Showing posts with label Swaziland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Swaziland. Show all posts

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Of xenophobia, our ignorance and the United States of Africa pipe-dream

Time Magazine from 1985 talks about Black Rage in the context of Apartheid South Africa
Source: Time Magazine
Recent reports of xenophobic attacks in South Africa have left me with a heavy heart. These are not new. After all, violent xenophobic attacks happened back in 2008. The South African government comes across as largely mute except to assure the world that these are not xenophobic attacks but afrophobic in nature. What a relief. In fact, this is the first time I have heard the term 'afrophobic'. Is that actually a thing? 

In the greater scheme of things, xenophobia in South Africa, as it is in other parts of the world and history, is a reflection of harsh economic times, unemployment and growing feelings of marginalization of a given populace. With such resentment comes anger directed against vulnerable groups.

It is curious though that the xenophobic attacks are afro-centered in nature. Where does this deep-seated hatred for fellow Africans stem from? 

I find myself thinking that had I not made the decision to leave the University of Cape Town decades ago for the US, would I still be living in South Africa? Would my "West African" sepia make me vulnerable to these attacks? 

There are abundant comments on Twitter from other Africans outraged that black South Africans have forgotten the sacrifices that other African countries made for their freedom. Such sacrifices seem to have gone sadly undocumented but then a tricky question can be asked; do these past sacrifices warrant an unchecked influx of African immigrants into South Africa? Regardless, the violence and murder are unwarranted.

Despite the accounts of civil servants across Africa having their pay cut for contributions to a South Africa liberation fund (though it is hard to say where exactly this money went), no countries 
suffered more during apartheid than those living in the shadow of apartheid South Africa. These [so-called] Frontline states were Angola, Botswana, Lesotho, Mozambique, Swaziland, Tanzania, Zambia and also from 1980, Zimbabwe. Many are too young to remember the cross-border raids from South Africa into these countries or the bombs that rocked places like Lusaka. There was also the nefarious involvement of the South African Defense Force in the Mozambican and Angolan civil wars. Let us not get started on the countless South African refugees in Swaziland and other countries. Is such recent history being forgotten or not imparted to new generations?


South African Defense Force of the 1980s on border patrol
Source: http://www.sahistory.org.za/ 

In the dying days of apartheid, one thing I (oddly) remember are the reader comments sent to the popular South African magazine You magazine. At the time, there was real panic among some White South Africans that if apartheid ended, they would be forced out of South Africa. For some reason, a lot of readers sent letters saying things like "you (the Blacks of South Africa) are better off than other Africans. At least you have shoes to wear". Although largely inaccurate, these sentiments underlie, perhaps, the great divide that existed between South Africa and the rest of Africa. The apartheid system had ensured minimal education and that Black South Africans knew as little as possible about the rest of Africa. The system perpetuated a myth that the rest of Africa was an utter shambolic, chaotic wasteland and that somehow black South Africans were much better off as second class citizens in their own country. Did this myth perhaps also ingrain feelings of superiority?

Apartheid may have planted the seeds of afrophobia but 20 years have passed since the system collapsed so there must be other factors driving this deep-seated hatred. Does ignorance play a role?
Hang on, as other Africans like myself are perched up on our high horses, how much do we know about other parts of Africa ourselves? For example, how much do West  Africans know about East Africans beyond stereotypes and vice-versa? 

I often tell the story about living between Ghana and Southern African in the 90s: 

People in Ghana would say : "In Southern Africa, do they speak Swahili?"
I would say: "No..."
People in Southern Africa would say: "In Ghana, do they speak Swahili?"
I would say: "No..."

We chide others about being ignorant about the African continent but how knowledgeable are we about it anyway? These thoughts plus the xenophobic attacks and lack of appreciation for history have led me to a larger more troubling question: is the United Africa goal of pan-Africanism no more than a pipe-dream?

