The 14-week residency at Lynchburg College is awarded annually to a fiction, poetry, or creative nonfiction writer for the spring term.
The writer-in-residence teaches a weekly creative writing workshop, visits classes, and gives a public reading.
The residency includes a stipend, housing, some meals, and roundtrip travel expenses.
To Apply
To apply, submit a copy of a previously published book, a curriculum vitae, a cover letter outlining evidence of successful teaching experience, workshop course proposal with sample syllabus, and contact information for 3 references, postmarked by October 15 to:
Lynchburg College, Thornton Writer Residency, c/o Julie Williams, School of Humanities and Social Sciences, 1501 Lakeside Drive, Lynchburg, VA 24501. 434.544.8820. Allison Wilkins, Contact.
Application Details:
There is no entry fee
We will be glad to return your book(s) to you if you include a SASE with sufficient postage. Otherwise the book will be donated to the Lynchburg College Library
We do not accept applications by email
We do not accept manuscripts; published books only, please
You may apply in more than one field, but your course proposal and sample syllabus should showcase what you will be doing in the workshop course
Residency Expectations
The residency is for an entire semester. You are expected to arrive before the first day of class and stay until the final exam period. We typically select a fiction writer for the fall semester and either a poet or creative nonfiction writer for the spring semester.
Beginning in the 2013/2014 year, the residency is for the spring semester. You are expected to arrive before the first day of class in January and stay until the final exam period in either late April or early may (depending on the year's academic calendar).
Teaching the Course
The course meets one night a week. To ensure individualized instruction, the class size is limited to 16 students. The workshop contains a mixture of undergraduate and graduate students.
Students often take more than one Thornton writing course during their four years, and academic credit earned can count toward an English major or toward elective hours, depending on the student's needs.
Travel, Meals, and Housing
There is no cost for the residency. Your round-trip travel and housing will be provided (sorry, pets cannot be accommodated).
You will be provided with a meal pass for dining in the Burton Student Center. Additionally, the apartment has a full kitchen, and there is a grocery store within walking distance.
Nightboat Books invites submissions to the 2012 Nightboat Poetry Prize. The winning poet receives $1,000, a standard royalty contract, and 25 free copies of the published book. Finalists are considered for future publication.
JUDGE: KAZIM ALI
Please carefully follow the submission instructions. Thanks!
DEADLINE: Postmark date between September 1, 2012 and October 15, 2012.
Complete Guidelines:
ELIGIBILITY: Any poet writing in English is eligible who: 1. does not have a close personal or professional relationship to the judge; 2. is not a current or recent (within the past five years) student of the judge; and 3. is not affiliated with Nightboat Books. Previous book publication is not a consideration for eligibility. Poems published in print or on-line periodicals, anthologies, or chapbooks may be included, but the manuscript itself must be unpublished. Original work only; translations are ineligible.
FORMAT: 48 to 90 pages (suggested length, manuscripts may be longer or shorter), paginated, no more than one poem per page, double-sided preferred. The manuscript must be typed (clear photocopies are acceptable) and bound only by a spring clip. Include two title pages (one with book title, name, address, telephone and email; one with book title only), table of contents, and acknowledgments page. The author’s name should not appear anywhere in the manuscript except on the first title page.
NOTIFICATION: Enclose a standard business-size SASE for winner notification. We will not return manuscripts. Please do not send your only copy. Send a self-addressed, stamped postcard for notification of manuscript receipt (optional). Nightboat Books cannot answer questions regarding submissions during the reading period.
SIMULTANEOUS SUBMISSIONS: Simultaneous submissions are acceptable. Please notify Nightboat Books immediately if your manuscript is accepted elsewhere.
MULTIPLE SUBMISSIONS: Submission of more than one manuscript is acceptable. Each manuscript must be submitted separately, each with a separate entry fee and SASE.
INTERNATIONAL SUBMISSIONS: We accept International Submissions. (Please remember to include your email address and entry fee payable in US dollars.)
REVISIONS: The winner will have the opportunity to revise the manuscript before publication. No revisions will be considered during the reading period.
ENTRY FEE: A $25 entry fee in the form of a check or money order payable to Nightboat Books must accompany all submissions. In the event that the judge does not find an entry suitable for publication, reading fees will be returned to all entrants. Entrants to this year’s competition may receive a complimentary copy of the winning book. Please enclose a 9×12 self-addressed, stamped envelope with $3.00 in postage if you would like to receive the book.
DEADLINE: October 15, 2012 Postmark. Winner will be announced by April 1, 2013. Winning collection to be published Spring 2014.
SEND YOUR HARDCOPY SUBMISSION, ALONG WITH THE REQUIRED ENTRY FEE, BY FIRST-CLASS MAIL TO:
Nightboat Poetry Prize 153 West Lorain Street Oberlin, OH 44074
Fed Ex or UPS submissions cannot be accepted. No online or fax submissions.
MORE INFO: Email questions/comments to info AT nightboat.org, but please do not send your manuscript to this email address.
Thanks and Good Luck! We look very forward to receiving your work.
Council of Literary Magazines & Presses Contest Code of Ethics
CLMP’s community of independent literary publishers believes that ethical contests serve our shared goal: to connect writers and readers by publishing exceptional writing. We believe that intent to act ethically, clarity of guidelines, and transparency of process form the foundation of an ethical contest. To that end, we agree to 1) conduct our contests as ethically as possible and to address any unethical behavior on the part of our readers, judges, or editors; 2) to provide clear and specific contest guidelines—defining conflict of interest for all parties involved; and 3) to make the mechanics of our selection process available to the public. This Code recognizes that different contest models produce different results, but that each model can be run ethically. We have adopted this Code to reinforce our integrity and dedication as a publishing community and to ensure that our contests contribute to a vibrant literary heritage.
I am a ‘black webisode junkie’. I think it’s because there is no black representation on TV in Australia, so I resort to watching webisodes to fill that hole. This is partly the reason why I don’t sleep!
When I think of Nigerian media in terms of TV and film, I think Nollywood with large doses of sensationalism which becomes a comedy to me for all the wrong reasons. How she left my Brother is nothing like that. It is funny for all the right reasons and features a great cast which includes Eku Edewor, Ivie Okujaye, Vanessa Kanu, O.C Ukeje, Victor Godfrey and Chris Attoh.
How she left my Brother is about a young girl by the name of Ejiro played by Ivie Okujaye who lives with her brother Matt and starts a vlog with the help of her geeky neighbour telling her of subscribers about the issues of her life in particular, getting rid of her brother’s girlfriend.
What I love about this show is that it is short and punchy, but it is also what I don’t like about this show. It is too short! I am always left hanging and wanting more!!! And that’s the beauty of it! They have scripted for 7 episodes, but I am hoping that there will be a couple more in the near future!!!
An experimental short-form dramedy about a webcam, siblings, high heels, hidden cameras - and getting rid of your older brother's obnoxious girlfriend. CAST Ivie Okujaye Chris Attoh Eku Edewor OC Ukeje Vanessa Kanu Victor Godfrey Written and Directed by Victor Sanchez Aghahowa Produced by TatafoHQ and The WongFaeHong Prod. Co.
The author (L) with Dr. Marco Polo Hernández-Cuevas. Courtesy of the author.
Marco Polo Hernández-Cuevas is the Interim Chair of the Department of Modern Foreign Languages at North Carolina Central University, where his interests lie in Transatlantic and Diaspora Studies. He is the author of five books, including The Africanization of Mexico from the Sixteenth Century Onward (2010) and Africa in Mexico: A Repudiated Heritage (2007). He is the founder and director of the Mexican Institute of Africana Studies. Read along as we discuss: Colonialism, Gaspar Yanga, Ivan Van Sertima and Mexico’s Little Black Sambo.
Lamont Lilly: Dr. Cuevas, as only the second individual I know to describe themselves as Afro-Mexican can you share some insight on the cultural connections that exist within such a powerful ethic mix? And why have figures such as Gaspar Yanga and Emiliano Zapata been omitted from history’s reference of heralded freedom fighters?
Statue of Gaspar Yanga in Veracruz, Mexico. Courtesy: Black Art Depot Today.
