Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 335

The Westville Buy, Swap and Sell(-ing of a domestic worker online)

I generally have the expectation that every so often something racist and problematic from South Africa will show up in my Facebook feed. But even when I think I’m ready, it’s impossible to ever be truly prepared. Last month it was the slave ship ironing board designed and manufactured by the the Cape Town-based company Maid in Africa which I had never seen or heard of before. And, just a few days ago it was the ad below, posted on the Facebook page Westville Buy, Swap and Sell.

The original advertisement was posted onto the page by a man from Durban, South Africa, but disappeared after a number of people shared and critically commented on the post. He writes: “Anastasia has worked for us for 27 years, she cooks, cleans, is wonderful with animals (she sings to our puppies when she bathes them)…” Then, in order to ease middle class fears based on the assumption that all domestic workers are thieves, he certifies: “She is completely trustworthy, we have never locked valuables away, and nothing has ever been missed”. He explains that the reason for the post is that they are relocating (Australia? England?) and he is hoping that “someone in the Durban North or Pinetown area needs an Anna”. AN Anna!?

The page Westville, Buy Swap, Sell is mostly dedicated to the selling of household appliances, furniture and other objects and “Anna” is advertised here as another commodity – a ‘black’ female body rendered object to be used and discarded when no longer needed. An in-depth analysis is needed to contextualize the historio-social power relationships between ‘black’ women and ‘white’ men in South Africa, but it is clear that however well-meaning, this man has not considered his position in a country with a social history entangled in violent narratives of objectification, paternalism, patriarchy and othering. As many others have already commented, the language in this advertisement is both patronizing and paternalistic.   

This is further made evident by his response to the woman who read the advert and felt it necessary to call him out on it by trying to have a conversation over the phone. His response?:

I am amazed that a black woman phoned me this morning and had an argument with me stating that it was not appropriate to have Anna advertized on Facebook… Typical racial shit. I have had a guts full of the racial attitude of some black people…

This is exemplary of the blinding privilege of South Africa’s ‘white’ middle and upper class which has found new means of subjugation through online community groups.

Other examples of this are the online neighbourhood watch and community policing forums which often use racial profiling and discriminatory language to talk about (mostly perceived) perpetrators of crime. These supposedly private forums have been uncovered by blogs like Suburban Fear which highlight racial paranoia amongst middle class ‘white’ South Africans. Similarly, on the Maid in Africa Facebook page the owners have responded to criticism of their designs by claiming that their art is activism and subversive. Like the poster of this advertisement, they believe that they are ‘doing good’.

It’s concerning too that there are people who validate the blindness and denialism expressed on these forums through attempts at delegitimizing claims of hurt or discomfort from people with similar experiences and subject positions. This demonstrates incredible ignorance at a time when race is at the forefront of many conversations in South Africa, The US and elsewhere in the world. The validation allows the oppressor to award someone as good or smart for supporting the status quo, while dissenters and critics are dismissed as ‘too sensitive’ or ‘dangerous’ to society. As one Facebook user puts it:

My question is: to what extent do you even have the apparatus to understand the trauma caused to the black psyche when stumbling across a black body on a buy, swap and sell page? Furthermore, if you do not understand it (which I am assuming you won’t entirely) does that make the pain felt by those expressing it illegitimate?

[ed: Meanwhile in Brazil, where the same practice of posting of one’s domestic worker on Facebook groups is common, São Paulo rapper Emicida proposes an alternative scenario:]

#free15Angolans: What you need to know

In Luanda thirteen activists were arrested when they gathered for a book club on  June 20, 2015. On June 22 another two were taken. In every case, police confiscated their computers and telephones and those of family members. All such acts were undertaken without search warrants. Among the prisoners, well-known protestors Luaty Beirão and Nito Alves (only 18 years old), are on hunger strikes.

José Maria de Sousa, Angolan Prosecutor General, accuses them of threatening state security. The Angolan President, José Eduardo dos Santos, raised historical spectres by comparing them to the so-called coup plotters of 27 de Maio that resulted in the purge and massacre of thousands. (If you’re interested, read Lara Pawson’s In the Name of the People: Angola’s Forgotten Massacre.)

These fifteen activists have been involved in protests against President dos Santos’ long tenure as president since 2011. Notably, they’ve had their protests broken up before they’ve begun and they’ve been beaten in the streets and tortured in prison. All are young, a few are rappers, many are students or graduates of universities. They are all male. This excellent post (in Portuguese) by human rights activist Rafael Marques tells you about each of them.