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Death of an Iconic Activist and Matriarch: Albertina Sisulu (21 October 1918 - 2 June 2011)

Mrs. Albertina Sisulu, 1918 - 2011
Source: AP via bbc.co.uk 
It was with great sadness that I learnt that on  2 June 2011, Mrs. Albertina Sisulu, wife of the late South African anti-apartheid activist Walter Sisulu, passed away at the age of 92. In the dying days of apartheid in the mid-90s, I had the priviledge of hearing Mrs. Sisulu speak at my school in Swaziland. To a packed auditorium, she addressed the audience with a written speech which she read. I remember it being quite formal and not too inspiring. At the end, she folded the speech, put away her reading glasses and proceeded to completely blow our minds with a powerful, unscripted talk. We were left in awe and spell-bound. Although her exact words are now a distant memory, I do recall a heartfelt, rousing account of her experiences in the fight against institutionalized racism in South Africa. Like many wives of jailed anti-apartheid leaders of the time, circumstances forced her into the role of leadership of the struggle and at the same time being primary caretaker of her family. She rose to the challenges with strength, humility and selflessness. 

From the brief encounter with Mrs. Sisulu that evening, we not only gained insight into this anti-apartheid stalwart and iconic activist but were truly inspired by her words. To quote South African President Jacob Zuma on her passing: 

 "Mama Sisulu has over the decades been a pillar of strength not only for the Sisulu family but also the entire liberation Movement as she reared, counselled, nursed and educated most of the leaders and founders of the democratic South Africa" 

May Mrs. Sisulu's  soul rest in peace and may her legacy continue to be a source of inspiration for future generations of South Africans and Africans.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

First Strides into Freedom: 11 February 1990

It has been 20 years since one of the most phenomenal events in modern history occurred; the release of Mr. Nelson Mandela from prison. The exact sequence of that day's events are jumbled in my mind but I clearly remember the euphoria and excitement as we huddled around a television  set in our school in Swaziland. We were glued in awe and silence as Mr. Mandela took his first steps into freedom after 27 years of incarceration.

11 February 1990: Mr. Nelson Mandela greets the crowd outside
Victor Verster Prison, Paarl, South Africa
Source: www.anglonautes.com

I could ramble on about the significance of this day but  instead I'm leaving that to the lyrics of the pop idol kids like me growing up in Southern Africa worshipped; the (late) great, irrepressible Brenda Fassie (a.k.a MaBrr). Brenda Fassie's song Black President was originally released in 1989 (5 years before Mr. Mandela even became president). The song was  promptly banned by the apartheid regime. Ludicrous as it may sound today, the  paranoid apartheid dons used to ban everything; books, songs and even people!

Black President
by Brenda Fassie (3 Nov 1964 - 9 May 2004) 
 
The year 1963
The people's president
Was taken away by security men
All dressed in a uniform
The brutality, brutality
Oh, no, my black president
Him and his comrades
Were sentenced to isolation
For many painful years
For many painful years
Many painful years
Of hard labour
They broke ropes
But the spirit was never broken
Never broken
Oh, no, my, my black president

He broke ropes
But his spirit was never broken
Never broken
Oh oh oh, my president
Now in 1990
The people's president
Came out from jail
Raised up his hand and said
'Viva, viva, my people'
He walked the long road
Back, back to freedom
Back, back to freedom
Freedom for my black president
Let us rejoice for our president
Let us sing for our president
Let us pray for our president
Let us sing, let us dance
For Madiba give us freedom
We thank you Lord
For listening to our prayers
Night and day
Oh oh oh, my president
Madiba
My president
I will die for my president
I will sing for my president
I will stand and say
Viva, viva, viva, viva, viva, viva
© Brenda Fassie  
Source: museke.com  

Later in 1990, Nelson Mandela made an unannounced, surprise visit to my school while on a trip to Swaziland. It was not an official visit. Wednesday afternoons were the time that we were allowed to go to town unless we had been punished or did not want to go. In the greatest irony, those who had been punished were still at school and we able to meet Nelson Mandela while the rest of us were in town. This is something all of us who went to town earlier in the afternoon will regret for the rest of our lives. 

Monday, January 18, 2010

He's the Gaffe-r!: Pat Robertson and his 'Pact with the Devil'

Once a upon a time in the Kingdom of Swaziland, the folks in charge of programming at the state television station decided that controversial televangelist Jimmy Swaggart on Sundays was not sufficient for the spiritual nourishment of the people. 


