HISTORY: Classic book: The Wretched of the Earth > Red Pepper

Classic book:

The Wretched of the Earth

Richard Pithouse on The Wretched of the Earth, by Frantz Fanon

In 1961 Frantz Fanon dictated most of his last book, Les Damnés de la Terre, translated as The Wretched of the Earth, from a mattress on the floor of a flat in Tunis. He was 36 years old and dying of leukaemia. The disease had recently blinded him for some weeks but he managed to complete the book in ten weeks in a race against death.

Fanon, who was from Martinique in the Caribbean, had ended up Tunisia after he joined the Algerian national liberation movement in 1954. He had joined the Free French Forces fighting the Nazis as a teenager and, as a result, had been able to study medicine in France after the war. He had specialised in psychiatry and had taken a post in a psychiatric hospital in colonial Algeria.

Fanon’s first book, Black Skin, White Masks, was written when he was a student in France and published in 1952. He was 27. It remains an arrestingly original work in which a poetic form of expression and philosophical and literary erudition are woven into a profound and moving examination of the lived experience of racism. From this first book Fanon’s politics were rooted in a radical humanism, with a commitment, in his words, to ‘recognise the open door of every consciousness’. It remains a canonical text in critical race studies and a book that continues to inspire people around the world.

Fanon’s second book, A Dying Colonialism, was published in 1959. It deals with what he called the mutations in culture as people become mobilised in an anti-colonial war. Anyone who has been able to participate in a genuine mass mobilisation will immediately recognise the value and accuracy of his description of how social relations can change in struggle.

The Wretched of the Earth draws on Fanon’s involvement in the Algerian struggle against French colonialism as well as his travels around Africa as an ambassador for the Algerian national liberation movement. It begins with an account of the colonial city, ‘this world divided in two’, and goes on to examine the internalisation of colonial violence among the oppressed, the resulting violence among the oppressed, and the moment when violence is turned back on colonial oppression.

 

Fanon then turns his critical attention towards anti‑colonial resistance, stressing that in the colonial situation Marxism needs to be ‘stretched’ and paying particular attention to the political agency of ordinary people, including peasants and the urban poor. He is committed to forms of struggle that are genuinely mass-based and participatory.

The book’s third focus is an examination of the pathologies of the regimes that came to power in Africa after colonialism. In Fanon’s estimation they took over rather than undid colonial systems, demobilised the mass movements that had brought them to power and used their own political credibility to entrench authoritarian and predatory regimes. Against this, still committed to a radical humanism, he posed a refusal of technocratic approaches to development and the full involvement of the people in both political and economic life. The final chapter of the book, drawing on Fanon’s case notes from his period as a psychiatrist in Algeria, investigates the damage done to human beings by colonialism and violence.

The Wretched of the Earth was banned on publication in France and copies were seized from bookshops. But it was heralded in radical black circles in the US and taken up in places such as Iran and Sri Lanka. Fifty years later it remains the key text in radical circles in South Africa, where it is regularly cited by grass-roots militants.

Initial readings of the book often caricatured Fanon’s endorsement of violence against colonial regimes. Fanon’s support for violent struggle was often read outside the context of the extraordinary violence of French colonialism in Algeria and there has been a racist double standard in which Fanon is excoriated for endorsing violent struggle while white intellectuals, such as, say, Jean-Paul Sartre or George Orwell, are not subject to the same condemnation. Although he had been decorated for bravery while serving in the Free French Forces, Fanon had a personal horror of violence and was acutely aware of the damage that it can do to individuals and societies.

Many of the misreadings of The Wretched of the Earth are due to the way the book is developed as an unfolding narrative in which consciousness changes in the vortex of struggle. Statements affirmed with unqualified emphasis at one point are often questioned later on. This means that the book has to be read as a whole to be properly understood and that simply taking isolated quotes or extracts will not give an accurate impression of the author’s intentions.

Fanon left this world as The Wretched of the Earth entered it. Fifty years on, his final book retains an extraordinary political charge in countries where it remains necessary to oppose both new forms of colonial or neo-colonial power and new forms of elite accommodation with that power in the name of the nation.

 

via redpepper.org.uk

 

POV: The Kony Conflict - Two Contrasting Views

Teju Cole, Norbert Mao

/ March 21, 2012 

An article by Teju Cole in the Atlantic this morning on the Kony 2012 video. A few extracts:

… But I disagree with the approach taken by Invisible Children in particular, and by the White Savior Industrial Complex in general, because there is much more to doing good work than “making a difference.” There is the principle of first do no harm. There is the idea that those who are being helped ought to be consulted over the matters that concern them.

… And I also write all this as a novelist and story-writer: I am sensitive to the power of narratives. When Jason Russell, narrator of the Kony 2012 video, showed his cheerful blonde toddler a photo of Joseph Kony as the embodiment of evil (a glowering dark man), and of his friend Jacob as the representative of helplessness (a sweet-faced African), I wondered how Russell’s little boy would develop a nuanced sense of the lives of others, particularly others of a different race from his own. How would that little boy come to understand that others have autonomy; that their right to life is not exclusive of a right to self-respect? In a different context, John Berger once wrote, “A singer may be innocent; never the song.”

