Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 304

“Are you an African artist? …”

Spoek Mathambo (2011)

There’s a strong (European) mainstream that is still secretly seduced by the idea that poor black people, especially those in African slums, can’t or won’t make great art or if they do, it’s the exception. They (that’s some English media producers and western audiences) need to believe that great art happens with harps. So opera singers emerging from Khayelitsha in Cape Town are a much bigger “story” than opera singers in Hampstead Garden or Norwood Suburb.

Last year, I was tasked with writing about “Wonder Welders,” a group of people in Tanzania with varying degrees of disability, i.e. mental and physical, who make commercial sculptures to support themselves. A well-meaning British publication, which commissioned the piece, then panned it. Why? Because the interesting bit – the incredible levels of jealousy and sexual affairs that prevailed in the workplace – was too complicated for their audience. The story of African disabled people who make a living welding sculptures should be one of triumph, the virtues of NGO charity and victory.

Like imported mangos, African art for European audiences loses its juiciness and is hijacked by a mix of not enough honesty, a desire to put bums on seats, and global narratives that favor tales of exotic lives and resilience. Instead of asking the much more interesting questions they go for the “cheap shot”: colonialism, slavery or exoticism. The bottom line is that the exotic/victim binary of colonial yore is very much alive and kicking in representation of African arts and music. But people living and working in Africa have moved on from this.

Take the case of Fredy Massamba, a pop singer from Brazzaville, the capital of the Republic of Congo. In 2012 I happened to be at the Busara Music Festival in Zanzibar where Freddy was performing at an 18th century British fort.

Fredy is the Congo’s equivalent of Robbie Williams- he is hugely popular, something of a legend, but unlike Robbie, he has no concerns about involving himself in contentious, and potentially reputation-damaging conversations. Standing on a stage enthusing thousands to think about who they vote for, Fredy uses his magnetism and cultural leverage to galvanise discussion and change. It’s the kind of the Central African equivalent of One Direction asking us to challenge austerity politics and poverty porn.

Later, sitting on the floor with the rest of the band chipping in—in French and English—our conversation drifts onto post-colonialism. In the background the Nigerian singer Nneka urges us to challenge the big men in power: “Vagabonds in power, VIP!” The audience is delirious with recognition. That’s when Freddy and I discuss whether the French were less brutal in their empire grabbing than the English.

Hang on. We are sitting on the floor of a Zanzibar fort that was used by British Imperial forces to defend their slavery trade. Eating a chips and egg omelet (“Chipsi Mayai”),  Freddy is teasing me about him being richer than I will ever dream, and in which quarter of Paris he’ll buy an apartment. This is not a conversation I can imagine happening in England – not ever. There’s never a suggestion that I will trot out the standard BBC question: “Are you an African artist?” None at all. I promise to send Freddy a copy of the article. He giggles and says, “Yeah! Of course I wanna know how I am portrayed in Europe, of course I do! If  you help me do well in Europe I’ll buy that apartment in Paris.”

Fast forward several years later to the SouthBank Center, London for Africa Utopia Festival. Spoek Mathambo, the brilliant, left-field producer, MC and DJ, is asked whether European media has started to grapple with representation of Africa or about Africans and whether they’ve moved beyond exotic/victim binaries:

I think the question itself is as problematic as the dynamic it’s trying to tackle. To be frank, I don’t care. As an African we have our own battle of representation to fight. Our independence means we can fulfill our potential and live our lives without being worried about a myopic foreign gaze.

Part of me gets it: Why the hell should he be bothered how Europe views him? He’s got enough to think about.

Near London Bridge, in a dreary corporate hotel lounge of pastels and enlarged photos of vulva-esque tulips, South African film-maker Khalo Matabane is promoting his film, Nelson Mandela: the Myth and Me.

Matabane is friendly, relaxed and smiley, as he delivers his careful, thoughtful intellectual darts. He has little or no time for the parameters of the film industry, the global socio-economic elites that drive and determine how Africa is represented:

We have a limited palate of tropes. Ubuntu, the resilient forgiving African, or the political black, it’s all a construct. It serves an elite. It’s irrelevant what the national debate is, what the masses think. We are film makers, we don’t fit, we’re critical, bizarre, weird, we stand outside… we’re difficult… we get it wrong sometimes…..that’s why I do what I do. It requires absolute honesty with myself, if I think my critique is not driven by an outside agenda I can sleep at night! But there are probably dictators who sleep at night too. For me, it’s important I don’t betray my interviewees too. The question should be, am I happy with my films? Any film I’ve ever done?

Running through or behind all of these conversations with African intellectuals, creatives and artists, there is a constant profound recognition that the Global North plays far too big a part in defining what Africa is. The space for arts, music and film, has been defined and severely limited by existing stereotypes of victimhood, violence, chaos, corruption. All ably perpetrated by that unmanageable cypher “The Media”, its unwieldy bed mate the Academy, and of course the grand puppet master, global economic trade relations or information flows. In all spheres, the Global North is still  far too keen to gallop towards the equally simplistic notion of the happy resilient African in the face of ridiculous obstacles and natural hazards.

Resilience is such a problematic, vacuous, anythingy kind of word that even the New York Times had an essay about it, and TED Talks abound on the topic. From parenting to surviving teen bullying, “resilience” is what individuals have in the face of structural disasters. It obliterates systems, politics or intent. Resilience is an individual reaction to a one-off problem. And this determines what is culture worth reporting on coming out of the 52 different countries in Africa.

Why then, are we so averse to acknowledging complexity, difference, subtlety and agency when it comes to music, film, poetry and dance that emerges from different regions in Africa?

