Out of Africa

Credit: RICHARD LEWIS/AP

Today Nelson Mandela turns 90.

Not only does this man represent a sense of pride, progress and change for South Africans, he represents it for Africans as a whole.

He represents the moral integrity Africans need from the leaders to move forward into a better tomorrow.

Even in the Diaspora, he represents an image that is large than life.

He’s won a Nobel Peace Prize. He’s been TIME’s Man of the Year. He was South Africa’s first black president. He’s a man who changed history.

BBC has a collection of his most famous quotes. My favorite:

“The value of our shared reward will and must be measured by the joyful peace which will triumph, because the common humanity that bonds both black and white into one human race, will have said to each one of us that we shall all live like the children of paradise…

“But there are still some within our country who wrongly believe they can make a contribution to the cause of justice and peace by clinging to the shibboleths [dogmas] that have been proved to spell nothing but disaster.

“It remains our hope that these, too, will be blessed with sufficient reason to realise that history will not be denied and that the new society cannot be created by reproducing the repugnant past, however refined or enticingly repackaged.”

Here’s an interview he gave to CNN, looking back on his life. There’s also a series of news coverage on his life and how this landmark birthday is being celebrated. His life already is, and forever will be, memorialized.

Happy 90th Birthday, Mr. Mandela!

Update: If you’re in the Chicago area, on Monday, July 21, the Jazz Philharmonic is hosting a free concert in honor of Mandela’s 90th birthday.

by Leila Noelliste

From the outside, parking garage attendant Kobina Azhir looks like an American-born Black man. But Azhir, a Ghanaian seaman who came to the city 22 years ago, is one of 23,000 African immigrants living in metropolitan Chicago.

On May 31, the United African Organization, a partnership of 20 African immigrant communities, held a summit at the DuSable Museum of African American History, to shed light on immigrants like Azhir. Alie Kabba, executive director of UAO, said that “public eduction” is necessary since African immigrants are often overlooked, or misunderstood.

“We realized a few years ago that the challenge for (African immigrants) is to end our invisibility and help to educate people about contemporary African issues in order to better understand the experience of African immigrants and refugees in Illinois,” said Kabba, who came to Chicago from Sierra Leone in 1991.

The second Chicago Summit on African Immigrants and Refugees attracted more than 200 African, Arab and Latino immigrants, as well as African American supporters. Issues that Africans face within their own countries, as well as in Illinois, were discussed in plenary sessions. Though the number of participants is higher than last year’s 160, the modest turn out is a reflection of Africans’ struggle to catch broad attention and support.

“Within the larger immigrant community, we tend to be overshadowed by the Latino community because they have the numbers. So when people think about immigrants, they think about Latinos, and not Africans,” Kabba said. According to 2000 U.S. Census data, there are approximately 582,000 Mexican immigrants living in metropolitan Chicago, compared to just 23,000 African immigrants.

Nigerians make up the majority of that count. European and Asian immigrants account for 366,000 and 321,000 respectively. Like most immigrants, Africans come to America to flee political instability, pursue education, or establish a better life.

They are the most educated immigrant group in metropolitan Chicago and nationally, Kabba said. According to 2000 U.S. Census data, 95.4 percent of African immigrants who had entered metropolitan Chicago in the past 10 years had a high school degree or more, compared to 39.1 percent of Latin American immigrants, 73.8 percent of European immigrants and 85.3 percent of Asian immigrants.

But when it comes to accessing language, housing, employment and medical services African immigrants still suffer “institutional neglect,” Kabba said. He added that this is particularly damaging since African immigrants face the dual challenge of being Black and foreign. “Resources are directed to the community with the largest numbers, which is Latin Americans… The francophone (those from French-speaking African countries) have a language barrier.

“When I hear about bilingual resources, I think, ‘The definition of bilingual has got to go beyond Spanish. It’s got to include those in other communities’,” Kabba said. Carol Adams, secretary of the Illinois Department of Human Services, spoke at the summit and said that the state would take an “extra step to be inclusive” of African immigrants.

“When we talk about doing things for African American women, we are also including women who come from Africa,” Adams said. And the relationship between Africans and African Americans is critical, though plagued by miscommunication. The selection of DuSable for the summit was to represent the link between African Americans and African immigrants, who Kabba described as the “new African Americans.”

“Culture is a dynamic process,” said Kabba, and it’s a fact he has himself experienced. He had plans to move back to Sierra Leone after getting a degree in public policy from the University of Illinois, but a lengthy civil war in his homeland kept him here, where he is raising his 7-, 9-, and 12-yearold children.