… And we also agree on something else: that there is an internal ethical urge that demands that each of us serve justice as much as he or she can. But beyond the immediate attention that he rightly pays hungry mouths, child soldiers, or raped civilians, there are more complex and more widespread problems. There are serious problems of governance, of infrastructure, of democracy, and of law and order. These problems are neither simple in themselves nor are they reducible to slogans. Such problems are both intricate and intensely local.

How, for example, could a well-meaning American “help” a place like Uganda today? It begins, I believe, with some humility with regards to the people in those places. It begins with some respect for the agency of the people of Uganda in their own lives. A great deal of work had been done, and continues to be done, by Ugandans to improve their own country, and ignorant comments (I’ve seen many) about how “we have to save them because they can’t save themselves” can’t change that fact.

And an article from Norbert Mao, a lawyer and politician in Northern Uganda. I think the following extract is particularly pertinent:

Having said all that, I still view the release of Kony 2012 as a positive development.  To those critics who say that the video was propelled by less than savory aspects of western media culture that perpetuate the mentality of the white man’s burden, I say that western advocacy matters and can make a difference. From the anti-slavery struggle to the anti-colonial struggle, voices from the West have been indispensible. The key is for Africans to influence the direction of that advocacy. We cannot stop it, but we can redirect it. So how do we respond to this video that has convinced the world to bear witness to the untold suffering of Northern Uganda? We can complain about the gaps, but we also have to celebrate the fact that at least part of our story has been told. And told powerfully.

via siena-anstis.com

__________________________

TEJU COLE - Teju Cole is the author of Open City, which won this year's PEN/Hemingway Award and was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. 

The White Savior

Industrial Complex

 

MAR 21 2012

If we are going to interfere in the lives of others, a little due diligence is a minimum requirement.

tc mar20 p.jpg

Left, Invisible Children's Jason Russell. Right, a protest leader in Lagos, Nigeria / Facebook, AP

A week and a half ago, I watched the Kony2012 video. Afterward, I wrote a brief seven-part response, which I posted in sequence on my Twitter account:


These tweets were retweeted, forwarded, and widely shared by readers. They migrated beyond Twitter to blogs, Tumblr, Facebook, and other sites; I'm told they generated fierce arguments. As the days went by, the tweets were reproduced in their entirety on the websites of the Atlantic and the New York Times, and they showed up on German, Spanish, and Portuguese sites. A friend emailed to tell me that the fourth tweet, which cheekily name-checks Oprah, was mentioned on Fox television.

These sentences of mine, written without much premeditation, had touched a nerve. I heard back from many people who were grateful to have read them. I heard back from many others who were disappointed or furious. Many people, too many to count, called me a racist. One person likened me to the Mau Mau. The Atlantic writer who'd reproduced them, while agreeing with my broader points, described the language in which they were expressed as "resentment."

This weekend, I listened to a radio interview given by the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Nicholas Kristof. Kristof is best known for his regular column in the New York Times in which he often givesaccounts of his activism or that of other Westerners. When I saw the Kony 2012 video, I found it tonally similar to Kristof's approach, and that was why I mentioned him in the first of my seven tweets.

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Those tweets, though unpremeditated, were intentional in their irony and seriousness. I did not write them to score cheap points, much less to hurt anyone's feelings. I believed that a certain kind of language is too infrequently seen in our public discourse. I am a novelist. I traffic in subtleties, and my goal in writing a novel is to leave the reader not knowing what to think. A good novel shouldn't have a point. 

But there's a place in the political sphere for direct speech and, in the past few years in the U.S., there has been a chilling effect on a certain kind of direct speech pertaining to rights. The president is wary of being seen as the "angry black man." People of color, women, and gays -- who now have greater access to the centers of influence that ever before -- are under pressure to be well-behaved when talking about their struggles. There is an expectation that we can talk about sins but no one must be identified as a sinner: newspapers love to describe words or deeds as "racially charged" even in those cases when it would be more honest to say "racist"; we agree that there is rampant misogyny, but misogynists are nowhere to be found; homophobia is a problem but no one is homophobic. One cumulative effect of this policed language is that when someone dares to point out something as obvious as white privilege, it is seen as unduly provocative. Marginalized voices in America have fewer and fewer avenues to speak plainly about what they suffer; the effect of this enforced civility is that those voices are falsified or blocked entirely from the discourse.

It's only in the context of this neutered language that my rather tame tweets can be seen as extreme. The interviewer on the radio show I listened to asked Kristof if he had heard of me. "Of course," he said. She asked him what he made of my criticisms. His answer was considered and genial, but what he said worried me more than an angry outburst would have:
There has been a real discomfort and backlash among middle-class educated Africans, Ugandans in particular in this case, but people more broadly, about having Africa as they see it defined by a warlord who does particularly brutal things, and about the perception that Americans are going to ride in on a white horse and resolve it. To me though, it seems even more uncomfortable to think that we as white Americans should not intervene in a humanitarian disaster because the victims are of a different skin color.

Here are some of the "middle-class educated Africans" Kristof, whether he is familiar with all of them and their work or not, chose to take issue with: Ugandan journalist Rosebell Kagumire, who covered the Lord's Resistance Army in 2005 and made an eloquent video response to Kony 2012; Ugandan scholar Mahmood Mamdani, one of the world's leading specialists on Uganda and the author of a thorough riposte to the political wrong-headedness of Invisible Children; and Ethiopian-American novelist Dinaw Mengestu, who sought out Joseph Kony, met his lieutenants, and recently wrote a brilliant essay about how Kony 2012 gets the issues wrong. They have a different take on what Kristof calls a "humanitarian disaster," and this may be because they see the larger disasters behind it: militarization of poorer countries, short-sighted agricultural policies, resource extraction, the propping up of corrupt governments, and the astonishing complexity of long-running violent conflicts over a wide and varied terrain.