Of course there are exceptions:  British-Nigerian artist Chris Ofili’s work is complicated and interesting: he intelligently examines beauty and goddess culture and primitiveness. Zambian singer Namvula sings in Chichewa to global audiences, and brings together folk, oral cultures and contemporary pop. Equally, Phoebe Boswell, the multiple award winning conceptual artist – who is currently looking at what it means to be child of a fourth generation, White Kenyan father and Kikuyu mother and at the spaces in between – asks where home is, and does huge beautiful works that question the diaspora and what it means to be dislocated. She embraces frailty and privilege – personal and social – often, and she’s not afraid of banging witch doctors up against Hackney artists. She is aware that what she is doing is completely new, and quotes James Baldwin: “The place where I fit does not exist until I make it”.

This is more than a gripe, or a whinge, or a fancy-pants version of  “Oh shock! England ain’t that interested in intellectual complexity coming out of Africa.” Because actually, at some level it is: witness the recent British Library exhibition that lovingly explored the massive literary traditions of West Africa.  No, this then aims to ignite a debate that needs to be happening in bigger spaces, outside of just the academy or the bar late at night in a side street in Arusha (or in the carefully curated British Library exhibit). We need to ask who is shaping the debate about African arts in the Global North. Why is the power balance still so skewed, the worlds still so separate? Is it just about the cash dólar or Euros, (get the gig, the record deal, the film funded) or are there ways we can educate audiences (globally) to be significantly more demanding and interested in what is emerging out of Africa?

Why is the US defending the honor of the International Criminal Court?

Two weeks ago, Uganda’s President Museveni inaugurated his fourth decade in power. And as strange things happen at swearing-in ceremonies around the continent these days, this one was no exception. Officials from the US, Canada and Europe walked out of the ceremony when Museveni mocked the International Criminal Court (ICC), calling its officials “a bunch of useless people.”

To be sure, it must also have been quite uncomfortable for the western diplomats to share the stage with Sudan’s president Omar al Bashir, an ICC fugitive who is wanted for alleged crimes of genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity. (We have previously written on the drama that accompanies Bashir on his travels here.)

But, what if the US diplomats walked out just because their European cousins did? This is a serious question, because, frankly, it’s hard to entertain the idea that the US could be offended by someone criticizing the ICC. Successive US administrations fought tooth and nail for the ICC not to see the light of the day as we know it, although it is true that the Obama administration is a bit friendlier to the Court than previous ones. But the fact remains that there are still laws and policies in Washington that are specifically designed to make the ICC’s work impossible, if it ever decided to go after US interests.

David Scheffer, the first US Ambassador-at-large for War Crimes – or “Ambassador for Hell” as some people called him – wrote a fascinating memoir in which he recounts, among other things, the US delegation’s attempt to tailor the ICC during the drafting of the Rome Statute in 1998.  As head of the US delegation in Rome, Scheffer wrote,

I struggled to avoid the train wreck at Rome only to embrace certain defeat. I would have risked my own removal from the negotiations if I had pressed too openly or too hard on the Pentagon or on Senator Jesse Helms, so I had to maneuver in ways that steadily built broader circles of support for the policies that stood any chance of adoption at Rome… The stubbornness of various Washington agencies and officials in seeking full immunity from prosecution for American soldiers and other citizens, regardless of whether the United States joined the International Criminal Court, seemed at times to be forged in Alice’s Wonderlands (p. 413).

The bone of contention here is that the US administration was hell-bent on ensuring that no American citizen would face the ICC, ever. And when efforts to place the ICC prosecutor under the supervision of the UN Security Council failed, the Singapore Compromise provided for a middle ground, where the Security Council may refer cases to the ICC and also defer them for periods of 12 months. But even that was not good enough for the US.

Although this compromise gives the ICC a virtual universal jurisdiction (in the sense that even states that are not parties to the ICC may be referred to the Court by the UN Security Council – Sudan and Libya, for instance), it also places the Court at the center of political calculations that underpin the Security Council. After all, you can’t get any more political than the Security Council. It also shields any non-party state that has a P-5 guardian from a UNSC referral. There’s a reason why attempts to refer Syria to the ICC have failed, after of course the Libya ICC referral and its aftermath.

After the Rome Statute was drafted, President Clinton signed it, albeit very reluctantly, and with the full knowledge that the US Congress would never ratify it. The Bush administration later “unsigned” it – Secretary Colin Powell claiming that the Court undermines US judicial authority. The US also went around the world forcing the hands of countries into signing Bilateral Immunity Agreements, which means that those states would never surrender any US citizen to the Court, even if their ICC membership required them to do so. Heck, the US Congress went even as far as passing “the Hague Invasion Act”, which authorizes the use of force to liberate any American held by the ICC, in the Hague.

This  defiant stance against the ICC explained also why the US abstained to vote in the UN Resolution 1593 (2005) that referred the situation in Darfur to the ICC. These days the US government is friendlier towards the ICC when the Court’s agenda matches US strategic interests – for instance, voting yes to the UN Resolution 1970 (2011) that referred Gaddafi’s Libya to the ICC, and supporting a resolution that would have referred Assad’s Syria to the ICC.  Let’s also keep in mind that the Libya referral included a clause that bars the ICC from prosecuting any NATO personnel in relation to their intervention in Libya, even if they have committed crimes.

It is odd then that the US delegation at Museveni’s inauguration would walk out because of the latter’s verbal attacks against the ICC.  If actions speak louder than words, and if we are to judge the US by its actions, no country has gone to greater length to safeguard itself and its citizens from the reach of the first permanent international criminal court.

To be clear, there is no higher form of hypocrisy than Museveni’s current stance against the ICC. Museveni has used the Court to defeat the LRA both politically and militarily, and now uses any opportunity he has to insult the institution. But, we will get back to that in a future post.