Here’s what you need to know:

1 – There are more than fifteen. While fifteen were arrested between June 20-22, other political prisoners, less well known because they are struggling outside of Luanda, languish in prison and face harassment: Marcos Mavungo has been held since March without a warrant in Cabinda, accused with crimes against state security. Arão Bula Tempo, President of the Cabinda Lawyers Council, arrested with Mavungo and later released, was prohibited from traveling from Cabinda to Benguela June 26 to speak on Human Rights. On June 30, Zenobio Zumba, who works in the Angolan Armed Forces Office of Information and Analysis, was arrested. His crime? Propinquity: he was in an International Relations program at university with one of the 15 political prisoners (Osvaldo Caholo). He refuses to be registered with the police until they present him with an imprisonment order. It seems he and his wife, a police officer, have been politicized by this process. And the case of Mário Faustino, seemingly forgotten.

2 – These arrests serve as a distraction from the April massacre at Mount Sumi in Huambo (and the drop in oil prices and new Chinese loans.) Read Claudio Silva’s powerful post on Mount Sumi.

3 – The arrests, like the massacre, have provoked unprecedented, explicit public condemnation from a widespread array of Angolans. If you read Portuguese there are a number of pieces expressing outrage, a variety of analysis, and vision in response. More here and here. Some great drawings by Sergio Piçarra that make sense even if you don’t read Portuguese (scroll backwards through the arrows). And this chilling, hopeful, and poetic post by Ana Paula Tavares: “Last night I traveled to the end of the night and I saw new things that allow me to believe that ‘the door of the future is not shut’ and that in the silence of stone tame waters carve new paths and pass.”

4 – While these young activists are all men, they are surrounded by women. Several articles note mothers, wives, sisters who have been politicized or who share their vision. Many of the prisoners are fathers. They fight for a better future for all Angolans. And let’s not forget Laurinda Gouveia, a 26 year old female student and grilled chicken vendor, beaten by the police in broad daylight in November 2014 at a small protest.

5 – They advocate peaceful change. On the day they gathered they were reading Gene Sharp’s From Dictatorship to Democracy: a Conceptual Framework for Liberation and Angolan journalist (among the arrested) Domingos da Cruz’s Tools to Destroy a Dictator and Avoid a New Dictatorship. We might need to think a post-Fanonian politics. Would that he were here to help us think the impasse because his analysis of the national bourgeoisie reads the riot act on the Angolan elite.

6 – This is not the first time President dos Santos has accused someone of plotting a coup. As Rafael Marques notes, he neutralized General Fernando Miala in 2009 with a 4-year prison sentence for insubordination after being accused of a coup attempt in 2006. And his elite is full of generals who slop at the trough of state largesse precisely to keep them fat, happy, and docile.

7 – Some arrested (Zenobio Zumba – detained July 7) and now dead (Alves Kamulingue and Isaís Cassule) are veterans of the Presidential Guard or the Military Information Unit. When former presidential guards and military information officers start to advocate for their rights, look out.

For breaking news in English, follow Claudio Silva on Twitter.

The story of Lagos’ ill-fated 1976 Professional Tennis Tournament

It was Monday, February 16, 1976, a sunny day in Lagos, just before noon. The Lagos Lawn Tennis Club terraces were filled with middle class Nigerians and foreign expatriates. Arthur Ashe, current Wimbledon champion, was playing his semi-final match against Jeff Borowiak, a fellow American on centre court. The event was the $60,000 Lagos Tennis Classic tournament, part of the World Championship Tennis (WCT) pro circuit series, and Black Africa’s first professional tennis tournament. Ashe had just won the first set in a tie break. It was a game apiece in the second set and Ashe was about to serve. As he threw the tennis ball into the air, five men marched on to the court via the players’ entrance.

The spectators watched as the men approached Ashe. One of the men was in a brown suit while the others were in military outfit. The leader of the group, an army Captain, shouted “What are you doing? We are in mourning. You are making money. Are you all mad? Please go. Please go.” One of the soldiers shoved the cold steel of his machine gun into the back of Ashe’s sweat-soaked shirt to push him off the court. Ashe walked off the court with his two arms raised in the air, leaving his gear behind. The other soldiers proceeded to clear the Main stand, East and West wing terraces. Pandemonium broke out as spectators ran from their seats for the main exit before the soldiers got to them. The Nigerian spectators moved quicker than their bewildered foreign counterparts. They were well aware of their countrymen’s brutality. Ashe however headed to the dressing room.