I want to tread carefully here: I do not accuse Kristof of racism nor do I believe he is in any way racist. I have no doubt that he has a good heart. Listening to him on the radio, I began to think we could iron the whole thing out over a couple of beers. But that, precisely, is what worries me. That is what made me compare American sentimentality to a "wounded hippo." His good heart does not always allow him to think constellationally. He does not connect the dots or see the patterns of power behind the isolated "disasters." All he sees are hungry mouths, and he, in his own advocacy-by-journalism way, is putting food in those mouths as fast as he can. All he sees is need, and he sees no need to reason out the need for the need.

But I disagree with the approach taken by Invisible Children in particular, and by the White Savior Industrial Complex in general, because there is much more to doing good work than "making a difference." There is the principle of first do no harm. There is the idea that those who are being helped ought to be consulted over the matters that concern them.

I write all this from multiple positions. I write as an African, a black man living in America. I am every day subject to the many microaggressions of American racism. I also write this as an American, enjoying the many privileges that the American passport affords and that residence in this country makes possible. I involve myself in this critique of privilege: my own privileges of class, gender, and sexuality are insufficiently examined. My cell phone was likely manufactured by poorly treated workers in a Chinese factory. The coltan in the phone can probably be traced to the conflict-riven Congo. I don't fool myself that I am not implicated in these transnational networks of oppressive practices.

And I also write all this as a novelist and story-writer: I am sensitive to the power of narratives. When Jason Russell, narrator of the Kony 2012 video, showed his cheerful blonde toddler a photo of Joseph Kony as the embodiment of evil (a glowering dark man), and of his friend Jacob as the representative of helplessness (a sweet-faced African), I wondered how Russell's little boy would develop a nuanced sense of the lives of others, particularly others of a different race from his own. How would that little boy come to understand that others have autonomy; that their right to life is not exclusive of a right to self-respect? In a different context, John Berger once wrote, "A singer may be innocent; never the song."

What Africa needs more pressingly than Kony's indictment is more equitable civil society, more robust democracy, and a fairer system of justice.
One song we hear too often is the one in which Africa serves as a backdrop for white fantasies of conquest and heroism. From the colonial project to Out of Africa to The Constant Gardener and Kony 2012, Africa has provided a space onto which white egos can conveniently be projected. It is a liberated space in which the usual rules do not apply: a nobody from America or Europe can go to Africa and become a godlike savior or, at the very least, have his or her emotional needs satisfied. Many have done it under the banner of "making a difference." To state this obvious and well-attested truth does not make me a racist or a Mau Mau. It does give me away as an "educated middle-class African," and I plead guilty as charged. (It is also worth noting that there are other educated middle-class Africans who see this matter differently from me. That is what people, educated and otherwise, do: they assess information and sometimes disagree with each other.)

In any case, Kristof and I are in profound agreement about one thing: there is much happening in many parts of the African continent that is not as it ought to be. I have been fortunate in life, but that doesn't mean I haven't seen or experienced African poverty first-hand. I grew up in a land of military coups and economically devastating, IMF-imposed "structural adjustment" programs. The genuine hurt of Africa is no fiction.

And we also agree on something else: that there is an internal ethical urge that demands that each of us serve justice as much as he or she can. But beyond the immediate attention that he rightly pays hungry mouths, child soldiers, or raped civilians, there are more complex and more widespread problems. There are serious problems of governance, of infrastructure, of democracy, and of law and order. These problems are neither simple in themselves nor are they reducible to slogans. Such problems are both intricate and intensely local.

How, for example, could a well-meaning American "help" a place like Uganda today? It begins, I believe, with some humility with regards to the people in those places. It begins with some respect for the agency of the people of Uganda in their own lives. A great deal of work had been done, and continues to be done, by Ugandans to improve their own country, and ignorant comments (I've seen many) about how "we have to save them because they can't save themselves" can't change that fact.

Let me draw into this discussion an example from an African country I know very well. Earlier this year, hundreds of thousands of Nigerians took to their country's streets to protest the government's decision to remove a subsidy on petrol. This subsidy was widely seen as one of the few blessings of the country's otherwise catastrophic oil wealth. But what made these protests so heartening is that they were about more than the subsidy removal. Nigeria has one of the most corrupt governments in the world and protesters clearly demanded that something be done about this. The protests went on for days, at considerable personal risk to the protesters. Several young people were shot dead, and the movement was eventually doused when union leaders capitulated and the army deployed on the streets. The movement did not "succeed" in conventional terms. But something important had changed in the political consciousness of the Nigerian populace. For me and for a number of people I know, the protests gave us an opportunity to be proud of Nigeria, many of us for the first time in our lives. 

This is not the sort of story that is easy to summarize in an article, much less make a viral video about. After all, there is no simple demand to be made and -- since corruption is endemic -- no single villain to topple. There is certainly no "bridge character," Kristof's euphemism for white saviors in Third World narratives who make the story more palatable to American viewers. And yet, the story of Nigeria's protest movement is one of the most important from sub-Saharan Africa so far this year. Men and women, of all classes and ages, stood up for what they felt was right; they marched peacefully; they defended each other, and gave each other food and drink; Christians stood guard while Muslims prayed and vice-versa; and they spoke without fear to their leaders about the kind of country they wanted to see. All of it happened with no cool American 20-something heroes in sight.