The new benchmark in South African cinema is ‘Happiness’

The comedy “Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” arrived amidst the celebration of a new kind of female subject in African films and television. Most of these media feature independent, glamorous, girl-power characters and borrow stylistically from “Sex in the City.” Recent examples include the Ghanaian web series “An African City,” slick Nollywood productions about “MILFS” and Akin Omotoso’s “Tell Me Sweet Something.” In the South African context, the latter perhaps serves as a trailblazer for films like “Happiness Is A Four Letter Word,” currently a box office success in the country.

“Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” revolves around three young women grappling with personal and professional lives in suburban Johannesburg.  Here’s the trailer:

Happiness Is A Four Letter Word (2016)

I saw the film with an audience of mostly young black women in a cinema at the Cavendish Mall, in Claremont, a mostly white middle class suburb of Cape Town. The screening was accompanied by murmuring, ululating, grins, grunts, giggles and exclamations from the audience. This conversation between the movie and the audience, something a lot of movies (local or Hollywood) only barely achieve, was interesting to witness. The film is an emphatic success in this regard, reflecting the audience on the screen, so much so that they can recognize the characters and their journeys.

The film has grossed more than R10 million (about US$700,000) to date, and is being hailed as turning point for South African cinema. Although the financial success is great news for the cast, crew and South African cinema in general, it could set the bar (an not a particularly high one) for South African films.

Nandi (played by Mamabatho Montsho), the main character, is trying to make partner at a law firm, taking the patriarchal structures at work head-on, while trying to organize a wedding and forget an ex-lover. Zaza (Khanyi Mbau) is a stay-at-home mom to two boys, and a wife to a husband who is neither a husband nor a father. The third character is Princess (Renate Stuurman), a young curator living a progressive lifestyle.

The three protagonists swap important scenes, turning points, points of no return and climax, with distinctly recognizable inner personal, interpersonal and extra-personal conflicts. The three women are flawless, giving solid performances, with Khanyi Mbau, previously a “celebrity” and reality television star, delivering a surprisingly good performance as the trophy wife with a strong sexual appetite. The filmmakers seem more concerned, however, with repeated camera pans of her lingerie.

Nandi navigates being a career-focused woman who is about to be married. The audience appeared to be responding to the kissing of an ex and a fight with her fiancé more than the patriarchy she is fighting at work. Her character is similar to Thelma in the 1991 classic film by Ridley Scott, Thelma and Louise. She embodies Thelma’s weakness for men, but without any of the naivety. Though she is promoted to partner in her firm through hard work, the general impression is that a woman needs to organize her life – professional and personal – around the needs of men. Nandi’s fiancé, played by Chris Attoh, is in control of his emotions whilst Nandi is falling apart, unable to control hers.

Princess’ storyline is a narrative that needs to be told more often. In the beginning, she appears sexually liberated, comfortable to have numerous casual partners rather than a long-term relationship. Then she meets Leo, played by Richard Lukunku. Princess falls pregnant and feels like she is being punished for her “promiscuity.” This is where this narrative reverts to an all too familiar pattern of thinking about women who have numerous sexual partners or liaisons – that, unlike men, they are guilty and should be “punished” accordingly – by getting pregnant or contracting HIV, for example.

The characters in “Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” are ordinary but it is in this ordinariness of the characters that the film succeeds and fails. They are not ordinary in the sense that they are plebeians, far from it. They are, in fact, the quintessence of the black upper middle class, far removed from the social realities of the black working class South African majority.  The characters make frequent visits to the spa, shop expensively, dine out and live in lavish homes. There is a sense of appearing unmindful of the realities around them.

The film is adapted from a novel of the same name by author Cynthia Jele. The relationship between films and books, a merging of two mediums is a precarious one. Each book adaptation comes with its own demons. In this movie, the adaptation to screen works because of the strength of the cast, an excellent script by Busisiwe Ntintili and equally stellar direction by Thabang Moleya and cinematography by Lance Gewer.

“Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” succeeds because it does not try to do anything unconventional, it remains simple, and delivers a stylish and convincing rom com, while grappling with topical issues of patriarchy, sexual freedom, marriage and drug abuse, among others.

Is “Happiness” the new benchmark in South African cinema?

The comedy “Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” arrived amidst the celebration of a new kind of female subject in African films and television. Most of these media feature independent, glamorous, girl-power characters and borrow stylistically from “Sex in the City.” Recent examples include the Ghanaian web series “An African City,” slick Nollywood productions about “MILFS” and Akin Omotoso’s “Tell Me Sweet Something.” In the South African context, the latter perhaps serves as a trailblazer for films like “Happiness Is A Four Letter Word,” currently a box office success in the country.

“Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” revolves around three young women grappling with personal and professional lives in suburban Johannesburg.  Here’s the trailer:

Happiness Is A Four Letter Word (2016)

I saw the film with an audience of mostly young black women in a cinema at the Cavendish Mall, in Claremont, a mostly white middle class suburb of Cape Town. The screening was accompanied by murmuring, ululating, grins, grunts, giggles and exclamations from the audience. This conversation between the movie and the audience, something a lot of movies (local or Hollywood) only barely achieve, was interesting to witness. The film is an emphatic success in this regard, reflecting the audience on the screen, so much so that they can recognize the characters and their journeys.

The film has grossed more than R10 million (about US$700,000) to date, and is being hailed as turning point for South African cinema. Although the financial success is great news for the cast, crew and South African cinema in general, it could set the bar (an not a particularly high one) for South African films.

