SEADiaspora

Soy Proliferation in Southern Burkina Faso

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Fri, 08 Mar 2013 22:03:00 +0000

Author: Sam Gradess

The author revisits his experience in the Peace Corps as a volunteer in Burkina Faso. In particular, he relates the entrepreneurial and agricultural success that one innovative leader has experienced with an unlikely crop: the soy bean. Farming the bean and using it to produce tofu, Jean-Louis has built a successful business that hires, trains, and empowers young women.

A Success Story

I still remember the day of site announcement: the Christmas morning-like excitement mixed with pre-theatrical performance anxiety. My arms were folded with nerves flaring as I waited for my Associate Program Country Director to tell me that I would be moving to “the home of tofu.” Though I was excited that my site was known for something, tofu was not exactly the thing I searched for. Ever. I did not realize at that time how much tofu would shape my Peace Corps experience.

In the 1980s, Thomas Sankara, Burkina Faso’s former revolutionary leader, attempted to collaborate with China to propagate soy as a viable domestic product in Burkina Faso. Unfortunately, the joint fabrication technique did not see much success due to its peculiar taste (imagine mixing milk with black eyed peas). This left an unfortunately literal, bitter taste in many agricultural hopefuls’ mouths, leaving any work with the product a Sisyphean endeavor. I recently interviewed Jean-Louis, the man who saw tofu production as more than futile.

“It all started with my love of nature. I grew up in Ouagadougou, but as soon as I got my diploma, I wanted to go back to village and surround myself with la verdure. I have always described myself as quelqu’un qui cherche, the idea being that I have always wanted to know as much about nature and how we can benefit from it.”

Jean-Louis started as a farmer in Southern Burkina Faso. His capricious ambitions led him to raising livestock, namely poultry, and trying to increase crop yields of groundnuts, arachides and a more savory yam, ignames. He states, “I had so many ambitions, but without any formal training I was lost.”

Jean-Louis’ prayers were answered. A French NGO, le Centre International de Développement et de Recherche (CIDR) came to Burkina Faso looking for a collaborator to research the benefits of soy consumption for poultry. The agricultural benefits of soy match its nutritional capabilities. With oncoming desertification and drought posing a serious threat in the Sahel region, having a crop such as soy beans that can handle a harsher climate opens the door to many economic opportunities for a country that needs them. The NGO indicated that the heightened protein level contained in the small beans would help “beef up” (zero pun intended) the chickens. Jean-Louis did not stop there.

“If soy is good for chickens, it has to be good for humans too, right?”

Sam Gradess (left), and Jean-Louis (right).

This realization launched Jean-Louis into what is now his most successful endeavor – the transformation of soy. Following his collaboration with the NGO, Jean-Louis was able to contract a Togolese man who specialized in transforming soy, making it fit for human consumption. Jean-Louis hired him to train his association, Friends of Nature, in 2009. With this training, Jean-Louis was able to refine his tofu recipes.

Jean-Louis started with two orphaned girls who did not have enough money to pay their school fees. He created tofu kebabs, three pieces of tofu interspersed with slices of powerful red onion. The kebabs sell for the equivalent of 10 cents – half the price of its carnivorous counterpart: beef, lamb, or goat (or all three) kebabs. The girls were trained to manage money, a responsibility that these often-orphaned girls found empowering. The money they brought in was able to pay their school fees. One of my former students, Adelaide, currently sells the kebabs around town. Her mother is one of Jean-Louis’ many harvesters. Not only does she get to learn these many skills that come with the job, but she is given enough time to both go to school and study. All of Jean-Louis’ female employees have passed their entry exams for high school. Jean-Louis hires girls specifically because he wants to offset their institutionalized suffering in a patriarchal world. Let’s just say he is what every Girls’ Education and Empowerment volunteer yearns for!

His business has expanded. He has hired more girls and has been recognized by the Minister of Youth and Employment who appointed him 6 trainees to help proliferate the soy business. Jean-Louis needs no help with new ideas. As he sits me down for this interview, he provides me with tofu kebabs lathered in dijon mustard and piment, your typical West African hot pepper that puts hot sauce to shame, along with garlic tofu sandwiches, strawberry soy juice, and soy yogurt. Jean-Louis currently employs 1000 soy farmers and brings in between 300 and 400 metric tons of soy beans yearly. He now has a contract with Peace Corps to train counterparts on income-generating activities involving soy. He has even been able to hire a sidekick so he can travel and know that someone is running the business while he is gone (and yes, it’s a woman).

Tofu has shaped much of my Peace Corps experience. Whenever a friend or colleague comes into town, one of our first stops is to get a tofu (and, frankly, Jean-Louis) fix. That is, Jean-Louis’ commitment to gender equality and passion for his career inspire me even on the days when I feel I have accomplished nothing. I invited Jean-Louis to a career panel I offered as part of my summer leadership camp. His story of a luxurious childhood traded for a life in the fields because he actually loves it is a story seldom told. Most students are taught to study hard so they can become a civil servant and earn a salary. Most students were stupified when Jean-Louis traded his inevitable Ouagadougou life for peace and passion in the green, Central-West region.

As I was leaving, Jean-Louis gave me some “Sahel apples.” These apples cannot grow locally due to mismatched soil properties. Jean-Louis however grafted a branch from the Sahel apple tree with one of his own and was able to bear fruit, a microcosm both for Jean-Louis’ innovative methodologies and how good development practices should manifest themselves. Jean-Louis will be remembered among the Peace Corps community as un homme de demain.

Samuel Gradess is an Education Volunteer in Burkina Faso. He is a graduate of St. Lawrence University where he earned a B.S. in Psychology and Francophone Studies. The contents of his articles are his personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. Government or the Peace Corps.

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Kenya's Bastards

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 13:23:00 +0000

Author: Declan Galvin

Kenya is yet again at a crossroad. Having experienced much violence in the wake of the precedent election, the peaceful outcome in the current one remains an uncertain hope. While reiterating the responsibility of the presidential contenders,' the author explores the roles that Kenya's marginalized youth have played in the 2007-2008 post-election violence, and ponders on the likelihood of their involvement in acts of violence this time around.

Whether or not Kenya will break into violence during the upcoming March election has been a major point of debate. The now infamous post election violence, which erupted during the 2007-2008 presidential election, continues to weigh heavily on the psyche of the nation. Matters have not been made easier with two major presidential contenders, Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto, currently under prosecution by the International Criminal Court (ICC) for their involvement. That being said, we cannot forget that the perpetrators of this violence (i.e., those who physically carried out these murders) are from a small, but extremely important, element of Kenyan society. I am not speaking about the Kenyan elite—who are bastards in their own right; and who no doubt bear the most responsibility for the post election violence and rampant impunity in Kenya.

Rather, the bastards that I am speaking of are the youth who exist in the margins and periphery of Kenyan society. These people do not benefit from the Kenyan state, and indeed are not recognized in any meaningful way—whether that is birth certificates, identification cards, or the provision of human services which are usually associated with state functions. They are denied the rights, privileges, and opportunities afforded only to subjects of the state. These youth are bastards, not because of their own choices, but because of their illegitimacy, their lack of formal recognition, and their social and economic activity lie in excess of state authority. However some of these youth in Kenya, many of whom are in gangs, do not share the same historical narrative of many other Africans who also live in spaces of informality. The Waki Report says that, “between 1992 and 1996, the number of street children [in Kenya] increased 300% in just four years. Many of these initially rootless children who are now adults are the product of displacement by ethnic violence. They have grown up on the streets and are inured to violence…the combination of being rootless, having survived amidst violence, and their need for an identity and a livelihood makes them ready recruits for violent gangs” (35). In other words, the political and demographic chemistry in contemporary Kenya has formed a unique and incendiary environment.

In the wake of the 2007-2008 presidential cycle, Kenya's marginalized youth participated in untold acts of chaos and violence, on behalf of their respective parties. Photo Credit: Reuters

In a marvelous stroke of irony, the very children who were displaced because of the egregious behavior by Kenyan politicians are now being contracted as youth gangs to carry out the violent ambitions of the elite. There have been numerous testimonies of youth being trucked into certain areas to kill people and burn property during the post election violence, and it is the Kenyan elite—including Kenyatta and Ruto—who are responsible for financing these operations. Indeed, Kenya has a different set of bastards, individuals whose lifestyles have been disproportionately affected by violent displacement and ethnic cleansing, in addition to the debilitating poverty and uncertainty faced by most people living in informality. Understanding the relationship between Kenyan politicians and these youth groups, as well as the historical and social dynamics of this relationship must be placed in context with the current election; yet too often commentators on Kenya neglect to mention the significance of this dynamic in their analysis.

Uhuro Kenyatta (left) and William Ruto (right), are currently under investigation by the ICC for
their alleged involvement in Kenya's 2007-2008 post-election violence.

However, the most pertinent question is: are these politicians and elites willing to finance acts of violence again, given the international media attention and ongoing ICC trials? I am not sure if there is any clear answer to this question. We have already seen acts of election and polling violence this year, but whether or not those seemingly spontaneous acts evolve into more coordinated action remains to be seen. The question then moves to, whether or not there are youth willing to commit violent crime for hire? This answer should be much clearer to us, since there have been no meaningful improvements to the social and economic circumstances of the most vulnerable Kenyans. I am not convinced that Kenya will experience violence on the same level and intensity as it did during the last election, but I do not think that anyone should try and pretend like the fundamental drivers of this violence have fleeting relevance.

Declan Galvin is an MA candidate at New York University concentrating on African Politics and Security. He is an avid observer and commentator on global issues, and was recently honored as an NYU Africa House Fellow. He has lived, worked, and conducted research throughout the African continent since 2008, presenting and publishing his findings in a number of social and academic venues. In addition to his scholarly work, he has consulted and worked with non-profit organizations throughout the world. He may be reached at dbg279@nyu.edu for questions or comments.

3D Printing for Africa's Development

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 12:28:00 +0000

Author: Christopher Guess

The author recounts a personal experience and delves into the possibilities presented by the rise of a new technology: the 3D printer. What potential do these increasingly more affordable machines hold for the world, and the African development community in particular? While factors like affordability and energy consumption have yet to be worked out, there is little room to doubt that these machines stand to become integrated in the Africa's rural communities.

Yesterday the hinge on my desk lamp broke. The lamp was not extremely expensive, perhaps $50 at Ikea, but there was no way to repair it. I definitely didn’t want to have to spend another $50 on account of a hinge so I did what I do often these days: I dropped in on my friend who happens to own a Makerbot. I did some basic measurements of the broken piece, and did a quick sketch in a simple computer aided design, or CAD program. In about twenty minutes, I hit “print” and the Makerbot whirred to life. The actuator arms moving a very small stream of molten plastic back and forth, building up the shape layer by layer. Twenty-five minutes later I had a fully formed replacement piece. I glued it into place and my lamp, less than an hour after it broke, and thanks to a gracious friend, was better than new.

This is possible because of a technology that’s been around for a while, but only in the last few years has it started to hit Western-affordable prices. These 3D printing machines work by laying down less than millimeter thick layers of plastic over and over, building up any type of three-dimensional object you can think of.

I don’t think I have to explain what this could mean for people who already try to make every part and every machine last far past the manufacture’s intent. Just as a basic example: a village in rural Tanzania could, with nothing more than a simple computer and one of these machines, replace and maintain the support joints on a water filter as well as the seals on a suction machine in the maternity clinic.

These machines are still a little bit pricey. Right now, they fall between $500 and $1,500 dollars, but just five years ago the price was hanging around $100,000. With the prices coming down so drastically and so fast it doesn’t take much to realize they will eventually be within the price range of a village or aide group. Taking into account that, right now, they can actually print about 70% of the parts required to build another printer, and the mind can start to wander and wonder about possibilities.

Three items domestically created with the Makerbot 3D printer.

If a hinge on a solar panel snaps, the person in charge of the panel would no longer have to order a replacement from Nairobi or Dakar and wait over a week for the hinge to arrive. They could simply print a new one and have the panel back up and running in hours instead of weeks. In fact, there are some companies like Nokia already embracing this by publishing the specification for new parts instead of just selling the physical object.

This is just the start, and the technology is still quite a ways out. Price isn’t the only issue here, it’s also, at the moment, the goals of the developers. John Dimatos, the former Head of Applications for Makerbot works with UNICEF as an innovation specialist. As one of the people that directly led the development of 3D printers and their massive price drop, he has thought long and hard about the potential use of them in the developing world. While he is optimistic that the printers will find a significant use, eventually, he’s much more trepidatious when it comes to the short term.

One of the major comparisons that come up with 3D printing is the meteoric rise of cell phones. Dimatos points however that, unlike cellphones, 3D printers can’t be charged up in town and used later back home. Solar cells aren’t up to the task of powering these very wattage-hungry machines either. The problem with having the technology developed in the West is that electricity and having enough of it is an afterthought. I’m sure all of us have turned on a hair dryer only to see our light bulbs dim from the power drain. Most of those pull about 6 amps worth of power while current printers draw 9 amps, something that would put most mid-century American household electrical systems under pressure. A solar cell will definitely not to be able to handle it, especially if you actually want to be able to power the computer that is also needed to run the machine.

Dimatos thinks this will change, but it will happen closer to the villages. He wants to put Makerbots and other cheaper 3D printers in labs at African universities. Since all of these systems are open source, both how to build one and how to run it, he’s extremely interested to see people used to working in the constraints that the developing world allows could come up with.

The future is here; us in the first world can now design and print anything we can come up with cheaply and quickly at a desk. If we think we can improve the lamp in our room or the switch in our car we can build and test it in less than 30 minutes. However, as John Dimatos said, “The hype around 3d printing is HUGE, but nobody knows how.” Westerners are lucky enough to have the benefit of massive, nearly unlimited, resources and innovation is almost always wasteful. Ideas have to be built, thrown away and refined. There’s still a long ways to go to the final stage, but it’s never too early to let the imagination wander. 3D printing has the potential to flip manufacturing on its head across the world, but we have to keep in mind how we can use the technology to fix solar panels in Mozambique as well as generic Swedish lamps in Brooklyn.

Christopher Guess is a journalist, photographer and tech entrepreneur based in Brooklyn, New York. Christopher writes about emerging innovations and individuals within Africa’s tech industry. Through his reporting, he seeks to highlight the successes and issues that emerging economies face when transitioning to knowledge based economies. He has reported extensively in the United States and internationally on humanitarian and economic issues. Eastern Africa became a specific point of interest for him while travelling and reporting in the area in 2008. In addition to his journalism, Christopher is the co-founder of two tech start-ups in New York City, giving him a distinct vantage point on developmental milestones and opportunities.

Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

A Life Beyond the Curve of the Road

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Wed, 23 Jan 2013 22:42:00 +0000

Author: Tundé Oyateru

There is more to the political realities of Nigeria, and Africa, than meets the eye. Exploring the experiences of ordinary Nigerians, and the absent role of their government, the author comments on perceptions of right-wing and left-wing attitudes, safety nets and community. At best, Nigeria's government and others on the continent will have to affect a change in the lives of all, if the continent's citizenry is to buy into the successes of democracy.

After a while, the road curved beyond the line of sight; it was a long road and it could have been leading anywhere. On both sides of the road, mud huts appeared; their attendant inhabitants casually displayed their wares, produce and crops for sale as they watched vehicles whiz past, vehicles which were often their only connection to the world beyond that curve in the road.

He was certainly beyond 15 years of age but not quite 18. As he stood there looking in the distance beyond the curve, he uttered not a word, neither did a flicker of emotion betray what he was thinking or feeling. His face was a plain solid canvas for this writer to design.

It must be understood that by default, Africans are communal, social beings; our history, our traditions, our stories are replete with images of matters - good or bad, gladdening or shameful - being brought to the village square for discussion. Throughout our history, the records that were left by previous generations suggest that most things were shared. Welfare and the general well-being of the village were communal. To be sure, every man and woman earned what the sweat of their brow could give, but where or when they lacked it, it was not uncommon for the collective of a village to step in to fill an individual’s gaps.

In this regard, traditionally, the African is left-leaning, and puts into practice the belief that government and society have a responsibility to provide services, amenities and guarantee the welfare of the greater society. However, modern African societies have made the African right-leaning, with the belief that each individual is responsible to provide for him or herself and to shape his or her fate.

For most Africans this belief is not one that was made by choice or over dinner while discussing the pros and cons of political philosophy. Instead, this belief – this choice of the right-leaning politics - was forged by everyday realities, everyday experiences that reveal for many that government simply does not exist. For most Africans in the post-modern era, it is not a matter of government being inefficient, ineffective, negligent or corrupt; government is a far away thing, a myth of some mystical faraway place; government is absent.

The middle class in most societies lives and carries on under an illusion that their toils and advances in life are the same as those of most people. I call it “the deceit of the middle class,” and in Nigeria it is jarring. The numbers show that the majority of Nigerians are under the poverty line and will remain there for a long time to come, the last recorded World Bank study shows that number to be about 55 per cent in 2004, other recent reports have it at 68 per cent in 2011. If you were to scan the headlines of Nigerian news outlets, you would see reports of corruption in high offices, protests over the removal of one subsidy or another, a state challenging the federal government over how much it can borrow. We in the middle class believe these problems to be true for everyone. After all, how could they not be? People only see what is in front of them, and what is in front of most of us are people just like us.

These are not the problems of the real Nigerians. Real Nigerians, the ones that live and remain under the poverty line, are severely lacking health facilities and services. It is no wonder that Nigeria has one of the highest maternity death rates in the world. The Real Nigerian does not have access to information, it is little wonder that despite Polio having a vaccine, Nigeria has yet to eradicate it completely.

There are communities in our country that have never experienced Benjamin Franklin’s miracle of electricity, who have lived decades under the dim glow of a lantern or a candle and have never experienced the convenience of plugging an Iron into a wall outlet and having their clothes neat and presentable within a matter of minutes. There are fathers and mothers who can never really appreciate the complete smile of their child after the sun goes down.