Joseph Kony is no longer in Uganda and he is no longer the threat he was, but he is a convenient villain for those who need a convenient villain. What Africa needs more pressingly than Kony's indictment is more equitable civil society, more robust democracy, and a fairer system of justice. This is the scaffolding from which infrastructure, security, healthcare, and education can be built. How do we encourage voices like those of the Nigerian masses who marched this January, or those who are engaged in the struggle to develop Ugandan democracy? 

If Americans want to care about Africa, maybe they should consider evaluating American foreign policy, which they already play a direct role in through elections, before they impose themselves on Africa itself. The fact of the matter is that Nigeria is one of the top five oil suppliers to the U.S., and American policy is interested first and foremost in the flow of that oil. The American government did not see fit to support the Nigeria protests. (Though the State Department issued a supportive statement -- "our view on that is that the Nigerian people have the right to peaceful protest, we want to see them protest peacefully, and we're also urging the Nigerian security services to respect the right of popular protest and conduct themselves professionally in dealing with the strikes" -- it reeked of boilerplate rhetoric and, unsurprisingly, nothing tangible came of it.) This was as expected; under the banner of "American interests," the oil comes first. Under that same banner, the livelihood of corn farmers in Mexico has been destroyed by NAFTA. Haitian rice farmers have suffered appalling losses due to Haiti being flooded with subsidized American rice. A nightmare has been playing out in Honduras in the past three years: an American-backed coup and American militarization of that country have contributed to a conflict in which hundreds of activists and journalists have already been murdered. The Egyptian military, which is now suppressing the country's once-hopeful movement for democracy and killing dozens of activists in the process, subsists on $1.3 billion in annual U.S. aid. This is a litany that will be familiar to some. To others, it will be news. But, familiar or not, it has a bearing on our notions of innocence and our right to "help."

Let us begin our activism right here: with the money-driven villainy at the heart of American foreign policy. To do this would be to give up the illusion that the sentimental need to "make a difference" trumps all other considerations. What innocent heroes don't always understand is that they play a useful role for people who have much more cynical motives. The White Savior Industrial Complex is a valve for releasing the unbearable pressures that build in a system built on pillage. We can participate in the economic destruction of Haiti over long years, but when the earthquake strikes it feels good to send $10 each to the rescue fund. I have no opposition, in principle, to such donations (I frequently make them myself), but we must do such things only with awareness of what else is involved. If we are going to interfere in the lives of others, a little due diligence is a minimum requirement.

Success for Kony 2012 would mean increased militarization of the anti-democratic Yoweri Museveni government, which has been in power in Uganda since 1986 and has played a major role in the world's deadliest ongoing conflict, the war in the Congo. But those whom privilege allows to deny constellational thinking would enjoy ignoring this fact. There are other troubling connections, not least of them being that Museveni appears to be a U.S. proxy in its shadowy battles against militants in Sudan and, especially, in Somalia. Who sanctions these conflicts? Under whose authority and oversight are they conducted? Who is being killed and why? 

All of this takes us rather far afield from fresh-faced young Americans using the power of YouTube, Facebook, and pure enthusiasm to change the world. A singer may be innocent; never the song. 

__________________________

Guest Post:

I've met Joseph Kony and

Kony 2012 isn't that bad

Posted By Joshua Keating  Wednesday, March 21, 2012 

Norbert Mao is a lawyer and politician in Uganda. He was a presidential candidate in the 2011 general elections. He represented Gulu in the national parliament between 1996 and 2006 and was head of the Gulu Local Government from 2006 to 2011. In 2006 and 2007 he made several trips to South Sudan and the LRA base in Congo campaigning for peace.  Here, he shares his thoughts on the Kony 2012 campaign and controversy:

On January 12, 2003, I received my first phone call from Joseph Kony, the elusive leader of the Lord's Resistance Army.  At the time, I was a member of parliament representing an area that was the epicenter of the war in Northern Uganda. The call lasted about two hours -- which was remarkable given that Kony was in the bush, and using a sat phone, to boot.

"People should seek to understand the political agenda of the LRA," Kony said over static when I was on the line.  "Why are we in the bush?" he asked?  "It is because we are resisting oppression.  Many people have been to the bush in Uganda. We are also resisting murders committed by the NRA [the National Resistance Army, which brought Uganda's current president, Yoweri Museveni, to power].  You go to places like Acholi Bur, Paimol, Bur Coro, and Anaka and you will find there the mass graves of our people," he told me. "People must recognize that there was a problem.  Kony is not the problem. The problem existed before Kony."

The LRA has a complicated history, to say the least.  When the group first emerged in 1986, it cloaked itself in the garb of Christianity -- a group that had risen from the ashes of previous rebellions to save the Acholi of Northern Uganda from the onslaught of the National Resistance Army, which had just swept the state a few months earlier.  At the time, Uganda was in the throes of state collapse and civil war, with over twenty rebel groups raging throughout the countryside.  One by one, the new government managed to pacify each group. The LRA managed to survive, but let its mask slip in the process, the true predatory face of Kony emerging to feast on the people he purported to save.