Nandi (played by Mamabatho Montsho), the main character, is trying to make partner at a law firm, taking the patriarchal structures at work head-on, while trying to organize a wedding and forget an ex-lover. Zaza (Khanyi Mbau) is a stay-at-home mom to two boys, and a wife to a husband who is neither a husband nor a father. The third character is Princess (Renate Stuurman), a young curator living a progressive lifestyle.

The three protagonists swap important scenes, turning points, points of no return and climax, with distinctly recognizable inner personal, interpersonal and extra-personal conflicts. The three women are flawless, giving solid performances, with Khanyi Mbau, previously a “celebrity” and reality television star, delivering a surprisingly good performance as the trophy wife with a strong sexual appetite. The filmmakers seem more concerned, however, with repeated camera pans of her lingerie.

Nandi navigates being a career-focused woman who is about to be married. The audience appeared to be responding to the kissing of an ex and a fight with her fiancé more than the patriarchy she is fighting at work. Her character is similar to Thelma in the 1991 classic film by Ridley Scott, Thelma and Louise. She embodies Thelma’s weakness for men, but without any of the naivety. Though she is promoted to partner in her firm through hard work, the general impression is that a woman needs to organize her life – professional and personal – around the needs of men. Nandi’s fiancé, played by Chris Attoh, is in control of his emotions whilst Nandi is falling apart, unable to control hers.

Princess’ storyline is a narrative that needs to be told more often. In the beginning, she appears sexually liberated, comfortable to have numerous casual partners rather than a long-term relationship. Then she meets Leo, played by Richard Lukunku. Princess falls pregnant and feels like she is being punished for her “promiscuity.” This is where this narrative reverts to an all too familiar pattern of thinking about women who have numerous sexual partners or liaisons – that, unlike men, they are guilty and should be “punished” accordingly – by getting pregnant or contracting HIV, for example.

The characters in “Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” are ordinary but it is in this ordinariness of the characters that the film succeeds and fails. They are not ordinary in the sense that they are plebeians, far from it. They are, in fact, the quintessence of the black upper middle class, far removed from the social realities of the black working class South African majority.  The characters make frequent visits to the spa, shop expensively, dine out and live in lavish homes. There is a sense of appearing unmindful of the realities around them.

The film is adapted from a novel of the same name by author Cynthia Jele. The relationship between films and books, a merging of two mediums is a precarious one. Each book adaptation comes with its own demons. In this movie, the adaptation to screen works because of the strength of the cast, an excellent script by Busisiwe Ntintili and equally stellar direction by Thabang Moleya and cinematography by Lance Gewer.

“Happiness Is A Four Letter Word” succeeds because it does not try to do anything unconventional, it remains simple, and delivers a stylish and convincing rom com, while grappling with topical issues of patriarchy, sexual freedom, marriage and drug abuse, among others.

Is it too late now to say sorry? IMF Edition

This past week, the IMF, in their quarterly magazine Finance and Development, published an essay with the rather surprising title “Neoliberalism: Oversold?” Written by IMF economists, the piece is meant to be a critique of the neoliberal agenda, an agenda that’s been pushed, almost relentlessly, by the IMF, World Bank and other allied institutions over the last couple of decades.

Should we believe this attempt at a mea culpa and what exactly is the IMF saying sorry for?

(1) To begin with, the IMF’s not saying sorry for the entire package of neoliberal reforms. They think that some (read: most) of the reforms have actually been a godsend:

There is much to cheer in the neoliberal agenda. The expansion of global trade has rescued millions from abject poverty. Foreign direct investment has often been a way to transfer technology and know-how to developing economies. Privatization of state-owned enterprises has in many instances led to more efficient provision of services and lowered the fiscal burden on governments.

One can quibble with some of the blanket statements made here. For example, most of the reduction in the absolute number of the global poor has come from China, a country that is hardly the archetypal neoliberal state.  Second, whereas privatization has made previously state-run companies more “efficient,” the efficiency gains have only accrued to a tiny elite. For example, in Zambia, the privatization of water utilities has led to a situation whereby the urban poor are no longer a priority in the provision of water services. You do well to focus your energies on those most capable of paying if your only objective is profits.

Anyways, what exactly is the IMF saying sorry for?

(2) The IMF is unconditionally saying sorry for its dogged insistence, particularly in the 1980s and 90s, that countries’ capital accounts needed to be liberalized to allow for the free flow of capital across borders. Previously, central bankers, particularly in poor countries, kept a tight lid on the movements of foreign capital. A false rumor about a presidential assassination could lead to a sudden outflow of capital with devastating consequences for the exchange rate.

But the IMF, supported by a plethora of research pushed for a complete doing away of capital controls – a world free of such controls would lead to the “efficient” allocation of capital towards its most “productive” uses. Liberalizing the capital account became an important “conditionality.”

We now know that much of that research was useless – no more useful than the types of studies that say homeopathy works. The world, post-relaxation of capital controls, has been a highly unstable world. Common sense would have predicted this much.

(3) The other mea culpa is the insistence on austerity. In the 1980s and 1990s when a poor country was in financial trouble, the IMF would swoop in and immediately put into action a plan for slashing government expenditure. The burden for such cuts often fell on those parts of expenditure important for the poor – publically provided healthcare, education, housing, etcetera. Now the IMF says their inflexible insistence on austerity was a mistake:

[E]pisodes of fiscal consolidation [austerity] have been followed, on average, by drops rather than by expansions in output. On average, a consolidation of 1 percent of GDP increases the long-term unemployment rate by 0.6 percentage point and raises by 1.5 percent within five years the Gini measure of income inequality.

So what to make of all this?

(4) First, it gives one hope that the IMF is finally coming round to the position that its policies caused a lot of damage across the world. Perhaps the Fund will be more cautious this time around as it intervenes in resolving the nascent debt crisis in Africa. Although even here there’s much to be disheartened about if Ghana’s recent interaction with the IMF is anything to go by.   