There are communities in our country that have waited and waited for their first community school or health centres, in places where education is not yet an ordinary part of life, but much rather a sacrifice, a hardship miles away from home. There are places where if you were to fall ill, you have little choice, except to place your faith in native practices and the spirit of your ancestors. There are communities that are inaccessible, where there are no roads and you make your way into them either on the back of a motorcycle or a human being. There are still places like these in Nigeria, and on the continent.

Yet, our Independent National Electoral Commission records that they vote, that they come out in throngs to enthusiastically exercise their franchise. We manage to successfully deliver election materials to these places but continuously fail to deliver amenities, healthcare and infrastructure. Either this is the truth or our Independent Commission is not as independent as it makes itself out to be. Either way, we have misrepresented or underrepresented most of our communities.

It is not for the middle class or the rich to feel survivor’s guilt, to each their lot in life. It is, however, instructive every now and again to remember that the Nigeria that most of us experience, the Nigeria that you, the reader sitting in in front of your computer or reading on your mobile device experience, is different from what the vast majority experiences.

That experience includes not worrying about the cost of cement because they still bend the knee to the earth to make the mud from which their walls are built; ironically, it includes not fretting when schools strike and are not in session because education ends when they have learned how to till the ground to eat.

Admittedly, Nigeria’s government’s problems affect all and sundry, but it is instructive to note that while government is ineffective for some, for others it is invisible. If for nothing at all, it will remind us that there is no way the country can move forward if the vast majority of its inhabitants have been relegated to the shadows, shadows they can only hope to illuminate with candlelight or lanterns.

The positive reports and statistics from our economy cannot be true for some and untrue for others. Until that boy standing on the road looking faraway into the distance can begin to dream about a broader world and life beyond the curve… until he understands that there is a world with enough space for him beyond the curve, our democracy and development have yet to begin.

Babatunde (Tundé) Oyateru is a political communication consultant and speechwriter. He has extensive experience in communication strategy and project management. Babatunde lived and worked in the Republic of Ireland for some time, but has since moved back to his native Nigeria where he works as a partner at ESFAJ & Partners. He can be reached at tunde.oyateru@SEADiaspora.com for questions and inquiries.

Gilbert - Part II

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Wed, 16 Jan 2013 03:13:00 +0000

Author: Kombeh Jobe

As one friend's life accelerates, the other is left to watch. The sensual stranger Gilbert and the first taste of love push individual values away. But is the infatuation worth the moral sacrifice?

For almost two weeks now, Matty has been rhapsodizing over Gilbert. She would text or call me, exclaiming over every little thing he did that week, or day or even hour. I hardly see her anymore. When she calls me it’s: “I’m with Gilbert here” and “we might be going there to see this and that.”

They go to movies, they go to museums, restaurants, Broadway plays, parks - all the clichéd outings that every new couple that thinks it’s in love does, and with all the excitement that every new love opens.

I simply nod whenever Matty’s explaining their adventures to me. I pretend to care - I must pretend to care – and just listen. Listening is the best one can do in situations like this. Any criticism, suggestion, or even a question, anything I say will be suspected and scrutinized and exaggeratingly interpreted. I must remain silent.

But I am not a cynic. I do believe in romance. I think if I encounter it – a real, true romance, if that’s ever possible, like the one Matty thinks she’s enthralled in, I don’t think I’ll budge or shrug it off. But, for the most part, a lot of these things die pretty quickly and the two people involved will one day, someday, realize just how stupid and idiotic they were to each other. And how much they probably hate each other. And besides, aren’t girls now supposed to be better than that?

Matty is calling me. It’s three in the morning and I can’t sleep. My head is drenched in too much - caffeine, sugar, TV and insipid pop songs. I see that Matty’s calling me, and that she has been calling me for the past half hour. I have eleven missed calls, all from her. She didn’t leave a voicemail.

“Hey!”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in bed. What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been trying to call you for so long. Why didn’t you answer? What are you doing?” She’s whispering but I can still hear the trembling in her voice. She starts sobbing now, crying which sounds a bit like laughter, except for its shrilling deafness.

“What’s going on?”

“Mat, what’s the matter?” I ask again, getting up and turning on the light. Ade’s not here and so I’m by myself for the night, maybe for the week. Perhaps even a month, who knows this time around with Ade?

Matty asks if Ade is with me, if anyone’s with me. I tell her I’m by myself and she starts crying again, then starts talking and sobbing, not saying anything understandable.

She speaks in short broken sentences, pierced by sudden words like “marriage” and “God.” She says something about Gilbert, about being in his place and going to a dinner and then going home. She mentions Gilbert being so nice and sweet - the word she uses is “romantic,” how romantic he was throughout the night - making reservations to a very fancy restaurant, buying her a watch, and walking around the park.

He began kissing her neck, feverishly, excitedly, and was very much into it, and she couldn't tell him to stop. She tells me she didn't do anything, couldn't do anything because he was, you know, so nice and romantic and they were having fun and she didn't want it all want to stop. By the time he took her to his place he'd already had her bra unhooked and was nibbling on her chest. Before she knew it she was screaming loudly, wailing and crying like a kid because it hurt so bad, was so painful, so much pressure and pull, felt like a grenade was going off inside of her. And the blood - there was blood everywhere, like dropped wine on an immaculate white carpet. Gilbert kept going, didn't feel a need to stop, panting and heaving, his inscrutably hard body laying on her, heavier than a stone. When he finally got off of her she rushed to the bathroom, the blood still coming, like the first time she saw her period, embarrassed and grossed by all the blood and the smell emanating from her own body.

This time there's no smell, just red water flowing down the shower, and an acute dull pain of pressure, a pain that's almost stomach sinking.

I tell Matty to come over, and that she can spend the night so we can talk. But I don’t see her. I guess she never showed up, probably thinking I went back to bed and didn’t hear the bell ring. But knowing Matty she would have called; she would have rang as many times as possible, and then bang on the door. She would have done anything to get me to open the door and let her in. Where else could she go?

I try calling her again and again but she doesn’t answer. She replies to one of my texts, saying she is OK and that everything’s alright and that she’ll be staying with her parents. I tell her I’ll come over after work, but she said it’s fine, she wants to stay home and be by herself.

I immediately hate Gilbert. I didn’t like him the first time we met, and now hate him even more; he is the exact kind of man I thought he would be. I knew he didn’t care for Matty, but was taking advantage of her, and Matty, never used to that much attention from a man, believed him.

He has that quality that certain West African men from former French colonies have: they treat women wonderfully, gorgeously, perhaps more than any other kind of men. But that's because they also see them as wonderful, gorgeous, unattainable attained objects, able to lavish and style them as they prefer. They totter them around in their arms, whispering beautiful nonsense, making them lose their minds, ensnaring them in their scheme and finally discarding, donating, them to lesser men, as if they're vintage designer shoes that once the leather has been torn and the emotional attachment diminished, and your friends have seen you with them, it's time to look for new ones, much more expensive, which will match your new watch and glasses.

And so Gilbert lets Matty be donated to a marriage.

As a Presbyterian, and a devout one at that, Matty has always considered sex as what her minister says it is: a union of two bodies in a God-ordained covenant, for the sake of posterity and longevity.

Ade and I were convinced that Matty would probably sleep with someone before marriage. We were certain that she wouldn’t hold up. Even though sex is different for us, even though we were simply told to not do it, or better yet think about it, and that it was shrouded in secrecy, our parents denying its existence – it was all we could think about.

It embarrassed us. It made us scared. We were nervous and confused about it. We were told of the pain, the blood, the smell, not to mention the risks of catching a disease, or worse getting pregnant and having a child, which is certain to destroy your entire family. And we couldn’t bear the hurt of our families. Unlike me and Ade, Matty’s never embarrassed about her family and rarely mocks it. Not even her mother.

Matty’s mother, Mrs. Alazeih, is just unlike Matty. Every aspect of her life is loud and big and ample. Heavy and wide, she walks very slowly, usually breathless, panting from the slightest exertion. She speaks in a strong patois; her voice is a screech, and sometimes she howls when talking on the phone. She isn't dark like Matty. Lightening creams have made her face almost yellow but her hands and feet look burnt, and other areas of her body are splotchy, like an aged banana.

Matty’s mother has gotten bigger and bigger every year since I have known her, wider and stouter since she first brought Matty to our 7th grade class at Francis Scott Key Middle School. New, obstinate, and determined, Matty had that attitude that made the other kids afraid of her. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, she wasn’t afraid of her new teachers and especially of her classmates, and because of that, they – we – left her alone. We’d stare at her, the way she writes in class, the way she listens to the teachers, actually, unironically, paying attention, and at lunch the way she eats, slowly, carefully, elegantly.

It was her mother who introduced us. Mrs. Alazeih, in her peacock clothes, strong perfume and gold jewelry, with even a gold baby Jesus dropping to her bosom – she singled me out from the other kids, who were loud and formed into groups. I was too shy and alone, and I guess she, Mrs. Alazeih, figured my shy gawkiness would be a good match for Matty’s unlikeable bluntness.

She enjoys explaining this story to relatives and friends and even to strangers, taking credit for such a long friendship, and insinuates it whenever she needs to prove her matchmaking skills. Mrs. Alazeih has never called me directly, not in the thirteen years I’ve known her. So I think I something is wrong, perhaps something happened to Matty, or to my parents, or maybe she just wants something. But returning her missed call, she answered laughing, yelling and shouting to someone else - her normal conversational tone. She then tells me how happy she is; the whole family is so very happy that finally her youngest daughter is getting married…God has answered her prayers, and she can now rejoice. But oh, the preparations for the wedding, how soon should it be? And the bridesmaids – what exactly is my size again, she can’t tell whether I’ve gained more weight or if I’m the same as before. And what about Ade? And I have a cousin who lives in New Jersey right? Maybe she can participate, to even it all out. But Ade is so small she can just eyeball her size for her….

Mrs. Alazeih keeps on talking, more to herself than to me. Someone calls her and, without saying bye, she hangs up. I didn’t catch most of her babble but only that Matty’s getting married!

Kombeh Jobe is a fiction writer currently living in Brooklyn, New York. Originally from Gambia, Ms. Jobe is a naturalized American citizen. She is a graduate of Hunter College, where she received her Bachelors of Art degree in English Literature. She loves food, good movies, books, and speaking “GooMoo” with her three-month old nephew.

This is a serial, fictional narrative by Kombeh Jobe. This series will continue and a new, additional page will be posted Saturday, June 2nd, by the author.

To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

Gilbert - Part I

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 13:39:00 +0000

Author: Kombeh Jobe

As one friend's life accelerates, the other is left to watch. The sensual stranger Gilbert and the first taste of love push individual values away. But is the infatuation worth the moral sacrifice?

So Matty and I are sitting outside at one of those open sidewalk restaurants and she is trying to tell me how she might be in love with this guy she met at some party a couple of weeks ago; this Togolese guy, tall, dark, well-built, looks sort of like a football player, like one of those West African footballers playing in Europe. She says he reminds her of this guy who plays for Liverpool (or was it Chelsea or Manchester United?).

She is all giddy and nervous, gushing about Gilbert and grappling for the right words to describe how she is feeling.

"I mean… I feel like he and I have so much in common, like, you know when you feel that there's this one person who really understands you, who gets everything about you - all the little things in life, everything that bugs you about everything. It's so weird, you know. You go around thinking that you'll never actually find that person, being so cynical because of past experiences… But then you do. And it's just so amazing!

"He listens to me. He listens to exactly what I have to say. He nods and smiles and sometimes even holds my hand - oh! He once even kissed it. It was so surprising and weird and I didn’t know how to feel about it. But oh my God! Have you ever had that happen to you? Have you ever had a guy actually kiss your hand, and actually mean it?"

“No,” I smile, “it has never happened to me.” And neither has falling in love. The closest I came to that kind of romantic gesture is having a guy give me his jacket, and that was because I asked.

But she doesn't hear my response or even care for what I have to say.

I become silent for a minute and look down to gaze at all the hip young people, looking so smart and confident and eager, impatient because they’re running out of time. And then I realize that Matty is self-conscious; she's aware of her own emotions and her unusually frenzied speech.

Matty is never this self-conscious; she never lets any thoughts impede her from whatever it is she wants to achieve. She smiles back at me -- a nervous, twitching smile -- and looks down at her hands, fingering her skinny knuckles, as if already expecting a ring.

Though I'm older than Matty by almost a year, everyone assumes she is much older than me. She definitely acts older, and speaks and dresses and lives much older than either Ade or myself.

She’s always had a plan for her life, charting each great event according to her age and educational and employment situation. She would work for a while after school, and then find a boyfriend, date for a few months, get engaged, and then get married. They’ll have two weddings: one here in America, for her friends and immediate family, and another one back home for her cousins and aunts and other distant relatives. She’d then have kids – three, two boys and one girl - and become a true, respected wife and mother like her mother and sister and aunts before her. She didn’t want to be thirty-five and single or dating some loser guy who will never marry her and would one day leave her for a younger, prettier girl. Love wasn’t a considerable factor in this scheme. “If it happens, then it happens,” was her motto throughout high school and college.

And that is why it's shocking to hear Matty espousing true love and the benefits of finding a soul mate. "Not really a soul mate, I don't know if that's possible but someone who just feels this instantaneous connection to and longing for you. It's a completion of the soul, like what Plato said."

Plato?! I didn't know Matty read Plato, or that she even knew who he was. She never really cared much for philosophy or literature, or anything too artsy or pretentious. She was a nursing major, and graduated with really good grades. And then went on to have a very good, very-well paying job, unlike Ade and I, toiling in menial jobs in pursuit of some elusive artistic career. She used to admonish us for choosing our majors; in my case, art history. Ade first went for English. She later switched to sociology, before deciding that it was too boring, declared anthropology as her major, and then, finally, dropped out of school altogether to pursue her modeling career. Lang was a history major but then he switched to computer science. His grades slipped but he didn't really care because he knew he'd get a job when he graduates, at least a much better job than either Ade or I had a chance at.

It's been almost two years since we all, except Ade, graduated from college and, so far, only Matty and Lang have good jobs. Matty is an RN at New York Presbyterian. And Lang does some IT thing for a new online company specializing in “hooking” people up. He gloats that it’s the best job anyone can have.

College was not as great as we'd imagined it would be. We definitely tried things, but most of them were tame or really lame and nothing serious; we were afraid of being caught or just guilty that our parents might find out, if not directly from one of us confessing in a moment of intense guilt and shame, then from one of our snooping distant relatives. We mostly talked about the things we would do and would like to do, even though we knew we would never dare to attempt them. But we did smoke Weed for a while, sometimes in our dorm rooms or in Lang's. He had this Asian roommate who was always so high and always had a surplus amount of weed with him, though he really hated to share. Ade and I had to sometimes literally beg for him to give us some, trying our best at being sexy and even promising him a kiss or maybe even going out with him, because he was actually kind of cute and insanely smart with computers. He and Lang would sometimes stay on campus for weeks, getting so high and playing video games or doing some nerdy computer stuff.

But not Matty -- she never even tried a cigarette. She was too busy studying, going to lab, and doing internships at almost every hospital in New York. And when she hung out with us she would admonish Ade and me for living or trying to live a certain lifestyle -- going to clubs and dating questionable-looking men, especially Ade, who always seemed to be with a new guy every week. Ade is one of those girls who had a preternatural way of finding and approaching men. She isn’t that pretty - wide apart eyes and a nose that was almost too big, which she’s been saying she’ll one day reduce . But she is lean and tall, and knows that almost every guy likes her for her unnaturally big chest. In college she used it to get away with everything. I was still too awkward to approach guys, usually ending up tagging along with Ade or having her set me up with some loser friend of her boyfriend’s.

Matty has had only one boyfriend since high school, Lassane -- a handsome, smart, and very awkward kid who ended up with a full scholarship to Georgia Tech. Rumor was that Matty gave him an ultimatum after high school: either come with her to Jersey and continue with their relationship -- he also got a scholarship to Rutgers -- or go to Atlanta and end the whole thing. The fact that Lassane chose to leave was even more surprising to all of us than their breakup.

“You will like Gilbert,” Matty tells me, as our very serious waiter empties our table. She takes out her wallet and pulls out her credit card. She always pays, but today she doesn’t say how this will be the last time she pays for me or that I owe her.

“He’s so funny, and really smart. His favorite author is some French guy that I think killed himself because he was so depressed. He wrote so many depressing poems. I bet you know him. I told him you read a lot and know a lot of these famous artists.”

“Well I don’t know everyone.”

“Yeah but this one’s really famous. He wrote this book about flowers and death…”

“You mean Baudelaire?”

“Yeah that’s his name. I read some of his poems but didn’t really get them. But Gilbert was impressed that you majored in art history. He wants to meet you. He wants us all to hang out.”

“We’re going to this museum in Harlem and you should come,” she says as she puts on her lipstick and brushes her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. She took out her braids for long, thick extensions and a bang, which is parted. She even has on make-up, though very little - just mascara, and pink-and-blue eye shadow, gently brushed on her thick-lids. Her heels are too high and look too new shining under her dark feet.

She is just ebullient and doesn’t notice anything around her. The old Matty would have been really annoyed by the slowness of the service, and our waiter’s sourpuss face, and would leave without tipping.

A week later we meet Gilbert by the museum. There he was, tall, strongly built, and dressed to meet the world in a navy blue trouser with a black blazer over a white cotton shirt. He has on dark sunglasses in the fading evening sun, and looked as every bit as Matty had described him, but much older. He looks as if he is in his thirties, though he’s dressed like a twenty-five year-old.

He approaches us, taking off his glasses and giving Matty a hug and a kiss on the lips, a kiss that’s a bit too long and which to Matty seemed a bit embarrassing. Or maybe it just appeared that way to me.