In January, a month before the start of the Lagos Tennis Classic, Dick Stockton, an American tennis player, had visited the WCT headquarters in Dallas, Texas. He was concerned about travelling to Lagos to play in the Lagos Tennis Classic. He had read reports, in the local Dallas papers, of anti-American demonstrations in front of the US Embassy in Lagos. “I said to them that this could potentially be a very dangerous situation if these reports about all these anti-American demonstrations are true,” Stockton recalled. WCT officials assured him by saying “we have been in touch with the State Department and they told us that everything is fine, there is no reason to worry.”

Arthur Ashe played a key role in influencing WCT’s decision to take the event to Lagos. He had been to Nigeria in 1970 with fellow American tennis star, Stan Smith, as part of a US State Department goodwill tour. This experience had made him keen to promote tennis in Black Africa. The Lagos Lawn Tennis Club fulfilled every WCT condition to host the event which included providing the prize money for the singles and doubles’ tournaments and the building of a new centre court. World Championship Tennis signed a five year agreement with the Lagos Lawn Tennis Club to host an annual series of WCT tennis tournaments in Lagos. The 14 WCT players drawn to participate in the Lagos Tennis Classic were Arthur Ashe (USA), Tom Okker (HOL), Dick Crealy (AUS), Harold Solomon (USA), Jeff Borowiak (USA), Brian Fairlie (NZL), Eddie Dibbs (USA), Ismail El Shafei (EGY), Wojtek Fibak (POL), Karl Meiler (GER), Bob Lutz (USA), Stan Smith (USA), Erik Van Dillen (USA), and Dick Stockton (USA). Nigeria’s two best tennis players, Lawrence Awopegba and Yemisi Allan, were given wild card entries to compete in the tournament alongside some of the best tennis players in the world.

John McDonald, WCT’s International Director, was in the Lagos Lawn Tennis Club dressing room with a plastic bag containing WCT tennis players’ passports that fateful February 16 when Ashe entered. He had just been to the Lagos International Airport to retrieve them. Nigerian immigration officials had collected most of the players’ passports on their arrival from Barcelona and held on to them because their visas needed to be revalidated. These players were unhappy about leaving their passports behind but had no choice if they wanted to be permitted to leave the airport.

The man in the brown suit burst the door open and stepped into the dressing room with a big stick. He was accompanied by a soldier who ordered McDonald and Ashe to get out. The man with the stick slammed it on the table to emphasize this order and took a swing at the men as they ran away. The two men ran out of the stadium on to the street which was filled with people fleeing in all directions. McDonald spotted John Parsons, the Daily Mail tennis correspondent who travelled with the WCT contingent to Lagos, heading in the opposite direction. A soldier with an ebony stick shouted at Parsons “Where are you going?” as he clubbed him across the back. Parsons had been on his way to the local Reuters office to file the breaking story with the Daily Mail; instead he got an 18-inch weal on his back for his effort.

Donald Easum, US ambassador, was in the terraces watching the semi-final match with his security detail, a young marine guard in civilian clothes. He located Ashe, Borowiak and McDonald outside the stadium and secured vehicles to transport them to the US Embassy. Ashe and Borowiak got into one car while McDonald was put in another car. On their way, Ashe and Borowiak’s vehicle was held up in a traffic jam because a soldier was beating a Nigerian spectator in the middle of the road. The players got out of the car and headed to the US Embassy on foot. The Hungarian ambassador on his way from the Lagos Lawn Tennis Club offered them a ride to their destination in his limousine. Easum and the marine guard chose to walk to the US Embassy and had to pass through a group of anti-American demonstrators who chanted in protest with placards declaring “Down with the CIA” and “Yankee, go home.” Some carried pictures of the Nigerian Head of State with placards lauding him.

Friday the 13th was supposed to be the fourth day of the Lagos Tennis Classic tournament. General Murtala Mohammed, the Nigerian Head of State, was on his way from his Ikoyi residence to his office at the army headquarters in Dodan barracks. His metallic-black Mercedes Benz was stuck in a traffic jam near the Federal secretariat shortly after 8 a.m. The General had his Aide-de-Camp beside him while his orderly sat in front with the driver. He, unlike General Gowon, his predecessor, travelled without an armed security escort.

