that they would have done
things differently had they known what was happening. Yet it was impossible for them not to
have known and so the apology would seem to be almost as cynical as the indifference exhibited
by Clintons administration at the time. This ceremony, in 2004, was the one at which the French
delegation walked out in angry protest at President Kagames criticism of their role in the
genocide. Subsequently, some right-wing French sources in Paris began a campaign to smear
Kagame with responsibility for the genocide.
43
40
Dallaire (2004) op.cit., 498-9. By this accounting, America should have contributed 9.5
soldiers rather than none to the UN force.
46
Ibid., 518-9.
41
even to begin to explore them; instead I would merely suggest three (interrelated
and interdependent) areas that need to be part of any agenda for further research.
First, Africas integration into the modern global economy and the capitalist
world-system was, from the very start, characterised by the implicit assumption
that African life was expendable. The human cost of the slave trade is too well
known to need rehashing here. It inspired what might be regarded as the first
truly international protest movement; but it was also defended fiercely, on moral
and practical grounds, for over half a century (at least in the west). We have
seen, also, that the colonial economy that developed in central Africa, much
admired for its profitability and civilising mission in its early years,47 may well
have killed half the people exposed to it. If the Belgian colonial government
subsequently moderated its worst excesses, the system remained in place in its
essential features until the middle of the twentieth century and was, moreover,
institutionalised in the plantation economies under French and Portuguese rule
where there was no international outcry and hence less pressure for reform.
If the plantation economy represents colonial oppression at its worst, the
political economies set up throughout colonial Africa all had built in to them the
assumption that African life was cheap and almost infinitely replaceable.
Agricultural export production, in all its forms, made no provision for the
decline in food security which followed the diversion of family farming to cash
commodities. The migrant-labour economies of southern Africa ensured that
business obtained large supplies of low-paid workers whilst keeping their
families confined to rural areas. By dividing families in this way,48 wages could
be set at the level of the individual workers subsistence rather than that of the
family. And the costs of social provision, of housing, education and health
services, could be minimised or even avoided. Thus, Marxs dictum that wage
levels would never fall below the cost of subsistence and reproduction of the
working class as a whole could be set aside. High mining profits, and the
dividends accruing to their investors in London and New York,49 were
underwritten by the poverty of rural African families left to fend for themselves,
many suffering hunger, malnutrition and tuberculosis. Everywhere on the
continent, life expectancy was low, work safety minimal, and mortality rates and
malnutrition and its associated diseases high. 50 It is difficult to believe that the
47
42
43
creating space for armed warlords and criminal gangs and even reducing the
formal state rulers to being one warlord among others.52 As they have fought
and looted, civilians have been put to the sword, beaten, raped and otherwise
brutalised, subjected to horrific crimes which often cannot be absorbed by the
imagination. It is difficult to find reasons which exonerate Africas political
classes, so lacking in conscience or contrition, from culpability for the crimes
we have been discussing. All too often, confronted by the evidence of abuse,
African political leaders round on critics and friends alike with cries of
imperialism and racism instead of confronting their own collaboration with
foreign interests or their own ethnic prejudices. The psychological distance
between the political class and the civilian victims of brutality seems as great as
in colonial times. As Crawford Young has noted, the colonial state did not just
disappear; instead it has had an afterlife in the post-colonial state.53 It is
interesting that Bula Matari, the name that the Bakongo gave to Henry Morton
Stanley in recognition of his brutality, (it means the breaker of rocks),54
became the name by which they came to refer first to the colonial and then the
post-colonial state.55 The exercise of power in Africa, like the realisation of
profit, has always held African life in low esteem.
Third, and finally, economic and political processes rest on, and have helped to
create historical experiences and deep-rooted cultural beliefs and prejudices
which underpin the indifference of bystanders and entrench the mental distance
between victims and others. If racial prejudice against Africans is not quite as
old or as deeply-embedded psychologically as anti-Semitism, it is nearly so. The
history of slavery, plunder, conquest, colonial rule and administrative practice
have all acted to produce racial stereotypes which increase the mental and
physical distance between victim and tormentor and between victim and
bystander. One has only to put the caricatures of Jews and Africans alongside
each other (as found in European language, idiom and popular print, even in
science), to see similar processes at work. Deeply-held beliefs about racial
superiority and inferiority readily surface to offset conscience, permitting a
mental turning away in times of crisis. We see this at play everywhere in the
ideological simplifications about Africa that abound in western academic,
political and media narratives.
52
Among many contributions, see Chris Allen, (1995) Understanding African Politics Review
of African Political Economy 65, 301-20, for an attempt to theorise the malaise of the postcolonial state.
53
Crawford Young, (1994) The African Colonial State in Comparative Perspective, Yale
University Press, esp. ch.9. In the Senegalese film, Xala, Ousmane Sembene depicts a ritual in
which African personnel replace Frenchmen without anything else changing.
54
Hochschild (1998) op.cit., 68
55
Young (1994) op.cit., esp. ch.1.
44
It was my practice, in teaching a course on African politics to British students, to present them
with a report from a most respected English newspaper about Zambian factional conflict in the
1960s. In it the late Arthur Wina was described as the leader of the Lozi tribe. Students were
invited to discuss the images which this label suggested to them. They were then told that Wina
was also the holder of a postgraduate degree in economics from UCLA, the countrys first
African finance minister, the director of several companies (including membership of the local
boards of a number of international banks) and that he flew his own private aircraft. They then
discussed the profound ways in which this readjusted their images.
57
It is interesting that there has been widespread approval of South Africas Truth and
Reconciliation Commission and little or no approval of the peoples courts which have tried
low-level criminals for their actions in the Rwanda genocide. The TRC had no judicial function,
imposed no sanction on those who committed atrocities and, because it was unable to call more
than a few, voluntary witnesses, did not even suffice as a truth-telling exercise. Whilst it did
provide a legitimation process for the transition from apartheid, universal approval stems largely
from the fact that the only pain it caused was to the victims who had hoped for retribution and
reparation. See E.N. Isaac (2005) A Critical-Theoretic Study of the South African Truth and
Reconciliation Commission, Ph.D. thesis, University of Leeds. In contrast, critics of the
45
46
victims. There are piles of skulls in a church but no names and nothing else.
African lives are accorded value only in the mass, not as individuals. Similarly,
those buried in the mass graves at Wiriamu and all the other victims of whom
we have spoken here died abandoned and unknown. There is a need to do for
them all what was done to mark the Holocaust; a need to identify them, to give
them individual worth by marking their names, and to name and mark their
killers. It is a step towards creating a culture in which mass murder is held to
account and the value of every life is asserted. It is something that must be done
by Africans, not by foreigners, as a way of asserting their rights and worth as
citizens over those with guns and machetes who regard them as expendable. It is
a step, perhaps, towards Africa beginning to reclaim its own history.
47
Due to the limited amount of funding available from a DfID mini-grant the project ran on
approximately 10,000 per annum. This was insufficient for administrative support so LUCAS
supported the project through help from our administrator, and I co-ordinated the project in my
own time. Many of the difficulties in running the project efficiently arose from the lack of paid
support time.
2
The high schools involved were: City of Leeds High School 2004-6; Intake High School 20046; Lawnswood High School 2005-6; Leeds Girls High School 2004-5;
The primary schools involved, all in the 2005-6 academic year, were: Beckett Park; Burley St
Matthias; Hawksworth Wood; Iveson; St Chads Primary School; Weetwood Primary School
48
Global citizenship became a compulsory element of the primary school curriculum in 2000 and
the high school curriculum in 2002.
2
See The Guardian leader on March 8th, 2005 reporting on a consistent pattern of
underachievement by black boys, both Caribbean and African, in the UK educational system
over many years.
3
The most recent figures I have been able to locate date back to 2001. At that time, and after a
black teacher recruitment push, there were only 112 black and Asian teachers in a city where 6%
of the population was reported as non-white. BBC Education. 30th June 2001.
49
blackboard learning. Pupils are usually expected to be quiet and disciplined, and
corporal punishment remains common.
We wished to excite and interest Leeds school children about Africa and we
therefore required students to take part in a training programme during the first
semester, prior to going into schools in the period after the Christmas holidays.