Over the years, I've spoken to Kony many times and eventually met him face to face in August 2006, when I led a community peace delegation to his hideout in the Congo. We pinned our hopes on him reaching a peace agreement with the Uganda government. Eventually, though, he walked away due to mistrust, an ICC indictment that would have sent him to The Hague, and probably pressure from his backers (the Sudanese government, among them). A great opportunity was missed.

Kony is now heading a multinational guerilla force comprised of mainly abducted children and adult soldiers who were first taken as children.  He roams the bush in Sudan, South Sudan, Congo, the Central African Republic, and Chad without hindrance. He has defied the U.N. peace keeping force in Congo. He has also survived many military expeditions aimed at defeating him. He has redefined the rules of asymmetrical war.

This man with whom I've had many encounters is now the subject of a powerful videothat has captured the imagination of the world. Is the video a bad thing? I would say no. Has it got gaps? Plenty.

First, to give the impression -- even by omission -- that the victims themselves were passive and did little or nothing to relieve their own suffering is wrong. Before Invisible Children there were many efforts to let the world know what was going on. But the world was distracted. In 1998, in the middle of the insurgency, Bill Clinton came to Uganda and declared the country a peaceful nation. A few weeks later, the LRA marched from Congo into Bwindi National Park in Uganda and killed tourists who were gorilla tracking. Most of the victims were American. For a moment, Kony got some international media, but it soon went quiet. Meanwhile hundreds of thousands in Northern Uganda were displaced and the killings went on.

Second, it has to be said that official neglect on the part of the Ugandan government is responsible for much of the suffering we witness in Kony 2012 -- suffering that was brought on by an incompetent counterinsurgency strategy that, at its height, herded over one million civilians into disease infested and poorly protected camps. Right now it is a point of controversy that U.S. troops are standing shoulder to shoulder with certain Ugandan officers who ought to be charged with war crimes. Americans should shudder at this partnership and demand that the Ugandan government hold accountable those members of its military establishment who need to be tried for crimes against humanity.

Having said all that, I still view the release of Kony 2012 as a positive development.  To those critics who say that the video was propelled by less than savory aspects of western media culture that perpetuate the mentality of the white man's burden, I say that western advocacy matters and can make a difference. From the anti-slavery struggle to the anti-colonial struggle, voices from the West have been indispensible. The key is for Africans to influence the direction of that advocacy. We cannot stop it, but we can redirect it. So how do we respond to this video that has convinced the world to bear witness to the untold suffering of Northern Uganda? We can complain about the gaps, but we also have to celebrate the fact that at least part of our story has been told. And told powerfully.

It's clear that the aim of the video was never intellectual stimulation. I don't think the founders of Invisible Children are the foremost analysts of the complicated political, historical and security dynamics in our troubled part of Africa. They certainly wouldn't earn high marks in African Studies. But I will go to my grave convinced that they have the most beautiful trait on earth -- compassion.

Such sentiments matter, even today.  There are those who say the war is over in Northern Uganda. I say the guns are silent but the war is not over. The sky is overcast with an explosive mix of dubious oil deals, land grabs, arms proliferation, neglected ex-combatants, and a volatile neighborhood full of regimes determined to fish in troubled waters. What we have is a tentative peace. Our region is pregnant with the seeds of conflict. The military action in the jungles of Congo may capture Kony, but we need to do more to plant the seeds of peace founded on democracy, equitable development, and justice. Like peace, war too has its mothers, fathers, midwives, babysitters, and patrons. Perhaps Kony 2012 will help sort out the actors. The video has certainly shaken the fence, making fence-sitting very uncomfortable, indeed.

The current debate is thus timely. One hopes that the ICC will now have to investigate the Ugandan government. The scrutiny of Invisible Children (its finances and activities) is also a good thing. Communities emerging from conflict need more results than noise. But even more important is that all actors see the need to act with humility. This volatile place is not a project. It is our home. That is why we will never accept anyone closing the door to peace through dialogue.

For more on Kony 2012, see Michael Wilkerson's initial response to the video,  David Kenner'scomparison to the situation in Syria, past Ugandan government negotiator Betty Bigome's take, and David Rieff's piece on the dangers of Invisible Children's brand of advocacy.

 

 

VIDEO: Global African Culture » We Love You Mama: 7 Songs for African Mothers > AfriPOP! »

We Love You Mama:

7 Songs for African Mothers

Brenda Fassie

    One thing’s for sure, no matter which corner of the world you’re in this weekend, you’re celebrating the most amazing woman you know, your mother. Here’s how African artists celebrate their mothers:

    Brenda Fassie: “Mama”
    South African singer Brenda Fassie (RIP) offers a sweet tribute to mothers

    Prince Nico: “Sweet Mother”
    One of the most celebrated (and remade) songs out of Nigeria, “Sweet Mother” celebrates the strength and courage of mothers

    Khadja Nin: “Mama”
    Burundian singer Khadja Nin sings the praises of mothers in this classic

    Asa: “So Beautiful”
    “Everyday I pray for you, Queen of my life, You’re so beautiful mama,” sings British-Nigerian singer Asa

    Deep Level: “Thula Mama”
    South African hip hop group Deep Level pay tribute to their mother’s in this modern twist on a South African classic

    Mimmo: “Muciari”
    They may not have always gotten along, but Kenyan singer Mimmo knows her mother’s love s eternal

    via afripopmag.com

     

    VIDEO: The Women of Harare Intl Festival Of The Arts 2012 > okayafrica

    Photos:

    The Women of

    Harare International

    Festival Of The Arts

    2012

    May 10, 2012

    Posted by: Aaron Kohn

    Harare International Festival of the Arts
    The Harare International Festival of the Arts, or “HIFA” wrapped up on Sunday after 6 days of blasting music, art, and ideas from the center of Zimbabwe’s capital. We checked out the festival over the weekend.