 Jimmy Swaggart in one of his trademark weepy moments. This may have been the one he admitted to frequenting a commercial sex worker. That was one episode I missed! 
Source: bbc.co.uk


So somewhere in the mid-80s, Swazi TV added a daily early evening offering of the religious programme The 700 Club. Children like me were shattered since we would have preferred more Transformers, GI Joe or Care Bears but instead got televangelist Pat Robertson sitting on a couch talking about things we did not quite understand. He seemed pious, sincere and very spiritual.  (Above) Pat Robertson and his 700 Club panelists. Source: http://www.payer.de


More than 20 years later, the same Pat Robertson has resurfaced on my radar. This is because, from the comfort of his Christian Broadcasting  Network base in Virgina, he has offered some 'helpful' observations regarding the real reason behind the recent earthquake in Haiti. Unlike what many of us may have thought, it had nothing to do with nature but is all to do with the Haitian revolution that started in 1791 and saw the establishment of the first black republic.


 Depiction of Haitian Revolution
Source: Wikipedia

Mr. Robertson's comments are reproduced in a Reuters blog as follows:

“...They were under the heel of the French … and they got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, ‘We will serve you if you’ll get us free from the French.’ True story,” Robertson said in a matter-of-fact tone on the broadcast.
“And so the devil said, ‘OK, it’s a deal. .. But ever since, they have been cursed by one thing after another,” he said.


This statement led many on Twitter and Facebook to conclude that either Pat Robertson is:
  • Battling senility
  • Smoking *very hard* narcotics or 
  • Was there when this pact was made
At first I thought it was all a joke but fortunately the broadcast is on YouTube. Is Mr Robertson...

  • suggesting that slaves rebelling against slave-owners  was morally wrong?
  • saying all Haitians and generations to come are cursed?
  •  reinforcing the old notion popular among racist bigots that black people are cursed?


Pat Robertson
Source: Sikh Times Online
Interestingly, Pat Robertson is no stranger to  nonsensical statements. Time Magazine online has a wonderful piece on the Top 10 Pat Robertson Gaffes. "Top 10"  suggests there are many more gems out there. All I can say is thank goodness us kids did not understand what Mr. Robertson was saying back in the '80s.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Return of the Prodigal Gardener


We had an unexpected visitor one Saturday morning a few months ago. After a mysterious 3-month absence our gardener nonchalantly strolled into the yard with a big metal cross around his neck. The whole household was excited to see him and we welcomed him with breakfast. Of course the big question on my mind was "Where the @#$@#$ has he been?" It later emerged that he has been staying in a prayer camp in the Akwapim mountains casting out his demons... literally. Although our gardener seems like a quiet, polite young man apparently he has been wrought with 'spiritual' problems for a while. 


Prayer camps offering 'treatment' for mental health issues are not a new thing in Ghana. Around May this year, the BBC's West Africa correspondent Will Ross did a documentary on the phenomenon in Ghana. What he found was  sad, appalling and down-right embarrassing. He visited a prayer camp where mentally-ill individuals were chained for hours. According to the BBC report:

"With only four practising psychiatrists in the country and a stigma attached to mental illness, doctors say the only way to cope with the workload is to work with the Church-run camps."


Ironically, there are most probably more Ghanaian psychiatrists in just one zip-code in Manhattan than there are in the whole of Ghana! A snippet of Will Ross's documentary can be seen here:


Scene from the BBC Documentary on Prayer Camps in Ghana 

BTW; Where is BBC reporter Will Ross these days? It appears he has relocated to Nairobi  but someone forget to tell us!


Oddly-enough, my family and I are no strangers to gardeners with mental health issues. Back in Southern Africa, we had a  gardener who never showed up for work one day. Days turned into weeks which eventually turned into years. One sunny day 2 years later, our gardener returned wearing the green uniform of a  mental institution close to our house proclaiming  loudly that he had come "to reap what he had sown". While my big sister and I stood perplexed, he headed straight for the garden and got to work!  Being the immature 10 year old, I immediately took off and left home leaving my 17 year old sister to deal with the erratically behaving gardener down in the garden.  Luckily she made a couple of calls and he was picked up by some nice people who took him back to the mental institution from where he had made a dramatic escape that morning. Understandably, it took my sister sometime to forgive me for that one!
 