This training was to introduce students to more pupil-centred, activity-based
teaching models, and to support them in devising individual packages of lesson
plans. We also knew it would be vital for students to visit their schools in
advance as the school room environment would be radically different from any
they were used to. If students successfully completed the training they would be
offered teaching of up to 20 hours at 20 per hour plus travel expenses. We
would also seek to help them deliver lessons focussing on particular areas of
expertise.
Eventually four students took part in the training programme.
Henrietta Abane is a political geographer and would run a 10
week course in Ghanaian geography at Leeds Girls High School.
Oluseyi Ogunjobi is a Nigerian artist and performer and would
run a four week performance project for children at Intake High
School focussing on Nigerian art forms.
Adesoji Adeniyi and Prosper Ogonga are also Nigerians but
working in the area of social sciences, would collaborate in
working on PHSE curriculum areas at City of Leeds and
Lawnswood Schools.
Undoubtedly the biggest shock for our students was going in to the classroom on
initial observational visits. All were amazed and to some extent appalled - by
the latitude given to children in terms of their behaviour, and the way they
sometimes spoke to members of staff.
For LUCAS the early problems centred around getting some students to attend
training regularly, and the lack of time for project organisation. Due to the small
budget for the pilot I was coordinating the project alongside my normal duties;
though with invaluable help from Saeed Talajooy, the part time LUCAS
administrator, who also had his usual work to get on with. Undoubtedly this lack
of dedicated organisational time was a problem throughout the project; most
notably in terms of ensuring good communications between all parties: students,
schools, trainers and LUCAS; but also at times in producing materials and
schedules, supporting evaluation, and making sure students were paid promptly
and properly.
Our trainers were devising their programme as they came to understand student
needs and ability. The focus, however, was always on child-centred
51
At the time of the project all Leeds Schools were organised into families, bringing together a
group of primary schools that fed into particular high schools. This system has subsequently
been modified.
2
See Transition to Secondary Schools: A literature review, New Zealand Ministry of Education,
2003.
3
In the final event it was not possible to transfer work from primary to secondary schools as it
was not felt that enough feeder schools had taken part to allow the work to move forward as a
transition project.
53
Year Two
As a result of the project development our second year of work involved nine
schools. Leeds Girls High School did not respond to a repeat invitation, but
Lawnswood was now fully on board with an agreed link teacher. We decided we
could cope with working in 6 primary schools; and all of these were drawn from
the North West Leeds family of schools.
The project would run essentially as before in high schools, but for our primary
school clients we offered a 1-3 day programme of events, to be delivered by a
team of African students. The idea was to stimulate interest in Africa across a
range of activities. Each session would run for 4 hours of the school day, and the
sessions would take place after the childrens SAT exams when they would be
relatively free from normal curriculum pressures. All schools opted for the three
day maximum offering.
As before we advertised for students interested in taking part in the project. Two
returned to us from the first year; Oluseyi and Adesoji. Oluseyi would return to
work at Intake High School, this time running special day-long story-telling, art,
textile and drumming workshops for 100 children selected by the school, either
because they were part of the performing arts stream, or as a reward for good
behaviour. Adesoji would work with a new Nigerian partner, Akande Akinmade
at both City of Leeds and Lawnswood in support of the global citizenship
elements of the PHSE course. Our 20 hours per school rule, meant that students
at Lawnswood would have only 2 hours each as there is a 10 form entry, while
at City of Leeds the 4 year 7 groups could have 5 hours of teaching each.
Our training programme drew on, and developed from, the work in year one.
Parker had left the University and was replaced as a trainer by Becky Moore.
The main challenge for the trainers was to develop with the students schemes of
work for the primary school three day packages of events.
Evaluation of Project Results
The remainder of this paper will focus on the evaluation of the project and what
was learnt through that process. It draws heavily on the on the Evaluation
Report produced by our independent evaluator, Bob Hirst,1 with additional
material produced by me from meetings with pupils in primary and high
schools.
Bob Hirst is A Voluntary Sector Management Consultant. His report can be accessed in full on
the LCUAS website: http://www.leeds.ac.uk/lucas/
54
happened in the project as they were, unlike high school teachers, present
throughout. Their responses were therefore more detailed than for high schools.
Teachers generally felt that points 1 and 2 had been well achieved. For points 3
and 4 some said they had been well achieved but more said this had only been
accomplished to some extent. Teachers were often unsure how much more of a
positive attitude children had to Africa (point 5). For 6 and 7, scores were
between to some extent (3 schools), not at all (1 school) and not sure (1
school), Hirst explains that: The lower level of achievement in these outcomes,
as judged by the teachers, was accounted for in part by the student sessions not
addressing them and in part by some teachers feeling these are a bit stretching
for many Year 6 pupils. (Hirst, 2006, p7)
Interestingly the question of benefit to ethnic minority pupils was again raised.
In four of the six schools involved there were African students in classes and
teachers made a point of discussing how good the event was for these children.
He got more excited about it hes usually quiet, but got more involved.
He played a leading role. Helped to raise his self-esteem.
We were pleased with the effect on him. Weve had some minor
difficulties with him, but [these sessions] gave him kudos.
[The sessions] brought them out a lot really good for them. They
contributed more than usual. (Hirst, 2006, p9)
Overall the teachers felt that the work divided into two parts. When the children
were active and involved they were interested and engaged. However, a
common point raised was that at times the students talked too much, at times in
a Victorian or lecturing style, and that then children switched off or generally
lost interest. This point relates both to the fact that not all the students have any
previous teacher training and that African education systems are generally not
interactive. It certainly emphasised the need to develop even further interactive
skills in the LUCAS training programme.
All teachers said the project was a good idea and that they would wish to
continue to be involved with it.
Pupils
All pupil interviews were carried out by me in the second year of the project, as
soon as possible after teaching had taken place usually within a week. In each
case focus groups were chosen by teachers who were asked to select children
from as wide a social, ethnic, academic and gendered mix as possible. Children
were interviewed from 3 high schools and four primary schools, and the
interviews were informal and generally lasted around 20 minutes.
56
High Schools
All the children knew where their visiting students came from, and nearly all
seemed sure that Africa was made up of many countries.
Many expressed considerable surprise that Africans were not all helpless and
poor.
I used to think everyone was poor, but now I know they can make lots of
things themselves.
I thought it was all animals and poor people, but now I can tell people
that they have their own culture and can do things themselves, like
making cloth and houses.
Children obviously liked the more activity-based exercises.
It was good fun. I learned lots, specially about making tie-die.
It was different from our usual lessons: history and maths and English.
You can learn lots without writing stuff down and that.
He taught us whats it called? Pidgin, it looked hard at first, but them I
could understand it.
However in our most challenging school a class on West African food had made
an impact, but not an obviously positive one.
They brought in food from Africa
They use some food like us rice.
I ate some crayfish. It was stinky.
I didnt like gari.
My impression was that ideas about Africa had been changed and in most
cases both for the better realising that Africans are creative, not helpless and
have interesting cultures and in ways that got rid of some stereotypes the
realisation that Africa is not just full of poor people and wild animals. In the
school with most in-depth exposure (full day workshops) the impression was
definitely both stronger and more positive than in a school where students were
only working in support of a class teacher. In the former the seventh learning
objective about positive action had definitely resonated with one child.
Id really like to go to Africa. I keep asking my Mum to take me. When
she asks me why Id like to go I say its because I want to see their
culture. I used to think it was all animals, but now I know theres lots of
people and Id like to go for ten days.
In the latter, many children couldnt really see why the students were there and
had no interest in developing knowledge about Africa.
They introduced themselves in the first lesson and where they come from,
Nigeria. But then they just stand at the back.
Id like to learn about different countries in Africa and societies.
I dont want to go to Africa.
That was a waste of time.
57
Learning contexts were hugely different between schools, but both choice of
activities and depth of interaction seemed to make a very big difference in how
children reacted.
Primary Schools
Like the high schools the primary schools we worked with also catered for a
wide social and ethnic range of children, with some in much more prosperous
areas than others. It is also important to realise that different activities took place
in different schools, with different groups of students, some much more
experienced teachers than others.
As in high schools most children knew where their teachers came from, a little
about their countries, and realised that Africa had many nations that were
different. Similarly, like the high schools, the biggest surprise to the children
seemed to be the sophistication of African societies and the simple fact that they
were not full of the destitute poor and wild animals. Attitudes to Africa had
definitely changed.