A group of men with machine guns strolled to the General’s vehicle and fired at the car and its occupants. Pedestrians and drivers stuck in the traffic jam scampered for safety. One of the gunmen fired a whole magazine of bullets at the car, reloaded and then fired another magazine at it. The gunmen left the bullet-riddled car and headed for the Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation. The leader of the group was the head of the Nigerian Army Physical Training Corps, Lt. Colonel Bukar Dimka, a 33 year old man with a waxed walrus moustache and a deep tribal mark on each cheek. He announced from the radio station that the ‘Young Revolutionaries’ had overthrown the Government and declared a 6am to 6pm (sic) nationwide curfew while imploring listeners to stay by their radios for further announcements. His short recorded broadcast played repeatedly on the radio throughout the morning and was interspersed with martial music.

Dick Stockton was asleep in his room at the Federal Palace hotel when his hotel telephone rang. It was Paul Svehlik, the WCT tour manager. He told Stockton about the attempted coup and cancellation of the Lagos Tennis Classic matches for that day. A shocked Stockton was told to inform the other four American tennis players at the hotel. The instruction was to stay in the hotel until further notice. One of the Americans that Stockton called was Eddie Dibbs who asked “What the hell’s a coup?” when he saw Stockton. Pele, the Brazilian soccer superstar, and his entourage were also at the Federal Palace hotel when they heard about the coup attempt. They stayed beside the radio in their hotel room to find out what was happening. He was in Lagos on a Pepsi-Cola sponsored marketing tour to play an exhibition match and run some soccer clinics.

Around lunchtime, the five tennis players went down to the hotel’s swimming pool area to relax. Eddie Dibbs, Harold Solomon, Bob Lutz, Erik Van Dillen and Dick Stockton were by the pool when 30-40 soldiers with machine guns surrounded the area. The scared hotel manager came to the swimming pool and told the guests in the area to get back into the hotel for their safety. Everyone was unsure what the soldiers were going to do.

The Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation went off air around 3pm when Federal Government troops tried to recapture the radio station from the coup plotters. Dimka escaped during a brief gunfire exchange between Federal forces and his men. The radio station returned to air around 4pm playing popular Highlife music. At 6.20pm, a spokesman for the Federal Military Government came on air to announce that the coup attempt had been crushed with several arrests made. He stated that a 6pm to 6am curfew was in place throughout the country and all borders and airports were closed until further notice. There was no mention of the fate of the Head of State. Lagos, the busiest city in Black Africa, was subdued as most Lagosians stayed indoors by their radios. The city was on high security alert. There were numerous roadblocks all over the city manned by soldiers tasked with maintaining security and capturing suspected coup plotters. There was no further radio announcement from the Federal Military Government that Friday.

The five American players received a phone call from the US Embassy that evening and were told to pack their stuff and be prepared to leave the hotel. The Federal Palace hotel wasn’t considered safe. Donald Easum sent a minibus to evacuate the players. The driver of the minibus took a wrong turn on the way back and got into an argument with a soldier stationed at a road block. The soldier pointed his machine gun at the vehicle and the tennis players thought they were going to die. He eventually let them go through after he was satisfied that they were harmless. There were no spare rooms at the US ambassador’s residence for the five American players because Ashe, Borowiak and Tom Okker (a Dutch tennis player) were already staying there. This meant that alternative accommodation had to be arranged with an American family. “We descended on this poor family,” Bob Lutz recalled. “They were an elderly couple and he worked for the US Embassy.”

The assassination of General Mohammed was officially announced around noon on February 14 and his deputy, General Obasanjo, was named as his successor. His corpse was flown to Kano, that Saturday, and buried in his hometown according to Muslim rites. The Federal Military Government announced seven days of national mourning in honour of the slain Head of State.

Rumours circulated across the country that the US Government via the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) was involved in the coup attempt and assassination of General Mohammed. This was because of the well-publicised differences between the US Government and Nigerian Government over the latter’s support for the soviet-backed People’s Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA). Tennis matches scheduled for Saturday were cancelled because of the national mourning.