She introduces us. He hugs me, and then takes my hand, shaking it gently. He has a slight smell of perfume and alcohol, and his breath is that of Winterfresh gum, peppermint and artificial.

In his thick French-inflected accent he asks me the usual questions: What do I do? Where do I work? What did I major in, and what did I plan to do later? He already knows the answer to most of these questions, Matty must have obviously told him. But I know he is trying, and so I politely, willingly, answer all of them.

He was born in Togo, in a not so bad suburb of Lomé. His father died when he was ten, and when he was a senior in high school he lost his mother too. As the oldest of five kids, he was mostly responsible for them, taking care of them till he left for Montreal on a scholarship. He wanted to be a doctor but it was too demanding and stressful and so he ended up in New York. He attended a community college where he got his associate's in business administration, and then went to a senior college and majored in software engineering. He said it wasn’t really hard, that it was not as difficult as it looked. He's been working for this start-up company that delivers pet food right to people’s doorsteps. (PetStar? PetRite? Something about pets and has pet in its name, but I couldn’t remember the exact name.) He liked it when he first started but is now sick of it; the hours at the office are pretty long and he doesn't particularly like the people he works with. He's looking for another job. He may quit very soon but wants to find another job before he does.

As he condenses his life, Matty looks at him with an unusual pride and, I notice, a nervous, tremulous smile.

This is a serial, fictional narrative by Kombeh Jobe. This series will continue and a new, additional page will be posted Saturday, June 2nd, by the author.

To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

The Case for Ghana’s Innovative Youth: Long-term Policies are Needed

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Tue, 20 Nov 2012 17:25:00 +0000

Author: Solomon Elorm Allavi

Ghana is facing a youth employment problem like many other countries in West Africa. It has, however, decided to take measures to find gainful employment for this demographic and to channel their innovative appetite into an engine of growth for the country. Solomon describes the Ghanian youth experience, and a future economic prosperity rooted in entrepreneurship and innovation initiatives.

Ever woke up with a kick at 5:30am? Not with a set alarm clock of course, but jolted out of slumber with the reminder of a pending job interview? With hurried trepidation like a goat in heat, you jump into a quick shower in less than two minutes, put on your suit, slide into your shoes and off to pick up the troski (privately owned public transport in Ghana). A sweaty troski mate hurriedly demands for your fare, which, unfortunately, you don’t have -- you’ve forgotten to take your wallet. You quickly enter an apologetic mode and plead with the mate to pay up another time. Well, as if by design, you get caught up in a heavy early Monday morning traffic on the Ring Road en route to Osu for your interview on Oxford Street. You eventually get to the office for the interview. You are interviewed for about 40 minutes and told you’ve been selected. The caveat, however, is that the vacancy is currently not yet opened until about 12 months time! This is just one of the numerous challenges associated with being a young graduate in Ghana. Jobs are simply on the decline.

The main Kaneshie market in Ghana features a troski station.
The troski is the privately owned public transport system, on which many Ghanians rely daily.

The above scenario typically portrays the difficulties young graduates face in getting employment in Ghana. It is universally acknowledged, however, that the way to address such unemployment challenges is through entrepreneurship and job creation initiatives from the public and private sectors. The unemployment situation in Ghana stands at 12.9 percent and is one of the highest in the world, according to the Centre for Policy Analysis (CEPA) and Trading Economics. This figure is even debatable because the agencies responsible for producing data on unemployment in Ghana, such as the Ghana Statistical Service (through the Ghana Living Standards Survey-GLSS), are yet to comprehensively undertake a baseline survey on Ghana’s unemployment level. Even the Minister of Employment in Ghana does not know the employment figures of the country, thus the 12.9 percent unemployment estimate being bundled about could be higher than the real number.

It is important for young people in Ghana to acquire essential skills for the job market. Skills development, especially for the informal sector, is an issue of huge importance. The informal sector employs roughly 90 percent of the economically active population in many of these countries. This problem concerns all the national economies in sub-Sahara Africa.

At the Kumasi Center in Ghana, young Ghanians are trained with
technical skills which they may use to enter the workforce.

Our universities are inundated with courses that simply teach grammar. We need a well-developed long-term agenda on science, technology and mathematics. The issue of skills development needs to be tackled at two levels. Firstly, it is necessary to find vocational activities or jobs for the many uneducated, undereducated and even qualified young people who find it extremely hard to enter the work force. Secondly, it is necessary to develop technical and vocational skills for young people, as well as for the economic and professional stakeholders in this sector, which can help them develop their own small-scale opportunities and, more generally, progress from our current subsistence economy to a value added one.

Ghana has been in the limelight for some of its good economic policies: its improved business climate; the achievement of most of the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs); and its favourable and stable political environment. Crowning all of this is the country’s growing culture of entrepreneurship among its youth. Even without deliberate interventions by the government to support young people by way of addressing unemployment, Ghanaian youth, especially college graduates, are taking on laudable initiatives to create startup companies in the tech, general service, manufacturing, and agribusiness sectors. An enabling environment is critical for private sector growth in Ghana. There is need for advocacy within the public and private sectors for investment in infrastructure and services, providing improved broadband coverage in urban centers would be necessary to successful business development.

It should be noted that overall commercial investment in innovation youth tech startups is lacking. While support is present from donors and international organizations, private sector investment at the venture, incubation and growth stages could lead to more robust, sustainable innovation in this sector. The youth are the bedrock of Ghana’s economy, thus proactive support for youth-led innovation and enterprises can lead to economic and social transformation of our entire country.

Solomon Elorm Allavi is a passionate Ghanaian with interest in ICT applications in agriculture, youth development and research. He has an academic background in computer science and statistics. He is the Global Youth Innovation Network (GYIN) Ambassador in Ghana and a leading member of the Youth Advisory Group (YAG). He is also the founder and chief operations manager of Syecomp Ghana Ltd, a startup IT company focused on geographic information systems (GIS) survey and mapping applications in Ghana.

Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below. Solomon can be reached on twitter @Elorms or via e-mail at sallavi@syecomp.com

9 Signs the Journalism on Africa You've Just Encountered Is Trash

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 06:03:00 +0000

Author: Imran Garda

News coverage of Africa has drastically reduced over the decade. So too has the quality of coverage of the continent. Well below journalistic standards, reports from and representation of the continent do not reflect the actualities on the ground. In the end, the Africa on the television set is far from reality and suffers from a perception problem.

You may already have accepted that those images of swollen potbellies underneath protruding ribs, those sticky flies sitting on the starving child's eyebrows and lips, those panoramic views of refugee camps are not the be-all and end-all of Africa. Or those unclear references to Africa which suggest it's a monolith, or even worse, a country. You may have accepted that all these, some of which are not inaccurate in some places, don't provide the full picture. A picture which, if it were genuine, would reflect a continent of diverse peoples and ideas, varied standards of living (including horrendous poverty and unbelievable inequality) yet infinite potential, a picture of an eclectic mix of things good and bad.

Besides flies, potbellies and continental monoliths, here are some other telltale signs of simplistic and often pathetic attempts to cover Africa. If more than one of these apply to your print, online or broadcast journalism source, you're probably not getting your information from the most reliable place.

Darkness, darkness everywhere

If you come across a description of Africa as the "dark continent," Africa having a "dark history," especially if you come across Conradian references to "the heart of darkness," it may suggest the journalist relies too heavily on a book of fiction written in 1902 and is unlikely to have spoken to many people on the ground. Also, all this "dark" this and "dark" that business, feels just more than a little racist.

African sunsets, African skies

Only in Africa do news reports sometimes wax lyrical about golden African sunrises, molten lava African sunsets, azure African skies... I can assure you: The sun in Africa is the same sun as the rest of the world. The sky is exactly the same sky too. Trees are trees in Africa, not African trees. "Plumes of smoke went up, smothering the Japanese sky in Fukushima." If that sounds ridiculous, it's because it is -- and for Africa it's no different.

They need a reason to kill each other?

Bill Maher recently interviewed the New York Times' East Africa bureau chief Jeffrey Gettleman on his show and Maher asked why it seems "in Africa... [there are] wars for no apparent reason... for the sake of." Gettleman then indicated that LRA leader Joseph Kony's insurgency might fit that category since he can't be bought, he can't be reasoned with and he has no ideology. I found it curious: Kony anointing himself as a messiah and calling his organization the Lord's Resistance Army still didn't qualify enough for Gettleman's definition of an ideology. This sounds a lot like someone who's watched that scene from The Dark Knight where Alfred (Michael Caine) tries to explain the Joker's psychopathic personality to Bruce Wayne using the example of the Bandit from Burma. Forget the layers upon layers of background to Kony's rise, including the terrible atrocities against civilians of the Acholi districts in Northern Uganda by rebels and the government since as early as 1986. It may come as a surprise, but no -- wars don't just happen for the sake of, in Africa. Like everywhere else, they have a context. Colonialism was real. So was apartheid. These phenomenon, imposed from the outside, have had a lasting effect on every thread of the fabric of society, from Morocco to Sudan, Ghana to South Africa. The continent cannot be reported accurately without recognition of these legacies. Any piece of journalism that doesn't -- is not worth trusting. We remember The American Civil War, The Russian Revolution, World War II, The Holocaust -- and factor them into how they affect realities on the ground today. Africa's history is no different.

They speak English?

Colonialism brought European languages to Africa. Any report that gives even the vaguest indication of surprise that this Angolan speaks fluent Portuguese, or this Ivorian speaks fluent French, or that Zimbabwean speaks perfect English -- should be mocked.

Can't understand 'em

When you do come across a news report that has an African interviewee speaking English, but still find the speech subtitled, ask yourself why heavily-accented factory workers from Glasgow, protesters in Belfast, or even the Australian PM Julia Gillard aren't subtitled too.

All dictators are equal, but some dictators are more equal than others

Confident, unapologetic use of the terms "Banana Republic" or "Tinpot Dictatorship" tend to feature heavily when it comes to Africa in the mainstream. Not that there aren't many, far too many -- but if a news source is going to call one dictator a dictator -- it should call all dictators dictators. Ask yourself, how many times has the d-word been used by your news source when referencing U.S. and European-allied absolute monarchs in the oil-rich Gulf? If the polite "strongman" or "pragmatist" or "reformer in a traditional society" can apply to them, it can apply to African leaders too.

No potholes -- it's a miracle!

Rwanda has been through a lot. It's a nation that's making big strides on many fronts, particularly economically. But the next time you read something about the lack of potholes in Kigali and the miracle that the roads and buildings are so incredible, so soon after the genocide, consider this: What the hell do potholes have to do with hacking someone to death with a machete? Nazi Germany had great infrastructure and probably zero potholes. The Tibetans have few roads, and those few probably have very many potholes. They're hardly the most violent people you'll ever meet.

Look, they're singing and dancing!

If a political report devotes a substantial chunk of attention to tribal dancing, and "vibrant African music" -- beware. You wouldn't sample the nightclubs and "vibrant American music" in Adams Morgan when doing a piece on Democrats and Republicans arguing over the U.S. budget. Just like the sky is the sky in Africa and not the African sky, music is music in Africa and not African music. And if music wasn't vibrant, well then it's probably not music.

What do you think about Obama?

If I had a dollar for every time I've seen or read a western reporter asking every African they come across what they think of Barack Obama (you know, because he's black and they are), I'd use the money to travel to Kosovo, or Latvia and ask people there what they think of Mitt Romney, you know, because he's white and they are...

Follow Imran Garda on Twitter: www.twitter.com/@ImranGarda

Born in Johannesburg, Imran Garda has over a decade of experience as a journalist. He was most recently with Al Jazeera English as a reporter, anchor and host of the award-winning social media show The Stream.

The following article was originally published in The Huffington Post. Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

Still Minority Status for the African Woman

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sat, 03 Nov 2012 12:30:00 +0000

Author: Adeline T. Massima

Something has changed in the last fifty years for women in Africa. Increasing numbers of democratic governments on the continent has meant increasing representation. Though, where it is, and where it should be is still quite far apart. The truth is that African women still hold a minority status.

African men are predominantly “macho men.” In fact, this particular genre of men is still the most ubiquitous on the planet. However, in Africa, though many women still live under the crushing and often brutal socio-political construct of men, there have been some significant symbolic power victories for women. Today, there are two women heads of state in Africa, not to mention, that the head of the most important international judicial organization, The International Criminal Court (ICC) in the Hague, is soon to be an African woman. Added to that, the finance minister for the continent’s second largest economy is a woman. Could the symbolism of women at commanding heights translate into real empowerment for the majority of African women someday soon?

Symbols matter. They can be psychologically accessed to change reality in the future. People believe in stripes and flags, stars and banners, and insignias that symbolise outcomes yet realized. Every nation, including those that later become conquering empires, was once only a symbol before it became a reality. The question is then, what does two female heads of state in Africa do to bring the symbolism of equality for women into a reality on the continent?

Fatou B. Bensouda is the Chief Prosecutor at the
International Criminal Court.

The reality, at the moment, is far from ideal, but also grim when presented with the daunting challenges facing this “majority” group. The continent, as is the case in the world in general, has more women than men. However, Africa’s armed conflicts, both the few that make international headlines and the many that do not, disproportionately have women and children as the victims of their inhumanity. Women and children are the collateral damage of Africa’s wars. At times, as is currently the case in the ongoing conflicts in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and the drawn out war between Sudan and South Sudan, civilian women are actively singled out for rapes and other gross human rights abuses by rebels and formal military. In October 2009, after multiple peace agreements, the UN mission to the Congo documented that 15,000 women had been raped throughout the country that year.

African women have experienced little change in their situation, mostly due to the little political power they collectively command within the power structures of their respective countries. In 2003, Rwandan women, a mere nine and a half years after the country’s devastating genocide, won 48.8% of the lower house of parliament, making Rwandan women number one in the world in terms of political representation. Today, Rwandan women make up 56 % of the lower house and 38 % of the upper house of parliament. South Africa comes very close—its women hold 42 % of the lower house and 32 % of the upper house. And in Mozambique, women hold 39 % of the upper house of parliament. All three of these countries rank much higher than the United States; though, you wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking that Rwandan women enjoy the same rights and social freedoms as their Western counterparts.

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf is the current
President of Liberia and the first
female elected official in Africa.

There are longstanding cultural and built-in institutional barriers on women in Africa. And these barriers have proven immutable, even in Rwanda and South Africa. For example, Rwanda’s parliament needs men for any bill to become law, since they hold the majority in the upper house. And, as is often the case, the upper house holds most of the powers of the legislative branch. In South Africa, there is only one viable political party—the African National Congress (ANC). Women have yet to prove capable of breaking through the strong masculine power bloc within the ANC where the party, though morally and rhetorically in support of women’s issues, is yet to follow through on many of its campaign promises.

International Relations has been abuzz recently with the nouvelle idea that women’s issues are fundamental to global security. The truth is that the decisions women make in life and in their families have immense consequences on society. The number of children they decide to have determines population size; what they use to cook for their families have a noticeable effect on pollution and green house gas emissions; and how educated they are has a contributing effect on the chances of their children pursuing decent education. But, the pivotal role of women at home, which has never been questioned, is finding it very difficult to translate into the political realm. Few African countries put women into consideration in their national security agenda. Even fewer see women as potential contributors to the structural directions of their respective countries.

What change can two female presidents and the female head of the ICC engender for the African woman? It’s still a little too soon to be able to tell exactly how this group will realize its true place in the chambers of power. Though two female presidents do not make a tidal wave, there is something happening that is gradually reshaping the image of women in Africa. Eventually, it can be hoped, and expected, that the democratic wave moving through Africa will bring with it liberalizing and socialist movements that will allow the continent’s women to enter the political stage and take their place in deciding the most important issues in society.

Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

Global Warming: Africa’s New Chains of Poverty?

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 03:58:00 +0000

Author: Adeline T. Massima

Global warming could put Africa on the back foot after the continent has managed to make some lost ground. Unfortunately, the worst-case scenario, according to the science, could snuff this nascent progress. In fact, it could bind Africa in a new cycle of poverty and aid dependency to the West.

You probably should know this by now. But, just in case you did not, here it is: the single most important threat to mankind is climate change – global warming. In fact, it dwarfs all other concerns – including the constant fear of nuclear war – since we are talking about the planet and the eventual seismic changes that will occur as a result of how humanity has collectively lived in the past. More than 100 million people could die between now and 2050 from the effects of climate change, if the world does not take decisive steps to arrest it. It is now accepted gospel in academic and policy circles that the developing world will disproportionately suffer the devastating toll of climate change in lives and money, though its role in causing this existential crisis is very minuscule What this means for Africa is an ethical issue. Global warming could trap Africa in severe poverty, forcing it into a new cycle of dependency on aid from the West.

Oxfam photo of a family gathering firewood in drought-stricken Kenya in 2011.

It is truly impossible to underestimate the potential cost of global warming to Africa – in lives and money. No one can be certain of the future, but the signs are all too clear: global record heat waves, unprecedented floods, rapid loss of ice caps, and natural disasters on television that look like apocalyptic religious texts come to life. If there is one group of people unprepared for global warming and its consequences, it’s Africans. If the world refuses to take this problem seriously, the world’s poor will overwhelmingly be the victims. But, it is the likelihood of one possibility playing out that should concern most Africans.

The cost of climate change and its impact on Africa’s collective national economies could, realistically, put the Continent in a new, perpetual cycle of aid dependency on the West. That is to say that climate change could shackle Africa in poverty for a very long time. And, as the effects of climate change grow precipitously, the volatilities from natural disasters alone could eventually see most of its economic gains wiped out. It could easily be reduced to having to beg for aid for its starving, natural disaster-ridden populace.