I thought everyone was poor, but they wear jeans and hoodies like in
England.
Some of the buildings were beautiful, there are grand houses. [The
children saw videos and internet material on Africa.]
I didnt know there were computers in Africa, in the cities.
I didnt know there were buses in Africa.
This surprise may seem superficial but it seemed important in that it brought
ideas about African people closer to the children. Africa became simultaneously
more interesting and approachable and less exotic.
The range of activities had generally gone down very well. These included
African songs, music, dances and games, work with making clothes, looking at
African food, work on African animals, learning about Fair Trade, learning
some Pidgin, looking at the Nigerian film industry, internet research and
watching videos. Like their teachers, children raised the issue of teaching style.
When sessions were active they were much enjoyed, but in most schools
children also said that sometimes the African students spent too much time
talking at them. One school had no criticisms of the students and the children
said that the participatory style had been a nice change from usual classes, that
they all knew much more about Africa, and many wanted to go there
particularly popular seemed the idea of going on safari! Elsewhere generous
praise and obvious interest was mixed with some reservations about delivery.
On the positive side came many comments such as:
58
We learned about Fair Trade. How if a bar of chocolate cost a quid the
farmer only gets 8p, and how all the different people get their money.
I liked the songs. We learnt a welcome song.
I learned African words. How to say Hello.
On the negative I was told:
Sometimes they talked too much, so we just sort of switched off.
They gave us homework, but we couldnt really understand it. Wed only
done half an hour in class on Pidgin. It was a bit demoralising.
When he was talking about Pidgin it was interesting, but sometimes he
spoke in a monotone.
There were far more positive than negative comments, but the need for a
consistently active participatory approach came through very strongly.
Students
The evaluator only met the students once, and as a group, so the information
gathered was less than for schools. The students were asked what they hoped to
gain from the project and they raised five points.
The money earned was significant for most students since many
struggle financially, and the general consensus was that they
payment rate was good.
Most valued the teaching experience and better knowledge of
British schools.
Several mentioned being an ambassador for Africa as
important.
The work was seen as good for ones CV, and the certificate of
training was valued.
The students enjoyed working in teams and felt they had learned
much from this.
More informally LUCAS staff and trainers observed considerable and growing
enthusiasm from the group during the time they were involved. The desire to
impart knowledge about Africa, and the enjoyment of team activities seemed to
be particularly strong once students went into schools.
Students were generally very positive about the training they had received,
which they saw as helpful, useful and well prepared. The main problems seem to
have had two centres. Firstly, students said it would have been useful to go into
schools more prior to teaching beginning. This fitted in with teacher comments
about a desire to liase better with students in advance. Students said many
schools cancelled planned visits. Undoubtedly there was some confusion here
that needed to have been better managed. Secondly students felt they needed
59
more paid planning time in order to be best prepared for their sessions. This had
not been taken into account. Since students recognised the issue of too much
talking, more planning time might well go some way to helping with the
problem.
Overall students were positive, feeling that they had learned much, and that their
gain was more than just monetary. There was also a strong sense of camaraderie
among the group.
LUCAS
The main benefits of the project to LUCAS were the increase in links with the
wider community, the opportunity to promote knowledge about and interest in
Africa, and the opportunity to bring African students into contact with the Leeds
schools community.
I had undoubtedly underestimated the amount of time involved in making the
project work well, and at times the management and administration workload
was barely sustainable given other commitments. But all involved in
management, administration and training learned a huge amount about how to
deliver such a project, and the possible value it contained.
The Future
When the project concluded we decided to apply for a larger DfID award from
the Development Awareness Fund to expand the project throughout Leeds. In
June 2007 we learned that this bid had been successful, and the University
offered additional support, so that our new stage of the work will begin in
September 2007.
The new project will run for 3 years and will be open to a wider number of
Leeds schools. The expanded funding will enable us to employ a part time
project coordinator which should enable a much stronger support package to be
developed, and we will continue to develop training and new delivery packages,
with the aim of not only reaching Leeds schools, but of developing a
methodology that can be utilised by others interested in similar outreach project
across the UK.
60
Ibadan 1960
by Martin Banham
A paper given to the AHRB Centre CATH Seminar on Ibadan 1960 at the
University of Leeds, September 23rd/24th, 2004. Martin Banham taught in
Nigeria at the University College, Ibadan, later the University of Ibadan,
between 1956 and 1966.
Ibadan,
running splash of rust
and gold flung and scattered
among several hills like broken
china in the sun1
John Pepper Clarks wonderful image of Ibadan in the 1960s evokes energy and
anarchy in equal measure. It is an affectionate and graphic picture that anybody
who lived in Ibadan in those years will recognise. My own recollections will
have about them the same randomness: they are images that remain with me
nearly half a century on from going to teach in Ibadan in 1956 an innocent
abroad, if ever there was.
Im taking the liberty of interpreting 1960 very broadly. My 1960 started four
years earlier but I think we are looking not at a date, but at a time. What I now
see marked that time most significantly for me was politics and specifically the
politics of emancipation. In 1957 I stood on the Ibadan campus when, from
every student and staff radio set, the national anthem of the newly independent
Ghana was played at full volume, directly relayed from the celebrations in
Accra. Nkrumah called for an encore and, the University College students sang
and danced with their distant colleagues knowing that Nigerias own freedom
was near. It was a time of great optimism. Constitutional conferences, internal
regional self-government, political manifestoes, newspaper debates, all
dominated thought and action. It has to be remembered that as this new sense of
freedom was sweeping through West Africa, colonial and oppressive regimes
still dominated in Kenya, Rhodesia, Mozambique, Angola and, of course, South
Africa. I dont think it an exaggeration to say that Nigerians saw themselves in
the vanguard of the struggle for the whole continent. Political refugees from
these areas found a welcoming home in West Africa, many of them as teachers
at Ibadan, enriching our understanding of the continent and informing and
radicalising our politics. Certainly on the campus there was a sense of
confidence. The students an elite group of 600 men and women when I arrived
looked forward to their own role as the administrators and ambassadors of the
1
Clark-Bekederemo, J. P., The Poems 1958-1998, Longman Nigeria, Lagos, 2002, p.23.
61
new Nigeria. No doubt there were incipient political tensions and rivalries, and
indeed they were to arise only too destructively over the next few years, but they
were not apparent to a young expatriate lecturer. It is interesting to note,
however, that in 1952 seven Ibadan students from different ethnic backgrounds
Wole Soyinka, Frank Aig-Imoukhuede, Olumuyiwa Awe, Nathaniel Oyelola,
Pius Oleghe, Ralph Opara and Ben Egbuchelam, founded the Pyrates
Confraternity specifically to combat elitism and tribalism. A note in the
recently published WS: A Life in Full2 shows how the Pyrates grew nationally
and internationally over the years, formally registering with the Federal Ministry
of Internal Affairs in 1980 with the name National Association of Seadogs and
having as its creed Against Convention, Against Tribalism, For Humanistic
Ideals, and for Comradeship and Chivalry. I recall, however, the optimism
symbolised by the Federal election manifesto of Obafemi Awolowos Action
Group, a democratic socialist document, directed beyond the partys Yoruba
heartland to the peoples of the East and the North, that spoke of universal health
care, free education, theatres and arts centres in every regional capital! And,
vitally, political emancipation brought with it cultural emancipation, an
outpouring of pride in the indigenous arts, skills, languages and traditions of the
nation.
Ill return for a moment here, if I may, to the elite student body that I referred
to. Inevitably they were high-flyers, people who had come through the very
competitive Government Colleges, or through the major high schools in Lagos.