Marco Polo Hernández-Cuevas: Well, the reason you haven’t heard many refer to themselves as Afro-Mexican is because this is a relatively new term that was first coined by Eurocentric scholars like Melville Herskovits. It was Gonzalo Aguirre Beltrán who coined it in 1945 in Mexico City, during the foundational meeting of the Institute for African American Studies. However, that doesn’t mean that a color consciousness didn’t exist in Mexico. Prior to that, we had a host of names such as “Casta,” “Chilango,” “Jarocho,” and “Boshito,” all terms that refer to the lack of blood cleanliness of non-white persons. That would explain why many people in Mexico do not identify themselves as Afro-Mexican. They refer to themselves as Casta, or any of the other names previously mentioned. Recently however, there’s been a movement in the South Pacific side of Mexico whereby Afro-Mexicans do not want to be called Afro-Mexican. They just want to be called Nĕgro — Black. It erases the science and intellectuality of such embedded complexities.
In the case of Gaspar Yanga, his omission from history obviously has to do with the revolt he led in the late 16th and early 17th centuries against the Spaniards. Mexico did not actually exist at that time, and the Spanish rulers were not eager to historicize such pursuits of freedom. Yanga and others went against their rule. Only after Gonzalo Aguirre Beltrán did Mexicans become aware in the early 1970s that the town of San Lorenzo de Los Negros would be called Yanga (in honor of this Afro warrior). So we know there was an African presence in the region.
As for Emiliano Zapata, he has actually not been omitted from history. Though not as celebrated here, Emiliano Zapata is a very prominent and well-known revolutionary. He’s one of the people who fought in the area of Morelos, a southern part of Mexico, during the Mexican Revolution. What is omitted from history is Zapata’s African descent. He was an Afro-Mexican. This can be proven even beyond appearances by the fact that his motto was that the land belongs to the people who work it. This is a millenary Bantu way of thinking, that may be as old as a couple million years.
LL: Whether Maroon, Zambo or so called Negro, most persons of color throughout the Western Hemisphere are all “African Hybrids” of some varying degree. Considering such, how has colonialism maintained a successful barrier of division among our similar groups?
Hernández-Cuevas: These divisions you speak of Lamont, are engrained mostly through language. With the Spanish deploying a series of words that were heavily charged, yes, divisions were created. People were classified from the get-go when so-called “miscegenation” began. We were classified by the degree of whiteness we possessed. I don’t believe in this miscegenation business. Though all human beings are really one, various social constructs were invented to perpetuate European supremacy. Within a social pyramid, “pigmentocracy” was then introduced.
In the case of Mexico’s 500 years of colonization, which began in 1521, the physical colonization may have ended, but the mental “hold” continues to a certain degree. Many Spanish Eurocentric mental prejudices linger today as healthy as ever. Just look at the Mexican public school books our children use. We should examine more critically the one or two paragraphs that refer to African ancestry and their contribution to the building of the Americas. I can assure you, you’ll find very little, especially in Mexico. These barriers are nothing but the product of ignorance and manipulation. The trick is to unravel knowledge–to create connections by exposing similarities rather than exploiting differences.
LL: In our initial meeting you mentioned several writers whose works have been instrumental in your studies and daily life–Langston Hughes,Manuel Zapata Olivella and Dr. Ivan Van Sertima. Why such an appreciation for these three in particular?
Langston Hughes. Courtesy: fineartamerica.com
Hernández-Cuevas: Well, Langston Hughes traveled quite a bit to Mexico. His father lived in the city of Toluca, as we are told, to escape racism in the U.S. Not only did Langston visit Mexico, he also learned to speak Spanish and would be become a strong voice throughout all of Latin America. His direct impression upon me lies within his explanation that there was a culture that had developed through marginalization–an articulation that when people are forced out of the mainstream, they are required to develop their own language, values, and expressions. This was key to my understanding regarding the formation of Afro culture here in the Western Hemisphere. Along with Hughes’ travels, he would also meet and influence such writers as Nicholás Guillén,whose poetry afterwards underwent a strong Afro metamorphosis. Due to Langston’s Spanish translations, in some instances he’s more widely known and appreciated in Latin America than in the U.S., just as James Baldwin.
In the case of Ivan Van Sertima, he’s one who has shown and directly presented evidence of an African presence in the Americas long before the arrival of Europeans. I became heavily intrigued when I first read Sertima’s book, They Came Before Columbus. Cross-referencing many of the points Sertima articulated in this work provided immense clarity. Eventually, I traveled to Tabasco, the place my mother is from and saw the Olmec Heads. Such artifacts cannot be refuted. The African contributions are undeniable, here. And while many right-minded academicians have attempted to discredit his effort, Sertima’s work and dedication speaks volumes–his interdisciplinary approach ingenious. I reference his work quite a bit in my classes.
As for Manuel Zapata Olivella, he’s one of the most prolific writers in the Spanish language. In addition to his pioneering series of novels, Manuel also completed full volumes of persuasive essays, poetry, children’s books, and anthropological literature. It was he and his sister who actually introduced Cumbia (a West African ritual courtship dance) to the world. Zapata Olivella, under the advice of Hughes, became perhaps the greatest activist in the recovery of the Black memory in all of Latin America. Culturally and historically speaking, his impact is of vital importance for anyone who suffers from this “African Amnesia” Syndrome.
LL: As mutual victims of imperialism and widespread and human rights infringement, what steps can the Afro [North & South American] take today in promoting more unity and collaboration? How do we gain sovereignty from the bowels of neocolonialism?
Hernández-Cuevas: The answer to that, my brother, is education! Education! Education! But real education and not this programming business–us doing our own research, finding out about ourselves, carrying the word from place to place. The key is in exchange. We must exchange heart and soul from our local communities to Afro communities elsewhere on the continent–not only from Haiti, Panama or Brazil, but from Mexico all the way south. We need people, particularly young people, who are endowed with the tools to do the research, with the tools to collect and document, with passion for film, writing and the arts. How else can we learn what really happened here? After all, we are really the same phenomena. Whether captives in the North or South, it’s the same people–different ships. It’s the same people–different ports.
Novelist Loida Maritza Pérez. Courtesy: University of North Carolina.
Afro-Dominican novelist Loida Maritza Pérez details this in her work, Geographies of Home. And Antonio Olliz-Boyd, the emeritus professor from Temple University has just published a fine wine of a work entitled The Latin American Identity and the African Diaspora.Here, Olliz-Boyd dissects precisely our problems of communication, understanding, and perception.
This is why we must gather all of our perspectives as insiders. There’s more than 500 years of lies, abuse, genocide, and ethnic lynching to eradicate. The only way to do this–without going to war, that is–is by deconstructing the whole by its root. For those who may say they have nothing to do with the past, Louis Farrakhan once asked, “If you have nothing to do with what happened in the past, how come you’re enjoying all the fruits of the past?” My point is that if we have nothing to do with the past, then we can now redistribute the fruit of that labor that was exploited and mismanaged.
LL: I found your research on the caricature Memín Penguín to be quite intriguing. Interestingly enough, such a caricature draws an awful close resemblance to Helen Bannerman’s Little Black Sambo. What is Memín Penguín’s cultural and political relevance to those of Mexican descent?
Memín Pinguín. Courtesy: brownplanet.com
Hernández-Cuevas: Well, the same thing that was done with Little Black Sambo is being done with Memín Pinguín. The first work I published on this was in 2003; however, I’ve recently completed a comparative study on Memin Penguin and two other comics. I like to refer to them as “the dark side of light reading.” Dr. Richard L. Jackson, (one of my professors) has produced a great deal of work reflecting such material’s utter detriment. Ariel Dorfman–the Chilean exile now at Duke University–speaks on this as well.
This sort of inexpensive media reaches a lot of people in terms of the masses…and is easy to reproduce. It’s composed at a level where our young are easily indoctrinated. I’m talking about the mind–the wellbeing of our psyches. In his Slaves of the White God: Blacks in Mexico, Dr. Colin A. Palmer articulates in detail the grave horrors our folks endured in New Spain. Far from connecting us to that history, the Memín cartoon actually creates an “other.” It caricatures that experience of us as humorous. It only feeds what Quince Duncan refers to as Endophobia (or a hatred of one’s self). In Mexico City, we had this saying growing up as a kid, “At least I’m not as black as you are!” So you see, it’s the African part that we choose to chop off. We laugh at it, learn to make light of it as if our culture were some comedy show.