(5) Second, the apology, if one can call it that, seems half-hearted. The IMF’s appraisal of the failings of its policies is largely based on the narrow metric of GDP growth. At times there is an allusion to “unemployment” or “inequality” but that’s it. We know, however, that the Fund’s neoliberal agenda, particularly through Structural Adjustment Programs in Africa, had far-reaching social consequences. The mass lay-offs following Zambia’s fast track privatization program in the 1990s devastated families – depression became commonplace among household heads who had lost jobs. Luanshya, a town on Zambia’s Copperbelt Province, collapsed after its biggest mine was sold to a group of scrap metal dealers pretending to be miners. There’s little time for due diligence when you are selling companies faster than you can keep up.  

A full apology would need to reckon with the full-scale violence visited upon the poor by the neoliberal agenda.

(6) Finally, going by the studies referenced in the IMF’s mea culpa, a visitor from Mars would be forgiven for thinking that we all lived in a world where we thought neoliberalism was the bomb until the IMF began to question it. The references section mostly cites “IMF Working Papers”, “IMF Staff Position Notes”, “IMF Occasional Papers”, etcetera. But this debate has been going on for at least two decades with academics and activists from the Global South making some of the most profound critiques of neoliberalism (think here of the many studies referenced in Mkandawire and Soludo’s timeless book from 1999). And many of the original critics, particularly those in the economics profession who dared to defy the Fund, were caricatured as crackpots and ostracized to a life on the fringes of the profession. They deserve acknowledgement and an apology if this attempt at a mea culpa is to mean anything.

Is it too late to say sorry? IMF Edition

This past week, the IMF, in their quarterly magazine Finance and Development, published an essay with the rather surprising title “Neoliberalism: Oversold?” Written by IMF economists, the piece is meant to be a critique of the neoliberal agenda, an agenda that’s been pushed, almost relentlessly, by the IMF, World Bank and other allied institutions over the last couple of decades.

Should we believe this attempt at a mea culpa and what exactly is the IMF saying sorry for?

(1) To begin with, the IMF’s not saying sorry for the entire package of neoliberal reforms. They think that some (read: most) of the reforms have actually been a godsend:

There is much to cheer in the neoliberal agenda. The expansion of global trade has rescued millions from abject poverty. Foreign direct investment has often been a way to transfer technology and know-how to developing economies. Privatization of state-owned enterprises has in many instances led to more efficient provision of services and lowered the fiscal burden on governments.

One can quibble with some of the blanket statements made here. For example, most of the reduction in the absolute number of the global poor has come from China, a country that is hardly the archetypal neoliberal state.  Second, whereas privatization has made previously state-run companies more “efficient,” the efficiency gains have only accrued to a tiny elite. For example, in Zambia, the privatization of water utilities has led to a situation whereby the urban poor are no longer a priority in the provision of water services. You do well to focus your energies on those most capable of paying if your only objective is profits.

Anyways, what exactly is the IMF saying sorry for?

(2) The IMF is unconditionally saying sorry for its dogged insistence, particularly in the 1980s and 90s, that countries’ capital accounts needed to be liberalized to allow for the free flow of capital across borders. Previously, central bankers, particularly in poor countries, kept a tight lid on the movements of foreign capital. A false rumor about a presidential assassination could lead to a sudden outflow of capital with devastating consequences for the exchange rate.

But the IMF, supported by a plethora of research pushed for a complete doing away of capital controls – a world free of such controls would lead to the “efficient” allocation of capital towards its most “productive” uses. Liberalizing the capital account became an important “conditionality.”

We now know that much of that research was useless – no more useful than the types of studies that say homeopathy works. The world, post-relaxation of capital controls, has been a highly unstable world. Common sense would have predicted this much.

(3) The other mea culpa is the insistence on austerity. In the 1980s and 1990s when a poor country was in financial trouble, the IMF would swoop in and immediately put into action a plan for slashing government expenditure. The burden for such cuts often fell on those parts of expenditure important for the poor – publically provided healthcare, education, housing, etcetera. Now the IMF says their inflexible insistence on austerity was a mistake:

[E]pisodes of fiscal consolidation [austerity] have been followed, on average, by drops rather than by expansions in output. On average, a consolidation of 1 percent of GDP increases the long-term unemployment rate by 0.6 percentage point and raises by 1.5 percent within five years the Gini measure of income inequality.

So what to make of all this?

(4) First, it gives one hope that the IMF is finally coming round to the position that its policies caused a lot of damage across the world. Perhaps the Fund will be more cautious this time around as it intervenes in resolving the nascent debt crisis in Africa. Although even here there’s much to be disheartened about if Ghana’s recent interaction with the IMF is anything to go by.   

(5) Second, the apology, if one can call it that, seems half-hearted. The IMF’s appraisal of the failings of its policies is largely based on the narrow metric of GDP growth. At times there is an allusion to “unemployment” or “inequality” but that’s it. We know, however, that the Fund’s neoliberal agenda, particularly through Structural Adjustment Programs in Africa, had far-reaching social consequences. The mass lay-offs following Zambia’s fast track privatization program in the 1990s devastated families – depression became commonplace among household heads who had lost jobs. Luanshya, a town on Zambia’s Copperbelt Province, collapsed after its biggest mine was sold to a group of scrap metal dealers pretending to be miners. There’s little time for due diligence when you are selling companies faster than you can keep up.  

A full apology would need to reckon with the full-scale violence visited upon the poor by the neoliberal agenda.