600 students from the whole of Nigeria! But there were also students often in
their middle age who had fought against all odds, persevering in their
determination to reach UCI. I think that, at the age of 23, most of my students
were my own age or older. The academic route that had brought them to Ibadan
was entirely based on a traditional British schools curriculum. At the university
college they got more of the same. As a recent graduate I was made tutor to a
very bright student, Ben Obumselu, and we spent hours discussing T S Eliots
The Waste Land. There were moves made by staff to bring into the English
curriculum works from a more international - and specifically Commonwealth
base, and ease it away from its rather precious Oxbridge bias where twentieth
century writing itself was regarded as dangerously immature. But these were
generally resisted from on high. I suspect that it was the creation of the School
of Drama in the early 60s, hosting Kola Ogunmolas wonderful travelling
theatre company in a version of Tutuolas The Palmwine Drinkard staged by
Demas Nwoko, together with the enterprising work of the Student Dramatic
Society and the Travelling Theatre (with, for instance, an adaptation of Nkem
Nwankwos Danda) that did most to shift a focus towards Nigerian writing and
performance. That and the 1959 productions of Soyinkas The Swamp Dwellers
and The Lion and the Jewel in the Arts Theatre. I became close in those early
2
ed. Bankole Olayebi, WS:A Life in Full, Bookcraft, Ibadan, 2004, p.137.
62
days with John Pepper Clark, who was then a student in the English Department
and who has become a life-long friend. We were about the same age and almost
shared a birthday. The Pepper in Clarks name was a nickname given to him
by his brother on account of his hot temper, and based on the familiar name
given to an equally irascible British District Officer in the Rivers, a certain
Captain A.P.Pullen. Clarks tale of how he received an education amazed me
and has stayed with me always, and it heightened the admiration I felt for the
students who had made their way to Ibadan. In a nutshell, Clarks father, from
his home at Kiagbodo in the Rivers, determined to obtain an education for his
sons, sent J.P. at the age of 7, together with his two elder brothers, down the
Forcados River in a canoe to the Native Administration School at Okrika,
placing them under the guardianship of a man called Yekpe they had never met,
and who, I believe, their father knew only by reputation, described by Clark as
the most feared man in town. It was there I think that Clark heard for the first
time the great Ijaw epic of Ozidi, a version of which he was both to record and
to use as the basis of his own play of that name. I record this anecdote because it
brought home to me the extraordinary cultural resources that so many students
brought with them but which were for far too long ignored by the educational
system to which they were subjected. No wonder that once the floodgates
opened so much poured out. Clark, incidentally, has recently published a
collection of new poems entitled Once Again A Child3 which is an
autobiography of his childhood, presented in verse. Typically, his inscription in
my copy reads with warm greetings from the stroppy one!
I now want to try and illustrate the mood and vigour of those times, particularly
in the cultural field, through looking at various publications, created in Ibadan,
which flourished in the 1960s.
I start unapologetically with - in Chinweizu et als phrase - the poisonous LeedsIbadan connection which honoured me by a direct association with Wole
Soyinka as joint agents of neo-colonialism!4 This was the creation of the student
magazine The Horn, modelled on the Leeds Poetry & Audience, founded by
myself and a group of English department students, funded by me (1), and first
edited by J.P.Clark. A simple circa 12 page cyclostyled magazine, laboriously
typed on to sticky stencils and run off in the English department office,
predominantly devoted to student verse and selling for threepence, The Horn
went on to be edited by a roll-call of talented Ibadan students, amongst them
Juliet Udezue, Abiola Irele, Minji Karibo, Dapo Adelugba, F. Onyema Iheme,
Tayo Morgan, and Omolara Ogundipe. Abiola Irele, in his introduction to
Clarks Collected Plays 1964-1988, comments that The Horn eventually
3
63
developed into something more than an outlet for new poetic talent; it came as
well to function as a medium of intellectual reflection and in particular as a
forum among the students for debate about the place of culture in the new
Nigerian society that we felt, as if on our very pulses, was coming into
existence.5 It was in Volume 4, no. 1 of The Horn that Wole Soyinkas
challenge for national cultural self-confidence appeared: [T]he duiker will not
paint duiker on his beautiful back to proclaim his duikeritude; youll know him
by his elegant leap. From work in The Horn I published in 1960 a slim volume
called Nigerian Student Verse 1959.6 Sadly, it contains nothing of Clarks early
work, as in true peppery style he said he wrote poetry, not verse and I think he
was right! But the collection gave rise to two interesting comments when it was
reviewed in a later issue of The Horn (Vol. 4, No. 1). Wole Soyinka said I can
say, very fairly, that this booklet proves that the student writer at least has
overcome the Golden Treasury days of his poetic formation. This is a highly
cheering revelation. Abiola Irele, rightly chastising me for being too cautious in
my claims for the verse, makes some important points about the tension the
young Nigerian writer often found him or herself experiencing at this period. He
says however conversant we have been with English, it still remains for us
something of a second language, if not less. The difficulties of expressing our
own national sentiment and our own native sensibility in a language radically
different from ours are no less for constantly hearing the language and using it in
our academic workThe truth is that we not only study in English, we study it
we do not, like an English undergraduate, come up to read it. Irele continues to
observe that the young writer in this context is unable to avoid influences, and
then goes on: The result is perfunctory or an unnaturally detached treatment of
the themes that should form the nature of our national literature, themes that
form the centre of our myths, our folk tales, and our indigenous religions, and
are expressed in our oral literature. Before we leave that issue of The Horn we
should note that it was the 1960 independence issue. On the back page the
associate editor Dapo Adelugba now, of course, Professor of Theatre Arts at
Ibadan dedicating The Horn to the cause of a national literature, writes To the
fanatically negritudinous who like to assert with Roy Campbell:
True sons of Africa are we,
Though bastardised with culture
Indigenous, and wild, and free
As wolf, as pioneer and vulture
we extend our hand of welcome, no less than to those whose concept of culture
is more sympathetic.The cock has crowed: it is day: let us work to uphold the
glories of the new nation.
5
Clark-Bekederemo, J.P, Collected Plays 1964-1988, Howard U.P., Washington DC, 1991,
introduction by Abiola Irele, p. xvii.
6
Ed. Martin Banham, Nigerian Student Verse 1959, Ibadan University Press, Ibadan, 1960.
64
There were other campus based publications, including the often parochial
Ibadan journal which rather gave away its other-worldliness by carrying a pretty
cover design created in Ipswich. But it was in the town, and specifically at the
Mbari Writers and Artists Club, of course, that publications of great richness and
significance flourished, many of them the initiative of Ulli Beier and often
magnificently illustrated by Suzanne Wenger. Beier is described by Wole
Soyinka as a wanderer who came, saw, and was conquered, whose approach to
life rescued the word expatriate from its usual negative connotations.7 The
Mbari club itself was situated in the heart of Ibadan, in a district called Gbagi,
close to the thriving Dugbe market. Soyinka, in his memoir Ibadan: The
Penkelemes Years8 aptly describes the members of Mbari as a suspect breed of
artists and intellectuals. Soyinkas memoir, incidentally, is a rich source of
information on the artistic and political life of Ibadan in the early 1960s,
penkelemes being described by Soyinka as a deliberate, populist corruption of
peculiar mess.9 A suspect breed, that is, to the Lagos-based arts establishment
that was so confused by the play A Dance of the Forests that Soyinka submitted
as an independence celebration that it turned it down, allowing the playwright to
stage it himself with his company The 1960 Masks. Here was a play that opened
with the stage direction An empty clearing in the forest. Suddenly the soil
appears to be breaking and the head of the Dead Woman pushes its way up. It
then developed into what I, at the time, could only grasp as a vast kaleidoscopic
pageant of Yoruba myth, history and lore, engaged with characters and events
from the contemporary world. I cant pretend I fully understood this complex
play in many ways I believe the source book for everything he wrote
subsequently but I knew that, in terms of imagination, character, language,
comment and theatrical dynamic, I was seeing something extraordinary. I take
encouragement from the fact that Ulli Beier had some of the same difficulty
with aspects of the play. Reviewing the text in Black Orpheus10 he comments
that the play is almost as obscure as the second part of Faust. Staged as an
alternative contribution to the 1960 independence festivities the play made
clear that Soyinkas satiric view of events was a deal more sceptical than that of
the official programme organisers. Here, bursting onto the stage, was theatre
that, in common with so much new dramatic writing from Nigeria, made much
contemporary western theatre look positively anaemic.
Returning to Mbari, the club, though Ibadan based, was both national and
international in its membership and significance. In addition to Beier, Soyinka,
7
Ogundele, Wole, Omoluabi: Ulli Beier, Yoruba Society and Culture, Bayreuth African
Studies 66, Bayreuth, 2003, p. 9
8
Soyinka, Wole, Ibadan: The Penkelemes Years. A Memoir 1946-65, Minerva, London, 1995,
p.302
9
Soyinka, 1995, p xiii
10
No.8, pp.57-8
65
Clark, the poet Christopher Okigbo, the South African writer Ezekiel Mphahlele
and artists Demas Nwoko and Uche Okeke were founder or early members.