In order to really understand Memín Penguín, we’ve got to filter through the historical murk of imperialism. We should know that such material is produced from the outside and is really aimed as an attack, having little to do with a sense of humor. This is nothing but European denigration against the very people who’ve worked the hardest! This is the colonial vacuum in which Africa and its current descendants are still encapsulated. The Afro contribution is serious; it’s no damn joke! It’s generally when the discourse is fed from the outside that the consequences prove to be negative. Sure, my perspective and essays on this can be questioned. However, when Memin defenders call it “pure entertainment,” I don’t believe their explanations to be true or sincere. It’s time we start feeding cohesion and strength, not ignorance!
Lamont Lilly is a contributing editor with the Triangle Free Press, columnist for the African American Voice and organizer with Workers World Socialist Party. He is a freelance journalist based out of Durham, NC.
Mark LeVine Mark LeVine is professor of Middle Eastern history at UC Irvine, and distinguished visiting professor at the Center for Middle Eastern Studies at Lund University in Sweden and the author of the forthcoming book about the revolutions in the Arab world, The Five Year Old Who Toppled a Pharaoh.
Blowback of
the ugliest kind:
The lessons
no one will learn
from Benghazi
The religious oppression, hatred and violence is "a toxic brew that… inevitably begets more of the same", writes LeVine.
Last Modified: 13 Sep 2012
Egypt's Copts are one of the "more systematically abused and discriminated against minorities anywhere" [EPA]
"Does Mideast Democracy Complicate Diplomacy?"
This was the headline of the NY Times' "Room for Debate" section in the wake of the attack that killed the US Ambassador to Libya in Benghazi. Not "Is Arming an Insurgency that Includes Anti-American Jihadis Who Will Unquestionably Wind Up Attacking You a Good Idea?" Not "Does Continuing to Support Undemocratic Monarchs and Dictators in a Region Where People Already Are Angry at US for Decades of Doing So Complicate Diplomacy?"
And certainly not "Did Tens of Billions of Dollars in US Aid to Mubarak While His Government Engaged in and Supported Systematic Violence Against Egyptian Copts Just Come Back to Haunt US in Libya?" Readers wondering "Why Do Religions that Preach Love, Peace, Justice and Forgiveness Seem to Propagate So Much Hatred, War, Injustice and Revenge?" were left to search newspapers of lesser renown to find the beginnings of an answer to this most pertinent question.
Of course, there is absolutely no justification for the attack that killed Ambassador Chris Stevens and several of his entourage as well as Libyan security personnel. And yes, the attacks, and the larger anti-American protests in which they took place, remind us about the powerful strain of unchecked and often unthinking - certainly uncritical - anger and revenge that defines Islam for millions of its adherents.
The unrestrained anger against a YouTube clip has even led to outrage among some Syrian activists, with one tweeting that "the only thing that seems to mobilise the Arab street is a movie, a cartoon or an insult, but not the pool of blood in Syria".
But if the world's paper of record is going to ask questions in the wake of an attack like this week's in Libya, surely it could have done better than this.
A history of violence
Among the many lessons to be learned from the strange, sordid tale of Sam Bacile - aka Nakoula Basseley Nakoula; and who knows what other names - and the "film" (if one can call it that) he apparently made, teaches us, is one that the religious oppression, hatred and violence is a toxic brew that, as Martin Luther King, Jr., so eloquently reminded us, inevitably begets more of the same.
Inside Story: Egypt's clash of religions
In this particular case, decades of oppression and abuse of Egypt's Coptic minority has led some members of the community living in exile to join forces with some of the most chauvinist, hate-filled and Islamophobic groups in the American evangelical community and (posing as an Israeli Jew, no less), to produce a work that according to his associates was expected, and likely designed, to provoke precisely the kind of anger and even bloodshed it succeeded in producing.
Unless you know Egyptian Copts personally have listened to their stories of abuse and violence at the hands of their Muslim Egyptian neighbours, it's hard to understand why an expatriate community member would waste time and money in producing such a cheap polemic guaranteed to lead to even more violence against his community back home, not to mention the global blowback that was equally inevitable.
The reality is that Egypt's Copts are one of the more systematically abused and discriminated against minorities anywhere. And aside from half-hearted paeans to inter-religious fraternity and peaceful resolutions of communal disputes, Muslim leaders in Egypt and across the Muslim majority world - in Pakistan, Palestine, Indonesia in particular - have done far too little not merely forcefully to condemn such violence, but to educate and demand their adherents to treat Christians as equal citizens.
But the violence against Christians is part of a much larger story that only gets more complicated the deeper you dig. In Egypt, it turns out that the Mubarak government, which pretended to be a last line of defence for Copts, in fact incited and even directed violence against Copts by Salafis in order to strengthen its argument that without a secular authoritarian state the situation would be far worse.
More broadly, it's very hard to expect Copts to be treated with respect and dignity when under the Mubarak dictatorship (and long before) men, women, Muslims, Christians, the poor, labour activists - pretty much everyone was treated without respect for their basic human, political, civil and other basic rights.
As in any family or community defined by abuse, the violence just circulates downwards and spreads outwards, with each person abused by someone with power over them passing on the anger and abuse to those below. As many women's rights activists have pointed out over the years across the region, it's hard to press for greater freedom for women as women when at the most basic level, no one is free.
Sadly, a similar question could be asked about Copts; the problem is that such an attitude only means that women, religious and other minorities merely face added layers of discrimination and violence on top of the more generalised political oppression.
Unrealised possibilities
One of the highlights of the 18-day uprising that launched the still unfinished Egyptian revolution was, we might remember, how Copts and Muslims protected each other during each other's prayers. Coupled with the relatively harassment-free environment for women inside Tahrir, the freedom, fraternity and equality between ordinary Egyptians inside that utopic space offered a model for a truly free Egypt.
Egypt protests continue against anti_Muhammad film
But of course, the model was shattered almost the moment Mubarak was pushed from office, as Salafis attempted to hijack the celebrations the very next day and the toxic energy of decades of dictatorship led to sexual assaults of foreigners and Egyptians as well, in Tahrir and across Cairo and other cities in the ensuing months.
Copts fared no better, as the Maspero massacre of October 2011 put into stark relief. But Maspero was not the work of religious fanatics; it was the work of a secular military dictatorship that receives billions of dollars in aid from the United States, Europe and international financial organisations such as the WTO and World Bank, none of which was jeopardised despite that massacre of the arrests, torture and killings of thousands more Egyptians since Mubarak's ouster.
If you want to understand what's behind the embassy attack in Cairo, and the (as I write) just reported embassy attack in Sana'a, Yemen, decades of US support for the former (and in many ways still existing) regimes in these two countries most certainly equals - and most likely outweighs - religious anger at the "film".
Acknowledging legitimate anger does not excuse government responses, particularly in Egypt.Unfortunately, the new, democratically elected Egyptian president, Mohamed Morsi, hails from an organisation that has little experience fighting for the rights of all Egyptians, regardless of their creed, political beliefs, sexual orientations or other markers of identity.
The Brotherhood may have learned the democratic game, but it's a very circumscribed and corporatist view of democracy that has traditionally shown little tolerance for diverse views and life choices that might challenge normative views (although the most recent Satanic metal episode might signal the beginnings of a shift, as I pointed out in my last column). Such a view is of course not much different to that of the Republican Party today, not to mention the religious right in Israel, India and numerous other countries.
But that only means that politics and religion continue to generate chauvinism, hatred, violence and discrimination wherever they combine, even as the chances of keeping them separate seems to diminish with each passing year.
Blowback of the ugliest kind
Americans and Europeans are no doubt looking at the protests over the "film", recalling the even more violent protests during the Danish cartoon affair, and shaking their heads one more at the seeming irrationality and backwardness of Muslims, who would let a work of "art", particularly one as trivial as this, drive them to mass protests and violence.
Yet Muslims in Egypt, Libya and around the world equally look at American actions, from sanctions against and then an invasion of Iraq that killed hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and sent the country back to the Stone Age, to unflinching support for Israel and all the Arab authoritarian regimes (secular and royal alike) and drone strikes that always seem to kill unintended civilians "by mistake", and wonder with equal bewilderment how "we" can be so barbaric and uncivilised.
Russia receives little better grades on this card, whether for its brutality in Afghanistan during the Soviet era, in Chechnya today, or its open support of Assad's murderous regime.
Meanwhile, the most jingoistic and hate-filled representatives of each society grow stronger with each attack, with little end in sight.