(6) Finally, going by the studies referenced in the IMF’s mea culpa, a visitor from Mars would be forgiven for thinking that we all lived in a world where we thought neoliberalism was the bomb until the IMF began to question it. The references section mostly cites “IMF Working Papers”, “IMF Staff Position Notes”, “IMF Occasional Papers”, etcetera. But this debate has been going on for at least two decades with academics and activists from the Global South making some of the most profound critiques of neoliberalism (think here of the many studies referenced in Mkandawire and Soludo’s timeless book from 1999). And many of the original critics, particularly those in the economics profession who dared to defy the Fund, were caricatured as crackpots and ostracized to a life on the fringes of the profession. They deserve acknowledgement and an apology if this attempt at a mea culpa is to mean anything.

What is happening at the Durban International Film Festival?

As with our last movie night post, we need to start with the bad news.

1. The Durban International Film Festival (or DIFF), one of the most important film festivals on the African continent, has been through some turmoil lately. With only a couple months to go to DIFF, the festival manager Sarah Dawson as well as long time DIFF programmer Jack Chiang have resigned over alleged interference from the University of KwaZulu-Natal (UKZN) who runs the festival. The dispute was around the decision to not screen ‘Shepherds and Butchers,’ a film about a white teenage apartheid executioner (starring the comic actor Steve Coogan as a lawyer defending the killer), as the opening night film. Here’s the trailer:

Shepherds and Butchers (2016)

In a post-resignation open letter, Dawson explained that the film, despite its artistic merits, was not well suited for an opening night film, and shows graphic depictions of violence on black bodies which mostly serves to drive the narrative of white protagonists:

The decision was in consideration of the idea that imposing the film upon a diverse audience, many of whom are compelled professionally to be present and who might be unprepared for images of violence upon black bodies within the context of a narrative elaboration of a white man’s trauma, had the potential to be overwhelmingly emotionally distressing.

Dawson’s decision to have a separate gala screening for the film was overruled by UKZN deputy Vice Chancellor Cheryl Potgieter, after ‘Shepherds and Butchers’ producer Anant Singh (his other credits range from “Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom” starring Idris Elba to the films of local comic Leon Schuster) complained in an email to Dawson.

We back Dawson’s reasoning and for the independent curatorship of film festival programs. We’ll stay glued to what happens next.

2. On a more positive note, there are a few exciting African films to look forward to at DIFF this year. One of them being As I Open My Eyes, the feature debut from Tunisian filmmaker Leyla Bouzid. The film follows a young female rock musician who realizes that one of her friends and bandmates is working for the dictatorship. Set on the eve of Tunisia’s Jasmine Revolution, the film subtly paints a portrait of the atmosphere of fear created by Ben Ali.

As I Open My Eyes (2015)

3. Another one we’re excited about at DIFF is Naked Reality, the latest from the prolific Cameroonian auteur Jean Pierre Bekolo (Les Saignettes, Le Complot d’Aristotle.) The film is described as an afro—futuristic cinematic fable, and centers around a mysterious character named Wanita, who is positioned as a savior in a dystopic world, where African cities have become one huge metropolis. There is no trailer yet, but you can follow the blog here.

4. Speaking of Afro-Futurists, There’s a new video out featuring Spoek Mathambo. Shot on the streets and in the internet cafes of downtown Johannesburg, and featuring some classic pantsula moves, the video is a fitting ode to South Africa’s urban jungle. Daniel Haaksman’s remix of a classic Soul Brothers mbaqanga track and Spoek’s playful flow create a synergy bound for success on dancefloors and music blogs alike. Well done to Capetonian director Chris Kets and The Visual Content Gang.

“Akabongi” (2016)

5. Nigerian filmmaker and University of Southern California graduate Ose Oyamendan has created a new comedy web series called Oh! Bama which follows “America’s #1 right wing detective” as he travels to Kenya to find proof that Barack Obama was born on the continent, in an effort to impeach the US president before he finishes his term. The series has some funny moments, albeit a little old school stylistically, with a lot of dude humor and Kenyan women mostly presented as floozies or shady tricksters. It’s been getting a lot of love from Nigerian and Kenyan blogs however.

Oh! Bama (2016)

6. Fans of horror, take note. London-based Nigerian filmmaker Ogo Okpue has written and directed a new feature called Catface, about a “vigilante born through supernatural means that decides to take revenge on a cult of violent internet serial killers.” The teaser trailer is pretty creepy. We’d be interested to see more.

Catface (2016)

7.  Disney has teamed up with Lupita Nyong’o and Mira Nair (award winning director of Mississippi Masala and Monsoon Wedding) for a new film called Queen of Katwe, based on the true story of Phiona Mutesi, who went from selling corn as a young girl on the streets of Uganda to becoming an international chess champion. A colleague watched the trailer and sent this impression: “The trailer opens with an inspirational quote from Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (why?), a misplaced Leona Lewis pop song (they couldn’t find Ugandan musicians?), and homilies, which I assume represents some kind of politics for the poor in Kampala, Uganda: ‘Use your minds and you’ll find safety,’ ‘Sometimes the place you are used to is not the place where you belong’ and ‘You belong where you believe you belong.’ It’s like Akeelah and the Bee in Kampala.” Too harsh? Watch for yourself:

8. Finally, if you haven’t yet, check out our Kickstarter campaign for our first feature documentary film, Africa’s Premiere League, a film about Africa’s obsession with English football. To those who have donated so far, thanks for getting us to our original goal! We have extended the target so keep sharing and get it out there!

Same DIFF?

As with our last movie night post, we need to start with the bad news.