“Being an African here is such a temporary identity. It’s a bridge to connect us to a more permanent space, and that permanent space is, naturally, within the African American community,” Kabba said. “When my kids grow up, they’re not going to think Sierra Leone. They’re going to think South Side, West Side, Chicago.”

(Source: The Chicago Defender)

I had meant to do this a while ago, but kept on putting it off. But as our class is coming to an end, I wanted to take the time to mention the blogs of some of my classmates who have featured Africa in one form or the other in their blogs.

• James Edwards - The Violence Project: With an entire blog about violence in Chicago, it’s kind of hard to feature news pertaining to Africa. But James did it in this post about Francis Oduro, a Ghanaian international student who was shot to death. Along with the Violence Project, my prayers go out to the Oduro family.
• Holly Fox - Familienpolitik: A new family law in Mali that would give illegitimate children inheritance rights is the subject of this post. Islamic groups are against this change and Holly provides an interesting comparison to the meaning of marriage and a marriage certificate in Mali versus the United States.
• Christa Hillstrom - Human Goods: In an earlier post I had linked to Christa’s blog about slavery in Mauritania. A more recent post looks at a former slave in Niger who is suing the government for not enforcing anti-slavery laws. In a country were human rights groups estimate about 43,000 people are still living in slavery, this is just the kind of accountability African countries need to be held to.
• Erin Halasz - Wikileads: Erin’s blog follows the online conversation about Wikileaks and the myriad ways in which its uncensorable, untraceable documents appear in public discourse. If you don’t know what Wikileaks is, basically it’s a site that leaks a whole lot of info, but is primarily user-generated like Wikipedia and stuff (Erin, or anyone else who knows, correct me if I’m wrong!). Some of the confidential documents received anonymously includes corruption in Kenya and other “shoddy standards of human rights” in sub-Saharan Africa. One of Erin’s particular posts highlights a recent posting on Wikileads of an invoice for Zimbabwe’s Ministry of Defense, charging the country for a shipment of Chinese rockets, bombs and rounds of mortar.

I hope you take the time to check out their blogs, and while these are the only posts about Africa, each is very interesting and sophisticated. To see more blogs from my class, check out our class Web site.

One of the first stories I wrote for the Medill News Service was about the Darfur crisis in northern Sudan. The crisis is a continuation of two civil wars Sudan has already gone through. It’s almost been like non-stop violence and fighting has gone on in this country. And although the perpetrators and aggressors have changed faces, more or less over time, the victims remain the same - millions of children displaced, families split up and separated, the general collateral damage of war.

During the second civil war in Sudan, the collateral damage bared the face of thousands of boys who became known as The Lost Boys of Sudan. Unlike the whimsical Lost Boys in the pages of ‘Peter Pan,’ very little about their lives is envious or wonderfully exciting. (this New York Times story is amazing, really compelling).

Here’s a recording of Mabouc Mabouc, a Lost Boy who resides in Chicago and acts as a social worker for the Pan African Association and a spokesperson for the Darfur crisis. He tells an abbreviated version of his story - from being seperated from his family, walking across multiple countries, living in refugee camps and eventually making it to the United States.

His story is sad, but as Mabouc points out: He is one of the lucky ones.

Audio

On Tuesday, I had the opportunity to meet Somalian author Nuruddin Farah. I had spoken to him Monday with plans to interview him for a possible profile piece I wanted to write. He sounded willing enough, and had promised to call me when he arrived in Evanston. He didn’t. And I forgot it was Tuesday and had to rush from downtown Chicago to Evanston within an hour to make it to the event. Anyway … here’s a recap of my encounter with him:

I felt my face turn red and my eyes begin to sting with unbidden tears. I had just walked up to Nuruddin Farah, book in hand, nervous smile on my face, excited to introduce myself. Only to hear these words come from his mouth: “Don’t you know it’s unethical to film someone without their permission?”Taken aback, I immediately begin to defend myself. “Well, I was the one who spoke to you yesterday on the phone –“

“You didn’t say you’d be filming,” he interrupted, his tone harsh. I imagine this is the same voice he uses to chastise his unruly grandchildren, if he were to have any. I felt like I had just been sent to the corner.

Again I tried to explain.

“Well, I had asked her if it were okay,” I said, pointing to the community relations person of the bookstore. I was hoping her authority would save me from his wrath – I could be off punishment. Instead, almost like an older sister evading punishment herself, the lady shifts all blame on me.