John McDonald pushed for the players to continue with the tournament and this led to a big argument between him and some of the American players who weren’t willing to play in such unsafe conditions. McDonald told the players that if they didn’t play then they wouldn’t be let out of the country. This was because their passports were still at the time with Nigerian custom officials who had taken them for visa revalidation.

“We were told that the last coup that had taken place was a bloodless coup and no one was able to get out of the country for a while,” Stan Smith said. “We were concerned that we would not get out of the country to go to the next tournament.”

Lagos Lawn Tennis Club officials contacted McDonald late Saturday to inform him that Federal Military Government had authorised the resumption of the tennis tournament on Sunday. The Government also promised to provide a plane to fly the players out of the country at the end of the tournament despite the closure of the national borders and airports. John McDonald contacted the 8 players still left in the singles tournament to notify them that the event was back on. There were six Americans, a German and an Australian in the quarter-finals. The plan was to play the quarter-finals on Sunday and the semi-final and final matches on Monday to make up for the two lost days – Friday and Saturday. The doubles tournament which was in the semi-final stage was cancelled because there wasn’t enough time to fit it into the schedule.

The quarter-final matches resumed at 11am on Sunday, February 15 and all the four matches went smoothly without any incident. Four Americans {Dick Stockton, Bob Lutz, Arthur Ashe and Jeff Borowiak} made it through to the semi-final stage in straight sets. The Lagos heat sapped the players’ strength and motivation so that players who lost the first set went on to lose the match. The players weren’t provided with cold drinks by the tournament organizers and struggled as a result. Some of them snuck into the air-conditioned room close to centre court for a few seconds to cool down during game change-overs. The match umpires permitted them to do this. February would go on to be the hottest month of that year in Lagos.

Full page advert in the Daily Times (Nigeria) for Lagos Tennis Classic – Feb 4, 1976 issue

Sunday was a relatively calm day in Lagos after Friday’s upheaval which meant that Arthur Ashe, Jeff Borowiak and Tom Okker with Donald Easum could go to the Brazilian ambassador’s residence to have lunch with Pele. Whereas the five American players staying with the elderly American couple had nothing to do. “They had this world professional dart board and darts and we were bored. There were these huge lizards running around the property,” Erik Van Dillen said. “We decided to go on a big safari hunt and see if we can get them. We weren’t very politically correct at the time.” The lizards were too quick for the players despite their best efforts. “So Eddie Dibbs is going one way and I am going another and he throws a dart which ricochets off the cement floor and sticks right into my leg. It hurt for a little bit.” Bob Lutz laughed as he recalled the incident. “We had a lot of fun considering what was happening.”

Dibbs and Lutz later approached some soldiers stationed at a road block down the street to chat with them. The soldiers were eating their rations and seemed friendly. The players told them that they were in Lagos to play a tennis tournament. All of a sudden, their Commanding Officer showed up and shouted at the players “What are you doing here? Are you CIA? Are you spies? Get out of here!” The players hurried back to their residence.

The 18-man WCT contingent comprising of 14 players, 2 WCT officials and 2 English journalists departed from their Ikoyi rendezvous point in a convoy of cars in the early hours of Tuesday, February 17, for Lagos International Airport. The Federal Military Government provided an armed police escort to the airport. This ensured that the vehicles were able to pass through the roadblocks that dotted the city. The Government also kept its word by providing an airplane and lifting it’s imposed flight restrictions to let the tennis contingent leave Lagos airspace. They were the first foreigners allowed to leave the country after the attempted coup. The local Pepsi-Cola Manager approached Donald Easum the day before to enquire about Pele and his entourage traveling with the WCT contingent but official government permission couldn’t be secured in time for this to happen. There was a large military presence at the airport to prevent fugitives like Dimka from leaving the country. The plane departed at 7.00am in order to catch the AZ 837 Alitalia plane which left Accra at 8.15am and arrived in Rome at 2.35pm. There was an eruption of cheers by the players as the aircraft took off from the Lagos International Airport runaway. They were relieved that their ordeal was finally over.

“It was an unfortunate incident”, Harold Solomon recalled. “We were going down to have a major tournament in a developing African country and it was a case of bad timing that we were there when they had an unfortunate coup de’tat.”

The Rome WCT tournament was delayed by a day to accommodate the late arrival of the players. Arthur Ashe went on to win this tournament. Pele eventually left Lagos when the Federal Military Government re-opened the borders and airports a few days later. The Brazilian ambassador insisted that he wore an aviator’s uniform to conceal his identity. The greatest danger that Pele faced throughout his time in Lagos was to lose money during games of gin rummy in the Federal Palace hotel.