Let us assume that the attack was in fact not directly related to the protests in Benghazi but rather was the work of an al-Qaeda affiliated cell that either planned it in advance or took advantage of the opportunity to attack. If correct, we are forced to confront the very hard questions raised by the support for the violent insurgency against Gaddafi instead of following the much more difficult route of pressing for continued non-violent resistance against his murderous regime.
Coptics flee Egyptian village amid clashes
Such a choice was extremely hard to make while Gaddafi was massacring Libyans by the thousands. But it's one the needs to be examined in great detail if the most recent deaths are to have any lasting meaning. As long as the jihadis were rampaging Mali or destroying Sufi shrines, Americans didn't have to think about the costs of supporting the violent removal of Gaddafi.
Now that the violence has been turned against their representatives, will Americans respond as expected, with prejudice and ignorance? Or, during this crucial election season, will they ask hard questions of their leaders about the wisdom of violent interventions in the context of a larger regional system which the United States administers that remains largely driven by violence?
As I flew home yesterday from Europe, unaware of what had transpired in Libya, I read through the 2008 report by the Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, titled "From Exporting Terrorism to Exporting Oppression: Human Rights in the Arab Region".
The report described the often unbearable levels of abuse suffered by citizens across the region is one of the most depressing reads imaginable. Every single government, from Morocco to Iraq, was defined by the systematic abuse of its citizens, denial of their most basic rights, and rampant corruption and violence. And in every case, such abuses and violence have been enabled by Western, Russian and other foreign interests.
Simply put, each and all the policies and actions described in the report - and 2008 was no better or worse than the years that proceeded or followed it - are as much forms of terror as the destruction of the World Trade Centre, invasion of Iraq, or attack on the US Consulate in Benghazi.
In fact, the Middle East and North Africa have for over half a century constituted one of the largest and most pernicious terror systems of the modern era. And the US, Europe, Russia, and now increasingly China have been accessories, co-conspirators, and often initiators of this terror throughout the period, working hand-in-hand with local governments to repress their peoples and ensure that wealth and power remain arrogated by a trusted few.
Who can lead?
If the combination of the report and the news of the Benghazi attack weren't enough, within 20 minutes of arriving home, and while I was getting up to speed on the Benghazi attacks to respond to the inevitable media queries that were coming my way (Why do Muslims react like this just to a stupid movie? was what everyone wanted to know), I received the following alert from some Moroccan activists:
"A young Moroccan, in his twenties, who was employed and active in Communications, PR and Event Planning, has just been sentenced to 10 months in prison following a peaceful protest in Casablanca to free political detainees in Morocco last month. Samir Bradley was tortured by the Moroccan security apparatus during his initial interrogation. Sexual abuse, plucking of the eyelashes and attempts to pull of his nails were part of the techniques used by Moroccan authorities to humiliate him into submission.
After a ridiculously unfair trial and ruling, Proud and Strong, Samir has now started a hunger strike and is refusing water. Samir is an innocent active patriotic young man. A peaceful activist who only used peaceful means to push for positive change in Morocco. He will die in three days. The next time anyone reads the Articles 20 to 29 of the new Moroccan Constitution, please refer to reality to understand Morocco is not an 'exception'. The regime is repressing peaceful protests and Morocco is far... FAR from reaching out for Rule of Law."
This abuse was perpetrated by a "moderate", "modern" regime whom Secretary of State Clinton recently praised as not merely a leader for peace in the region, but a "very good model for others who are also seeking to have their own democratic reforms".
"The most jingoistic and hate-filled representatives of each society grow stronger with each attack, with little end in sight."
What do Americans really expect to be the result of such bald-faced lies and support for brutality by our leaders?
The Arab uprisings of the last two years have at least given the world hope that a rising generation, in the region and - with their inspiration - globally, is finally trying to challenge the international terror system that ensures that hundreds of millions (indeed, billions) of people live mired in poverty and hopelessness, with almost no chance to create a better future, all so that a global elite can enjoy unimaginable wealth and power.
As global warming increases with its attendant environmental crises, food and fuel become more scarce and expensive, and global inequality rends social fabrics everywhere, we all have a choice.
We can succumb to the hatred and anger and each do our own part to speed the trip to our collective Hell, or we can follow the lead of the heroes of Bourguiba Boulevard, Midan Tahrir, Madrid's Puerta del Sol, Wall Street and numerous other places where during the last two years, at least for a moment, ordinary people have come together to knock down the system that has oppressed them for as long as they can remember.
Choice number one is far easier, as it will happen merely by continuing to think and act, as we always have and letting inertia carry us over the cliff. Choice number two demands that people everywhere engage in serious soul searching, make profound changes in their most basic attitudes, beliefs, actions and policies, and then force our leaders to do the same.
Whichever choice we collectively make, events like the Benghazi attacks and all they signify remind us that at least we've been warned.
Mark LeVine is professor of Middle Eastern history at UC Irvine and distinguished visiting professor at the Centre for Middle Eastern Studies at Lund University in Sweden and the author of the forthcoming book about the revolutions in the Arab world, The Five Year Old Who Toppled a Pharaoh. His book, Heavy Metal Islam, which focused on 'rock and resistance and the struggle for soul' in the evolving music scene of the Middle East and North Africa, was published in 2008.
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Demonstrations erupt in Yemen, Tunisia, Egypt, Gaza, over film made in US which insults Prophet Muhammed.
Last Modified: 13 Sep 2012
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A film released on Youtube that is considered blasphemous has sparked violent protests and attacks on US diplomatic missions in several countries. Here a Palestinian man burns the US flag during demonstrations in Gaza City on September 12.
MAHMUD HAMS/AFP/Getty Images
Protesters angered by an anti-Islam film storm the US Embassy in Yemen's capital.
MOHAMED ABD EL GHANY/REUTERS
A Libyan man holds a placard in English during a demonstration against the attack on the US consulate that killed four Americans, including the ambassador, in Benghazi, Libya.
Hassene Dridi/AP
A Palestinian man holds a placard praising Islam's Prophet Muhammad during a demonstration against a film deemed offensive to Islam in front of United Nations' headquarters in Gaza City.
YAHYA ARHAB/EPA
Egyptian protesters burn the US flag during a demonstration in Cairo.
Ibrahim Alaguri/AP
Muslims demonstrate outside the US embassy in Tunis demanding its closure.
ESAM OMRAN AL-FETORI/REUTERS
Demonstrators hold a message during a rally to condemn the killing of the US Ambassador to Libya.
STR/EPA
A group of protesters shout slogans during a demonstration outside the US Embassy, in Tunisia. About one hundred people demonstrated in front of the US embassy for the second time in 24 hours on September 12.
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An elite Philippine police commando stands guard near the perimeter fence of the US embassy in Manila on September 13.The Us has heightened security at its diplomatic missions around the world.
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Egyptian protesters attend evening prayers during a demonstration in front of the US embassy in Cairo. Graffiti on the wall reads "there is one God, we will live with dignity," and "anyone but God's prophet".
The tragic incident in Benghazi highlights 'the government's inability to assert its control over the state'.
Last Modified: 13 Sep 2012
Some demonstrations in Benghazi condemned the attack on the US consulate [Reuters]
On the face of it, the attack on the US consulate in Benghazi on Tuesday evening seems a simple, if horrific, affair, but its implications for Libya itself are far wider.
Why did it happen when it did? Who was really responsible? How could four Americans have been killed, given the United States’ role in ending the Gaddafi regime? And what are the implications for the Libyan government about to come into office?
Why now?
First, the timing; those involved claimed that they were protesting a film on Facebook insulting Prophet Mohammed. The film certainly did exist and it is profoundly insulting. It was made by "Sam Bacile", who claimed to be an Israeli-American property developer in California who has now gone into hiding, protesting that he never anticipated such a reaction.
Well, that is difficult to believe: Bacile said he had it dubbed in Arabic by a Coptic friend of his as part of an ongoing anti-Islam campaign in the United States which is now so intense that the Muslim Public Affairs Council in the US has just published a brief exposing the top 25 anti-Muslim rabble-rousers, in an attempt to stop the polarisation of public opinion.
US consulate employee killed in Libya attack
Nor is Bacile alone in his attempt to inflame Muslim opinion; Pastor Jones of Florida, already notorious for threatening to burn the Quran last year, is behind another anti-Muslim film which is doing the rounds. And he had planned an event timed for last Tuesday to highlight the "threat" that Islam, he believes, poses to Western values.