Wole Ogundele describes the founding and early years of Mbari in some detail
in his tribute to Beier, Omoluabi: Ulli Beier, Yoruba Society and Culture11
recently published by Bayreuth African Studies. The early days of Mbari were
packed with artistic action exhibitions, readings, discussions and productions,
the last famously or perhaps infamously including Soyinkas production on
Mbaris open courtyard stage of J.P.Clarks first powerful play Song of a Goat
in which, at least in early performances, an attempt was made to sacrifice a live
goat on stage. The line by the character Zifa - My wife, see how with one stroke
of my knife/ I sever the head from the trunk - was not always successfully
followed by the action, but no one could fault the director on his demand for
realism! The lasting legacy of Mbari may well, however, be its publications.
They ranged from the magnificent Black Orpheus which though officially
published by the Ministry of Education in the Western Region had its spiritual
home in Mbari - to exuberantly produced collections of poetry, plays, art and
cultural commentary. The production standards were confident and ambitious.
This was probably one of the most exciting and concentrated publishing
ventures in the arts that one can imagine. A novel, A Walk in the Light by Alex
la Guma, Drawings by Uche Okeke, Clarks Song of a Goat and Poems 1962,
Heavensgate and Limits by Christopher Okigbo, African Songs by Leon Damas,
Oriki by Bakare Gbadamosi, Three Plays by Wole Soyinka, and so on. These
publications not only celebrated Nigerian arts, but also introduced, through
translation, work from other parts of Africa or the diaspora. And this latter
quality was one of the defining attributes of Black Orpheus and of Mbari, and
one of the great influences on the arts of Ibadan in the 60s. In the first issue of
the journal in 1957 the editors, Beier and Janheinz Jahn wrote:
The young African writer is struggling hard to build for himself a
literary public in Africa It is still possible for a Nigerian child to
leave a secondary school with a thorough knowledge of English
literature, but without even having heard of such great black writers as
Lopold Sdar Senghor or Aime Csaire. One difficulty, of course,
has been that of language; because a great deal of the best African
writing is in French or Portuguese or Spanish. Black Orpheus tries to
break down some of these language barriers by introducing writers
from all territories in translation[W]e shall not forget the great
traditions of oral literature of the African tribes. For it is on the heritage
of the past, that the literature of the future must be based.12
11
12
66
No day is like the day when the elephant served under the duiker.
Duiker sent elephant to the river,
But elephant did not return in time.
Duiker beat elephant until he was unable to shit!
Duiker beat elephant until he was unable to piss!
Duiker abused elephant on the bridge.
He reminded elephant he was rich enough to own him.
But the elephant accepted the punishment with love.
He said: it is not because I am stupid,
Or because I have not grown up.
If the slave moves carefully,
He may still buy his freedom after a long, long time.
It is not too late for the elephant
To buy himself free and become head of the animals.
Let us learn wisdom from the elephant.
Let us shake off our suffering with patience.
Gently we will kill the fly on our own body.
Let all of us get ready to buy ourselves back
After all: we have land, and we have hoes.
We have cocoa trees and we have bananas.
We have palm kernels and we have groundnuts.
Let us fight, so that we may cultivate our own farm
To escape from being slaves and pawns
Let all our people be free.13
Finally, a thought about the outside world, from which Ibadan was by no means
isolated. I have recorded the fact that political refugees from other parts of
Africa homed in on Ibadan, conscientizing both students and staff. External
13
Vol.4, no.3
67
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Vol.4, no.3
Vol.3, no.3
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Book
Reviews
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to Veit-Wilds point about colonists seeing only what they wished to in African
subjects, but no clear bridge is then laid for the subsequent analysis of madness
in African literature. Certainly I feel uneasy with the apparently casual and
unexplored linking of the surrealist form to madness that then follows.
The final section of this book moves on to study three women novelists; Bessie
Head, Rebecca Njau and Tsitsi Dangerembga. Chapter eight looks at how
womens bodies can become the site of their madness because they have control
over little else in their lives. The sections on Heads A Question of Power and
Dangerembgas Nervous Conditions seemed to me over-brief, simply picking up
a few points that neatly fitted into Veit-Wilds interest in relating these writers
to more anthrolopology; in this case relating them to an idea of stray women;
that is women who became outcasts because they could not fit in to their
societies. However the section on Njaus Ripples in the Pool, though also brief,
was a welcome inclusion of a writer often neglected in contemporary criticism.
The final chapter looks at Dangerembgas film, Kare Kare Zvako, based on a
folktale about a woman killed by her lazy husband in order to provide him with
food in a time of famine. Madness is not a focus at all here, rather Veit-Wild
links the film to Nervous Conditions, arguing that both are concerned with food,
womens bodies and male exploitation.
These is much of interest in Writing Madness and the central section on the
surrealist poets of the grotesque brings voices from Francophone and Southern
Africa into fascinating dialogue. Veit-Wild concentrates throughout on these
two regions with some additional references to East Africa. The work on women
writers seems to me too cursory to do more than look at a few points about how
women, as opposed to the men previously focused on, see their often exploited
bodies. The anthropology often throws up entertaining nuggets of information,
but Africa is huge continent and the particular examples chosen have been rather
arbitrarily selected and are not by any means fully integrated into the text as a
whole.
Jane Plastow
University of Leeds
Globalisation and Race: Transformations in the Cultural Production of
Blackness. Kamari Maxine Clarke and Deborah A. Thomas, eds. Duke
University Press, 2006. Pp .407. ISBN 0-8223-3772-X (pb). 14.95
This book belongs to the first series of academic materials that project the social
and cultural values of people of African descent in the international arena. The
authors fearlessly investigate how these virtues are being used to redefine the
73
perception of blackness in the minds of others within the global village. The
book towers above others in its category in the sense that it draws on the
anthropology and rich cultural identity of Black People to express their social
and cultural heritage.
The authors, in a constructively argued manner, query the low level of
significance currently being attached to macroanalytics of racialization . This is
in spite of the fact that it is a widely held notion that racial formations
dynamically reflect and shape global processes, and not merely effect them. In a
way, this book has succeeded in arguing the case that race has both constituted
and been constituted by global transformations.Relying on the unique attributes
of their music, dance and fashion, the people of African descent are ferociously
questioning the global perception of blackness, while at the same time reshaping
such global perceptions. This book explores the deep-rooted desire of many
Africans in the diaspora not to be alienated from, but rather openly expressing
their affinity to, their ancestral homeland and continent.
The authors must be commended for their blunt refusal not to be mindless about
the vices that punctuate the virtues which, again, globalization has bestowed on
the Africans in the diaspora. They discuss these vices with no less tenacity.
Through this book, I have come to realize the changing meanings and politics of
blackness, and how the contemporary processes of globalization are both
changing and being shaped by these changes. As a reader you are bound to
realize the same.
Dr. Olasunkanmi Sholarin
University of Westminster,
Native Sons: West African Veterans and France in the Twentieth Century.
Gregory Mann. Duke University Press, Durham, N.C. & London, 2006. pp. 344.
ISBN 0-8223-3768-1 (pb).14.95.
This elegantly written study of the complex pattern of ambiguous relationships
between France and the West African veterans of the French army is as much
about the present as the past. Although the subtitle refers to the 20th century, the
author illustrates how notions of reciprocity, mutual obligation and a blood
debt feed not only into the controversy surrounding the veterans pensions but
also into the current debate on immigration. Africans played an important part in
protecting France during World War I and a vital role in the liberation of la
74
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In the following chapters, the story moves to France, then on to the Maghreb and
South East Asia, and back again to West Africa and France. Through
remittances and correspondence to fathers, brothers and wives, the soldiers have
maintained a stake in family life and some measure of control over their
domestic interests.
Towards the end of the book (p196), the author rightly raises the question about
why forty-odd years after independence a political discourse about veterans
entitlements continues to inflect discussions about the rights of West African
immigrants in Frances Fifth Republic. He also asks what, if anything, this
might tell us about empire and postcolonial politics. Unfortunately, no answer is
forthcoming.