Flash-forward to Ghana; Our gardener now lives at the prayer camp full-time. He is 'receiving treatment' and comes down to pay us a visit once every month. Personally, he does not strike me as having any mental problems at all but has been convinced by others that he does. I bet he tends the prayer camp gardens pretty darn well....hmmmm.

Friday, December 26, 2008

The Scramble for Ghana: Christmas in the midst of Politicking

Christmas in Ghana came and went. Feliz Navidad seemed to be played in heavy rotation on a lot of radio stations this year and the Accra mall is definitely redefining the Ghanaian Christmas experience with mass consumerism and heavy traffic. On Christmas eve, I arrived at the mall early in the morning to avoid traffic and to do some last-minute shopping. Sadly, half of Accra had the same idea and the traffic was not a pleasant sight! The Harmattan has also arrived adding an eerie, gothic smog to the Accra landscape and covering everything with dust.

My Christmas day was well-spent. I arrived for mass on time at 10am but I soon realised that I had mixed up the time and was *sigh* one hour late. In the end, I had to find a suitable standing spot in the Church car-park along with other late-comers/time mixer-uppers. Christmas lunch with family was deep-fried and delicious. Ice-cream and cupcake rendered me catatonic and I settled into Christmas television only to be hit by the reality that we are indeed reaching the crescendo of the political high season and that the run-off election slated for December 28th is still very much "too close to call".

Source: www.ghanaweb.com
As I attempted to find some merry feel-good Christmas movie on the television, the two political parties in contention for the run-off ran alternating television ads that made my head hurt. At first it was entertaining and interesting to watch but lately political ads have lost their sparkle. Outside, Ice-cream vans in the neighbourhood have been replaced by vehicles patrolling the area playing campaign songs for the two parties.

Suddenly, for some reason, the fact that the race is too close has got me worried.
Will the losers accept the results? Will the winners rub it in their opponents face? Will Ghana still remain calm and peaceful? Anticipation has now become nail-biting.

It has meant that for two nights in a row I have been up all night watching news from Al-Jazzera, Deutsche Welle (English), BBC and CNN
.
It is amazing how different news source report the same news and how you can critically assess these differences at 3am. I was sad to hear about the passings of Eartha Kitt and Harold Pinter. Ironically, I was just reading about Eartha Kitt still going strong at 81 in the December edition of Ebony magazine. I did not follow much of her musical career but loved her in Boomerang..as Lady Eloise ("Maarrr-cusss!")
Harold Pinter I will never forget for his unforgettable turn as Sir Thomas Bertram in the 1999 version of Jane Austen's Mansfield Park.
Many years ago when I was 10 years old, I borrowed Harold Pinter's play The Caretaker at the Manzini Library in Swaziland . This book was clearly not supposed to be in the children's section and left me a little confused but was enjoyable though.
Anyway, I'm off to pack a light travel bag for our journey into the interior to cast my vote. Unfortunately, all the movies I have watched about Saigon, Phnom Penh, Kigali, Beirut etc. etc. are filling me with apprehension at the moment. I am clinging to the belief that Ghanaians are way too mature for political unrest. Clinging.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Trashy bags - Environmental Innovation right in Accra

Sometime at the beginning of this year, a sign went up at the end of our street directing people to "Trashy bags" which is a couple of houses away from me. I had no idea what they did. I only found out last week and I'm just amazed. They take old ice-cream, yoghurt and water plastic satchets which are causing a serious eyesore all over Ghana, they disinfect and clean 'em. Guess what...they use 'em to make bags! Yes! The good people at Trashy bags make totes, messenger bags, backpacks and even briefcases. This is so cool that I wish I had thought about it. All in the name of reduce, reuse and recycle. It is kind of sad that Ghana is only taking recycling seriously now. Recycling was big in Swaziland when I was growing up way back in the late '80s when we were still listening to New Edition and Brenda Fassie. Well, I still listen to New Edition and Brenda Fassie so I guess things never really change! But I digress, we are talking about Trashy Bags here... You can check 'em out at http://www.trashybags.org.