She didn’t give me permission. She said it was okay only if he was okay with it. She was under the impression he gave me permission earlier.

She was new to the store, and was unsure of the legal implications of what I had done

But what had I done? It was a public event in a public store. And it was for a news story, not commercial use. And I at least had the courtesy to clear it with a store official first. As far as my meager, but still existent, professional and ethical training had taught me … I had done what I was supposed to do.

I tried to explain again. But both continued interrupting and talking over me. I was at fault. No excuses mattered. Miscommunication led to miscommunication.

“You can use the footage,” he eventually says. “And you can start your story with how I told you off.”

I thanked him and walked away. But I couldn’t help fuming – partially embarrassed, partially upset, partially just plain mad – as I thought about it all.

They had no clue how my day was before this. They didn’t know I had spent over three hours covering closing arguments of a court case. They didn’t know I thought he was speaking tomorrow and not today.

They didn’t know in thinking that, I had given my camera to someone else to use. And while I was able to procure another, they didn’t know the battery was dead, and there was no tape. They didn’t know I caught the first train I could and practically ran to the store under the weight of my laptop bag, huge purse, camera bag and camera stand.

They didn’t know how tired I was, how far I was willing to go to get this opportunity.

An opportunity I had lost. Because he thought I was unethical.

I could hear them still talking about me as I packed up. Farah continued to talk about my “unethical-ness.” The lady continued to throw me under the bus, in order to save herself. I could feel my face getting hotter, the tears getting stronger.

Eventually I made my way back to the pair, who had thankfully moved on to talking about other things.

“I won’t use the footage,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to confuse anyone or cause any misunderstanding. Or look like I was trying to mislead you.”

“No, no. Use it,” he said. “It’s alright. Just know for the future.” His voice was softer now, but still bearing the slight coldness from his voice of steel. He again states why he found it unethical and then drops the bombshell that made me feel even worse:

“I had come thirty minutes early so you could interview me. But you weren’t here.” His tone wasn’t exactly accusatory, but it wasn’t forgiving either.

Thirty minutes early? Thirty minutes early!?!? I could have gotten such a great interview in that amount of time!

I wasn’t sure who to be mad at more. Him, for not calling me back as he promised. Or myself, for not calling him when I hadn’t heard back from him. But again, I thought I had another day … and I had just spent the day at court. I wouldn’t have been there thirty minutes early, even if I had known. I guess it was meant to be.

I nodded, and said my goodbyes. My heart was as heavy as all the bags I carried with me.

The footage was now tainted, as far as I was concerned. Even with his permission, his reaction and the lady’s lack of support drained it of any value it had to me. It wasn’t going to be any good without the personal interview anyway.

While my experience with Farah was less than pleasant, he was a good speaker and a lot of others enjoyed the chance to meet and talk to him. Here’s another attendant’s take on it.  He goes into a lot more detail about what Farah had to say and how the event went.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of Chinua Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart.” The book is hailed as the beginning of modern African literature. Chinua Achebe, hailed as the father of African literature.

There have been a lot of good interviews, articles, conferences and ceremonies, honoring the legacy both Achebe and his book has created for African writers.

The following is an interview with Evan Mwangi, an English professor at Northwestern University, who teaches African literature (and is from Kenya) about the beginnings of modern African literature, its evolution and how Achebe’s “Things Fall Apart” fits into it all.

Audio

Interview Transcription

Bunmi Ishola: We can kind of start out sort of with the history of African literature; where it all started out.

Evan Mwangi: The major books in African literature started in the 1950s. They started writing in the 1950s, and they did not make as much impact as “Things Fall Apart,” which was published in 1958. And so it ["Things Fall Apart"] became like the benchmark of African literature. And mainly, all these novels, were mainly a response to what the writers felt were distortions and misrepresentations of Africa by Western writers. [Achebe has said that he wrote "Things Fall Apart" to Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness," and to books written by colonial masters like Mr. Johnson].

BI: Do you think, in a sense, that the book deserved to be the benchmark?

EM: Yes, the book is very well written. Achebe also has a very balanced view of both the Europeans and Africa. Those [older novels written by the West] would idealize colonial Africa as a perfect, romantic place. But Achebe views Africa from a much more objective position. So that he’s criticizing the pre-colonial culture, as much as he’s criticizing colonialism for some of the bad things that happened in Africa.