Since the Continent is poor it cannot contribute to the gargantuan sum environmental scientists believe should be spent annually to mitigate this problem. According to the UN, “most estimates [on the global cost of mitigating climate change] fall in a range from $250 billion to $800 billion per year between now and 2040.” The World Bank estimates that between 2010 and 2050, the cost for sub-Sahara Africa to adapt to climate change will be at least $18 billion annually. This sum does not include the cost of putting African economies on a low-carbon path. Just to give you a good idea of what we are talking about here; the Nigerian president recently proposed a $29.3 billion federal budget for 2013. Nigeria is the second largest economy in sub-Sahara Africa after South Africa.

The likelihood of a crushing climate-induced African poverty is high, because the political will to do what it takes to avoid this scenario is lacking. But, also, most importantly, it is because Africans are incredibly powerless and not a serious voice in the climate change debate – or in any debate on the international stage. Western policy makers, with the money and technology to deal with the worst outcomes of global warming to their citizens, do not take seriously – even though it’s now an ethical matter – the millions of people in the poor parts of the world who are certain to be casualties of the brave new world humanity is about to face. The American presidential debates – all three of them – notably did not touch on the most important issue facing mankind. The global economic crises has proven a great excuse for many countries to fall behind on their financial responsibilities to the funds set up to protect poor vulnerable countries.

As increasingly seems to be the case, the developed world, considered the chief architect of this global predicament, due to its economic policies beginning in the 20^th century, does not have the will to conclusively face the high cost of the problem. So, it doesn’t look like the human race will do enough to abate the worst aspects of a warming planet. In a continent where more than 80 percent of the inhabitants still consider themselves farmers by profession, what will happen when rainfall patterns increasingly become erratic? What happens when widespread crop failures become the new norm?

The consensus is that the effect of global warming will be to accentuate the extremes
with more pronounced droughts and more severe flooding.

Some studies conducted on the potential damage to the Continent have returned with some precarious predictions. For instance, according to an IPCC study (International Governmental Panel on Climate Change), “projected reductions in yields in some countries could be as much as 50 percent by 2020, and crop net revenues could fall by as much as 90 percent by 2100, with small-farm holders being the most affected. It will also aggravate the water stress currently faced by some countries – about 25 percent of Africa’s population (about 200 million people) currently experience high water stress. The population at risk of increased water stress in Africa is projected to be between 350-600 million by 2050.”

When global warming comes full-term, African countries will look to the international community for aid – handouts, if you will – to deal with the humanitarian crisis. The disaster will be overwhelming. The question to ask, though, is: if the international community is unwilling to foot the bill for the preventative measures necessary to avoid the worst of what seems so evidently on its way, would it be willing to give aid that is triple the cost it so ardently shrugged off earlier? The irresponsible borrowing of African governments post independence still saddles an entire continent more than 60 years later. Climate change could do the very same; it could be the new chains on a Continent newly acquainted with signs of a better tomorrow.

What’s in a Name? Burkina Faso: A Model of Tolerance

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 03:57:00 +0000

Author: Sam Gradess

Sam Gradess analyses the uniqueness of Burkinabé. Drawing from everyday life experiences, he explains how a stranger would be hard-pressed to find a place as welcoming as Burkina Faso. Its people and their way of life spells nothing but tolerance and an appreciation for the humanity that almost spells paradise.

When Thomas Sankara, often revered as West Africa’s Che Guevara, became president of Upper Volta, one of his many lauded executive declarations was to rename the country Burkina Faso. The new name signifies in French Le pays des hommes integres or, in English, The Land of the Upright People.

Thomas Sankara, often regarded as Africa's Che Guevara,
was the president of Upper Volta (present day Burkina Faso).

While Burkina Faso is no different from its neighbors in terms of hospitality and open-ness to foreigners, the Land of the Upright People has been praised for employing the best example of tolerance within the region. The people’s acceptance of others and model of inclusion is made implicit within the name of the country and its people. “Burkina,” a Mooré word meaning honorable or upright, is combined with “Faso,” a Dioula word meaning land. Additionally, to denote a person from Burkina Faso, “bè,” a Fulfuldé word meaning people or children, is suffixed to Burkina. Sankara successfully integrated the three most popular languages of his country to create a new national identity, one of tolerance, honor, and open-mindedness.

Like many other West African nations, Burkina Faso is known for housing diverse ethnic groups, including over sixty native, nomadic, or recently immigrated peoples. The Mossi’s being the largest group, have built their empire around Burkina’s capital Ouagadougou over several centuries. Leaving this region, older generations of Mossi are easily identified by traditional scars on their faces. Though a fading practice, facial scarification was used to determine regional origin and social rank. It is rare to see young children with these marks on their face, but if a Mossi mother fell ill during childbirth, the child would often have scars cut outward around the navel, resembling the sun. The group claims origins in Ghana, Chad, or somewhere along the Niger River, none of which intersect at any point, thus leaving the topic open for debate.

Though Dioula is the second most popular language in Burkina Faso, it does not correspond with one highly populated ethnic group. While the umbrella ethnic group Mande is highly present in western Burkina, most Burkinabè identify with their subgroup, whether Bobo, Samo, Bwa, or Dafine. The language itself has been a vehicle for trade and the spread of Islam for centuries and its use gains access to other countries in the region including Mali, Cote d’Ivoire, and Guinea, which all speak derivatives of this langue des commerçants.

This is a very surface-level description of just a few of the ethnic groups inhabiting Burkina Faso. Interestingly enough, most of these ethnic groups are not tied to any specific religion. The three most popular religions, Islam, Catholicism, and Protestantism, are found in the farthest corners of every Burkina region. Living in a Mossi district, I have two neighbors who are devout Muslims, one who is Catholic, and another who is Protestant. This precedent holds true across the map of Burkina, regardless of ethnicity. The possible mélange of ethnic origin combined with religious practice are thus infinite. Furthermore, each religion’s holidays, be it Christmas, Tabaski or Ascension, double as national holidays for all of Burkina Faso’s citizens.

During Tabaski (a name commonly used in West Africa for the Muslim holiday, Eid-ul-Adha) rams are slaughtered
as a sacrifice. Large meals are prepared and shared among family, friends, and neighbors.

When I observed Eid ul-Fitr, the feast marking the end of the fasting period of Ramadan, I was an honored guest in many Muslim households and ate to my heart’s content and to my stomach’s discontent. Seventy days later, celebrating Eid ul-Adha, the feast commemorating Abraham’s sacrifice, I noticed both Catholic and Protestant Burkinabè visiting various family compounds, wishing wealth and success to their Muslim counterparts, and even offering a part of their feast. On both Easter and Christmas day, my Muslim neighbors equally invited me to celebrate in their homes.

This sense of revelry imbued in the daily lives of Burkinabè has promoted equal interest and acceptance among neighbors and friends, regardless of ethnic origin or religion. I recall many American friends showing concern for my entry into a majority-Islamic country, especially since Peace Corps Niger was evacuated due to a resurgence of terrorism targeting Westerners. After a year of living here, I am consumed with Burkinabès’ dearth of extremism, which weaves into the patchwork of their daily lives. For example, when there is a conflict of any sort, it is usually resolved with ease for fear of disrupting the peace of tomorrow. Whenever a disagreement arises and someone holds even the slightest grudge, many jump to say, “il ne pense pas à demain” (he is not thinking about tomorrow). Honing this practice of keeping the peace among even the most minimal relationships has proven onerous, as it is not a natural American custom.

Further evidence of tolerance can be found in the playful interactions among different ethnic groups. I once overheard my language teacher ask the passenger next to her to close the window to stop the entry of dust, referring to him as her slave. Due to the historical power dynamics of many ethnic groups, many Burkinabè hold on to these denotations, whether they are a grandfather, uncle, cousin, or yes, slave. These names are, however, mere jocular ways of creating friendship and rarely if ever lead to anger or issue. The passenger had a good chuckle, opened the window, and entered a lengthy discussion about his travel plans with my teacher.

My sojourn in Burkina Faso has been free of fear or insecurity because the people of Burkina Faso are not easily aroused by anger or injustice. When the electricity is cut while I am typing a document or when my bike tire goes flat, I can easily elicit a smile from any Burkinabè who views my subsequent rage as foreign. The calm manière de vivre dispels any notion that people fear of visiting a predominantly Muslim nation. Their mutual respect and acceptance of family, neighbors, friends, and foreigners serves as a model for communities around the world who engage in backstabbing or slander. Though Burkinabè never know what will happen tomorrow, they take comfort waking up each morning without enemies because they thought about tomorrow.

Samuel Gradess is an Education Volunteer in Burkina Faso. He is a graduate of St. Lawrence University where he earned a B.S. in Psychology and Francophone Studies. The contents of his articles are his personally and do not reflect any position of the U.S. Government or the Peace Corps.

Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

Let’s Talk About Sex: Being a Girl in Tanzania

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 03:52:00 +0000

Author: Christopher Guess

Sex is still a taboo subject in Tanzania. The ignorance that stems from not being able to talk about it is proving costly to the future of too many teenage girls. Chris Guess highlights one program’s effort to make a difference.

Bryn is an interesting young woman to talk to. Eighteen years old and only recently graduated from high school, she has already been lucky enough to hold experiences that many people, if they’re even inclined to, could only dream about. In 2010, she, along with a group from her school, traveled to Tanzania and assisted in installing deep-water wells in rural Masai villages. While she was there, she was lucky enough to meet a mutual friend of ours living there at the time. Daudi Messeema, whose mother is from Kansas and father is from Tanzania, had a few days off and had been hired as the class’ liaison while for the trip.

Coincidentally, Daudi and his wife Kellan had just started a new NGO out of their house in Arusha. They named their project Empowered Girls and set about fixing a serious problem they witnessed in their backyards and across Tanzania. Kellan and Daudi decided the group’s goal should be to fight the problems that plague all teenage girls; self-esteem, sexual education, setting correct priorities. In the West we have been working on these for a long time, but women’s issues continue to be woefully unaddressed in the more traditional societies of East Africa.

Empowered Girls program manager Upendo leads a seminar for girls at the
Oldonyo Lengai Secondary School in Engaruka, Tanzania.

As an example of what they’re up against, before 2010 it was illegal in Tanzania for a pregnant girl to return to school after giving birth. While this law was done away with fairly recently, it’s still very much a social norm, though, sometimes it stems from the necessity for the new mother to spend post-natal time with her child. This leaves a lot of teenage girls uneducated and unable to better their lives or those of their children’s given their disadvantaged position.

The really sad part is the prevalence of teenage pregnancies in East Africa that are easily preventable. Sex is an awkward subject for parents to bring up in any society, but the results of this taboo in East Africa can be devastating. Instead of learning from a parent, who they sense are not allowed to discuss sex, they learn from older siblings or, even just as precarious, other teenagers their own age. I’m sure anyone reading this can remember back to the rumors and misinformation thrown about when they were thirteen or fourteen years old. Luckily in (most of) the America we have actual sex education and the reasonable expectation that we can ask academic experts and get a straight and true answer. In the secondary schools where Daudi and Kellan work, this is absolutely not the case, which puts girls at a great disadvantage in society. Myths such as “if I stand up while having sex I can’t get pregnant” or “if I wash afterwards with cold water I can’t get pregnant” are rampant and passed on from generation to generation.

Empowered Girls was set up to help stem the tide and cycle of misinformation. The program does this by focusing on providing role models and experienced individuals school girls can trust will answer a question accurately, unabashedly, and listen to their problems completely. Daudi and Kellan bring in women that can be looked up to, lawyers, business professionals, nurses, and let them teach the girls the lessons they themselves had wished they had.

The work is understandably overwhelming though, and when Bryn heard about this program she decided she wanted to be involved. So instead of spending the summer after high school relaxing with friends and having one last hurrah, she spent it in intensive Swahilli training on a dirt road outside of Arusha.

Abortion is illegal in Tanzania, but it is still a common and dangerous practice that kills many girls. Rape and coerced sex with vulnerable girls are also problems that often result in unwanted pregnancies. Girls and women are rarely empowered to use contraceptives.

After acclimating Bryn, Daudi and Kellan realized that Bryn had an ability that could fill a void in Empowered Girls’ seminars and lectures. Bryn happened to be the same age as the students and, in addition to listening to nurses and doctors much older than themselves, Bryn became a peer and a confidant.

A strange feeling comes on many people who leave the America to teach. People tend to treat you as an expert simply because of where you grew up. The sad part is that, when compared to many of the educational systems in the world, they’re right. The students definitely took advantage of having someone their own age in their classroom. When Bryn would open herself up for questions, the students would change. As she explained it, “It really motivates them, someone else cares about them so they're able to believe in themselves more.” Having the opportunity to ask questions and get authoritative answers from someone their own age is a chance that none of these girls had ever gotten before.

Empowered Girls has been accepted into four schools so far, and the program is hoping to expand as quickly as funds will allow. The time is too short and the numbers are too small at the moment to draw any specific conclusions that what it is doing is making a meaningful difference, but the heart of the project is in no doubt in the right place. Educating girls has been shown time and time again, across the world, to substantially help move a country and region forward. This is just one more step towards the goal.

Christopher Guess is a journalist, photographer and tech entrepreneur based in Brooklyn, New York. Christopher writes about emerging innovations and individuals within Africa’s tech industry. Through his reporting, he seeks to highlight the successes and issues that emerging economies face when transitioning to knowledge based economies. He has reported extensively in the United States and internationally on humanitarian and economic issues. Eastern Africa became a specific point of interest for him while travelling and reporting in the area in 2008. In addition to his journalism, Christopher is the co-founder of two tech start-ups in New York City, giving him a distinct vantage point on developmental milestones and opportunities.

Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

Giving Unto Jonathan What Belongs to Caesar

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sun, 28 Oct 2012 09:45:00 +0000

Author: Tundé Oyateru

President Goodluck Jonathan of Nigeria has lived true to his first name, for he may be the luckiest politician in Africa. And, according to Tundé Oyateru, his luck may have extended into his administration’s efforts. Good things are happening in Nigeria, one may not be able to conclusively say it’s all due to President Jonathan’s vision, however.

I stood there, transfixed completely by the sight of it. It made no attempts to lure me or impress, it just remained as it were. Solid, without flourish or embellishments, confident in its existence, it was majestic and I wondered if it had this same effect on anyone who stood before it. You see, I had wandered into one of the meeting rooms in the presidential villa while working as a consultant for the State House (Aso Rock). Built into the wall was the massive seal of the presidency, complete with the coat-of-arms.

The Nigerian Coat-of-Arms.

At that moment it was the single most beautiful thing I had ever seen; I felt my throat dry up and my palms become sweaty. In that moment, what I stood before was huge, towering, larger than life, and I had to wonder what effect it would have on the man or woman who represented this glorious emblem, who could boast of having the best calling card in the country.

Would it inspire him or her, would it stir a latent desire for legacy and greatness or would it all be lost on this person? Would it just be another instrument in the many paraphernalia of office? Perhaps it had this effect on me because I have always been enamoured by the Presidency -- or, perhaps, that’s what happens when you’ve watched too many reruns of the West Wing.

The current Nigerian President, Goodluck Jonathan,
during a campaign stop in Akwa Ibom State during March 2011.

When President Goodluck Jonathan became President, one of the most frequent criticisms of the man was that he lacked the character or the spine to be president; that he was a serial opportunist who once again had stumbled into office. I recalled my experience on that day and concluded that there was no way anyone -- man, woman or child -- would see that Seal, understand that it represented in the most immediate way his or her brand and not be inspired, or not be given a back-bone. So I argued very strongly in his corner - that he would understand the weight of history placed on his shoulders, not only by ‘his people,’ but also for the entire country, and he would yet surprise us all.

In the time that he has been president, Mr. Jonathan has shown us that symbols, presidential or otherwise, can be empty, and that the effect that I felt that day was unique to me and perhaps a few others. He has on many occasions shown neither the inclination nor the character to be President, granted Nigeria is a complicated mess. It would appear that Mr. Jonathan would be a lot more comfortable back in his lecture hall as Dr. Jonathan.

Olusegun Obasanjo served as 12th President of Nigeria
from May 1999 to May 1997.

Now I have no doubt that the President has the intellect and faculty to be the President. And I am sure that were he to understand fully his potential position in our nation’s history, he would not only find the resources to execute the office incumbent upon him, but perhaps also the moral fibre. But he doesn’t seem to enjoy the power tussle, the scheming, the ruthlessness or the cold-bloodedness that comes with the office. Not in the way that former President Obasanjo enjoyed it. The former president lived for political confrontations and conflicts, and genuinely enjoyed facing-down opponents, real or imagined.

So it may appear that what I will write in the next few paragraphs would seem incongruous and out of place with what I have written thus far. I am not affiliated with any political party in Nigeria, neither am I a professional journalist on anyone’s payroll, but Jonathan does deserve to be credited - praised even - for certain developments in Nigeria.

The electricity output over the past few months has been remarkable. Though, as a resident of the F.C.T (Federal Capital Territory), this is nothing new. It is reports from other corners of the country that have me impressed.

Cynics have dismissed this as the result of the increase in rainfall levels and not from anything strategic or deliberate efforts from the government, I am quick to remind them that this isn’t the first year that we have experienced dramatic increase in rainfall, so the government must be credited for turning that into something real and tangible for most Nigerians.

Nigeria has failed to resolve the issue of of chronic
power shortages. For decades, the issue has stifled
the country's growth and kept millions in poverty.

Places as far flung as Ogbomosho, Oyo State - in the southwest of the country- where my grandfather lives are witnessing constant electricity or something closely resembling it. And there are similar reports all around the country. I visited Lagos recently. Lagos the commercial nerve-centre of the country has always had a poor reputation when it comes to electricity, but all through my stay there I cannot remember the generator being on. The government should also be credited for its public relations campaign on the subject. It did admit that the rainfall aided electricity generation markedly. But it also warned that it expected a drop in output after the rains have gone, though it is making plans to maintain production at current levels even after the drop.

Security in Nigeria at the moment is a very hot-button issue, and the security situation isn’t ideal, but the Jonathan administration deserves credit for confronting Boko Haram. There is an obvious disconnect between the people living with the threat daily and those of us in relatively safe zones, so I cannot comment with certainty but government forces seem to have stemmed the tide, limiting the sect’s sphere of activities.