All European colonial powers made extensive use of native soldiers in their
colonial armies. Even if equal treatment of European and native troops was
practised during army service, this certainly did not extend to the payment of
pensions and benefits to men who subsequently became nationals of newly
independent states. Why then this soul-searching in France, while public opinion
in former colonial powers such as Britain and the Netherlands remains
untouched by the plight of their African or Asian veterans? The pensions of
Gurkha soldiers are still far lower than those of British ex-servicemen. The
Moluccan soldiers in the Dutch colonial army were dismissed from army service
when they set foot on Dutch soil in 1949, and were sent away with humiliating
social benefits rather than the pensions they were entitled to. To be sure, public
opinion in Britain and the Netherlands did voice sentiments of a debt of
honour towards these veterans but these feelings were limited to these
particular groups of ethnic soldiers who had built up a reputation of loyalty
over the centuries. Veterans in Indonesia or in West or East Africa do not figure
in these discussions, and links to the current debate on immigration issues are
totally absent.
France was unique, no doubt, in that large contingents of West African and
North African troops actually participated in the liberation of la Patrie, fighting
and dying on French soil. The African and Asian troops in the British and Dutch
colonial armies fought and died in distant parts of the empire. Which other
elements could help explain the different attitude in France compared to that in
other former colonial powers? The author points towards the peculiar
characteristics of Mali as not only a post-colonial, but also a post-slavery
society, with ingrained concepts of mutual obligation. This is an interesting
perspective, but it has little relevance for the discussion in France itself, where
no distinction is made between the claims of North African and West African
veterans and immigrants.
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level; women havent yet learned how to translate electoral participation into
real policy impact.
Despite the absence of topics that might usefully have extended this volumes
core concerns the evolving patterns of African presidentialism, for example, or
the changing role of legislatures under the impact of multipartyism this is a
valuable collection given the ground that it does cover and the range of its
thematic interests. While one or two of the chapters this reviewer found difficult
to relate to, the contributions overall are carefully argued and illuminating;
some, and particularly that by Anglin, proved outstanding.
Ralph A. Young
University of Manchester
and bearing respectively food, medicines and bombs, make a telling emblem.
Perhaps more evocative still is the portrait of the newly-appointed Wali of
Abyei, who invites himself into a plane chartered by the Canadians, slots
ammunition into a small shiny handgun, binds it into his turban, and settles
down to sleep.
Michael Medley
University of Bristol
Beautiful Ugly: African and Diaspora Aesthetics. Ed. Sarah Nuttall, Duke
University Press in conjunction with the Prince Claus Fund, Durham and
London, 2006. Pp 416, 126 illustrations 17.99
This is a beautiful book that is, the production values given to the publication
by Duke University Press and no doubt supported by the Prince Claus Fund are
wonderful, beautiful even. The essays are supported by the kind of colour
reproduction that it is rare to find even in the museum catalogues of blockbuster
exhibitions. The essays are even colour highlighted, and there is an over all feel
to the book of sumptuous quality. This is a book destined for bookshops that
exist as the essential adjunct of the modern art gallery. As such it is no doubt
going to picked up and read by a metropolitan art elite of the type well versed in
post modern / postcolonial / deconstructive / discourse analysis; the question
though is whether the book doesnt simply add more exotica for the art hungry
savages of the west desperately seeking Africa?
Beautiful Ugly is both a timely book and a book of its time. It is an irritating
book as well as one that contains some surprises and some genuine importance.
Beautiful Ugly indeed. In general it is a book that purports to explore the idea of
beauty and/or ugliness and/or the sublime within African discourses of the
aesthetic or perhaps, more broadly, taste. It is however, firmly orientated toward
investigating the expression of that beauty /taste within the (what is becoming
something of a clich) contemporary African and African diaspora situation.
Through these essays, some of which have been previously published, but most
seemingly written for this volume, the authors track something that might be
called beauty or be called the aesthetic through a series of different situations,
idioms and places that all in some way relate to Africa.
Immediately the title starts flagging up the habitual warning signs that
accompany any discussion of African aesthetics. One does not have to have
read Barry Hallens (1979) critique of Robert Farris Thompsons categories of
Yoruba aesthetics to realise that this is fraught and dangerous territory,
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intertwined in the politics of identity and the relationships that inhere between
categories of taste and judgement found in the West and those found in African
societies. Here is one of the irritating things. There is a long and complicated
history of thought behind the idea of the aesthetic as it appears as a
philosophical concept in African societies but this book makes little reference to
these debates. Rather it firmly sets out in search of an aesthetic within the
contemporary African situation. So, despite Gikandis and Mbembes opening
pieces, I am not sure upon what philosophical grounds the book is standing.
Maybe this is an unjustified criticism, perhaps the book doesnt pretend to a
philosophy, it is after all an art book and perhaps its intention is no more than
to be illustrative of a diverse set of practices loosely organised around the theme
of beauty / ugliness within some undefined contemporary historical period. The
problem with this is that then the book potentially becomes no more than a type
of modernist connoisseurship, collecting cultures where they conjoin to art. And
this book clearly attends to more than this. Yet placing together a set of
disparate, albeit desperately elegant papers, under the rubric of (an) African
beauty (however that is figured) gives the impression of a metaphysical object
that is universally applicable. We are back with Picasso and his sense of a
universal African emotionalism (something well critiqued by Gikandi in the first
essay of the book but something unfortunately other authors here seem
incapable of avoiding). More than this, I suspect that what is really being
discussed in many of the papers here is neither beauty nor ugliness, the sublime
or the grotesque, but something that might be more recognisable as style.
What is good about this book is that it brings together some very interesting
papers around the issue of art and politics and it clearly underlines Enwezors
(2000) statement that some time ago contemporary art in Africa became
imprisoned in theories of history, materiality and ethnicity. And that What has
been lost is a consideration of the form of the aesthetic that made up /makes up
the experience of art within the post colony. This book carries within it where it
deals with the local situations a clear understanding of the need to engage with
the forms of contemporary aesthetic production as they develop within histories
and ethnicities, but which are not subordinate to either. For this, and for Nuttals
very clear introduction of the terms of the artistic debate about aesthetics
(although, as I say, not the philosophical one), the book is a valuable resource,
and one that if read carefully certainly enhances ways of thinking through some
African relations to beauty in the world savages notwithstanding.
Will Rea
University of Leeds
82
from the books themselves vividly indicate the circumstances under which
undergraduates in Africa study. For example, library provision is often
inadequate, attempts to increase numbers of female undergraduate are
sometimes thwarted, and tensions over accommodation have been building up.
These studies tell stories that shock even those familiar with the under-funded,
over-stretched, constantly-scrutinized British university system. From the study
on Kenya, we learn that the Jomo Kenyatta Memorial Library originally
intended for 6,000 readers, now caters for 16,715, and that at Moi University
400 students sometimes chase one or two books. (40) Figures produced by the
Nigerian National Universities Commission for 2001 highlighted the worrying
failure to attract more female students to universities in the north. Figures for the
universities in Bauchi and Yola showed the number of female students actually
fell between 1992 /3 and 1997/8 from 615 to 412 in one case, and from 818 to
581 in the other. Staff levels are worryingly low in Nigerian universities. The
source just quoted indicates that the University of Ilorin only had 531 academic
staff, a shortfall of 1090. In Ghana the so-called Universities for Development
Studies and for Education had no subscriptions to any journals (74).
Accommodation was an area in which the universities in Ghana failed students
just as spectacularly. However, the authors of the relevant study listed above
were sanguine, observing: In terms of residential facilities, the crunch in
student housing has led all the universities to increase investment in campus
housing. The authors avert their eyes from the overcrowding that has up to six
students at Legon perching in rooms designed for one, and that has made
impossible demands of the sewage disposal system. They write of the
construction of a 400-bed hostel and gesture to the multi-billion cedi housing
complex, known as Jubilee Hall, that, when completed, will accommodate over
1,000. They write as if the crunch had been felt and relieved, the repercussions
monitored, and the student experience made uniformly satisfactory. As we will
see, this is far from the case.