And, of course, it is no accident that all these initiatives should have emerged at the time when they did; at a time when public opinion, both in the United States and in the Muslim world, is especially sensitive about the claims they embody. But, of course, that may not be the only or even the real reason for the incident and the parallel violent demonstration outside the US embassy in Cairo.
Just a few days ago, the current leader of al-Qaeda, Ayman Zawahiri, admitted that a US drone attack had killed Abu Yahya al-Libi, his close and trusted collaborator. He called on Libyans to avenge al-Libi's death which, in fact, had actually occurred in June but which al-Qaeda had not confirmed.
Indeed, back in June, shortly after claims of al-Libi’s death emerged, there was an attack on the US embassy in Benghazi in an apparent revenge, although nobody at the time was hurt. Interestingly enough, Zawahiri's incitement is the explanation preferred by Noman Benotman, of the Quilliam Foundation, a former member of the Islamist opposition to the Gaddafi regime in the 1990s.
Who did it?
And that, of course, raises the question of who did it? The initial reports of the violence in Benghazi suggested that those responsible were members of "Ansar al-Sharia", one of the many extremist Salafi groups that have emerged in Eastern Libya since the revolution, as part of an older tradition of extremism dating back to the 1990s. It has been accused, most recently by Mahmoud Jibril, the leader of Libya’s major political coalition, of being responsible for several recent assassinations in Benghazi.
Yet, the deputy Libyan interior minister also claimed that the attack had been carried out by pro-Gaddafi elements. The claim is not as surprising as it may sound, for there have been a series of attacks and assassinations by such groups in Tripoli in recent weeks, often masquerading as Islamist incidents. And, in any case, only a few days ago, Abdullah Senussi, Colonel Gaddafi’s former security head, was extradited, surprisingly, to Libya, a betrayal they might well want to avenge.
"Whoever did attack the consulate came well-prepared, with rocket-propelled grenades and sufficient small arms to outfight and outgun the consulate's guards, both Libyans and Americans."
What is clear is that, whoever did attack the consulate came well-prepared, with rocket-propelled grenades and sufficient small arms to outfight and outgun the consulate's guards, both Libyans and Americans. Indeed two American marines were amongst the dead, together with the ambassador and a consulate information officer. Nor were the numbers involved in the actual attack so large; estimates range between 20 and 50 men who were quite separate from other, peaceful protesters who were certainly there because of their anger about the offending film.
Nor, indeed, is this the first time that such an incident has provoked such demonstrations. On February 17, 2006, 14 people were killed by Libyan security forces outside the Italian consulate after an Italian member-of-parliament had provocatively worn, on a TV channel watched in Libya, a tee-shirt bearing one of the 2005 Danish cartoons of Prophet Mohammed, which had caused a storm of protest throughout the Middle East.
How could it have happened?
Given US obsession with the security of its posts overseas ever since the original US embassy hostage crisis and subsequent bombings elsewhere in the early 1980s, it seems surprising that the American ambassador to Libya should have been so lightly protected and that the consulate building had such limited protection too. It was apparently a rocket-propelled grenade that started the fire in the building, in which the ambassador died whilst hasty arrangements were being made to move the staff to a safe house.
Yet, the building also had Libyan guards who, by all accounts, were outgunned and effectively stood aside. Even after the attack, there was no attempt to cordon off the burning building, and locals were able to loot it at will. Yet, even though the attackers were well-armed, their numbers were small and surely the local authorities would have gone out of their way to protect the representatives of a state that had contributed so heavily to Libya’s own victory last year.
In fact, the tragic incident in Benghazi highlights what is becoming the major systemic crisis in Libya; the inability of the government to assert its control over the state. Libya is still in thrall to a myriad of militias which do not necessarily listen to the central authorities in Tripoli. Some have been co-opted into the government’s emerging security organisation - through the ministry of defence's Libyan Shield, which brings the Zintan and the Misurata militias together, ostensibly under government control; others have been conscripted into the ministry of the interior’s Supreme Security Committee, whilst the remnants of the Libyan army are being labouriously reassembled.
But there is still no central authority capable of imposing its will on Libya overall and, until this is achieved, it is difficult to be optimistic about the successful conclusion of Libya's painful transition from the dictatorship of thejamahiriya to a democratic state. In short, what the tragic violence in Benghazi tells us is that the United States has seen its diplomats there fall victim to the security failure that has emerged from the civil war.
George Joffe is a Research Fellow at the Department of Politics and International Studies at the University of Cambridge.
The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera's editorial policy.
Protests against an anti-Islam film at the American embassy in Cairo have taken a violent turn as police attempt to disperse thousands. Initially, Salafis called for a protest on Friday angered by a mysterious film supposedly made in the US, which insults the Prophet Mohammad. Though very few people have actually watched the trailer for the film, which was uploaded to YouTube, anger spread by word of mouth in Cairo, as youth scaled the walls of the American Embassy, tearing down the flag and replacing it with one that depicts Islamic emblems. Violence has been ongoing in Cairo for over 24 hours, with hundreds injured and dozens arrested. The ruling Muslim Brotherhood party initially called for protests this Friday across Egypt, but called off the demonstration.
Meanwhile on Twitter, the US embassy staff in Cairo responded to a tweet by the Muslim Brotherhood, which expressed relief that “none of the US embassy staff were harmed and hope US-Eg[yptian] relations will sustain turbulence of Tuesday’s events” by pointing out the MB’s doublespeak: “"Thanks. By the way, have you checked out your own Arabic feeds? I hope you know we read those too."
I’ve been puzzled and not a little disturbed by the lack of empathy on South African social media with the horrific events at Marikana, where 34 protesting miners were killed by police on August 16th. Yes, someone has posted a few links here, a few comments there, but given the magnitude of this event, and what it means for the country I would have expected a wave of slogans, a mass of altered profile pictures and so forth expressing collective grief and outrage. Not so. With few exceptions (this is one), I think there was more activity in solidarity with Pussy Riot than with the Lonmin miners. There was more of a social media flurry over claims that retail chain Woolworths refuses to hire white staff. In fact a recent Google search analysis (definitely reflecting how white social media are) on South African advertising site Marklives had the top three searches from South Africa as: the death of actor Michael Clarke Duncan (he did play very large, monosyllabic black men who don’t say much), followed by the fake racism at Woolworths and then the weather.
A friend suggests that the relative silence on Marikana is because there is a lot of confusion on who the good guys and bad guys are. Really? Yes, it seems protesters had killed two policemen and two security guards in the days leading up to the massacre (though the context is murky, and the death toll prior to August 16th included three protesters and two other men). Yes, some video footage shows the miners aggressively confronting the police. Nevertheless, a police response that results in 34 deaths and many more injuries is hugely disproportionate. At the very least, it indicates dismal police training and preparedness for dealing with such situations.
But then came carefully researched reports (here and here) by South African journalist Greg Marinovich, positing that even though some miners had died in the confrontation with police, police had subsequently hunted down and killed at least 14 men in cold blood. Marinovich’s own investigation and observation was backed up by research conducted by University of Johannesburg sociologists Thapelo Lekgowa, Botsang Mmope and Peter Alexander. There were other reports that some of the miners had been shot in the back — while fleeing. If this was not enough, police arrested 259 of the miners and charged them, not with the death of the two policemen, but with the murder of their own protesting colleagues. An outrage and an absurdity as pointed out by University of Cape Town constitutional law professor and prolific blogger Pierre de Vos. (The charges were subsequently withdrawn.)
Subsequent interviews by other media outlets seem to corroborate Marinovich’s allegations.
And yet despite all this, despite many articles pointing out the terrible conditions under which the miners work, and the gaping inequalities and disparities behind their protest, there seems to be inertia — huge reluctance among the public to fault the police and express any kind of outrage — or even sympathy for the miners. First came denial: an article in The Star that appeared shortly after Marinovich’s first article appeared was headlined “Journalist’s Account of Shooting Questioned”. The entire article was based on the comments of a single security analyst who rejected Marinovich’s allegations simply because he couldn’t bring himself to believe the police would behave in such a manner. Another article by Philip de Wet (who previously blogged at The Daily Maverick where Marinovich’s articles were published) asserted that it is simply impossible to ever know what really happened. Which is, as Marinovich has pointed out (in a must read interview), just ‘bullshit’.