I understand that the momentum the security forces now enjoy comes as a result of heavy-handed tactics and has no doubt cost innocent lives. This is no surprise as Nigeria has always had a flexible definition of human rights, but when it comes to the safety of the entire Republic, the government can err on the side of caution.

And while I am not sure that the president has set-out a deliberate policy of financial austerity, it is now an open secret in the capital that Jonathan’s administration has choked up funds, making it incredibly difficult for government corruption. Deliberate or not, the result is positive. I had a conversation the other day with a serving senator who was openly complaining about how tight things were, and how the ‘funds’ don’t seem to be available. The reader should know that Nigerian lawmakers remunerate themselves better than most, and live a lifestyle equivalent to oil sheiks and professional athletes. I have no doubt that there are still some in government that will continue to have access to state funds to misappropriate, but to hear the senator sing his sad song gladdened me to no small extent.

I haven’t heard of many more success stories for the President, but in a country this big, I am sure they are out there. If journalism is granting access to the truth, or conveying it in the most fair and balanced way, then we will have to be fair and agree that there are some things to nod to in Jonathans first term.

Personally, I hope that Jonathan stands in front of that massive Seal and wakes up to the feeling I had on that day. The presidency can be a grand, beautiful, and inspiring thing. It is not too late for the President to realise this.

In My Country: A Letter from the Repressed

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sun, 28 Oct 2012 09:31:00 +0000

Author: Kombeh Jobe

_________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Reader,

My country is not a free country, nor is it a free society. Life there is hard, terrible, stifled, and short. There is no rule of law. Democracy is a joke, a farce, performed by amateurs and the illiterate.

The individual, or the idea of the individual, is almost nonexistent. His or her power and opinion are irrelevant and even a threat to the state. Fact and truth, even basic truth, are not allowed to be expressed. The government is the only entity that knows or can tell what is true and what is not. For words are powerful in my country. Words are the basis of truth and of course lies. And those outside of the state who know how to use it and who use it with great strength and clarity are a danger. They will be threatened, attacked, tortured, imprisoned, exiled, killed, murdered - any means necessary to silence them.

In my country, a man was attacked and killed because he had a newspaper, in which he wrote such things as: “the President's favorite color is yellow.” This man, Deyda Hydara, smart, confident, and insisting on being honest to his fellow countrymen and women, whom he so loved, and for whom he wanted a better country with better leaders and a brighter future is no more. He had the audacity to tell the President, the Commander, a low ranking army official who took the presidency and still refuses to let go, to be honest and do honest work. And for that he was killed.

The government is just Mr. Jammeh -- no ministers, no officials, no secretaries, just him alone because the rest are dumb and silent as he kills his own people. He kills them because he can, and will continue to do so unless someone goes against him.

It is no surprise that governments kill people; not just their enemies but also their own people, their own citizens, the ones they are there to protect. Some governments kill more so than others, some are more private about it; but all of them do it. They do it because they can. And there’s no one to stop them. They are covert about it because no government wants its citizens, not just the occasional lunatics and dissidents to abandon them. Governments need their people, for if there are no people, there’s no one to rule over, to govern, and of course to kill.

My country, the Gambia: small, wedged inside of Senegal, with whom we are culturally and socially alike. We’re a proud, beautiful people, us Gambians. But since our country has offered - is offering - us nothing, we are willing to risk our lives for a better tomorrow in Europe or America. We’re willing to leave it all behind – love, family, and land – for a meager existence coupled with freedom and security. Our young men are dying trying to get to Europe, perishing at sea like ancient wanderers. And, sadly, instead of the few euros or pounds they might send every month, it is only their absent bodies we receive.

My country is sadly no different from other countries on my continent. It's just smaller and quieter and doesn’t make as loud a noise as those other bigger, better-known countries in the region.

And perhaps it’s no different from your country. Or any other country, for that matter. All leaders, all governments use us in ways we don't and can’t understand. All governments lie to us; hide truth from us. They are all corrupt and deceitful and complicit in so many crimes. The difference is in the degree of these crimes. And the means used.

I would not be able to write this in my country. Or it wouldn't be public. Not very many people would read it. You may not even know what's going on in my country.

Sincerely,

Mariama Mansaray

_________________________________________________________________________________

Dementia: Not Just The “White Man’s Disease”

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sat, 20 Oct 2012 05:22:00 +0000

Author: Staff Writer

Dementia is soon to be a problem in African countries. This class of diseases is not well diagnosed because much of the continent’s health systems lack the tools. But the biggest problem is that little attention is being paid to dementia’s potential cost in the near future.

Africa’s traditional family structure and its dearth in national health services have made it difficult to investigate dementia’s prevalence on the Continent. I have heard many Africans brag about how the old in African communities live with dignity through their old age. Western nursing homes, to a people with a different social philosophy, seem quite strange and a bit inhumane – to separate the old from their family. With its non-nuclear family structure, where third cousins refer to themselves as brothers and sisters, its expectations and investments in the family unit are extraordinary. However, this particular attribute has contributed to why the true extent of dementia’s prevalence in Africa has gone unnoticed, though not for long now. For, if current demographic trends continue, dementia will be a force to reckon with for developing countries in general, and Africa in particular.

Dementia has long been thought of as a rich world’s disease, one that strikes those in their old age in developed countries with per capita GDPs Africa still had a long way to achieve. Recent studies on this class of diseases in Africa, of which Alzheimer’s is the most common, have proven otherwise. In fact, this small group of studies have shown that the prevalence rate in Africa is comparable to the West – old “rich” white people and old “poor” black people all have comparable prevalence within their populations. It is estimated that roughly 35.6 million people worldwide live with dementia. Although experts expect the prevalence of dementia to increase globally, many see the greatest increase happening in less developed regions as a greater percentage of their populations grow older.

One of the most noticeable features of the 20^th century was the absolute increase in live expectancy globally. As the world brought to scale a lot of the gains in medicine and healthcare, more people lived longer, which in turn made the world’s population a little older – a phenomenon termed “population ageing.” The global demographic change that accounted for a huge part of this shift was the reduced fertility rates in Western countries. Europe is now the “oldest” continent. Africa, as living standards increase and more people become educated, will follow suite – its fertility rate will drop and its population will grow older.

In Africa, health systems that lack the proper tools find themselves unable to diagnose and treat dementia,
a growing health issue on among the continent's elderly populations.

As of 2010, 36 million people, aged 65 and older, accounted for 3.6 percent of Africa’s population, up from 3.3 percent in 2000. By 2050, old people will make up close to 10 percent of the population on the Continent. Increasingly, studies focused on dementia in Africa are returning with the same diagnosis: Africa has a problem brewing on its hands. Governments are currently more concerned with the burgeoning youth population facing socio-economic bottlenecks capable of fuelling politically destabilizing revolutions – Arab Spring being an example. As a result, little attention has been paid to the ageing issue – old people don’t join Al Qaeda or make Molotov cocktails when they are angry with their government. And so the responsibilities for the well being of this group are often passed on to their families. Add to this the fact that old people in Africa, in contrast to their counterparts in developed countries, do not receive pensions.

Interestingly, dementia studies have found that the criteria for diagnosing dementia, which relies heavily on functional and occupational capacity and levels of social engagement, had underestimated the prevalence of the disease in Africa where old people do not engage in complex activities in their daily lives, in contrast to old people living in rich countries. It is more difficult to notice their cognitive decline because the extended family shields older people from these kinds of activities. In addition, African societies carry strong stigmas against dementia sufferers, as witchcraft and sorcery is still very popular. So sufferers who want to seek help are cautious of being ostracised, while a disproportionate amount of those who do seek help turn to native medicine men.

In one of the most comprehensive studies on the Continent, conducted on the Yoruba people of Nigeria, whose population account for 22 percent of the nation – 25 million, results suggested that dementia was present in about 1 in 10 persons aged 65 years and over. Its occurrence, according to the study, is more common in females and increases with advancing age, reaching a prevalence of about 12 percent in those aged 80 years and over. Another study, conducted in rural Tanzania, found the prevalence rate at 6.4 percent. Both studies show results comparable to high-income countries.

Though not every country in Africa is experiencing this population dynamic for the same reason, the end result is that almost all the national public health systems will be overwhelmed in due time, unless something drastic is done. South Africa, for example, is aging because HIV/AIDS disproportionately affects the young. No one is prepared for the eventuality when in 2050 old people make up close to 10 percent of the population. Economically, with the expected parallel burgeoning population of young people – 15 and younger – the working demographic will be dwarfed by the collective, economically unproductive demographic on the continent.

Will the continent be able to meet this challenge head-on? There are many issues to consider within this larger issue. Though, in stark review of the important social-economic elements dealing with dementia, it doesn’t seem the Continent will be able to deal appropriately or convincingly with this oncoming problem. In fact, one can doubt the political will to find a solution. The old have no political capital and they won’t be protesting down the streets of Abidjan or Lagos anytime soon for a pension system or medical facilities that can help slow down their cognitive degeneration. What is certain is that when 10 percent of the population is suffering from one form of dementia or another, it won’t be considered a white man’s disease anymore.

I Went to Zanzibar and I Saw…

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Mon, 15 Oct 2012 03:53:00 +0000

Author: Lina Marie Dyur

Zanzibar’s Stone Town is a UNESCO world heritage site and I couldn’t wait to wander along its narrow alleys touching fabrics, smelling spices and trying on clothes in quaint shops. In spite of assurances that Zanzibaris spoke English over and above Swahili, I saw embarrassed looks and heard smatterings of Swanglish when I engaged people in English. Suffice to say that language was only one reason this trip was memorable.

I landed in Dar (Dar es Salaam) from Nairobi completely culture shocked by the way things were done in contrast to Kenya. I came to see Stone Town – the only functioning historical town in East Africa, and a UNESCO world heritage site. First, there were too many immigration officials. Seven of them were inside the glass booths, and five, seemingly senior ones, wandering about among the queuing passengers. You’d think this would mean speedy service. Shock on me; it was a case of too many confused cops spoiling the broth and resulting in frustrated travelers. How a man, albeit uniformed, can take one’s passport and particulars without a word and disappear with them behind an official-looking counter is beyond me. I suppressed my nerves and pretended to be utterly confident. The way these officers ‘consulted’ with their superiors, a step behind you so you feel the pressure of first class graft, smelled of ass-kissing 101 to me.

The surprising development was that instead of transferring travelers to Zanzibar, visa issues were now dealt with in Dar. Amazingly, even with the incredible loudness of the airport, an entire desk of five officers were taking a nap and when spoken to by confused travelers, responded as though they were being intruded upon while in their living rooms.

The flight from Dar to Zanzibar was brief with a beautiful scenery barely visible under the cloud covers. We landed at the city’s small airport and after a currency exchange exited the airport to negotiate our transportation into the city.

Our cabbie Yusuf was a vocal man with a barrage of opinions. Having been in his profession for twenty years, he was persuasive to the point of pushy, at once encouraging us to go North and gradually make our way to Stone town over two days. After we voiced our preference spend all our time in Stone town while in Dar, he voluntarily made inquiries and took us to “better” options than Jafferji Hotel for accommodation, which he opined “was too dark inside anyway”. According to Yusuf, the pictures of Jafferji Hotel’s rooms on the Internet were misleading and most people left the hotel disappointed. He sent us off with maps, though not without first confusing us with his search for cheaper accommodation (By the way, I am the queen of frugal). When he insisted on a larger tip for the ‘extra service’, needless to say, Yusuf left a bad taste in my mouth.

Zanzibar's Dongwe Ocean View Hotel, Tanzania

Zanzibar Ocean View Hotel cost just over 120 dollars a night. It was right by the beach, which our cabbie had initially described as muddy. To me, the water was deep blue with white sand and, aside from the power cuts, the room and the view were pretty good, if you didn’t mind that it was a public beach with all sorts. Yusuf was the reason we detoured to Chavda Hotel in the first place. The hotel didn’t accept credit cards and, not wanting to go to an ATM machine --getting charged more cab fare, not to mention the risk of carrying cash around as a tourist, we left Chavda for what he described as a ‘nearby’ hotel. After a relatively long trip back towards the airport and away from our desired Stone Town, we arrived back at the ‘hotel with a muddy beach’. At that point we decided to stay the night. My suspicion is the hotels pay cabbies commissions, so the ’best’ hotel at any one time is the one who paid the highest commission, and so he steered us firmly along his list of choices.

The dinner -- chicken in macadamia nut sauce -- was spectacular, a real treat. It was served with sticky Jasmine rice and a light tomato salad. I combed the menu for local dishes and treats to sample and was laughed away when I asked about traditional Tanzanian food. We asked the waitress to put off the TV, which coincidentally aired news by Citizen Television, a Kenyan television station. In a matter of minutes, a different waiter put it back on, attracting a group of hotel staff to watch. When another staff member put on the radio, so both the television and radio were playing at a go, I ate quickly and left.

The second day we moved to Serena. At just under 300 dollars (US) per night, the inn was centrally located in the heart of Stone Town, and for that fee I was expecting death and going to heaven, in that order. Ah well, it wasn’t heaven. In fact, we got the room right next to the reception area, which in my experience with hotels, is usually the worst and noisiest room. Our room was dark with shadows at 10am. When I inquired about getting another, they said they couldn’t replace it until midday ‘if I hadn’t used anything’ as the rest of the rooms were being cleaned. We decided to stay.

Other than the soaps and shampoos in little British bottles, there was nothing worth the 300 dollars (US) in the room. Actually, that evening, when we went to relax by the beach, we came across sewerage that stank and was overflowing right at the front of the hotel, hence the bus shuttle to the ‘special’ beach for hotel residents. The pool was divine blue surrounded by little white sculptures and sun seekers. The 4pm tea was a good idea, even though I’d expected a lot more than just pancakes and tea -- the 300 dollars (US) kept coming back to mind and raising my expectations to high heaven. The next morning’s breakfast, though, was to die for. The range of food to eat was superb. I have not devoured such a beautiful breakfast in my life, except maybe at Fairview Hotel in Nairobi, which is a story for another day.

After a quiet day, we went to Forodhani Gardens in the evening, where food stands sold cheap but wholesome dishes, including mshikaki, barbecue chicken, lamb and beef, fries and other starch, with a refreshing drink of sugarcane juice laced with ginger. People hung about in large numbers relaxing by the beach and socializing across social and cultural class. I marveled at a boy who, assisted by his mother, peed directly into the Indian Ocean, while holding on to an old cannon.

The third night we moved to Emerson Spice, for 200 dollars a night. After a delayed but friendly check in, we went off on a delightful spice tour. It was informative, as the ‘Ujamaa’ socialism ideal is still alive -- Ujamaa was the concept that formed the basis of Julius Nyerere's social and economic development policies in Tanzania after independence from Britain. My hosts kindly allowed me to use the very clean community traditional toilet while we explored the spice farm. A small irritant was that the service people were on standby for tips. It irritated me as I’m not from a tipping culture. Where I’m from, a tip isn’t expected; it’s only given if a service is really extraordinary.

On our last night, we got lost and couldn’t find our way back to the hotel. I wished I’d brought the mobile phone the hotel had provided us for emergencies. Determined to find our way, we belligerently ignored the old man who volunteered to bring us back to Emerson Spice until we were sure of being truly lost. We begrudgingly agreed to follow the old man’s lead back to the hotel. When we got there, I hung my head in shame at his shrill complaints of dissatisfaction with his tip as we walked into the hotel lobby. A few flights of steep stairs later, I went into my exceedingly large room adorned with posters of old Zanzibari films and fell asleep, ignoring the calls of the large cement tub in the bathroom.

Stone Town, Tanzania

Our early breakfast was served in the small rooftop restaurant with a panoramic view of Stone Town. The small fruit platter left me disappointed. The kitchen didn’t have an alternative to eggs (to which I’m allergic and miscommunication left me thinking there was a following course after fruits).

The airport in Zanzibar had a sign saying ”Hakuna Bakshishi’ discouraging tipping, though it didn’t stop people from lurking about waiting to be tipped for doing something as mundane as indicating the correct queue to be in. And so we boarded our plane and left the Zanzibari paradise for the familiar comforts of home.

Lina Marie Dyur is the founder of Firestorm, a communications, marketing and PR company. Originally from Kenya, Lina currently lives in Qatar where, in addition to her entrepreneurial pursuits, and working as a freelance journalist, she is also repositioning herself as a public speaker and Afropolitan with the ability to say ’yes’ to new experiences - including bungee jumping over the Zambezi River and quad biking in the Middle Eastern desert. Lina can be contacted for questions and comments at info@linaconnect.com.

Mugabe vs. Obama: The Talking Match at the UN General Assembly

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 22:26:00 +0000

Author: Edson Charikinya

There is always something to say when the UN General Assembly gets together. Global security is always a huge topic, though not everyone agrees who is the threat and whose responsibility it is to stamp it out. Edson Charikinya gives President Robert Mugabe’s opinion on the matter.

President Robert Mugabe, at the recent 67^th session of the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) delivered a scathing address accusing the United Nations Security Council (UNSC) of straying from its founding principles. Mugabe’s address was in sharp contrast to President Barrack Obama’s earlier address which sought to draw sympathy from world leaders on recent attacks against American embassies in the Middles east. The leaders showed divergent views on two important issues: the role of the UNSC in conflict resolution and the identity of enemies to “world freedom.” Mugabe’s contrast to Obama was examplified by his assertion that “the death of Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi was as tragic as that of U.S. Ambassador to Libya Christopher Stevens.” Although one might be tempted to discredit the value of Mugabe’s message, due to his perceived image as a “tyrant.”

President Obama delivers his address during the 62nd session of the UN General Assembly in New York.