The three books share a Preface that is signed by the Presidents of the four
funding bodies: the Carnegie Corporation, the Ford, Macarthur and Rockefeller
Foundations. Together these major funders constitute the Partnership for Higher
Education in Africa. Although giving away fortunes made by men who were
typically launched into their prosperous careers by apprenticeships, the grantmakers share a belief in higher education and in the transforming power of
universities. The Preface speaks of the ability of African universities to
transform themselves, and to promote national development. (Pereira, xiii) This
faith is expanded into a creed that enshrines the conviction that an independent
scholarly community, supported by strong universities goes hand in hand with a
healthy, stable democracy. Amplified, this emerges as the doctrine that,
appropriately transformed, universities can produce generations of engaged
84
citizens (who) will nourish social, political, and economic transformation in the
continent. Steadfast in this conviction, that I would like to share but cannot
wholly, the grant-makers pooled resources to advance the reform of African
universities. $150,000,000 was contributed during the first five years of the
Partnerships life and a minimum of $200,000,000 has been pledged for the
second five-year programme. This began on 16 September 2005, and saw the
addition to the Partnership of the Hewlett and Mellon Foundations.
As the titles of the three books considered here indicate, the case studies vary
somewhat in approach. All, however, find a place under the Major Aims of the
Partnership that are listed as
Generating and sharing information about African universities and higher
education
Supporting universities seeking to transform themselves
Enhancing research capacity on higher education in Africa
Promoting collaboration among African researchers, academics and university
administrators
Initially the Partnership chose Ghana, Mozambique, Nigeria, South Africa,
Tanzania and Uganda for attention on the grounds that the universities in these
countries were already initiating positive change, developing a workable
planning process, and demonstrating genuine commitment to national capacitybuilding, in contexts of national reform. (xiii) An election later Kenya has been
added, but Zambia and Sierra Leone, for example, must be wondering how they
blotted their copy books. And it would not be surprising to hear concerned
Francophones scanning the list and muttering about les Anglo-Saxons.
The scholars and administrators funded by the Partnership to collect and collate,
research and recommend represent a range of academics and administrators,
many of them relatively junior. It is instantly apparent that these voices are from
the Senior Common Room rather than from, say a Committee of ViceChancellors or the cabal that meets in the Vice-Chancellors Lodge. The most
adventurous choice is the sole author of the Nigerian volume, Charmaine
Pereira, who stands outside the main university system as the National Coordinator of the Network for Women's Studies in Nigeria. Her published
research, that includes a robust study of Zina (roughly adultery) and
transgressive heterosexuality in northern Nigeria, has already taken her into
sensitive areas and she engages with the contested topic of gender in Nigerian
universities trenchantly in this series. From the books on Kenya and Ghana, it is
apparent that gender reflects an important preoccupation for the series. Gender is
on the series agenda, along with the use of ICT and responses to HIV/AIDS.
These topics are addressed, or at least acknowledged, in each of the books, and,
85
from time to time, we glimpse the yawning chasm of the digital divide or feel
the chill shadow of the ravages of HIV/AIDS.
Pereiras work, like that of all the others, is based on extensive consultation. But
it is unlike the others in adopting a conventional academic approach. For
example, she begins with a glossary, shows an awareness of other studies in the
field, provides an historical analysis, and then examines the current situation.
She is meticulous, and persuasive, mingling statistical analysis (she includes 26
Tables and 14 Lists of Figures) with vivid testimonies. Her final chapter, entitled
Conclusions and Recommendations, opens with a statement that sums up her
intention: This study has sought to engender an understanding of the workings
of the university system. It was an ambitious goal and one hopes that the
approach adopted will be successful. One hopes that the momentum begun by
her interviews and encouraged by the publication will be maintained. However,
Pereira provides abundant evidence why progress on gender issues in Nigerian
universities might be slow. Her distressingly long list of ways in which male
academics indicate their lack of respect for female counterparts begins with:
jokes, snide remarks, insinuations, (and) derogatory comments in class to
students... (160) In light of this, one wonders if Pereiras work will be given the
attention it deserves.
That all is not well in African academia is clear. At the time of writing this the
news coming from the University of Ghana indicates new depths of
dissatisfaction have been reached and that students have shown their disaffection
in new ways. The shortage of accommodation recently prompted the
administration to introduce an in-out-out-out system whereby students will
spend their first years on campus and succeeding years off campus. Student
opinion has run fiercely against this and in favour of an in-out-out-in pattern.
That is to say, a return to campus for the final year. Feelings have run so high
there has been a weaponising of bodily waste and angry students have
disrupted end-of-year assessment processes by shit bombing examination
halls. The Vice-Chancellor, Professor Clifford Tagoe, has responded by
announcing that the University of Ghana has secured a 260 billion loan from a
consortium of banks for the construction of a 7,100-bed facility. That the
situation has deteriorated so far and that student numbers have so far outstripped
provision is entirely at odds with the approach advocated by Pereira and the
other authors. The concern with the process of consultation and the commitment
to planning embodied in the series is at odds with the situation glimpsed by the
student action and the V-Cs panicky response. The episode stands in
juxtaposition to the optimism of the grant-makers Preface.
It is not clear how much of the Partnerships funding has gone into the
preparation of these books and the others in the series. The funders have
86
certainly been well-served by the authors and publishers who have produced
challenging, substantial and elegant volumes. But it is by no means certain that
the books, which have been some five years in the making, will result in any
change. There is no guarantee that Vice-Chancellors and their management
teams will give them the attention they deserve. I hope they do, and, as the
cleaners get to work in the examination halls at Legon, I hope that faith in the
transforming power of universities is vindicated.
James Gibbs,
University of the West of England
While Shigwedha and Nampala share the (unsurprising) belief that the
missionary and colonial presence contributed to the decline of indigenous
African culture, they also show how African cultures have resisted, responded to
and adapted themselves towards the arrival of the Europeans. The two accounts,
presented side by side, offer fresh perspectives on the colonial encounter.
Yet more significant, however, is the role this research may play in the process
of decolonization still ongoing in Africa and elsewhere. Namibia, it should not
be forgotten, did not gain independence until 1990. The University of Namibia
was not founded until 1992. These two authors, the first Namibians to have
obtained a Masters degree in history from the university, are at the front-line of
a new historiography; written by Namibian historians and researched from oral
sources.
Nampalas study examines the impact of Finnish missionaries on three
kingdoms in Northern Namibia in the century since their first arrival in 1870,
aiming to show how traditional ceremonies common to all three kingdoms were
challenged and transformed following the introduction of Christianity. In
doing so, Nampala sketches the contradictions at the heart of the civilizing
mission, locating tensions at the fault line between the missionary project to
convert Africans into Europeans and the reification of tradition by the
colonial state as the necessary means to upholding indirect rule.
Nampalas most original contribution, however, is his recovery of meaning
embodied within Aavawambo cultural practice, for so long misconstrued by the
Western gaze. Focusing in turn on marriage, rainmaking, circumcision, burial of
the deceased and the naming of infants, Nampala provides an authentic
anthropology. A second chapter, dedicated to Ovawambo religious belief, draws
parallels with Christianity, reclaiming a right to truth and avoiding the binary
distinctions between Europe and Africa; then and now; us and them.
Shigwedhas thesis develops Nampalas work by narrowing the analytical focus
to examine the contested cultural meaning of clothing. Like Nampala,
Shigwedhas initial intent is one of rebuttal; Africans were no less naked than
Europeans simply because they did not wear European clothes. By documenting
the social value of traditional clothing, Shigwedha offers insights into gender,
wealth, status and identity in the pre-colonial Aavawambo world before
examining how such social value was undermined, not only by the cultural
imperialism of the missionaries but also by the economic exigencies of the
colonial state. Finally, Shigwedha considers ways in which cultural change was
instrumentalised by Africans themselves. Opportunities to mimic European
styles offered increased social mobility for some, while providing new ways to
display old power for those most able to seize the white mans crown.
88
At base, both Shigwedha and Nampala are dealing with tradition - that thorn in
the postcolonial side. In places, the word alludes to a pure African culture. But
there are dangers here; of essentialising the African past and positing a fixed and
coherent cultural world. Elsewhere, the authors talk of tradition as the vital link
between past and present and thus not only capable of change but meaningless
without it. In this regard, the book would have benefited from a clearer
conceptual statement of what tradition might be taken to mean. Nevertheless,
these two theses, as the first of their kind, do much to reclaim a Namibian past.