1. The Durban International Film Festival (or DIFF), one of the most important film festivals on the African continent, has been through some turmoil lately. With only a couple months to go to DIFF, the festival manager Sarah Dawson as well as long time DIFF programmer Jack Chiang have resigned over alleged interference from the University of KwaZulu-Natal (UKZN) who runs the festival. The dispute was around the decision to not screen ‘Shepherds and Butchers,’ a film about a white teenage apartheid executioner (starring the comic actor Steve Coogan as a lawyer defending the killer), as the opening night film. Here’s the trailer:

Shepherds and Butchers (2016)

In a post-resignation open letter, Dawson explained that the film, despite its artistic merits, was not well suited for an opening night film, and shows graphic depictions of violence on black bodies which mostly serves to drive the narrative of white protagonists:

The decision was in consideration of the idea that imposing the film upon a diverse audience, many of whom are compelled professionally to be present and who might be unprepared for images of violence upon black bodies within the context of a narrative elaboration of a white man’s trauma, had the potential to be overwhelmingly emotionally distressing.

Dawson’s decision to have a separate gala screening for the film was overruled by UKZN deputy Vice Chancellor Cheryl Potgieter, after producer Anant Singh (credits range from “Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom” starring Idris Elba to the films of local comic Leon Schuster) complained in an email to Dawson about not making opening night.

We back Dawson’s reasoning and for the independent curatorship of film festival programs. We’ll stay glued to what happens next.

2. On a more positive note, there are a few exciting African films to look forward to at DIFF this year. One of them being As I Open My Eyes, the feature debut from Tunisian filmmaker Leyla Bouzid. The film follows a young female rock musician who realizes that one of her friends and bandmates is working for the dictatorship. Set on the eve of Tunisia’s Jasmine Revolution, the film subtly paints a portrait of the atmosphere of fear created by Ben Ali.

As I Open My Eyes (2015)

3. Another one we’re excited about at DIFF is Naked Reality, the latest from the prolific Cameroonian auteur Jean Pierre Bekolo (Les Saignettes, Le Complot d’Aristotle.) The film is described as an afro—futuristic cinematic fable, and centers around a mysterious character named Wanita, who is positioned as a savior in a dystopic world, where African cities have become one huge metropolis. There is no trailer yet, but you can follow the blog here.

4. Speaking of Afro-Futurists, There’s a new video out featuring Spoek Mathambo. Shot on the streets and in the internet cafes of downtown Johannesburg, and featuring some classic pantsula moves, the video is a fitting ode to South Africa’s urban jungle. Daniel Haaksman’s remix of a classic Soul Brothers mbaqanga track and Spoek’s playful flow create a synergy bound for success on dancefloors and music blogs alike. Well done to Capetonian director Chris Kets and The Visual Content Gang.

“Akabongi” (2016)

5. Nigerian filmmaker and University of Southern California graduate Ose Oyamendan has created a new comedy web series called Oh! Bama which follows “America’s #1 right wing detective” as he travels to Kenya to find proof that Barack Obama was born on the continent, in an effort to impeach the US president before he finishes his term. The series has some funny moments, albeit a little old school stylistically, with a lot of dude humor and Kenyan women mostly presented as floozies or shady tricksters. It’s been getting a lot of love from Nigerian and Kenyan blogs however.

Oh! Bama (2016)

6. Fans of horror, take note. London-based Nigerian filmmaker Ogo Okpue has written and directed a new feature called Catface, about a “vigilante born through supernatural means that decides to take revenge on a cult of violent internet serial killers.” The teaser trailer is pretty creepy. We’d be interested to see more.

Catface (2016)

7.  Disney has teamed up with Lupita Nyong’o and Mira Nair (award winning director of Mississippi Masala and Monsoon Wedding) for a new film called Queen of Katwe, based on the true story of Phiona Mutesi, who went from selling corn as a young girl on the streets of Uganda to becoming an international chess champion. A colleague watched the trailer and sent this impression: “The trailer opens with an inspirational quote from Ellen Johnson Sirleaf (why?), a misplaced Leona Lewis pop song (they couldn’t find Ugandan musicians?), and homilies, which I assume represents some kind of politics for the poor in Kampala, Uganda: ‘Use your minds and you’ll find safety,’ ‘Sometimes the place you are used to is not the place where you belong’ and ‘You belong where you believe you belong.’ It’s like Akeelah and the Bee in Kampala.” Too harsh? Watch for yourself:

8. Finally, if you haven’t yet, check out our Kickstarter campaign for our first feature documentary film, Africa’s Premiere League, a film about Africa’s obsession with English football. To those who have donated so far, thanks for getting us to our original goal! We have extended the target so keep sharing and get it out there!

Weekend Music Break No.96

Back to our regularly scheduled music break for your weekend! Sometimes we have to remind ourselves that what we’re taking a break from, so this week labor is a theme. However, so is liberation, and therefore perhaps fittingly, Haiti is too.

To kick the series of videos off, we have a nice premiere from Burkina Faso’s Art Melody, exclusive to Africa is a Country! Check that out and the rest of this week’s music break via the Youtube playlist below.

Music Break No.96

1) Like mentioned above the first video is a special premiere of Art Melody’s “Ki Kanga”… it’s a song about life’s hard times, with visual imagery in the clip that likens the struggle of life to hard labor, but Melody as having the focused drive for liberation of a professional fighter. 2) Up next, a really nice surprise out of Nigeria from Dremo, I’ll let you reveal that one on your own. 3) Then, Stonebwoy goes global reggae with a shout out to the various Black Atlantic cultures the genre has touched down, as well as drawn from. 4) Chance The Rapper has what might be one of the most surreal major label debuts I’ve seen, turning in the most positive song I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear 2 Chains or Lil’ Wayne grace. 5) Then we change pace a bit and head to Haiti… Lakou Mizik warms us up with a bit of a live jam, and visual preview of their album. 6) Then, Poirier and Fwonte leave the Montreal cold and head to Haiti showing us a side of Port Au Prince we might not be used to seeing. 7) Next, we get to a little more mainstream fare from the island of Haiti, with X-Men and Carimi and their Zouk-dancehall cross over party jam. 8) Finally, from Haiti, the island goes afrobeat, tying Yoruba to Voodoo culture on this monster jam from the Afro-Haitian Experimental Orchestra. 9) Switching pace once again, Afro-Mexican rapper Bocafloja riffs on the liberation theme in a new video with “Dystopia” featuring Immasoul. 10) And last, but not least, Filastine’s “The Cleaner” bookends our theme with a dance meditation on domestic laborers.