Mugabe did a fine job presenting arguments in support of the Council’s reform, which even his most staunchest critics would find difficult to dismiss. Zimbabwe’s octogenarian leader bemoaned the use – abuse – of the Council as a tool for regime change, especially in settling disputes on the African continent. Using the way the Security Council handled the Libyan crisis as an example, Mugabe exposed, as Professor Maximilian Forte of Concordia University in Montreal Canada puts it: the hypocrisy underlying UNSC assumed mandates of having the “responsibility to protect,” as well as the short sightedness of those who advocate for military intervention as a form of “humanitarian intervention.” He bemoaned how provisions of the UN Charter that deal with the peaceful settlement of disputes had “on occasion, been ignored by the Security Council” in favour of “war, embargos, sanctions and other punitive actions,” even on matters that could have been resolved peacefully. Mugabe highlighted how the concept of “responsibility to protect” was being abused by USA and NATO as a tool for furthering their regime change agenda on the African continent and not to protect innocent civilians from genocide.

Mugabe’s message is in sharp contrast to that delivered by President Obama to the same assembly. Obama contends that America’s and NATO’s use of the Council to intervene in Libya and assisting in the overthrow of Gaddafi was completely justified despite the action having some negative consequences. As far as Obama is concerned, African leaders should be lining up to thank the West for bringing “a season of progress” to Africa, where, “for the first time in decades, Tunisians, Egyptians, and Libyans voted for new leaders in elections that were credible, competitive, and fair.” If Mugabe’s message shows anything, it is that African leaders do not agree with Obama’s views on how the continent is progressing democratically, especially given high-handed Western interventionist policies.

Slowly African leaders are beginning to realise that the West sees little value in African institutions’ capacity for conflict resolution on the continent. Some suspect France would be in Mali right now, if not for its damaged public image in the region. Nicolas Sarkosy, before he lost his re-election bid, combed the region for a proxy to do the job.

President Robert Mugabe at the 62nd session of the UN General Assembly in New York City.
World leaders and diplomats gather in New York City yearly for the United Nations General Assembly.
(Photo by Chris McGrath/Getty Images).

Mugabe is not alone in criticising the abuse of the Council’s mandates by America and other NATO members. Former South African President Thabo Mbeki has on numerous occasions castigated its use “as a Trojan horse to side line African initiatives in brokering political dialogue and resolving conflicts in preference for military intervention to foist puppet regimes across the [African] continent.” African leaders have been accused of inaction when it comes to resolving conflicts on the continent. Mr. Mbeki thinks otherwise. He contends that the “AU did what was correct when the Libyan problem arose. They [AU] moved quickly to put together a task team of five Heads of State to ensure the implementation of a peace programme.” NATO, showing clear disregard for Africa’s leaders’ conflict resolution initiatives, “prohibited [the team] from flying into Libya.” Having also mediated in Cote d’Ivoire during its time of conflict from 2004 to 2006, Mr. Mbeki asserts that the AU was well poised to peacefully resolve the conflict. A peace plan put together by the AU was never considered in Libya. In that conflict the “UN stopped the AU delegation from implementing the [peace] process in order to create space for military action…” With these examples to show, it’s no wonder most African leaders see the UNSC as a willing tool for US interventionist policies and illegal regime change in Africa.

The fact that Obama sees no problem with the current UNSC and how it has sidelined African institutions in resolving conflicts on the continent is quite disturbing. There was hardly any mention in his address of reforming the Council to bring back credibility to UN institutions. Both Obama and Mugabe acknowledge that the founding values of the UN are under attack. For Mugabe it is clear that the West and leaders like Obama are to blame for the shift in current UN policies from its founding values. As far as Obama is concerned, extremist religious fundamentalist and corrupt dictators are the major antagonists in realizing the values of the UN. For now reforms appear to be the only way to bring the UN back to its founding values as expressed in the UN Charter.

Edson Charikinya is a Zimbabwean born Chemical Engineer based in South Africa. He is the founder and Operations Director of Innovartis Technology Systems, a Pan-African technology group delivering technology solutions and services to African communities and small-to-medium sized enterprises. He holds an MSc in Chemical Engineering and is currently a Ph.D. candidate at the University of Stellenbosch.

Loneliness at the Foreign ‘Bureau’

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 11 Oct 2012 09:44:00 +0000

Author: Justin D. Martin

In an attempt to make their overseas operations appear larger than the reality, international news organizations exaggerate the size of their overseas presence, often using the word “bureau” to describe single-person operations in foreign countries. Foreign bureaus are closing down rapidly, especially in developing countries. Should news organizations use pompous titles to describe their overseas missions that are limited in capacity and scope? The author expands on the issue, and underscores the need for news organizations to use more plain-spoken language.

News organizations exaggerate the size of their overseas newsroom.

The Washington Post has 16 foreign “bureaus,” and 12 of them consist of just a single reporter, according to the newspaper’s website. The four remaining bureaus all consist of two journalists. Is the Post using the word bureau a bit loosely? One Post reporter, Sudarsan Raghavan in Nairobi, is listed as the paper’s “bureau chief in Africa.” Raghavan is the chief of a bureau of one in Kenya. For the continent of Africa.

Foreign bureaus of the past were well staffed.

A 2011 report in the American Journalism Review found that the number of full time foreign correspondents employed by US newspapers declined steeply since 2003. But news outfits that have slashed budgets for foreign reporting are nonetheless eager to present themselves as global news organizations. This is why NBC will at times feature a reporter in its London bureau discussing events in Athens or even Iraq. The correspondent might as well be in Hoboken. “Many news outlets that have no foreign staff are eager to pretend that they do,” former International Herald Tribune editor Mort Rosenblum wrote in Little Bunch of Madmen, a book about foreign reporting. News organizations want audiences to believe they have the resources to scour the globe, even when it isn’t true.

The word bureau should be retired when used to describe a single employee. I am not the Columbia Journalism Review’s bureau chief in Orono, Maine. I’m a columnist for CJR and I happen to live in New England. The use of the word bureau to describe a single correspondent in Islamabad or Buenos Aires is meant to trick audiences into believing the news organization funds a sprawling newsroom in that location. Years ago, many news organizations did have big newsrooms in foreign countries. Today, though, budgets have been cut and priorities have shifted. The Los Angeles Times had 24 foreign correspondents in 2003, according to the AJR report, a roster which fell to 13 by 2011.

John Hendren, former ABC reporter,
currently serving with Al-Jazeera.

Today, The Los Angeles Times has ten foreign “bureaus,” and eight of them consist of just one person. The Times’s website does not, however, list any reporters manning single-person bureaus as “chiefs.” In December, Al Jazeera English announced the founding of a Chicago bureau, staffed with one journalist (former ABC reporter John Hendren). Of course, the founding and maintaining of foreign news facilities is something we should celebrate, but news organizations should never use flashy language to exaggerate their global reach. Al-Jazeera hired a Chicago correspondent in order to expand its 2012 US presidential election coverage, and this is a good thing, but the organization has not built a branch campus in the Windy City.

I’m aware that the difference between being called a “bureau chief” rather than “correspondent” at some news organizations is similar to the difference between assistant and associate professors at universities: the coronation often nets greater job security and a bump in salary (and in some cases demands greater responsibilities). Still, journalists are supposed to use clear language. Period. A bureau in one’s bedroom is a chest of multiple drawers, and a furniture peddler who refers to a banker’s box as a bureau is being dishonest.

Nichole Sobecki covers Turkey for GlobalPost.

Some news organizations are more straightforward about their foreign operations: GlobalPost, for example. Its Cairo-based reporter, Erin Cunningham, is listed as “Senior Correspondent for the Middle East and North Africa,” which concedes that she has massive ground to cover, but at least doesn’t falsely imply she’s the chief of a bustling GlobalPost office in Egypt. Nichole Sobecki is listed as “covering Turkey for GlobalPost,” not as the chief of a bureau in Istanbul. The Christian Science Monitor similarly lists its foreign reporters as, simply, staff reporters in a foreign locale.

Contrary to contemporary speculation, foreign reporting is by no means dead. The Associated Press still has an army of reporters throughout the world, and NPR, Reuters, Bloomberg, and The Wall Street Journal all have vibrant, and in some cases expanding, operations overseas. Al-Jazeera has a global editorial staff in the thousands. Nonetheless, many US newspapers and television networks have downsized their global operations, and they shouldn’t use embellishments to suggest otherwise.

This article originally posted on the Columbia Journalism Review. Your comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

South Africa’s Mine Workers’ Strikes: It’s the Economy, Stupid

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 16:18:00 +0000

Author: Tseliso Thipanyane

Tseliso Thipanyane analyses the Marikana mineworkers strike in Rustenburg, South Africa, and outlines its possible implications to the economic emancipation of the continent’s workers in general. Tseliso explores how, in compliance with the mining companies' economic agenda, the South African government has been directly responsible for the struggles of black South Africans, who constitute a majority in Africa's biggest economy. Today, what are mining workers fighting for, and can they expect going forward?

The killing of 34 striking black mineworkers by the South African police on August 16, 2012 and the related on-going labor strikes in the mining industry have brought into question the role and commitment of the African National Congress (ANC) as the ruling party since 1994 to transform the country’s economy, particularly the mining industry, for the benefit of the majority of black South Africans.

Police killed 34 striking platinum mine workers
in South Africa, at Mirakana.

Mining in South Africa has historically been associated with the exploitation of African mineworkers by mining companies. The state was used and influenced by mining companies to support this exploitation through the creation of an enabling legal environment. The might of the state - the security forces (the police and the military) and the courts - ensured compliance with these laws and a steady supply of cheap black labor for the mining conglomerates.

Many black people were reluctant to leave their homes and families to work in the mines under such unsafe and harsh conditions. In fact, there were few people willing to enter the colonial labor market in general. In 1905, in response to the consequential labor shortages, the then-British colonial government in Natal introduced a £1 poll tax on black males, hoping to force them into the colonial economy.

Those who did not pay the tax were accordingly arrested and thrown in jail and those who resisted and fought against this imposition were crushed with imperial forces. One such resistance to the imposition of the poll tax was that led by Chief Bambata in Zululand. After being hunted down by colonial forces, Bambata was eventually killed in battle alongside an estimated 3 to 4 thousand Zulu men, with about 7 thousand jailed and another 4 thousand flogged. Soon after the resistance was repressed the number of Zulu mineworkers increased from 50 to 80 percent. Coupled with the 1913 Land Act, black South Africans were finally successfully deprived access to over 70 percent of the land of their birth. Both the tax and the land act served to ensure cheap African labor for the mines.

The apartheid system was a continuation and refinement of this exploitative and oppressive economic agenda. Since they were beneficiaries of its policies, mining companies were active supporters of the apartheid system, forming strong alliances with the white government. Speaking on the alliance between the apartheid regime and the mining industry, the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission in its 1998 final report concluded that the mining industry, apart from playing a central role in sustaining the apartheid economy and benefiting from cheap African labor, helped to ‘design and implement apartheid policies.’

Though the struggle against apartheid led to the 1994 elections that ushered in democratic governance in South Africa – transferred political power to the black majority – economic power and a meaningful control of the country’s economy has proven illusive to the majority. Eighteen years after 1994, the majority of black South Africans continue to suffer from the misery and indignity of poverty in Africa’s richest and biggest economy. They are the ones still most affected by high levels of poverty and unemployment, a poor and inadequate housing, health care services and education. To black South Africans, the provisions of the Freedom Charter that national wealth (the mineral wealth, banks and monopoly industry) shall belong to the people and be used for their benefit are yet to be realized. What they experience and witness, however, is the increasing gap between the rich (mainly white and a few black elites) and the poor; they see the opulent live styles led by the rich and the new black elites, with poor wages and bad working conditions for everyone else.

After patiently waiting in vain for promises of a meaningful role in and benefits from the country’s economy to be fulfilled, many poor black South Africans are aggrieved and increasingly getting agitated over the situation they still find themselves. The increasing number of labor strikes and an increasing crime rate – including the unfortunate xenophobic attacks directed at poor African migrants – signify a growing impatience and popular anger.

The six-week strike by Marikana mineworkers was a response to the deplorable conditions under which South African mineworkers live and work. In contrast to the millions paid to mainly white mine executives and the billions in dividends paid to shareholders, the striking miners receive pennies for their considerable sweat and labor.

South African mine workers at Mirikana strike [AFP/Getty Images].

The government’s hitherto response to the mineworker’s strike: the aborted murder charges against them for the deaths of their fellow workers (the killing of the 34 mineworkers) shot dead by the police and the deployment of the South African army, have many convinced that the chief concern of the ANC is to put an end to the strike, force mineworkers back to work, and assure international mine investors that their investments are safe. Additionally, many believe the SA government intends to safeguard the mining interests of ANC elites and protect the National Union of Mine Workers (NUM) and its weakening control over black mineworkers. The striking mineworkers had rejected the role of NUM in their affairs and many of them had joined a rival union, the Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union (AMCU).

What the Marikana mineworkers’ strike and related strikes highlight is the fact that the ANC-led government has, after 18 years in power, not been able to adequately transform the country’s economy, including the mining industry, for the benefit of the majority of the country’s population. This also includes the failure to effectively regulate the mining industry in order to adequately address the exploitation of mineworkers, as evidenced by their poor pay and deplorable working and living conditions.

The ANC has somewhat acknowledged its failures. In its report on the 4th policy conference held in June 2012, it accepted that on ‘the redistribution of economic assets and ownership, the democratization of economic power, [and] the empowerment of black people…[We] have not met the expectations we had 18 years ago.’

Cyril Ramphosa, who is featured on Forbes list with a
net worth of $275 USD, is a former member of the ANC,
and its former secretary general, founded one of the
nation's biggest mineworkers' unions, the NUM, and
is also a shareholder of Lonmin Plc and sits on its
board of directors. Lonmin Plc is the world's third
largest platinum mining company.

Specific to the mining debacle, the ANC’s preoccupation and interests are to blame. It has ensured ownership stakes in mining companies for its leaders and close associates through the black economic empowerment programme. Its misplaced preoccupation has left the mining industry largely untransformed in relation to the treatment of mineworkers and the equitable redistribution of the massive wealth. This situation was recently acknowledged by COSATU in its 11^th national congress, and has also led to renewed calls from the ANC Youth League (ANCYL) for the nationalization of mines as per the provisions of the Freedom Charter, a call that has not been fully supported by many of the elites in the ANC but championed by the expelled ANC Youth League leader Julius Malema. A case in point is Lonmin Plc, the world’s third largest platinum mining company, who’s currently involved in a dispute with Marikana mineworkers. Cyril Ramphosa, a senior member of the ANC, its former secretary-general, and founder of the nation’s biggest mineworkers’ union, NUM, is a shareholder in the company and sits on its board of directors. Lonmin Plc is said to have financed his 9 percent stake in the company for R2.5 billion (US$300 million).

In essence, what mineworkers are fighting for is meaningful transformation of the country’s economy that goes beyond the current assimilation of a few black political elites and their associates; a transformation that should eventually lead to equitable distribution of the country’s great wealth, greater involvement of black people in the economy and better working conditions and pay for workers. It is a struggle that the Marikana mineworkers and their family members have already paid dearly for. It is also a struggle that the majority of black South Africans should be waging with greater intensity in view of the outcome of the last eighteen years of democratic governance.

In the now famous Rivonia trial in which he was sentenced to life imprisonment for his role in the struggle against apartheid, Nelson Mandela in his speech from the dock said: ‘We fight against two features which are the hallmarks of African life in South Africa, and which are entrenched by legislation we seek to have repealed. These features are poverty and lack of dignity….’ In explaining the basis for the struggle against apartheid he further said: ‘The complaint of Africans, however, is not only that they are poor and the whites are rich, but that the laws which are made by the whites are designed to preserve the situation.’ He informed the court that this is what his organization, the African National Congress (ANC), was fighting against, ‘a struggle of African people, inspired by their own suffering and their own experience,’ and according to him, ‘a struggle for the right to live.’ The current leadership of the ANC, like many other African leaders today, seems to have lost sight of this struggle.

Tseliso Thipanyane is a contributing writer to SEADiaspora.com. He is an expert on human rights issues and the former chief executive officer of the South African Human Rights Commission. He is currently based in New York were he works as an independent consultant on human rights, democracy, and good governance, with a special focus on Africa. He is an adjunct professor at Columbia University Law School lecturing on human rights in Africa.

Tseliso can be reached by email at tselisot@gmail.comYour comments and feedback are much appreciated. To engage in further discussion with the editors and contributors of the blog on this topic and other related topics, follow us on twitter @SEADiaspora and/or leave a comment below.

Why Numbers Aren’t Enough: Challenges to Gender Equity in South Africa

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sun, 30 Sep 2012 18:56:00 +0000

Author: Jumoke Balogun

South Africa (SA) has the 7^th highest number of female parliamentarians in the world. Even more remarkable, seven African countries rank in the top twenty in this category. The political representation, however, has not translated to real, societal attitudinal changes. Jumoke Balogun shows how the messy national politics in South Africa is still tinged with sexism, proving that the quotas aren’t enough – women still have a long way to go in reversing long-held beliefs.

Lindiwe Mazibuko, a young South African politician, is one of the youngest parliamentarian leaders in the world. As the first black leader of the parliamentary caucus of the Democratic Alliance (DA), Mazibuko is also among the 42% of women in the lower house of South Africa’s legislative body. The DA is South Africa’s strongest opposition party, and is often viewed as a white party, in contrast to the ANC.

Lindiwe Mazibuko of the Democratic Alliance addressing the Katlenhong women entrepreneurs.

Given that women make up 32% of legislators in the upper house, South Africa has the 7^th highest number of female parliamentarians in the world. Even more remarkable, seven African countries rank in the top twenty, with Rwanda having the highest number of women in its representative body. This is great news for a continent often beleaguered with news of gender-based violence, high prevalence of rape, and overall gender inequity.