Will Jackson
University of Leeds
African Theatre: Youth. ed. Michael Etherton. James Currey, Oxford &
African Academic Press and Tsehai Publishers, Hollywood, CA, 2006. Pp. 272.
ISBN 10: 0-85255-590-3 (pb). 14.95.
The latest volume in the excellent African Theatre series is an invaluable
addition to the scholarship and research on current theatrical activity on that
continent. It bears witness to the variety, energy and commitment that marks out
the dramatic activity of young people, usually undertaken in the most adverse of
circumstances. Many of the contributions are marked out by the determination
of their authors to ensure that the voices of young people are heard with as little
mediation as possible. Among the fifteen essays and playscript there is a good
balance between female and male writers and an avoidance of over-dependence
upon European academics speaking for Africa. Coverage is also quite even
between the West, East, and South regions. The obvious gap is the absence of
any contributions from North Africa: unsurprising given the cultural, religious
and linguistic traditions of the area but further exacerbating the growing gulf
between English-speaking scholars and their Arab, Islamic counterparts.
Michael Ethertons claim that the contributions reflect the extraordinary range
of drama, theatre and performance by young people in Africa, therefore, needs
to be qualified by this understandable omission.
Ethertons introduction frames the volume effectively by drawing out the salient
functions of young peoples theatre advocacy and the building of new
constituencies located within models of Theatre/ Drama in Education and the
links with prevailing political processes that influence both the mainstream and
alternative activities. His own particular background as theatre academic and
NGO development worker comes to the fore in his timely assertion that the
message driven role plays formerly so favoured by development agencies not
only constitute bad theatre but also bad development. This bold statement is
89
Moclair and Phakama), combined with story-telling strategies that place the
young person at the centre of the theatre process.
Despite the typical contexts of poverty and violence, these case studies leave the
reader with a sense of the power of young peoples creativity and imagination:
To create a global movement of active young people in civil society we have to
start with a few seeds of change. Community by community and country by
country, young people could in time transform a continent. (Etherton p.98) Let
activist Fred Ouko, as chronicled by Phan Y Ly, have the last word: In one of
the largest slums in sub-Saharan Africa, Kibera, where the majority live below
the poverty datum line, everyone would expect to meet frowning faces with lots
of despair, this is not the case. There is a ray of hope coming from a group of
energetic and innovative youth who are ready to go an extra mile in serving their
community needs.
Tim Prentki
University of Winchester
91
Three of the essays explore specific events, each a seemingly sudden convulsion
of violence. The essay by Longman and Butagengwa explores the memory of
the Rwanda genocide and massacres in 1994, with enormous loss of life. Joanna
Davidson details the driving out of the Fula from the community in Susana,
Guinee Bissau, in May 2000, with no direct fatality but resonating nationally.
Belinda Bozzoli analyses the Alexandra rebellion in 1984 and the accounts of
that event recorded in the immediate trials in apartheid South Africa and again
later at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Two of the studies are
specific to a group of people, whose experience of violence as victims and
perpetrators evolves over a period of time. One group is the Zipra fighters for
Zimbabwes war of independence and their subsequent violent history in
Mugabes state. This is a riveting account, based on research over a number of
years by the authors Jocelyn Alexander and Joann McGregor. The other group is
analysed in two essays, one by William Reno and the other by Martha Carey, on
Sierra Leones youth militias in the on-going civil war in that country. Finally,
two essays consider youth vigilantism: Dan Smiths study of the Igbo Bakassi
Boys in southern Nigeria and Elaine Salos extraordinary vivid account of
adolescent masculinity in youth gangs in Manenburg in the Cape.
There is a tripartite division of the book into states, youth and memory.
Donham, in his opening essay defines violence as the force that threatens
bodies and the bare life of bodies. He raises a number of contentious and
critical issues, rejecting the tendency to study violence outside of its social and
community context. That context is especially important in Africa because of the
nature of statehood and the number of failed states. He analyses the social
scientists motivation for studying violence and surveys the problems inherent in
a professionally-based engagement with ordinary people who have become
victims or perpetrators of violence, or both. Violent acts are limit events, both
for the social actors and for the cultural analysts, he concludes. They change
the ways in which we see ordinary everyday life.
I am familiar, over time, with four of the six countries depicted in this book. I
have followed all the events recounted, yet my understanding of the violent
situations in all the individual countries has been changed and enhanced by the
essays in this book. It is an important publication and should be widely read.
There are, and will be, further imbrication of the causes of violence in states: in
Africa and elsewhere, and particularly among dispossessed young men, globally.
Jared Diamond, in his book Collapse [Penguin, 2005], gives a convincing
Malthusian analysis of the Rwanda genocide as one of a number of causes.
Honwanas and De Boecks collection of essays, Makers and Breakers
[James Currey, 2005] on youth and violence in Africa offers important insights
into the globalised context of young Africans. Studies of Islamic fundamentalist
92
training camps in Afghanistan in the 1990s that attracted thousands, if not tens
of thousands, of young Moslem men from around the world, are another strand
of masculine patriarchal violence. The question is how States of Violence, and
similar important research, can inform the activist in civil society, in NGOs, in
peace and reconciliation initiatives These social actors are concerned with the
same ordinary people and the same fractured communities who are struggling to
understand and reorder their lives. They need to access the deeper understanding
this book embodies.
Michael Etherton
No.75. Religion in the Context of African Migration. Eds. Afe Adogame and
Cordula Weisskoppel. 2005, pp. 366, ISBN 3 927510 89 0, 27.95.
No.77. Africa, Europe and (Post)Colonialism: Racism, Migration and
Diaspora. Eds. Susan Arndt and Marek Spitczok von Brisinski. 2006, pp. 346,
ISBN 3 927510 93 9, 34.95.
No. 79. Die Macht des Wortes: Das journalistische Interview als
Rezeptionsform afrikanischer Literaturen. Manfred Loimeier. 2006, pp. 511,
ISBN 3 927510 94 7, 49.95.
No. 81. Subject, Context and the Contours of Nigerian Fiction. EzenwaOhaeto (ed. Eckhard Breitinger). 2007, pp.181, ISBN 978 3 939661 00 9, 9.95.
No. 82. Theatre, Performance and New Media in Africa. Eds. Susan Arndt,
Eckhard Breitinger and Marek Spitczok von Brisinski.. 2007, pp.222, ISBN 978
3 939661 01 6, 19.95.
No. 83. Change Aesthetics in Anglophone Cameroon Drama and Theatre.
Hilarious N.Ambe. 2007, pp.220, ISBN 978 3 939661 02 3, 24.95.
The extraordinary Africana publishing enterprise that is Bayreuth African
Studies, created by Eckhard Breitinger who is now joined as co-publisher by Pia
Thielmann, continues to produce a range of important studies, some of the more
recent of which are listed above. We hope to carry more detailed reviews of
individual volumes in future issues of the LUCAS Bulletin, and on our web site.
Meanwhile, some brief comments on four volumes amongst those listed above.
It is sad to report the death, in a road accident, of Hilarious N Ambe, but he has
left us an authoritative and important study of contemporary Cameroonian
Anglophone theatre (in which, inter alia, he chastises the present reviewer for
being ignorant of important anglophone theatre in material published in the
1970s and 90s). The posthumously published study of Nigerian fiction by the
Nigerian poet and critic Ezenwa-Ohaeto (who died at the age of 47) is
complemented by an edition of Matatu, (No. 33) Of Minstrelsy and Masks: The
Legacy of Ezenwa-Ohaeto in Nigerian Writing, eds. Christine Matzke, Aderemi
Raji-Oyelade and Geoffrey V Davis, Rodopi, Amsterdam & NY, 2006. The
writers under discussion in Die Macht des Wortes are Wole Soyinka and
Ousmane Sembne. Finally, a special word of delight and appreciation for
Georgina Beiers gathering of fourteen conversations about food, culture and
memory from a range of friends and colleagues in Africa. Its a mixture of
cookbook and cultural treasure chest! MB
Also received:
Ngoma: Approahes to Arts Education in Southern Africa. Ed. Robert
Mshengu Kavanagh (Consultant ed. Stephen Joel Chifunyise).
Chipawo/Zimbabwe Academy of Arts Education for Development, Harare,
2006, pp. 216. ISBN 87 7865 600 1, np.
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