Screenshot of 1976 Lagos Tennis Classic Tournament Draw via ATP World Tour website

The WCT informed Arthur Ashe, Jeff Borowiak and Dick Stockton when they got to Rome that they had to honour their Lagos Tennis Classic match commitments. They had to complete the event to ensure that the prize money and Hagger points for the singles tournament were appropriately distributed. The only available opportunity to do this was at the Caracas WCT Open. On April 1, in the middle of the Caracas tournament, Arthur Ashe completed his unfinished semifinal match against Borowiak by beating him. The following day, April 2, he faced Stockton in the final and lost to him. The match was over in less than an hour and it was Stockton’s first ever victory against Ashe. The score was 6-3, 6-2. The WCT never held another tennis tournament in Nigeria. The Lagos International Airport was renamed ‘Murtala Mohammed International Airport’ a few days after his assassination. Dimka was on the run for three weeks after the coup attempt before his eventual capture on March 5. He was executed on May 15, 1976. There was never an official Government explanation for the military interruption of the Ashe vs Borowiak semi-final match.

This longform story is based on archival newspaper research, biographical accounts of key characters, US Embassy/State Department cables plus telephone interviews with Tom Okker, Stan Smith, Harold Solomon, Dick Stockton, Bob Lutz, John McDonald, Ismail El Shafei, Paul Svehlik, and Erik Van Dillen.

My thanks to everyone who helped me during the reporting and writing of this story.

This story was first published here.

Weekend Music Break No.80

Africa is a Country is now on Break for the weekend, so here is some Music we’ll be relaxing to over the next couple of days:

In this week’s selection: Stocktown directs a 360 degree interactive clip from the top of a roof in downtown Addis Ababa for the band Ethiocolor; An appeal for support, gives the world a sneak peak into the recording sessions of Colombian Salsa super-band Ondatropica’s new album; Fouma System brings electronic dance music to Dakar via the Akwaaba Music record label; Taking a peak at AIAC contributors Hipsters Don’t Dance’s site, revealed this wonderful London Alkaida-ish stomper from Kwamz, Flava and Mista Silva; We interviewed Uno July about his new EP last month, and this week he released a visual to “Skelem”, one of the songs off of that project; 99K and Wanlov release a controversial track and video called “Kasa”; Chosan, releases “Show Goes On’, a song and video that reads like a story of the life of the Freetown via London via New York via Baltimore rapper; Timaya dips his toes into Afrohouse with “Some More”; Becca and Ice Prince smooth things out with their own take on the genre; and finally, Uganada’s Radio and Weasal have been making noise in Cartagena, Colombia of all places. Perhaps their latest video “Juicy” and it’s Caribbean vibes will continue that success for them.

#RespecTheProducer – The Cape Town Beat Scene [Throwback]

This article is part of a series of articles on music producers throughout the African continent called #RespecTheProducer. Check out daily updates on tumblr and follow the Instagramaccount. 

It’s mid-morning in late January when I meet with Shane Cooper, bassist and winner of the 2012 Standard Bank’s Young Artist Award 2012 in the jazz category, at a restaurant in Upper Woodstock, Cape Town. The nod, unexpected by his own admission, places him on the path of a legacy kick-started, posthumously, by Moses Molelekwa, and peppered with luminaries such as Andile Yenana, Mark Fransman and Kesivan Naidoo. He orders a cup of coffee while we grapple with where to sit, finally settling for a spot outside where the late-summer’s sun casts sharp rays on the four-person table. As he lights up his cigarette, I set the frame for the interview; equal parts jazz and electronic music conversation. The latter is a genre he’s been dabbling in since obtaining audio sequencing software (from his brother) over a decade ago. Prior to that, he fiddled with music instruments. “I started playing guitar when I was thirteen and then got into bass in high school/”.

Cooper, or Card On Spokes as he’s known around the beatmaking (or beat) scene in Cape Town, teamed up with Music Without Borders to conceptualise Live Evil, a series of events premised on catering to electronic music producers who perform their beats live. The idea was birthed by his growing frustration from not getting booked at gigs “because my stuff doesn’t fall in line with one tempo all the time.” In between drags from his ciggie, he explains to me the science behind his eclectic set, stating that “it goes through different genres and things like that.”