BI: And after this book was published, what was the development of Africa literature?

EM: Almost all the major authors in Africa wrote their versions of “Things Fall Apart.” So that, almost every country had a “Things Fall Apart;” again, talking about the contact between Europeans and African cultures, and the controversies that arose out of that. The writers persisted in talking about the pre-colonial past way into the 1960s. But later, in the late 1960s, they started talking about the disillusionment with post-independence condition. And mainly what I think they are doing by going back to pre-colonial past is trying to let African know that they have beautiful culture, that they need to preserve their culture. They should have confidence in themselves as a society.

BI: More recently there have been a lot of writers of African descent just coming up lately. I’ve noticed many of the ones that are getting the most remarks [Chris Abani, Chimamanda Adichie, Sefi Atta, Helon Habila] are from Nigerian. I don’t know if you have any theories as to why?

EM: Most likely it’s because of the exile. [In] Nigeria, military dictatorship has been really bad. So writers have been able to go to exile. It happened in the apartheid era too. There were a lot of writers operating in exile. And that’s why there’s a very strong Nigerian diasporic writing, I guess. I think, the reason that Nigeria is so prominent in African Diasporic writing could be because of the economic and political circumstances. If you remember, people like Chris Abani have been jailed. Yeah, he was jailed by Sani Abacha.

BI: I know, for both, at least, Abani and Adichie, they mentioned that Achebe had a lot of influence on the reasons why they write now, and even they way they choose to write. What do you see some of these influences being, and why do you think he is such a strong influence? 

EM: I think it is mainly the emphasis on the thematic relevance of the texts. Like when you read Adichie, she’s very sensitive to the politics of Nigeria. Even if she’s writing, like in [Half of a Yellow Sun], she’s writing about Nigeria of the 1960s, she’s commenting about the present. Just the way Achebe, still, when he’s talking about pre-colonial past — he’s not so much interested in romanticizing that past, he’s commenting about the present-day Nigeria. So, to say, the level of themes, and making sure they [newer African/Nigerian writers] are relevant to their communities, they have followed in the footsteps of Achebe. But they are also changing, they are not just imitating Achebe slavishly. Like Adichie forgrots gender a lot, in a way you may not find in Achebe. Even Chris Abani; issues of gender and sexuality are very prominent in his writing. So they use Achebe, just the way Achebe used the past — in a critical way.   

BI: Where do you see African literature going in the future?

EM: That’s a tough question. But, I think it’s growing. There are people who seem to see African literature as maybe off. Mainly because the kind of writers they see published in the West, they seem to be addressing Western audience as opposed to the African readers. So that this literature becomes part of the West, and the literature in Africa dies off. But I think there are very strong literary traditions in almost all regions of Africa. I think the literature is very good, and it’s going to be talking about issues to do with the Diaspora, issues to do with gender and sexuality. Literature that maybe the Achebe generation may not have been very much interested in.

I went to the museum today with a group of about 20-30 Africans. Very few of them spoke English, and none of the volunteers spoke any of their native languages. There were no translators. The trip was planned by Karen Morris, who teaches “In Search of Africa,” a class at the School of The Art Institute of Chicago. She and her students wanted to share the art they love with the people of the continent they were learning about.

Only Karen could speak French, which some of the immigrants spoke, and therefore acted as the main communicator between the groups. But once the groups split up to explore the museum, communication wasn’t really necessary. Everyone seemed to have a good time.

What was amazing to observe was how the group of immigrants reacted to the art work. It was a whole new world. And ideals Americans take for granted were foreign to them. Something as simple as not touching the artwork, or not being loud. There was so much they hadn’t seen and so much they didn’t know.

And since they don’t understand English, they can’t read the placards to gain any understanding.

Overall, the day made me think about how helpless immigrants and refugees must often feel. Without programs to help them integrate in our society, they are lost.

Going to the museum also pointed out cultural differences that act as barriers between immigrants and the American community. One of the ladies had her baby on her back, which is normal in most African countries. She was told she couldn’t keep her baby on her back as she entered the museum. None of us could figure out why … it’s not a backpack, nor is it a baby carrier … but “rules” are “rules,” right? Eventually they found her a stroller to loan during our tour around the museum.

Also, they all wanted to touch the art work and peer at it closer, often setting off the alarms that remind people to stay back and not touch. They tapped on the sculputres, and pressed their faces against some of the glass. Luckily no security guards were around to go crazy on us … although a group of them followed us through an exhibit after eyeing us for a while.