    For the past 13 years, HIFA has been a dependable festival in Zimbabwe. Step into the Harare Gardens, where HIFA locates itself, and you won’t really know where you are (the abundance of Shona statues might be a give away). Run by Manuel Bagorro, a program manager at Carnegie Hall most of the year, and supported by a volunteer staff of local students and artists, HIFA is an extremely welcoming and exciting place to visit.

    The HIFA program for 2012 featured a diverse range of female artists from across the continent. We caught up with Maria de Barros, Liz Ogumbo, Maia von Lekow, and Edith WeUtonga to learn more about their experiences at HIFA (although there were many more).

    Maria De Barros is a musical ambassador for Cape Verde. She calls her music “Africa meets Brazil and the Caribbean.” De Barros calls Cesaria Evora, arguably West Africa’s greatest vocalist, a godmother and inspiration. Now living in Los Angeles, De Barros plays her west African creole music around the world. Her fourth album is a ways away, but the process is interesting. The bassist and drummer are De Barros’s producers and they collect about 70 new pieces from Cape Verdean (young) writers and musicians in Cape Verde and the diaspora, compile them, and Maria choses what will go on her album. Maria says that her favorite thing is to introduce people to Cape Verde.

    Liz Ogumbo was waiting for us with one of her designed handbags, after her friends Tumi and the Volume finished a set. Ogumbo calls herself a “Beautiful Creative Entity,” which we think is starting to catch on. From her latest music video, you’ll see how Liz is a hybrid artist–part designer, part singer, part model. Though expensive, Ogumbo’s favorite project right now are her “Fashion meets Music” shows, where she produces a fashion show with a live girl band. We appreciate her fun, chic humor.

    Maia Von Lekow, also hailing from Nairobi doesn’t have an album out yet (it’s on its way), but she has a lot of experience playing and writing. At her performance in the Lay’s Stage at HIFA, reactions included “She’s stunning!” and lots of laughs at her playful relation with her band and jokes; like how she describes herself as a “Point 5″. Her tunes bring a new sense of “chill” to the African music scene.

    Edith WeUtonga, though a musical and theatrical hit in Zimbabwe, she has yet to play outside her native country. Walking through the HIFA grounds, everyone stopped Edith to say hello. She explained to me that initially people were taken with the fact that she sings and plays the bass in her band. Pulling from groove, jazz, and tradition, Edith’s messages are about social issues. On her album, Utonga, one song called “Hutungamiri” asks “What’s leadership?” Some people in Zimbabwe have been reluctant to play the song on the radio in case of government backlash, but she keeps performing it wherever she goes. Another album is due out at the end of the summer, so keep your eyes peeled.

    Lastly, we didn’t get to talk to Netsayi, but the Zimbwean “Electrofolk” singer made an appearance at HIFA. After starting her career in London where she grew up, Netsayi has moved back to Zimbabwe and has her own take on traditional music and jokes about her time abroad. Her two albums, Chimurenga Soul and Monkey’s Wedding are chocked full with fun and serious tunes.

    Our last stop was at a legendary Harare hangout–the Book Café. If you plan to visit Harare, the Book Café is where Zimbabwe’s leading artists congregate and perform. It turned out that many HIFA artists also made the Book Café a stop on their Harare visit to talk with the director, Paul Brickhill and see the venue’s new space. Most evenings one can find live music or poetry on the Book Café stage, and with a new pizza oven on board, it may also make good stop for others.

    To keep up with HIFA and be the first two know the details of the 2013 festival, you can sign up for a newsletter or follow the festival on Twitter or Facebook.

    via okayafrica.com

     

    PUB: Call For Contributions/ Writers: Women And The Political Process In Africa > Writers Afrika

    Call For Contributions/ Writers:

    Women And The Political Process

    In Africa

     

    Make Every Woman Count is looking for writers to contribute to a 3-month series on women and political participation in Africa. Comprising more than 50% of the world’s population, women continue to be under-represented as voters, political leaders and elected officials. There is reason to be optimistic though. Africa, more than any other region, has made significant progress on increasing women’s political participation.

    The proportion of seats held by women in single or lower houses of national parliaments has risen in Northern Africa from 3% in 2000 to 12% in 2011. In Sub-Saharan Africa, the proportion of seats went from 13% in 2000 to 20% in 2011.

    What do you think about these numbers? Do they matter? What do you think needs to be done to increase them? Have they translated into improvements in the quality of life for women in Africa? If yes, how? If no, why? The National Democratic Institute claims that more women in politics at all levels contributes to honest government, peace, and positive developments in education, infrastructure and health standards, is this the case? Tell us your thoughts.

    The MEWC blog welcomes all forms of media, including but not limited to, artwork, photography, short form videos, as well as more traditional writing ranging from different academic frameworks, personal narratives, poetry and journalism. This blog is meant to ignite informative, critical and meaningful discussion.