So what’s going on? Partly, it’s to do with people’s tendency to believe and react to images over text. The majority of readers commenting on these stories insist on trusting television news footage of the moment over painstaking forensic investigation. But it also has to do with the way most media have covered and continue to cover the strike. This was pointed out by academic Julie Reid, also in the Daily Maverick. Her piece also argues that the day-to-day event-based coverage has also helped obscure a very worrying much larger trend of police violence against citizens. Beyond a lack of investigation and intelligent mining of the data, I have not come across any article that has attempted to get into the lives of the miners, show them to us as individuals, and help us genuinely understand their daily struggles. Much (if not everything) of what has been written lately glosses over miners’ past, dreams, desires, frustrations, etc. Short: their lives. The failure to give attention to those details made it impossible to imagine what it would mean to live a miner’s life, which has allowed the debate to be sucked into a very ordinary South African debate — a spiral of numbers, acronyms, figures, maps and politicking that works as a cover to say: we haven’t got a clue. This opinion piece in City Press (a major Sunday newspaper) by novelist and former university administrator Njabulo Ndebele is one of the few texts out there that at least hints at some sort of identification/empathy with the miners. (This weekend, City Press, also finally published short profiles of all the victims of the police massacre at Marikana — on the website you can read it in five parts: here, here, here, here and here — basic piece of journalism we urged on our Facebook page right after the massacre just happened.)
There have been few reports putting hard questions to the mine owners.
Some newspapers have published the dubious claims of analysts (like the discredited Mike Schussler) that the Marikana miners — who live in a squatter camp next to the mine — are paid too much anyway.
But it’s about more than just the media.
The ANC leadership and its allies in the trade union movement and the Communist Party seem at a loss how to respond, either characterizing the miners as dupes of party rivals of President Jacob Zuma (Julius Malema slots into that role) or as irrational (an interpretation the media dutifully reports). The Democratic Alliance, the second largest political party in parliament, is hardly on the side of the black poor; in the first statement by a DA politician right after the massacre, the party’s parliamentary leader, Lindy Mazibuko (the most senior black leader in the otherwise white DA) said that the massacre presented an opportunity for the ANC to finally deal with the unions. (This is the kind of sentiment which also underpins coverage and editorial comment in the country’s “leading” broadsheet, Business Day).
Many South Africans don’t seem to care at all whether or not these allegations against the police are true. They express sentiments similar to those aired by the new police commissioner, Riyah Phiyega, that the police should not be sorry for the 34 deaths, as “the safety of the public is non-negotiable”. Apparently working class miners, striking for a decent wage and safe working conditions don’t count as ‘the public’. The trouble is, if we are to believe Julie Reid’s well-substantiated argument that police violence is widespread and increasing, this definition of ‘the public’ seems to be getting ever narrower. Will we take notice only when we find ourselves suddenly outside the circle?
* Sean Jacobs and Tom Devriendt contributed to this post.
The Marikana mine killings may show that South Africa's problems are no longer specific to the apartheid legacy, but about more global issues of poverty and inequality.
Striking miners chant near Marikana, South Africa. (AP)
On Thursday, August 16th, South African security forces shot dead 34 protesters at Marikana, a platinum mine, owned and operated by multinational firm Lonmin, in South Africa's Northwest Province. The dead were rock drill operators on strike for better wages -- most of them reportedly earned around the equivalent of $500 per month -- and a higher standard of living.
Because of the excessive violence (video of the shootings have gone viral), some are making comparisons to the tragic events of March 1960, when South African security forces, then defending the apartheid regime, murdered 69 protesters in Sharpeville, a black township south of Johannesburg. The victims in Sharpeville had gathered to protest the apartheid state's requirement that adult Africans could only set foot in South African cities if they showed a passbook proving they were employed by local whites.
Times have changed -- last Thursday's dead had a right to vote, which many of them doubtlessly cast in support of the African National Congress, the party that has governed South Africa since apartheid's end in 1994. Yet, once again, the South African state has shed the blood of its citizens. The similarities and differences between that half-century-old killing and this month's are a reminder of how much South Africa has changed, and how much it hasn't; how South Africa is singular and how it's susceptible to the same forces of class and inequality as any other democracy.
Marikana presented familiar images -- singing protesters dancing in the faces of uniformed, well-armed police, who deployed with cannon and armored vehicles, and were followed by shots and slowly settling dust. Not surprisingly, the South African government and its defenders reject the comparison. The national police commissioner defended her officers, noting that the strike had been violent -- even deadly -- before the police arrived. On the day of the massacre, miners were armed, some with spear-like assegais and machetes. They had marched on the police voicing "war chants." To be sure, the state had the preponderance of power, but this was not Sharpeville.
Yet, in its catalyzing potential, in perhaps forcing South Africa to confront a serious social ill, Marikana might still prove to be something like the post-apartheid state's Sharpeville.
After the 1960 massacre, South Africa was kicked out of the international community: condemned at the United Nations; eventually excluded from the Olympics. Those killed at Sharpeville had been protesting in the name of freedom of movement and democratic participation in their national future, touchstones of the UN charter and of international human rights. The Cold War complicated the politics, but the world seemed largely to agree that the South African government was beyond the pale. Time and struggle undid the legacy of Sharpeville; a generation later, South African athletes featured prominently at this summer's London Olympics, a clear reminder that South Africa is once more welcomed within the community of nations.
Human rights and democracy are wonderful and the world justly celebrates South Africa for having attained them. But the years since 1994 have demonstrated that poverty and inequality can be far wilier foes than white supremacy. South Africa was white supremacist, but it was also characterized by a particularly brutal form of capitalism, with few or no protections for workers. That latter hasn't changed much. In the days since the massacre, Lonmin has ordered the miners back to work without adjusted wages; the company'spublic statements have fretted about what it means for their shareholders' bottom line. In the years since 1994, state violence against protesters has been frequent -- witness the 2011 police killing of schoolteacherAndries Tatane during a protest calling attention to squalid conditions in townships. In post-apartheid South Africa, Marikana was not aberrant; it was just excessive.
South Africa is now essentially a "normal" democratic country dealing with issues that, however extreme they sometimes appear, are not actually so unique: economic inequality, labor rights abuses, corporate irresponsibility. These are not South African issues, they're democratic issues. Because South Africa was the last hold-out among the 20th century's legion of racial and colonial states, and because its liberation movement took place after the international consensus on human rights and non-racism had already emerged at least at a rhetorical level, it is often treated as an exceptional case. This may have been true under apartheid, at least to some extent, but it is no longer.
The practice of treating South Africa as so different has been compounded by the myth of the rainbow nation, the singular celebrity of Nelson Mandela, and the much-touted reconciliatory nature of its transition to democracy. While there are certainly aspects of the South African story that are distinctive, Europeans and Americans have their own shameful racial histories. Aspects of South Africa's political economy are, relatively speaking, globally commonplace: neoliberal economic policy, the predominance of multinational corporations, privatization and the weakening of labor are all issues that South Africa is not alone in facing.
Yet many of the mainstream op-eds and editorials have attempted to make sense of the violence byinterpreting it, and South Africa, in a way that emphasizes the country's particular history, rather than considering the ways in which the killings at Marikana speak to larger international trends. The narrative of South African exceptionalism has limited our analysis of this massacre by making it difficult to see it as anything other than further evidence of the failure and disappointment of South African liberation. Yet Marikana is bigger than South Africa. That's not to bash those particular writers or outlets, of course, but to note the tendency to perceive South Africa in the specific, limiting context of apartheid and its aftermath.
What can we learn from the dead in the dust in Marikana? Maybe the lessons are not so much about fulfilling the promise of post-apartheid as they are the less particular but even more daunting challenges of poverty and inequality, those faced by the entire international community. It was a great day when South Africa ended apartheid and joined the community of democratic nations, but that community has problems of its own.
Rather than judge South Africa in the wake of this 21st century Sharpeville, the rest of the world ought to ask what kind of community post-apartheid South Africa has joined.
