A few things have happened to me recently. The most
prominent of which is that I’ve moved from Kampala, in Uganda, to Kumasi, in
Ghana. And Nelson Mandela has died.
Now this isn’t to say the Mandela’s life or his death had
much of a profound impact on me. I am, as has been stated before on this blog, a British white
middle class man. I am almost the antithesis to Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela. If I had been
born further south than I was I would’ve been part of the system that oppressed
him and I hope, although doubt, I would have had the courage to oppose it. I did
not grow up with Mandela as my hero although I have learnt to respect and
admire his courage, principles and actions; whilst understanding that there are
many unsung people fighting similar battles to this day.
His death has provoked a reaction in many of my friends, as
well as millions (probably billions) of other people, to express publicly their
profound respect for a man that stood in the limelight and led, eventually, a
process of peace and reconciliation probably unparalleled in modern history. Many
have deep connection to him and his work for various reasons and he was an
incredibly important figure in their lives; which is hugely important.
I too was one of those millions to eulogise on Facebook, to
which my somewhat right wing British cousin questioned eulogising a man that
was convicted as a terrorist – something he was categorised as until 2008 by
the US. I was also contacted by an Afrikaans friend who fully accepted the
great work that he’d done for their country but suggested I not forget that he
and the ANC did attack many people who were not directly involved in the
Apartheid system. A Nigerian/Ghanaian friend also posted Six
Things Nelson Mandela Believed That Most People Won’t Talk About and a
fantastic piece from Okwonga called Mandela
will never, ever be your minstrel.
Both pieces were filled with passionate intent to remind the
clamouring masses that Mandela’s struggle was not a unique event and that what
he fought for still very much needs to be fought. To quote:
“You will make out that apartheid was just some sort of evil mystical
space disease that suddenly fell from the heavens and settled on all of us, had
us all, black or white, in its thrall, until Mandela appeared from the ether to
redeem us. You will try to make Mandela a Magic Negro and you will fail. You
will say that Mandela stood above all for forgiveness whilst scuttling swiftly
over the details of the perversity that he had the grace to forgive.
You will try to make out that apartheid was some horrid spontaneous
historical aberration, and not the logical culmination of centuries of imperial
arrogance.”
I lapped this up. Having been educated in the UK we were
starved of British history's context outside of that which we had triumphed. The Nazis
were spoon fed to us. Nobody ever mentioned that Colonialism was morally abhorrent
or that it led to horrific decisions being taken with, at best, misinformation from
far off lands about people we didn’t understand and at worst specific bias
towards dividing and subjugating foreign populations for our own benefit.
Furthermore a British history teacher won’t mention that it
was not the Afrikaners who first suggested Apartheid in South Africa, it was
the British, having forced the wives and children of the Boers in to concentration camps (we dreamt them up too), we were very much in charge back then; or that our Thatcherite
Government didn’t even oppose it when it was in full flow. Smuts (ironically the only man
in history to sign both peace treaties for WW1 and WW2 which the Declaration of
Human Rights is based on), Churchill and Rhodes all supported the idea. Even
Ghandi, educated in London, has been quoted in support of separation.
It was that last sentence “culmination of centuries of imperial arrogance”, then, that hit home. That’s
me! As a British Citizen my position in the world and my privileged education is
just that. Therefore, is my stance on this really a true belief in equality between all people or just a reflection of fashionable humanitarian sentiment of the
moment? Will it dissolve when tested and will I revert to the stereotype of an
arrogant expat?
Having had free time to take stock of myself I can’t honestly
say that I have always stood for what I’m arguing Mandela stood for. Let me explain.
Kumasi, in contrast to Kampala, appears to have limited external
influence and, as the Capital of the Ashanti Kingdom, the people are very proud
of their heritage. Apparently for decades now there have been many Lebanese
expats trading in lumber and real estate but other than that there aren’t many
expats. Much of the wealth (and there is plenty), upon first glance, appears to
be owned by Ghanaians with what seems like a more equal distribution.
The people of Kumasi also seem more conservative than many Kampalalites
and with far fewer expats or tourists in the city there are far fewer accoutrements
that go with them – including expensive foreign restaurants and racially
divided standards of living. I’m not suggesting that expats in Kampala are
implementing any form of separation (quite the opposite) but even the lowliest
of European interns lives in a better house with a better standard of living
than many of the people in the ever increasing unplanned urban sprawl across
the low lying areas of the city; or, to be honest, than many Ugandan people
working for NGOs or other companies. That must feel pretty raw.
Kampala had a large and vibrant expat community and it also
had a young liberal Ugandan community which I, to my chagrin, didn’t interact with
that much. When chatting to one of my few Ugandan friends about Kumasi she
sarcastically suggested, “Well, you’ll just have to make friends with the
locals.”
I’m more than happy to jump on the bandwagon of Pan African
liberation and I often wax lyrical about how wonderful the countries I live in
are or of the talent and latent potential to develop socially oriented businesses here
(which I truly believe). But when put under the spotlight in Kampala I quickly
retreated to the comfort and security of familiar faces and shared cultural
identity; just as my Colonial predecessors would have done when presented with
cultural differences far greater than that which is present today.
Well what of it? You’ve plenty of friends with similar
cultures and experiences. That’s no crime. But if you’re out to do something positive
in a collaborative and inter-cultural way, understanding and accepting your
differences is vitally important. The danger is in letting yourself get sucked
in to a bubble where your views of and opinions about your host culture become
clouded by misjudgement. How then can you make good decisions or know when is the right moment to leave?
The great thing now is that I have no choice because there
isn’t much of an expat community in Kumasi to fall back on. What I must do is stop searching for the familiar and immerse myself in the unknown. What a fantastic
opportunity!
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