    If you would like to be considered to participate in the discussion follow the detailed instructions below. Previous blogging experience is not necessary. However, please note that this is not a paid opportunity.

     

     

    WRITTEN PIECES:

    1. Attach your article to the email in Microsoft Word format or in the body of the email. We will not accept PDF files or articles copied in an email.

    2. The article should be between 500-1000 words.

    3. Properly cite your sources through links and introductory statements such as “According to Human Rights Watch (link to the piece). Do NOT use footnotes. Include links within your text.

    4. Make sure that the submission has a title and at least a one-sentence description of the piece.

    5. Please attach a photo as a jpeg to accompany the submission.

     

     

    SHORT FORM VIDEOS:

    1. Please contact us with your submission and we will proceed further.

     

     

    HOW AND WHAT TO SUBMIT:

    1. Subject line should read: “Submission: Firstname Lastname, Country of origin, Thematic area” (for example: Nadia Akabo, Benin, Human Rights of Women).

    2. A brief bio of yourself in one paragraph (approx. 3-5 sentences) consisting of where you’re from, what you do, how you have fun, what you love etc. Examples can be found on existing blog posts.

    The MEWC blog team will review your submission and get back to you within 10 days. However, if you would like your submission posted on a specific date, such as an international day, please allow extra time for review (2 weeks).

    Via: awid

     

     

    CONTACT INFORMATION:

    For inquiries: Blog.MakeEveryWomanCount@gmail.com

    For submissions: all submissions must be sent to Blog.MakeEveryWomanCount@gmail.com

    Website: http://www.makeeverywomancount.org/

     

     

    via writersafrika.blogspot.com

     

    PUB: United Nations Academic Impact Essay Writing Contest for University Students (worldwide) > Writers Afrika

    United Nations Academic Impact

    Essay Writing Contest

    for University Students (worldwide)

     

    Deadline: 15 June 2012

    The United Nations Academic Impact (http://outreach.un.org/unai) and the Brookings Institution in Washington DC are launching a global contest for university students, inviting them to imagine a speech that would be made by the Secretary-General at the opening of the next session of the General Assembly.

    There is today a growing consensus concerning our global interdependence. Article 28 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights enshrines everyone’s right to an international order where the inherent dignity and rights of all are fully realized .What is less clear is what sort of a global civics is necessary and feasible for us to navigate this growing interdependence.

    University students from around the world are invited to ponder these vital questions in submissions, in English and up to 1500 words in length, which address — in the form of a draft of the imagined speech by the Secretary-General — what responsibilities we can all take on towards people who happen not to be our compatriots, and what rights we can claim, as we work to solve global problems together in a shared culture of intellectual social responsibility.

    The competition is open to all students currently enrolled at a university. Submissions should be sent simultaneously to academicimpact@un.org and haltinay@brookings.edu by June 15, 2012. Please put SPEECH COMPETITION in the subject line. Authors of what are judged to be the top three submissions, at least one of whom will be from an UNAI member institution, will be invited to New York and Washington DC to meet with the United Nations Secretary-General and the leadership of the Brookings Institution respectively.

    CONTACT INFORMATION:

    For inquiries/ submissions: academicimpact@un.org and haltinay@brookings.edu

    Website: http://outreach.un.org/unai

     

     

     

     

    via writersafrika.blogspot.com

     

    PUB: “What Family Means to Me” Competition 2012 > Afrika Tikkun

    “What Family Means to Me” Competition 2012

    Centre in Diepsloot, Johannesburg AND

    Mfuleni Community Centre, Cape Town

     

    “What family means to me is more
    Than mere words can convey
    It’s been the basis for my life
    And how I’ve faced each day” 

    Marilyn R. Barfield

    Afrika Tikkun is an NGO that is dedicated to investing in education, health and social services for children, youth and their families through its community centres of excellence and strategic partnerships.

    A major part of our values is family. We believe in supporting families to develop their children into productive citizens.

    Entry Rules and Process:

    • Each participant will have to submit an essay written in English or a piece of art work on an A4 cardboard/paper artwork.

    • The essence of the message is the core of this competition, points will not be deducted for poor grammar and spelling in the essay competition, nor for artistic ability in the artwork competition.

    • Write an essay/draw a picture or create an artwork on this topic: “What family means to me”

    • The essay/picture or artwork must be the original work of the learner.

    • Entrants must live in Johannesburg or Cape Town, South Africa.

    • Only one entry allowed per person.

    • The judges’ decision is final.

    • With regards to the written Essay, anything longer/shorter than the word limits stated in the categories below will be disqualified from the essay competition. Any artwork that is not original (no tracing allowed) will be disqualified.

    • At the top of each entry, give a word count (is appropriate) as well as your full name and surname, ID number, Age, Grade, School, Address of home or school and contact number.

    • Essay entries must be presented in Microsoft Word.

    • Send your entries via schools, Afrika Tikkun Centres and online.

    • Please send the name and contact details of you and your school to info@afrikatikkun.org (JHB); infoct@afrikatikkun.org (CT) or delivered to a centre or office closest to you (call 011 325 5914 – Amanda; or 021 448 0120 – Catherine)

    • Entry into this competition is free to Afrika Tikkun entrants but the public will pay R20 – enter on the events website – www.afrikatikkun-events.org - proceeds will go to our Family Support Services.