The Marikana Memorial Service for 44 slain South African miners
By Jerry Okungu Nairobi, Kenya August 27, 2012Last week was unique for our brothers and sisters in South Africa. It was the moment the Marikana police murders of over 40 striking miners reminded us of South Africa of Apartheid era. The shooting of miners easily reminded the world of the 1960s Sharpeville Massacre or better still the 1976 Soweto massacre of school children by the police.The three incidents in 1960, 1976 and 2012 spanning nearly 50 years had one thing in common- state sanctioned murders by the police. The one glaring difference was that unlike the Sharpeville and Soweto massacres over four decades earlier, this time round, there was no racist apartheid to blame. The government that murdered its people for the sake of foreign investors was a Black government- a Black President, a Black Police Minister and a Black Police Commissioner!On the day these chilling state murders were taking place, something else was happing in the South African judiciary that equally perplexing. Chris Mahlanga, a black farm hand earlier accused of killing Terrence Blanche, a known White Supremacist over a pay dispute was jailed for life! And who was the presiding judge in this case? It was none other than Justice John Horn, a White South African!As an observer from Nairobi, I may not have all the facts to ascertain where the blame lies in both cases. May be in the Chris Mahlanga case, he confessed to killing a known Nigger hater, may be out of frustration for continuously being exploited with nowhere to turn. And looking at Mahlanda, it would appear like he hadn’t gone to school much and maybe he didn’t even know his basic legal rights and channels for redress. Now he has to rot in jail for the rest of his life for killing the man who might have abused him for a long, long time.The Marikana murders beg more questions than answers. If indeed the Marikana miners were armed with guns and crude weapons, how come on this particular day they did not return fire and wound at least one policeman? If indeed the police felt threatened, why didn’t they shoot into the air or even use rubber bullets that can equally disable rioters so that they could make arrests?The behavior of Jacob Zuma, Police Minister and Police Commissioner was shocking even to outsiders like us in East Africa.Here was a national tragedy where over 40 lives had been lost, with equal number of families widowed and orphaned. Yet, even before investigations were carried out, the Police Minister and his commissioner were busy defending this apartheid era brutality. Was it necessary to defend the police action so early in the day? Wouldn’t it have been better PR for the Zuma government if the Police Minister and commissioner resigned over this fiasco? At least this cause of action would have mollified the grieving Black families. Alternatively, why didn’t the police commissioner or even the police minister order the immediate suspension of the squad commander and his team to allow for thorough investigation? In civilized societies like South Africa, this is what is considered being accountable and taking responsibility for actions of your office.But the most interesting twist to the whole tragedy was Jacob Zuma’s behavior. Indeed he cut short his official trip to Mozambique following the Marikana murders. However, after he visited the scene and declared a day of mourning, he chose to skip the memorial service. This was not withstanding the claim by Julius Malema earlier that it was Zuma who ordered the police to shoot to kill the miners.As a popularly elected president, it was curious and baffling why a sitting head of state would stay away from such a sensitive national tragedy. Obviously his absence from the Marikana Memorial Service must have easily lent credence to Julius Malema’s wild claims.More importantly, as a head of state, it is on such national tragedies that the sitting president must have the courage and provide leadership by leading from the front. He needed to be at the memorial service to mourn with the nation, console the bereaved families and trash Malema’s claims. He did none of the above.Press reports coming out of South Africa do not seem to indicate that the police that shot dead the miners have been reprimanded. And as anxiety continues to grip the South African mining industry, not to mention the entire COSATU workers’ fraternity, it is anybody’s guess what the future holds for South Africa.However, one thing is for sure. These grisly murders have rekindled the notion that the change of guard in Pretoria has not changed anything for Blacks in that country. The poor South African workers will continue to live in hovels earning a poor man’s wage and get killed like animals should they raise their head. Worse still, the Apartheid era White boss is still the owner of the mines.The Chris Mahlangas of South Africa must prepare to take over from Nelson Mandela by serving life sentences in South African jails for either threatening the comforts of the landowners or killing their tormentors.May be South Africans had better embark on the Second Liberation if they want to attain true freedom this time from the ANC that has betrayed them.
Where have we gone wrong, asks Simphiwe Dana, in an open letter to Black Consciousness activist Steve Biko on the 35th anniversary of his death.
In these times of open letters I have decided to pen one to you, and I feel it is long overdue. That we can write open letters without fear or favour should make you proud as one of the bringers of our freedom. So thank you for walking that path so we, your progeny, may never have to walk it. And may we never abuse these freedoms.
I must say I miss your voice of reason. Since you've been gone the gains have been very little and the sacrifices plenty for this freedom of ours. Do not worry I have no intention of whining but rather I seek answers that will propel us into action, because you're a hands-on kind of a guy and this is the depth of your passion.
I remember your calculation of what the apartheid state would do were they to be forced to cede power to the rightful owners. You spoke of a buffer zone that would help protect their ill-gotten privileges. How did you know?
South Africa is the richest economy in Afrika. This is true and it is beautiful – but who are these rich people when two thirds of the country lives on under R2 500 a month? And who are these poor people living such miserly lives?
Why has every state initiative to alleviate poverty and balance the scales of justice failed? Why has the face of our oppression become so invisible? The elite who have no intention of being hands on discuss it over tea.
You spoke of a separation of powers. Today I see the effects of the separation of political power from economical power spanning the last 18 years. I also see the overzealousness of the buffer zoners in pursuit of excellence in buffer zoning. I see the advent of neo-colonialism because the buffer zoners have been duped into doing nothing for their people, playing into the stereotype that we are not capable of governing ourselves, and playing into the hands of our oppressors. Of course you cannot govern without passion and love for your constituency. And when you have passion and love you have vision.
The truth is we are a defeated people. You knew that and you planned for it. You planned our revival and put it to paper so it would outlive you. How could we have got it so wrong?
We bent over backwards for the idea of freedom and in the process lost the right to raise our fists in the air in salute of the people's power. That power had been swindled right under our feet in secret meetings while we were caught up in the euphoria of a free Mandela: in secret meetings that would create a buffer zone to lull us into a rainbow slumber.
How much of a sacrifice do we require of our leaders? Is 27 years enough? Is your death enough? Did you even choose to be a leader for us to have all these expectations of you? Or was it a matter of circumstance?
As has become obviously apparent, the outcome of the secret meetings was not the desired one for us. What should happen now?
I'm asking you because you connected people, got them on the same page. The ball game is slightly different now. The fight is to now inspire. Our leaders lack the will to do right. Our people have given away power over their lives.
See, you were right. This freedom has to start on the inside. I can believe that despite the skewed negotiations of 1992, you would still have pushed a rigorous education campaign because education trumps all oppression. Education is initiation into life, it teaches us how to fish. Skewed negotiations or not we would have made strides that would have equipped us with enough knowledge to dismantle this system that has such a chokehold on our everyday existence even in the days of our 'freedom'. This knowledge in the hands of a few becomes either a weapon to be used against the masses or it is used to give reason to ridicule those who dare impart it to the masses. They become ostracised by a society well experienced in policing itself.
Now education has become a class symbol. I remember walking barefoot to school in a uniform two sizes too small and on a stomach filled with sour milk or sweet water and umphokoqo (pap). I remember my teachers were not so well equipped, what with Bantu Education and all – but I remember their passion. I remember the books that were available to me at school. I remember Michael Jackson's soy mince and pap lunch meal donations. The feeling in the air was that education was the way out. Most of us never bunked school. Those who did bunk had to hide from the whole community because everyone was your parent and had a right to spank you all the way back to school. It was more about the quality of the knowledge and education than it was about whether we were freezing our buttocks off, barefoot in winter, or in windowless classrooms. This knowledge gave us the tools to break our oppression so that no other child would have to go through that.
I remember also that your understanding of the freedom that education brings stems from being shaped by a similar environment. This environment shaped most of our leaders as well.
That is why I fail to understand the disconnect that exists between our leaders and us, the people, today. How have they failed to use those tools to implement change? How could they feel better than the rest when they were once where the majority of our people are stuck in? How did they get to those positions if they are so uninterested in the plight of the people? Or what has changed?
I believe that, overwhelmed by the weight of concessions made at the negotiations, our leaders decided to save themselves and their families rather and do what they can for the rest. So our wellbeing became a job for them instead of the next stage of our liberation. That is why they are so hard on us and are even slightly disgusted when they see the true face of blackness in our stark poverty. Then they will say things like: "Pick up your socks, no one owes you anything." This can only be a show of their disgust at their own failure, again playing right into the hands of our oppressors. I can imagine that this weighs heavily on those within the power structures who do not see governance as a job but phase three of liberation. I feel for them.
Now 'blacks are lazy' has become the mantra of the privileged and those who aspire to privilege, even as our broken-backed mothers and fathers are serving them on, hand and foot.