However, while the participation of women in decision-making bodies and their increased access to political power are veritable achievements, the story of African women in the political realm is far messier than the numbers account for. Sexist responses to Mazibuko from her political detractors serve as an example of how women can gain political power through democratic means, but still be undermined by a patriarchal network that seeks to ultimately delegitimize their political voice.

Raised in South Africa, Mazibuko grew up in a comfortable middle-class family, attended private schools, and also had the opportunity to spend time abroad. She speaks with such a distinct British accent that some of her countrymen demand to hear her speak isiZulu, something she refuses to do. Blackness, she says, is not something that someone else can award to you.

Helen Zille, the head
of the Democratic Alliance.

That she has to answer questions on the veracity of her blackness is part of her critics’ tactic of invalidating her political power through racist and sexist retorts that rarely address the policies she supports. Julius Malema, former president of the ANC Youth League, frequently refers to her as the tea servant of DA’s leader Helen Zille. Zille is white. In Parliament, the Minister of Higher Education and Training, Blade Nzimande, accused her of being a coconut (black on the outside, white on the inside) and a parliamentary member of her own party was reprimanded for publicly claiming that Mazibuko was not black enough.

This article is not an endorsement of Mazibuko – I know far too little about the DA to make such assertions – but a political system that stresses the importance of having women in power can’t also undermine their ability to exercise that power. When opposition party members refuse to engage and debate policy with her because she is a tea-girl – a “nobody,” and when Labor allies of the ANC call her the madam’s sidekick and vow to publicly strip Zille naked, a troubling picture of misogyny emerges.

Although the ANC is one of the few major political parties in the world that has instituted an internal gender quota system, the treatment of female politicians by prominent ANC party members is patriarchal and sexist. Like Mazibuko, female politicians within the ANC report constantly dealing with uncomfortable, insulting, and sexist jokes from their male colleagues. Even more distressing, senior ANC officials have been charged with violent crimes against women.

In 2006, then-Vice President Jacob Zuma was tried and acquitted for raping his deceased friend’s daughter. He doesn’t deny that he had unprotected sex with the woman, and although the woman was believed to be HIV-positive, he explained that he took a shower immediately in order to avoid the virus. A year later, the disabled wife of the former spy chief, Manala Manzini’s, procured a court order against her husband after he violently assaulted her. Allegedly, senior members of the ANC, including the President, knew of the abuse long before it became public. Mr. Manzini was never disciplined. Rather, Mr. Manzini publicly asserted that he had the right to beat his wife because she did not cook or iron. His wife, Mavivi Mayakayaka-Manzini, was a senior leader of the ANC Women’s League.

It seems that despite the political gains women have made in the country, an alarming percentage of South African men still adhere to the principles of male rule and female subordination. Despite women’s integration into the political process, there remains a pervasive sexist attitude that permeates through all levels of South African society. 20% of men surveyed in 2009 believed that a women’s place was in the house, 38% believe that men had more rights to jobs, and 41% of men believed that men made better political leaders. In this context, the treatment of Lindiwe Mazibuko and other women political leaders is another example of the country’s patriarchy problem – a problem that cannot be addressed by gender quotas in parliament alone. As one South African analyst said, “numbers alone are not enough.”

Both the South African constitution and the ANC constitution actively promote gender equity; and the country also has a litany of laws protecting women that are amongst Africa’s most progressive. However, unless these laws are practiced and uncompromisingly implemented, they will remain mere principles – lofty idealism. If the South African government – the ANC in particular – is truly interested in gender equity, penalizing men in the party who bully and degrade women (privately and publicly) would be a great starting point.

Jumoke Balogun is a Nigerian-American. She is the co-founder of compareafrique.com, a website dedicated to providing a forum for innovative writing and discussion about Africa’s development challenges. You can find more of her work here.

Things Fall (Falling) Apart: One Man's Take on Nigeria's Dramas (Part 5)

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sun, 30 Sep 2012 17:38:00 +0000

Author: Alan Titley

Alan Titley spent two years in Africa (1967-69) as a young Irish teacher during the Nigerian Civil War. He also traveled throughout West Africa in those years and witnessed much of what was going on in the regions politics and social life. These brief essays attempt to tell some small part of his experience and his reflections on African, specifically Nigerian politics today.

I always thought that the best way to learn about a new country was to read its literature. I can see that this could be both a good and a weird thing. If anyone was to visit Ireland looking for fairies because they had read William Butler Yeats’s poetry they would be sorely disappointed, but might also be relieved. I once stayed in an upstairs room in a rundown building in St. Petersburg and as I had read too much Dostoevsky I expected to see the blood of an old woman flowing from beneath a door. But actually, it was quite civilised.

I had read some African folktales before I set foot in Nigeria, but as folktales are the most international of literary genres, there is not much of the local to learn from them. This was why in my first two months I steeped myself in the novels of Chinua Achebe, James Ngugi (as he was then), and the writings of Wole Soyinka. They were a revelation. One of the greatest creations of the human mind is the realistic novel, and without it, we would not be able to revisit other times and places. I had my own world of college and town around me, but there were others out there. Particularly others out there from the near past who were not very different from the people I knew, and not at all different from just about everybody else.

In my first week in Nigeria I attended a play that was performed in the public arena of downtown Ilorin. I do not remember what it was, except that it dealt with the recent history of the Congo. In Ireland the Congo had loomed large in our conscience because Irish troops were deployed there on an international mission for the first time just a few short years previously. Despite this United Nations mission we knew very little. We were led to believe that Tshombe was the good guy and Lumumba the “baddie”. Whatever the play was, the audience reacted in entirely the opposite way. Suddenly we realised, whatever our own inchoate notions were, they were not the very choate ideas of the audience. Albeit good fun, the crowd howled and abused and excoriated the character of Tshombe right through the play, and again afterwards.

Maybe it was this energy in the production and in the audience that prompted me to produce a play with my own students. I had done some acting, and more messing around, but I had never produced a play. John Pepper Clark’s play Song of a Goat was on some course, and I chose to do it without having much of a clue what it was about. The actors had never acted, I had never produced, the school had never staged. But we did it. I have never been at a more electric performance in my life – not because of my non-talent as a director, obviously, or even the heroic acting of my students, but because of the enthusiasm of an audience who had invested their own imagination in it even more than we had invested our work.

I played football too, as football was the second religion of the college. The glory of soccer is that it is simple, and that everyone can do it, but of course, not well. Soccer spread throughout the world because of its simplicity, and Nigeria was only a few short years involved seriously in the sport. I played challenge friendly games with an expatriate team made up of a ragbag of people from all over the world, and later a few times more competitively with the local team. As the only whitey on the team I was greeted with howls and hootings from the crowd every time I touched the ball. I have to say that I never once felt a smidgen of racism in any of these cries – unlike the crass stupidity that runs through some European soccer today - although I cannot be absolutely sure what was being said about me!

It was never the crowd that caused the problem; it was always the football. Coming from a wet, dank, clammy climate with mucky and glucky pitches, it was wondrous strange to play on a hard surface, with dust in your face, and where the bounce of the ball reached up to heaven. I had some skills, but not that many. One of them was the sliding tackle. That is when your opponent is jiggling the ball on front of you and then attempts with swift footwork to go past. This never bothered me, as when he went on his way I was able to slide on the ground, and take him and the ball together in a crunch, hopefully sending them both over the sideline. I really liked this. There was pleasure in it.

In my very first game a tall lithe slinky opponent came up to me, teasing both me and the ball. Left, right, left, left, right, wobble, right and then left again on my outside. No problem. I threw myself down, leg hooked, studs aimed, boot poised, stretch, sloop, slide. It worked. Ball and man rose up in the air and crashed down beyond the sideline.

The only problem was me. Sliding along the luscious sloppy mud of an Irish field was not the same as skating across dry hard-as-rock African clay. When I came up, my thigh was as crimson-splattered as bad modern art, and my skin was as blown-away as a shoot-out in a B cowboy movie. But briefly, I had left my thigh behind. I never did a sliding tackle again in Africa.

But I did get a sense of the importance of sport. Sport is as much part of the world as art and politics. It was Pele who said that an African team would win the world cup before the year 2000. This has not happened. But not because of lack of skill or commitment. It is because of the same problems that have beset much of Africa since colonial times. The main one of these is totally screwed-up political structures which suck the imagination out of what could be done better. Modern African literature has re-imagined the world, and there is no reason why its political and social thought could not do the same if liberated from its colonial past.

Alan Titley is a writer and a scholar from Ireland who was Head of the Irish in St Patrick's College, Dublin City University, and held the Chair of Modern Irish in University College Cork until he retired late last year. As a younger man he taught in Nigeria during the war there and travelled extensively in West Africa. Two of his seven novels (in Irish) deal with the African experience, the latest Gluaiseacht ('Moving') recounts the attempts of two young refugees to enter Europe from their home somewhere in sub-Saharan Africa. He has also written plays and stories, and some of his literary and scholarly essays have been published in Nailing Theses (Lagan Press, Belfast 2010). Alan can be contacted by email at a.titley@ucc.ie.

Susan Rice and America’s “Our Son-of-a-Bitch” Policy

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Sun, 30 Sep 2012 17:22:00 +0000

Author: Olaana Abbaaxiiqii

America's Ambassador to the United Nations Susan Rice gave a very nice eulogy at Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi's funeral recently. Her eulogy, according to Olaana Abbaaxiiqii, examplified America's belief that the man, though evidently one of Africa's brutal dictators, being one of Washington's men was enough to exonerate him. Washington is ever so willing to turn a blind eye to its proxies on the continent, and is willing to provide the political cover for its chosen few.

On Sep. 2, following Ethiopia’s meticulously choreographed funeral for former dictator, Meles Zenawi, which was designed to buttress his legacy, a friend asked me to listen to the U.S. Ambassador to the UN Susan Rice's encomium on the deification ceremony. I obliged but regret doing so, because I came out a cynic.

Ambassador Rice delivers an emotional eulogy at Prime Minister Zenawi's funeral.

It is no secret that U.S. national interests trump human rights and democracy. In an oft-repeated quote, Former U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt said of Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza: "He may be a son of a bitch, but he's our son of a bitch."

In the past, the U.S. pampered dictators like the Shah of Iran, Mobutu Sesse Seko of Zaire, with the CIA engineering the assassination of democratically elected leaders in Latin America and other places to install their puppets. Now that the Cold War is over, I believed those were things of the past, and that American foreign policy is, by and large, centered on the “singular greatness of American ideals, and their proven capacity to inspire a better world.” Besides, we were told, with a new dawn of “American leadership” on the horizon, America is back and ready to lead again.

In his historic inauguration speech, President Barack Obama proclaimed: “to those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history, but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.“

On that momentous U.S. occasion, watched by millions around the world, “from the grandest capitals” to the smallest villages, little did we know that those were just words – used only for convenience and discarded at will. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. And even trivial and ill-conceived U.S. strategic interests still trump over people’s aspirations for freedom, liberty and democracy around the world.

Mrs. Rice’s encomium for the Ethiopian dictator was not only a reflection of a moral decadence of American diplomats, especially those covering Africa, but also a grand betrayal of the courageous ideals put forth by America’s founding fathers.

From her perch at the UN office, Susan Rice does not see or feel the suffering, killing and humiliation that Zenawi inflicted upon millions of his countrymen. Even if she did, since Meles implemented America’s wishes, everything else got secondary consideration.

Oxford dictionary defines dictator as “a ruler with total power over a country, typically one who has obtained control by force.” Meles Zenawi, Ambassador Rice’s “consistently reasoned” friend, meets this definition on all accounts.

For 17 long-years, he wielded immense power as the Prime Minister of Ethiopia and chairman of the ruling coalition, the EPRDF. Prior to that, he served five years as President of Ethiopia. He has been the head of the Tigrean Peoples Liberation Front, the powerful coalition partners, since 1989. He was also the former Commander-in-Chief of the Ethiopian Army. Oh! He also took over the reigns of power after violent overthrow of Mengistu Hailemariam, the communist boogieman.

Ambassador Rice and the late Prime Minister Zenawi.

Over the years, Zenawi, whom Mrs. Rice called, an “uncommonly wise [leader who was] able to see the big picture and the long game” single-handedly closed the political space, dismantled the free media, enfeebled the opposition, and ruled the country by pitting rival groups against one another.

Meles was not my friend and I cannot attest to his personal qualities. But, unlike Susan Rice, I have intimate knowledge, personal experience, and direct accounts from people whom he brutalized and lorded over. Rather than his personal qualities in the abstract, I judge Zenawi based on what his policy did to my people. It is on that basis I pass judgment on Mrs. Rice’s eulogy.

So, who was Meles Zenawi to an average Ethiopian?

A younger Zenawi as a fighter in his fatigue.

Zenawi had his hands soaked with the blood of thousands of innocent Ethiopians. Shortly after he joined the TPLF as a young fighter, Zenawi rose to the top of the organization through Machiavellian intrigue and his depraved actions. He allegedly ordered the execution of his own compatriots who disagreed with him. Even after coming to power in 1991, Zenawi maintained his ironclad rule by constantly purging those seen as a threat, real or imagined, to his power, including his own former comrades-in-arms.

 True to the form of real dictator, Zenawi never tolerated differing ideas and competitions. A typical megalomaniac, the “great leader” loved surrounding himself with equally sycophant yes-men. Unlike many other dictators, he was an ever-morphing actor. While he tormented the people of Ethiopia, Zenawi only showed his softer, caring, and smiling face to his foreign friends who adored his intellect, wicked sense of humor, and his intolerance “for fools, or ‘idiots,’ as he liked to call them.” It is true that Zenawi had no patience for journalists, opposition leaders and anyone who dared to criticize him. That is why he institutionalized the criminalization of dissent by devising draconian “laws” like “the deeply flawed anti-terrorism legislation” or the anti-NGO law.

The Ethiopian people who suffered the brunt of Zenawi’s brutality did not see his humane side, because he did not show it to them. To call Zenawi wise, as Mrs. Rice did, is to demean the word or insult our intelligence. I agree with Mrs. Rice that Meles was a very smart man; however, this does not absolve his crimes. In fact, this is what made him all the more dangerous. Zenawi’s security forces committed crimes in the shadow of darkness. He filled prisons with opponents and ordered their torture in dark cells. Many of his opponents simply vanished – never to be heard from again in two decades.

Meles was not “selfless,” he had a depraved heart. During his guerrilla years, he devised tactics and strategies that showed his callous disregard for human life. After taking over the helm, he built a secretive regime whose existence depended on systematic repression and zeal to win at any cost.

Zenawi’s unhealthy obsession for winning became evident during the Ethio-Eritrean war of 2000. This senseless war over a barren wasteland of few kilometers took more than one hundred thousand lives. He sent thousands of non-Tigrean foot soldiers as minesweepers before the well-trained elite Tigrean soldiers were deployed. The carnage Zenawi inflicted upon millions, in deadly competition with his ex-best-friend turned enemy number one, Isaias Afewarki – over a minor conflict that could have been settled through diplomatic channels – is a testament to his depraved soul. It is beyond any reasonable imagination why Zenawi spent over one billion dollars on armaments, $480 million in 1999 alone, while large parts of the country were suffering from famine.

Contrary to claims that Zenawi “lifted millions out of poverty, hunger, and strife,” he had no compassion for the suffering of others. Everything was fair game so long as he gained from it. When he invaded Somalia in 2006, a large portion of Ogaden, the Somali-region of Ethiopia where Zenawi faced fierce resistance in recent years, was under the threat of famine. Zenawi didn’t care as long as the U.S. foreign aid checks kept flowing.

In her hagiography, Susan Rice said, the young Meles was “spurred” to action by a “torment of terrible time” to drive out another “strongman who had turned Ethiopia into a parched field of sorrow.” But she forgot to add or deliberately ignored the fact that Zenawi actually used the famine-stricken people of Tigray to his political gains, by forcing them to flee to Sudan in thousands so that his organization could prove Dergue’s atrocities to the international community. Having successfully convinced donors that “a famine of biblical proportions” was taking place, TPLF cashed Bob Geldof's Band Aid and Live Aid money to buy weapons.   At the time when the 1984 famine became a public embarrassment to the communist regime, Zenawi’s rebel group, the TPLF, controlled most of Tigray – an area severely affected by famine. As BBC’s Martin Plaut reported in 2010, channeling the relief aid through the TPLF “was the only way of reaching those in desperate need” in areas the rebels – fighting to take down the Dergue – controlled. As a TPLF army commander at the time, Aregawi Berhe, told Plaut: TPLF “made a policy decision that only five percent of the money received…would be spent on relief, with the bulk going directly or indirectly to support their military and political campaigns.” The remaining 95 percent “was allocated to buying weapons and building up a hard-line Marxist political party within the rebel movement.”

Mrs. Rice also forgot to mention what a senior U.S. diplomat, Robert Houdek, who was in Ethiopia around late 1980s told Plaut: the TPLF members admitted “at the time that some aid money and supplies were used to buy weapons” – a fact also corroborated by CIA documents. Instead of remaking “himself overnight from guerrilla to a statesman” as Susan Rice would have us believe, in the words of former Ethiopian president Negaso Gidada, whom he appointed, Zenawi became “a replica of the very strongman he replaced”– Mengistu Hailemariam. The genocide in Gambela, the carpet-bombing of villages and nomadic settlements in Ogaden, the more than 4,407 extrajudicial killings of Oromo nationalists and over 900 disappearances, the 2002 Awassa killings, the 2005 killing of more than 200 people on the streets of Addis Ababa, are sufficient to land him in the International Criminal Court (ICC). However, thanks to his powerful friends and apologists like Susan Rice, Meles walked free in life and is lionized in death.

Fortunately, theirs won’t be the last word. A time will come when the people of Ethiopia write Zenawi’s true legacy. His historical verdict will not be based on the subjective personal accounts of a friend, but rather on the objective evidence of his victims: the voices of thousands of prisoners who languished and are still languishing in Zenawi’s dungeons and endure torture; and stories of refugees who run away fearing Zenawi’s intimidation.