Enjoy your weekend!

If you love me, help me grow Ghana

In Adum, in the center of Kumasi – Ghana’s second-largest city – an old warehouse stands as a beautiful letdown. It has been over ten years since the loco shed was used to full capacity. It is neglected and yet somehow humming with life.

In years past, faulty trains were sent there to be repaired. Now, only a handful of staff remains at the station. From the roof, old lamps hang from where they once shone light. Plants have occupied windows and walls. Families occupy old offices, turning them into places of residence. The platform is a resting place for the homeless. Growing shrubs sprout from the withering machines. The workshop is now a transitory place for passers-by looking for a shortcut to somewhere else. Its inhabitants and activities spill out into the neighborhood around it.

During the exploitative years of colonialism, the British established the railway to extract precious metals, minerals and cocoa from the hinterlands and send them to the coastal ports for export. The lines would pass through the Ashanti Region, of which Kumasi is the capital, the Western Region to the port in Takoradi and also the Eastern Region to the port in Accra. When Ghana gained its independence in 1957, the railway was renamed the Ghana Railway Company and over the next 40 years the Kumasi Railway would house and be a place for the repair of equipment, vehicles, engines and carriages from Japan, Germany, America and Britain, each piece gradually wearing away with time.

In April, the blaxTARLINES KUMASI curatorial collective held an exhibition entitled “if you love me…” , featuring 30 artists and a number of their collaborators. From painters and sculptors to horticulturists and engineers, the artists – many of whom practice in Kumasi – exhibited their interpretations of the theme at the locomotive shed of the Kumasi Railway.

The artists and curators contemplate the possibilities in the space and the linkages across the country. For instance, Eugene Edzorho’s collection of rocks gathered from small-scale mining sites hang in an old carriage, a reminder of the significance of trains to mineral ore transportation. Edzorho and his collaborator, Rex Akinruntan, are working on a similar installation at the Takoradi Railway Station, which is currently under construction.

The shed’s current state poses some questions. Do any of us here – loitering, mingling, living – know of or remember the station in its former incarnation?  And do we care? Should we? In a bid to reconcile the aspects of life and living in the locomotive shed, the curators – Robin Riskin, Selorm Kudjie and Patrick Nii Okanta Ankrah – along with the artists, attempt to weave the artworks and the environment together. So much so that even a floating locomotive doesn’t seem out of place as it hangs as though in zero-gravity. Like a spaceship, the suspended styrofoam blocks inside it, with tessellated patterns drawn on by artist Lois Selasie Arde-Acquah, oscillate gently with the breeze.

The exhibition takes its title from the work of Eric Okwei Nii Noye, whose fabric with the inscription “if you love me let me know” can be found hanging in the windows and on drying lines like that of the clothes and fabric of the people living in the warehouse.

People stream through the shed going about their day, sometimes stopping to read artists’ inscriptions on the walls or old buses and other aspects of the exhibition. Some are impressed, others unfazed. Two young men linger longer than most. Encouraged by the unfamiliar visitors to give their opinion on the exhibition – “It is interesting” – they say eventually before scuttling off.

Just outside the warehouse on a large billboard, grinning cyborg Medusas greet drivers and their passengers on the Asafo interchange as they go by. Bursting with color, Adjo Kisser’s instantly recognizable cartoons signal transformations across space and time as the environment changes. On an adjoining billboard, Deryk Owusu Bempah’s vanishing-point display alters perceptions, causing the viewer to consider the immediate space and question where it really ends, if at all.

Black and white painted soft drink cans, styrofoam plates and takeaway boxes installed by Francis Anim-Sakyi are littered along the tracks and platform. They differ only slightly to the plastic waste strewn around the area. Easily overlooked, Anim-Sakyi’s work highlights how we can get used to seeing discarded rubbish out and dumped thoughtlessly.

Rainbow tapestries of one pesewa coins hang over the platform wall onto the crushed stones and ballast. For this work, the artist Yaw Owusu puts the coins through oxidization, heat and chemical processes to achieve the multicolored effect, effectively speeding up the ageing process. Like the railway, the tapestries themselves represent something of little use. The coin, the lowest value in the currency, is accepted nearly nowhere.

In one of the rooms above a windowless opening, a headless statue alluding to the figure of Kwame Nkrumah – Ghana’s first president – is painted over the cracks of the wall by Afia Prempeh, as though telling of a loss of leadership. Without a head, what use is the body?

Observing the warehouse and interacting with its occupants and the exhibition – itself a sort of occupation – it’s hard not to imagine what could have been, or indeed could be if the political will and right management was in place. A thriving railway would transform the country, least not in the economies of the regions it would run through, with people and goods crossing the country with relative ease.

Recent and present governments have all pledged to rehabilitate and build new lines to the outstretches of the country, as far up north as Paga in the Upper East Region on the border with Burkina Faso. Work in Takoradi-Sekondi and along the Western Corridor has begun, but the Kumasi line remains idle. And, as such, the workshop is somewhat removed from its old life. It continues to transform, morph, expand and be expanded.

Perhaps then, a possible closing of the title of the exhibition could be “if you love me… help me grow.”