This is what makes me sad 'Ta Biko. We have become agents of our own demise. We no longer have a common vision. Individualism becomes a trap if not understood within the concept or context of Ubuntu. Unfortunately it is a trap that ensnares not only those who fall into it but anyone else within reach. We have become victims of individualism, populism and of our leaders' short-sightedness. These leaders, rather than put their heads together and draft a way forward after The Deceit, squabble over positions and ideals. They divide us – and the people lose. At election time they bring our people bags of mealie meal, T-shirts, and remind them who pays their social grants. Do you think a revolution is necessary to bring everyone back to the fold? Or is there a chance we can still talk to each other?
Afrika has always had royalty, and in fact has thrived on royalty. This has been our system of governance from time immemorial. It is all we know. So I have no issues with political royalty, because royalty status could be withdrawn from one family and given to another if the people deemed this to be the best course of action. Yes, we had our National Executive Councils even then. I only take issue with royalty when it does not realize that the people anointed it to serve the nation, not the other way round
Why do we need governance if not for this?
Unfortunately, unlike in the olden days, we cannot break away from this mother tribe called South Africa and form a new tribe because the rules have changed. We have to stand our ground and fight for a better life. What must we do with all this brokenness? Tell me.
Could it be that it is only now that we are truly defeated? Because I find that the symbol of our oppression is being blackened everyday, while the true perpetrators lurk in the shadows. Could it be that now we will deliver ourselves willingly to neo-colonialism because it was right, we are like children, simple minded and incapable of governing ourselves? I ask because this sentiment is growing out here. There is no cohesion in South Africa; there is especially no cohesion within the black community. It is dog eat dog out here. Our centuries' old fear of being irrelevant and less haunts us, making us trample over each other's heads to get to the top. It is brutal.
The ultimate goal is to be a white black person with your own minions: The boss who's posterior everyone kisses. Yes we want the car, the suit, the job, and the farm. And that is ok - but we don't enjoy it unless there are others below who can envy us - and that is not ok. This is the individualism and lack of vision I am talking about. It breeds greed and classist superiority. These are traits of a defeated people not comfortable in their own skin. Surely in a country riddled by racist oppression we cannot afford that. It is a vicious cycle and will not end well. Why is our happiness and contentment dependent on being better than others? Is this not how societies break down? Why can't we work towards equality?
Our society is a reflection of who we truly are. The crime, hate, rape, anger, greed, powerlessness, poverty and lack of empathy is a reflection of a rot in our society. I foresee either a revolution or a police welfare state unless we, the people, engage on these questions truthfully.
I have so many questions. And the answers are mapped within the questions. I know it is not a single individual that can answer these questions, but all of us. The answers lie within. However we could do with guidance; someone to just plonk us on the right path and shake us out of our slumber.
The city of Santa Bárbara, capital of Samaná Province in northeastern coast of Samaná Bay in the Dominican Republic, is a destination for nature lovers, honeymooners, and whale-watchers.
The Samaná Province is also home to what is known in the Dominica Republic as Americanos de Samaná (Samaná-Americans) where descendants of free black Americans immigrated beginning in 1824. They took advantage of the pro-African immigration policy of then president Jean Pierre boyer when Samaná was under Haitian rule. This migration to Santa Bárbara, Samaná began with 34 African-American families. Naturally, this African-American culture distinguished themselves from the rest of the Dominican Republic as they maintain many elements of 19th century African-American culture—such as their brand of English, food, games, community organizations, African-American names, manners, music and some recipes that have been preserved as a result of their isolation, which until the 20th century was accessible only by boat. Most are of the African Methodist Episcopal and Wesleyan faith brought to the island by their ancestors.
Frederick Douglass addressing a crowd of about 200 African-Americans who migrated to the Dominican Republic, January 28, 1871.
So many free Blacks moved from the United States to the Caribbean, not only because of the weather and beautiful beaches, but to get away from a racist society. Today, it is estimated that 80% of the population in Samaná is of African-American descent. While it is difficult to estimate the number of Samaná Americans today due to intermarriage and emigration from Samaná. The number is estimated to be around 8,000.There are no monolingual English-speakers anymore; all Samaná-Americans are bilingual in English and Spanish. As a result of the influence of mainstream Dominican culture, including compulsory Spanish-language education, many of the old markers of African-American culture are no more.
Comparatively speak, these Black folks succeeded in escaping racism. Blacks in the other parts of the Dominican Republic are looked at as having a lower social status than lighter skinned and more Spanish looking people. This is even more prominent closer to Haiti because of Dominicans dislike of Haitians who are mainly of very dark skin. But all the way across the island, in Samaná, almost all of the people who live there are very dark skinned as well, but their skin color isn’t an issue.
Previously featured as one of our favorite songs of the year, Youssoupha’s ‘Les disques de mon pere’ now has its own video. The title, meaning ‘the records of my father’ refers to none other than Tabu Ley Rochereau, one of DR Congo’s living musical legends, and indeed Youssoupha’s father. Although the French rapper now has a career in his own right and he is no longer solely referred to as ‘the son of…’ we were always hoping for him to record a song with his dad. As you can see in this video, ‘Ley’ has grown quite old and during the shoot he was sitting in a wheel chair. The track uses a sample rather than a newly recorded vocal (Cameroonian emcee Jovi ripped the same sample earlier this year for his ‘Pitié’).
It’s a beautiful sight – three generations of ‘Rochereaux’ in the studio behind the knobs. Other visual highlights of the video include a 1970′s Congolese dance, apparently inspired by Baloji’s master piece ‘Le jour d’apres‘. Youssoupha’s album ‘Noir désir’ which contains this tune is available via Itunes, FNAC and other online stores (did you notice Itunes decided to censor the ‘Désir’ in the album title?)
Rhyming reflectively over a soulful soundbed, lyrical Minneapolis native Brother Ali unveils his crisp new video for “Only Life I Know,” directed by Dave Wilson and taken from the rapper’s new album, Mourning In America and Dreaming In Color.
“It deals with the idea of poverty; specifically what it feels like to be trapped in poverty,” Ali explains of the song. “I start out by talking about all these different experiences that poor people have with these centers of poverty… the trailer parks, the projects, the housing complexes and the reservation…”
He comments, “More and more people in our society are falling into poverty. People that used to be middle class, people that used to be called working class, now are living below the poverty line.
“We live in a society that’s capitalist, it’s highly competitive, it’s really driven by consumerism. In America we have a highway into poverty and not even a sidewalk out.”
“So I wanted to hit this one early on in the album,” he concludes. “Talking about what it feels like to be trapped in poverty and to be poor. Only life I know.”
Produced by Jake One with guest features from Dr Cornel West, Bun B, Choklate, poet Amir Sulaiman and Tone Trezure, Brother Ali’s fourth new album Mourning In America and Dreaming In Color is set for release shortly on September 18th through Rhymesayers Entertainment and promises to present, “a scathing yet honest critique of America and its many flaws while simultaneously presenting a hopeful outlook of its possibilities.” [Pre-order]
Currently embarked on an extensive US and Canadian tour for the next couple of months, click here for dates and tickets to catch him performing live near you.
Deadline: 30 September 2012(Note: Poetry Potion is South Africa based but accepts submissions worldwide.)In South Africa, politics and poetics seem to have always been entwined. The journalists, bloggers and others can have their say about the status quo but the Poet’s response (commentary) has the ability to undress the situation and lay it bare without too many words and often with words wrapped in multiple meanings.So now here we are in a post-Marikana, post-Spear, mid-Secrecy Bill, mid-Etoll, mid-education crisis etc, etc… The list seems to go on and never end. South Africa, indeed the world, is overflowing with senselessness which we all try to understand.The Oct/Nov edition theme is: BETWEEN BLACK AND WHITEBetween Black and White, some would think there’s grey, right? Maybe. Maybe not.This next edition, writers may explore the extremes as well as the in-betweens of what’s RIGHT or WRONG, GOOD or BAD. We all have a sense of what it means to be right or wrong. We all have an opinion about what our leaders can do right or wrong. So let’s put it out there, as creatives our activism is in our creative output because we have the ability and the opportunity to reach people’s hearts and minds.We are looking for poetry and prose. Challenge yourself, flex your writing muscle, submit your best work and, most of all, enjoy yourself.CONTACT INFORMATION:
For submissions: via the online submission form