The hopes of millions who yearned to live in freedom but instead suffered indignities from Zenawi’s policy will be brought to light. The names of those who were killed by Zenawi’s forces would be inscribed on a stone as our heroes. We will put Zenawi’s name besides Mengistu Hailemariam, in the hall of shame, so that the future generation remembers them for the atrocities they committed against our people. Zenawi was not the father of our rebirth, but we hope he will be the end of our misery.

President Obama and the late Prime Minister Zenawi.

Mrs. Rice did not appear in the apotheosis drama just as a friend of Meles, but she led an official delegation to the funeral as a representative of the U.S. government. She forgot that her words have serious implications beyond her personal feelings for Meles. Mrs. Rice’s insensitive eulogy will be remembered as the Obama administration’s endorsement of personality cult over institution building, dictatorship over freedom, and minority over majority rule.

From her days as Assistant Secretary of State for Africa in the 90s, Mrs. Rice played a very important role in promoting the TPLF government. She remained a true friend to Zenawi until the end. She was instrumental in the Clinton administration’s naming of Zenawi as one of the new generation of African leaders. Per Zenawi's request, Mrs. Rice tried to categorize the Oromo Liberation Front as a terrorist organization, but failed. On several occasions, Rice exhibited a behavior so unbecoming of a diplomat in her zeal to defend Zenawi’s government.

It’s time for all Ethiopian-Americans to reconsider their overwhelming support for Obama during his re-election. We should not be taken for granted.

The Ethiopian government spends millions of dollars to lobby the U.S. government through firms like DLA Piper and others. It’s not clear whether Mrs. Rice’s affection for Meles was partly sustained by DLA Piper’s lobbing efforts. At the very least, Mrs. Rice’s judgment was clouded by her close personal relationship with Meles.

However, as a seasoned diplomat, she should not have allowed her personal feelings to run amok. She should have shown a minimum level of sensitivity to the thousands killed, imprisoned, tortured and became refugees as a result of Zenawi’s policies. Those “fools and idiots” were freedom fighters to millions who wanted to see a better Ethiopia. We may be fools, we may be idiots, but one thing is for sure: we have an enduring cause, and justice is on our side. I am confident that in the final analysis, freedom and liberty will triumph over tyranny.

I end with the following wise words from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.:

“I know you are asking today, ‘How long will it take?....’

I come to say to you this afternoon, however difficult the moment, however frustrating the hour, it will not be long, because truth crushed to earth will rise again.

How long? Not long, because no lie can live forever.

How long? Not long, because you shall reap what you sow.

How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

This article originally posted on Opride.com on September 2nd, 2012. The writer Olaana Abbaaxiiqii can be reached at olaanaabbaaxiiqi@yahoo.com; the editor, Mohammed Ademo, is at editor@OPride.com.

Becoming an Ophthalmologist in Burkina Faso

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 27 Sep 2012 16:31:00 +0000

Author: Sam Gradess

Sam Gradess chronicles his time in Burkina Faso as a development volunteer with the U.S. Peace Corps. His observations show an experience different from anything he has come across in the past - Burkinabés have their own way of doing things and it works.

I have unfortunate skin on the bridge of my nose due to the plastic frames that sit on my face daily. I longed so greatly to use contacts that I visited an ophthalmologist in order not to renew my eyeglass prescription, but to order contacts. I have two ruddy dots on either side of my nose that act as quotidian reminders that friction mixed with perspiration form quite the anti-aesthetic. Additionally, this is the first climate hot and humid enough that insects actually desire to rest on my lenses, creating a weird National Geographic-esque discovery experience. Already this is an overwrought, passive-aggressive attack on a few pieces of plastic and glass that separate me from my fellow villagers.

Whenever I lead une sensibilisation – awareness campaign – in my school, which lacks electricity, the students close the window shutters swiftly and with a nails-on-a-chalkboard resonance that I desperately crave. Rendered legally blind again, I asked my students why they choose such an ambiance for writing their notes. It turns out the lower light levels coming from the outside makes the contrast between the blackboard and white chalk more legible. Fascinatingly counterintuitive to me, I began to think about students’ abilities within the confines of our eight by twelve meter classroom – capable of holding students in the triple digits, mind you.

There is no way for me, as a Peace Corps Volunteer, to provide a complete, holistic analysis of the difficulties facing the education system of Burkina Faso. Maybe the first identifiable problem is the aberrant learning style of rote memorization in which students literally recite passages of information when all I asked for was the name of the protagonist. The draconian teaching style using corporal punishment as a means to exercise functionary power certainly helps no one. Perhaps the dearth of resources, from textbooks to pens to other didactic tools, is the single greatest indicator of an achievement gap. These problems are common ground across many primary schools in Burkina Faso. As a volunteer, I am aching with a sense of urgency to tackle these issues. I just have a few loaded questions. How do I know that the child sitting in the front of the classroom is not just nearsighted? Given my training, would I ever be able to help more than superficially a child who, in the United States, would be labeled as learning disabled. What if a child suffered from myopia?

Now that you have all taken a quick breather to look up myopia, let me just qualify the above questions by saying most of the work I do, and what can be analyzed fruitfully from my work experience as a Non-Formal Education Volunteer, is done without unraveling the medical definition of myopia, but rather the colloquial one.

Burkinabè in positions of authority are, by their very nature, incredibly myopic. The lack of foresight mixed with a ça va aller (it will all work out) optimism teetering on blatant procrastination is an unexpected obstacle for any long-term volunteer. One of the ways that I assert the Senegalese proverb “le bois dans la fleuve ne devient jamais une crocodile » (the log in the water never becomes a crocodile, i.e. I will never become African) is in my manner to be both timely and prescient in the work that I do. I began planning my two-week leadership camp for boys and girls in the region approximately nine months, a full human gestation period, in advance. When did my counterparts officially commit to the notion of empowering girls and boys to be the leaders of tomorrow via a summer camp? Approximately eight months and one week following. When did my counterpart plan the women’s professional panel for the girls? Approximately twelve hours before the tables and chairs were placed before the students. This level of professional certitude that it will all work out belies every custom and work ethic I have been trying to harness for the better part of my youth.

This simple cultural schism makes my few accomplishments seem trivial and yet herein lies the very basic tenet of sustainable development that has been ingrained by Burkinabè technical trainers since my first day of training. We do not work for the citizens of Burkina Faso, but rather with them. When I reflect on this straightforward principle, ten pounds are lifted from my shoulders as a volunteer because I recall that this “toughest job I will ever love” is tough for a reason, and I remember that I actually do admire the Burkinabè’s cultural gift of truly living in the present. The HIV/AIDS population is remarkably low in Burkina, equal in percentage to the United States and lower in population density than Washington D.C. More people die yearly from motorcycle accidents-a comparatively more sudden way of dying. It is not the least bit surprising that they would opt to live more in the present. Their engagement in the moment is matched by their bafflingly high-level of patience.

Sam Gradess (kneeling in the middle of the photo) at the "Doorways Conference,"
a USAID initiative to provide teaching manuals for professors, community counselors, and students
on how to end violence, namely gender-based violence, in schools.

While many Americans would become restive in transit over a flat tire, fallen livestock, or a boiling engine, Burkinabè take it all in stride with a patient prowess that is both admirable and downright enviable. It is practically a miracle that volunteers have any legitimacy among authority figures given the amount of cultural protocol that is – accidentally – transgressed, trying to see visible results in the short term. My anglophone Burkinabè peers have a joke about how work progresses in West Africa. I am simply an American living on West African International Time (W.A.I.T.). I will continue to work with the Burkinabè always, and hope that they see some things differently. Perhaps like an ophthalmologist I will help them to see certain concepts clearer. They certainly have helped me over the past year.

For my remaining tenure in Burkina Faso, I will be reporting on what development means to me in the grassroots context of the Peace Corps, and I promise to focus on the amazing, multifarious culture in which I surround myself, full to the brim with tolerance that I could never hope to universally find in America. From the biennial, pan-African film festival around the corner to the incredible artisan village that will take over Burkina Faso in a month and a half, I am here to share. Soyez la bienvenue!

Samuel Gradess is a United States Peace Corps Education Volunteer living in Burkina Faso. He is a graduate of St. Lawrence University where he earned a B.S. in Psychology and Francophone Studies. The contents of his articles are his personal opinion and do not reflect any position of the U.S. Government or the Peace Corps.

Africa Deserves Better Leaders

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 03:53:00 +0000

Author: Edson Charikinya

Africa’s leadership process needs a revamp. It has failed the continent’s billion-plus citizens for a very long time. Opposition parties all over the continent, coming into office riding popular waves of hope for change, often revert to the practices of their predecessors. The international community has also been fooled into committing to African leaders who taut respect for human rights and support for democracy just to win approval from Washington. Edson Charinkinya argues that a revamped process would need public discourse, proper scrutiny of Africa’s opposition parties to break the cycle.

Africa’s economic problems are a constant topic of discussion among many academics and commentators. Different theories and explanations have been put forward to explain the reasons why Africa fails to live up to its immense potential. Most analysts agree that Africa has had its fair share of bad leaders. Bad leadership on the African continent is synonymous with dictatorship. Though now a good many African leaders mask their dictatorships in fraudulent “democratic” elections. In the rush to remove leaders who’ve overstretched their constitutional mandates from power, many African countries have ended up trading one tyrant for another. In order to break this cycle, leaders of the opposition party should also be closely scrutinize and not given a free pass just because they boldly “oppose” corruption. Such scrutiny might reveal, sadly, that some countries are better off, relatively, with their current despots in power even if they are not considered to be the best.

There are many examples on the African continent of former opposition leaders who have gotten into power promising to do better than the autocrats and dictators that they fought hard to overthrow. Once in power these leaders abandoned all promises of change. The absence of rigorous vetting – through public discourse - for discerning bad opposition leaders before they get into office has meant Africa keeps getting bad leaders in office. A rigorous vetting process wold expose leadership flaws of populist opposition leaders that become glaringly obvious when they are in power. This would allow the people to see these aspiring leaders for who they truly are, which in most cases are different versions of the tyrants they are fighting to replace. Laurent Gbagbo ,Yoveni Meseveni and the late Meles Zenawi all were at one time lauded as democratic reformists.

The late Meles Zenawi fought hard to overthrow one of Africa’s most brutal dictator Mengistu Haile Mariam. When Meles Zenawi came into power he offered the promise of democracy and was expected to be a better leader than his predecessor. Bill Clinton, then-president of the U.S. hailed him as a “new generation” of African leaders who would lead the African renaissance. He was showered with many prestigious international awards, including a World Peace Prize and a Good Governance Award from the Global Coalition for Africa. It didn’t take long for Meles Zenawi to betray his democratic pretensions with rigged elections and intimiding his political opponents. He betrayed his people with mindless wars and often brutal repression, similar tactics used by his predecessor.

It is time the world moves away from the notion that leaders who oppose corrupt and autocratic governments are automatically better leaders. A case in point is Zimbabwe, where the West has portrayed Robert Mugabe as one of Africa’s worst leaders and heaped a considerable amount of praise on his political rival Morgan Tsvangirai. The French government recently conferred Morgan Tsvangirai the Legion of Honour, which is one of the highest honour one can receive in France. This award was presented to him in recognition of his work toward upholding universal aspirations, morals and the spirit of progress. The Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard has gone further to liken him to Nelson Mandela, with the Bermese freedom fighter, Aung San Suu Kyi, calling him a remarkable figure of our time. By the way, he has also been shortlisted for a Noble peace prize.

Mr. Tsvangirai, currently embroiled in a public love scandal, may not be the crusader these fine judges of character think him to be. His party under his leadership has been engaged in political violence against other rival opposition parties. Tsvangirai has also shown disregard for his own party’s constitution and has exhibited dictatorship tendencies. This should alarm advocates of democracy and good governance.

It is crucial that Africans be able to assess the quality of their prospective leaders before they come into power. Otherwise it would be guess work trying to select the leaders who will make the difference towards a better Africa. It is pivotal in achieving good governance and creating a culture of responsible leadership and more attention should be paid to this.

China vs. United States: Perhaps a Deadly Competition for Africa

noreply@blogger.com (SEADiaspora Editor) — Thu, 20 Sep 2012 16:45:00 +0000

Author: Staff Writer

Africa’s resources are again in high demand from the world’s industrially developed nations. Two in particular are geared to make the most of this competition – U.S. and China. In their efforts to win lie many unknowns, though there is a possibility Africa could become a victim of their rapacious appetites. A continent of nations led by corrupt governments, coupled with wealthy suitors capable and willing to do anything for more of what their economies and global status need is a very bad mix, to say the least.

For the better part of modern history, Africans, it would appear, have never owned Africa. Unfortunately, the wealth of the land and the spoils from the efforts of its people, has been ferried to “better” and far away places – places most Africans have no chance of ever seeing. This has been Africa’s lived reality. It is still so at this very moment whilst you read this. It is no secret. Many Africans know this. History classes all over the world teach this to the students of history. The “resource curse” set upon the most endowed continent has its riches serving, ironically, to impoverish its people.

U.S. Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, kicked off her
11-day Africa tour that she undertook during the summer,
with a first stop in Senegal where she gave remarks on the
U.S. commitments to a partnership with the continent.

Yet, there is something absolutely sinister about this continent’s history. For those who profit from her have always had the mind and tact to peacefully share her, just not with the people who inhabit the continent. This is the reason for fine, straight lines on maps depicting Africa’s borders. You would be hard pressed to find examples of spoils from the continent’s efforts or natural riches going to its inhabitants, safe for those who help in the thievery. The history of Africa explains the state it is currently in. It explains why it fails in so many ways to live up to the expectations of its peoples.

At the moment its prospects are bright, it seems destined to have a chance at accomplishing its potential. Though, it also comes close to repeating history. It may, once again, be the theatre where more powerful actors have their way, leaving a shattered continent behind. China and the United States are equally in pursuit of what they can have from Africa, and the continent’s fate once again is in the balance. The competition, and how these two powerful nations compete over Africa will determine whether or not it is saved from repeating history.

The attention Africa is receiving now is different from history in one regard – Africa can actually benefit from the competition the global market has created for its resources. But could it survive being part of the geo-political calculus of two global powers? Can Africans reap the rewards of having what the two most important global economies want? These are questions experts often provide conjectures answering, because no can be certain whether good or damnation will come from this. There is so much to loose if African governments get it wrong again.

Both the U.S. and China need Africa, especially in the competition against each other. Oil, votes in international forums, and a market for their export goods are chief amongst their pursuits. The United States still enjoys a very good amount of political capital in sub-Saharan Africa but, like in North Africa and the Middle East, it is increasingly viewed as a paternalistic hegemony, singularly self-interested and not in helping Africa overcome its structural problems.

In busy African markets, cheap Chinese products often
take away the competitive edge of local businesses,
thereby ruining the livelihood of locals.

China, relatively newer to ordinary sub-Saharan Africans, is making a name for itself. It is now viewed as the alternative to the West and its failed policies of pretending to care about human rights and good governance, while crippling sub-Saharan African economies with structural adjustment programs (SAP). China lends without preconditions and builds spectacular projects, with more slated to come in the near future. But, some have began to view China as a calculating realist whose relations with Africa holds only a one-way benefit, leaving the continent saddled with new debts and dependent economies in a neo-colonial entanglement.

With the turn of the new century has come a considerable drop in U.S. popularity in sub-Saharan Africa. Many of the continent’s leaders are happy to have a second source of capital investments void of good governance (strings-attached) requirements. At the same time, ordinary sub-Saharan Africans are disillusioned with the age-old rhetoric from Western governments supporting democratic institutions, while Western private firms (especially the extractive industries) conduct business as usual – undermining government transparency; engaging in extensive environmental damage; and involving themselves, to disastrous effects, in local politics.

There is one important, though less visible, dimension to Africa’s relationship with the U.S. and China – its asymmetrical power. Africa, with all its resources in demand, is the junior partner at the table. China may still be considered a developing country, but it has long surpassed every country in sub-Saharan Africa. It has industrial and human resource capabilities that sub-Saharan African countries couldn’t even dream of, safe for South Africa. This power dynamic makes it possible for African governments to easily be bullied or turned into proxies.

President Hu Jintao talks to South African President Jacob Zuma (front row left) and Beninese President and African Union Chairman Thomas Boni Yayi (front row right) as they, UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon (far right) and other African leaders enter the venue of the Fifth Ministerial Conference of the Forum on China-Africa Cooperation at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing on Thursday. [Photo/Xinhua].

China cannot continually pump billions of dollars in foreign direct investments (FDI) into a politically volatile place as Africa and not one day be required to protect its investments with military might. In fact, it must have already made such a strategic contingency plan before its government-backed FDIs went into Africa. The same can be said for the United States. However, the United States already has AFRICOM on the ground, increasingly spreading its strategic relationships with the national security arms of Africa’s governments. The close quarters in which both countries are operating on the continent makes it only a matter of time before their veiled competition becomes full-blown and permeates every aspect of the continent’s politics. It could completely suck the life out of the continent’s nascent democracies and its weak regional and continental bodies.

Chinese and Chadian workers at an oil site in southern Chad, part of

China's growing economic presence in Africa. This, and other such

projects are defining China’s relationship with Africa.

[Image Credits: Ruth Fremson/The New York Times].

Africa is the land of many things, including proverbs. “When two elephants fight, it is the ground that suffers!” That has always been one that stuck with me. These two giants, through their competition, can leave devastation in their wake when their tussle is done. There is much to gain for Africans, though. But, one is truly pessimistic when history and the current state of affairs are examined - African governments are weak; little or no transparency exist in African macro-economies; lack of true ownership of the most important industries within their economies, and the list goes on. Yet, perhaps we should dare to imagine that it could be different this time around. That Africa’s abundance can help save her people from their current, undeserving sorry state.