    • This competition opens on 26 April 2012 and closes on 31 May 2012 at 5pm.

    Categories: 

    Essay/Art competition 

    • Grade 3 – 5 (age 8 minimum) – 400 words/artwork
    • Grade 6 – 7 – 600 words/artwork
    • Grade 8 – 9 – 800 words/artwork
    • Grade 10 – 12 (age 19 maximum) – 1000 words/artwork

    Final competition:

    Our panel of judges will select the top five essays/artworks per category (four) that they think make a significant, unique contribution to understanding what family means to the different children and youth in South Africa. The semi-finalists will be able to interact with children and youth from different backgrounds, and artwork and essays will be on display and will be put into a booklet.

    Prizes and Benefits:

     Competition finals will be held in Cape Town and Johannesburg. Each semi-finalist (20 in total – five per category) will be invited to read their essay or display and explain their artwork at the final championship during Youth Month, on Thursday 21 June 2012 from 2:30pm for 3pm until 5pm.

    The Johannesburg event will be at Afrika Tikkun’s Wings of Life Centre in Diepsloot; and the Cape Town event will be at the Mfuleni Community Centre inCape Town. Road transport within Johannesburg and Cape Town for each of the finals will be provided on request by Afrika Tikkun. Media will be in attendance. Semi-finalists will each receive a prize. A panel of five judges will select the winners of each category. The four main winners will receive exciting prizes.

    Contact Afrika Tikkun:

     JHB: 011 325 5914 info@afrikatikkun.org
    CT: 021 448 0120 infoct@afrikatikkun.org

    ENTER ONLINE HERE
    via afrikatikkun-events.org

     

    VIDEO: Queer Women Of Color Represent! Check Out New Dope Web Series 'The Peculiar Kind' > AFRO-PUNK

    Queer Women Of Color

    Represent!

    Check Out

    New Dope Web Series

    'The Peculiar Kind'


    We love to hear from the LGBT voices of the community, and boy did we hear from them when artist collective The Artchitects released the first episodes of their new monthly web series 'The Peculiar Kind'. Candidness and humor are on the program, but the issues highlighted are sometimes serious (hate crimes, safety, relationships, substance/alcohol abuse, lifestyle). "[Alexis Casson] wanted to create a fun yet informative unscripted web series", as collaborator and AP member Mursi Layne puts it. Check out the videos below and let us know what you think! - L C-D

     

    * If you're queer/LGBT and would like to share your voice by contributing articles, videos, blogs, etc., please hit us up at afropunkcommunity@gmail.com.

    via afropunk.com

     

    VIDEO: BLOODLINE: AIDS and Family by Kristen Ashburn > MediaStorm

    BLOODLINE

    By Kristen Ashburn

    GO HERE TO VIEW 12-MINUTE VIDEO

    The AIDS epidemic that came to light in the 1980s still rages today across Africa, killing 1.4 million people and infecting another 1.9 million in 2008 alone.

    The disease does not discriminate, infecting educators and corporate professionals, as well as the poor.

    As a concerned documentarian, Kristen Ashburn went to Africa to address this crisis after being struck by reports of the numbers of those dying. What she found — and what she relates in her deeply moving work — are human beings who are desperate for their story to be understood by the larger world.

    Through her work we come to know these people, and to see the larger implications of the disease, as it snakes through whole villages, threatening peoples' livelihoods, intensifying the effects of poverty, and threatening the economic stability of the whole region. Lack of education, awareness, and access to medical care have made the problem seem insurmountable. Through Ashburn's efforts — and possibly our own — come some glimmer of hope toward a solution.


    Published: November 29, 2006
    via mediastorm.com

     

    VIDEO: Akhdam women tell their stories of violence, injustice & poverty in Yemen > WELL AND GOOD

    Akhdam women

    tell their stories

    of violence, injustice

    & poverty in Yemen

     

    The video chronicles the lives and injustices against the Akhdam women in Yemen. The 'Akhdam' , singular Khadem, meaning "servant" in Arabic, are a social group in Yemen, distinct from the majority by their darker skin and African descent. Although they are Arabic-speaking and practicing Muslims, they are regarded as non-Arabs and designated as a low caste group, frequently discriminated against and confined to unskilled and menial labor. In a society already riddled with patriarchy and poverty, the distain and discrimination against the Akhdam renders Akhdam women easy targets of violence and abuse. Akhdam women are subject to hate-based attacks and sexual assaults without any type of legal or social recourse.

    This video, produced by Sisters Arab Forum for Human Rights and WITNESS, features the stories and voices of three women, Haddah, Qobol, and Om Ali. Their stories of violence, injustice and forced poverty uncover the legacy of discrimination the Akhdam live with and the necessity of urgent action against these atrocities.



    The Akhdam, a social group in Yemen are said to be the descendents of a pre-Islamic Ethiopian army that invaded Yemen more than 1500 years ago. They remained in the country as slaves and servants once the occupation ended, and subsequently became the lowest rung in the Imamate's caste system. When the Imam was overthrown during the revolution in 1962 slavery in Yemen was officially abolished, yet the stigma of being a member of the “Akhdam” remains. Set apart by their African features, they face much discrimination, and are mostly confined to menial labor. Most of the Akhdam live in slums, known as 'mahwa', on the outskirts of Yemen's largest cities.  

     

    Concept by Underdog the DJ

     

    via wellandgoood.blogspot.com