The first Live Evil took place in April 2012. Each event features the headliner (Dank in one instance), supporting acts (Mr Sakitumi, Christian Tiger School have featured), and Card On Spokes as resident knob-tweaker. While name-checking his influences – Kid Koala, Four Tet, Prefuse 73 – he let it slip that him and Dank were in the process of mixing their “Strawberries” EP. Initially slated for release around March, the project was only unleashed in June on the US-based independent imprint 710 Records. They aren’t the only ones. As far as quality releases go, Cape Town is bathing in swathes of sonic brilliance, admiring its own production wizardry at every juncture. Over the course of one month, beat heads have been spoiled for choice, from the uber-slick collective dialects of Gravy (a crew of kindred spirits featuring, among others, Sibot, Ol’tak, Mr Sakitumi, as well as Dank and Card On Spokes), to the shrieking, hazy lo-fi pleasantries of Funtoy, right down to the experimental shindigs of relative newcomer Thor Rixon.

But surely this has happened before?

The year 2000 ushered in an era of producers influenced by the creations of Aphex Twin, DJ Shadow, Anti-Pop Consortium and the better part of Ninja Tune’s artist roster – from Blockhead to Mr Scruff to Kid Koala. Names such as Felix Laband, Markus Wormstorm, Sibot, and a handful of others crafted sonic textures which effectively altered how people approached music consumption. African Dope records synergised that entire formation – two dudes and a chick holed up in a nondescript room on Buitenkant, banging away at ideas daily to advance what, albeit rewarding, ultimately proved an unsustainable exercise. “African Dope [was] pressing up 2000-3000 CDs; it’s not a business model!” says Fletcher. He’s one third of the original trio that ran African Dope; the other two being Honey B and Roach.

As Krushed and Sorted, Fletcher and Roach’s 2000 release “Acid made me to it” arguably set the tone for the sound of magic yet to be conceived. Felix Laband followed soon afterwards with Thin shoes in June, a minimalist fan’s wet dream that is still as ghoulish and haunting today as it was in 2001, infallible in every aspect. Roger Young described it as “an intrepid indie-tronic mashup of hybrid high and low cultures” in his excellent Rolling Stone profile of the troubled wunderkind.

Angela Weickl hosts The Mashup on Assembly radio, a show aimed at giving a platform for artists and deejays to showcase their music. She’s also a regular at venues like the Assembly and Mercury Live where she spins genre-defying sets under the alias DJ Sideshow. The first wave of the Cape Town beat scene tanked during the mid-2000s, and I was interested to find out the reasons. She attributes the dip to the rise in live bands, referencing early stuff from Fokofpolisiekar and later on the Plastics and others.

In 2009, African Dope records re-tuned their creative compass with African Dope Vol. 2, a compilation whose progenitor had been birthed some eight years prior, admittedly a long time in-between albums in music terms. A lot had changed. Instead of Waddy Jones (credited on the song “Crypticism” as ‘The Man Who Never Came Back’), we got Disco Izrael from P.H.Fat, a scruffy-haired stoned-looking wordsmith who wrapped creative circles around producer Narch’s beats, concurrently rapping his way into alternative imaginaries with his partner-in-words, Mike Zietsman. We got a glimpse into the collision of beats and words; Narch’s extra-thick squelches and super-grumpy basslines created a comfort zone for the rappers to yank out their best dinosaur metaphors.

UCT Radio is one of two terrestrial stations with shows whose focus is on uplifting the local beat scene. Sean Magner, host of The New Music Show every Sunday evening, realised the dearth of support media were giving to producers in the city and decided to try remedy the situation. “I knew there was so much to see and get involved with that this is was sort of my only way in”, says Magner. His co-host Dylan Heneck quickly points out the resemblance between locally-produced beats and what is being churned out elsewhere on the bass music globe. Says Heneck: “It’s cool seeing how they align with each other, and how different they are as well. The stuff I’ve heard from here is a lot more obscure.” And they’ve heard a lot. Their show has become somewhat of a stopover whenever beatmakers active on the scene are about to release new music. All the usual suspects, from Ol’tak, Card On Spokes, Mr Sakitumi, and more have paid them a visit. Even the elusive Slabofmisuse was due for a guest slot but decided against it.

Heneck, who moonlights as a club deejay going by the moniker Daddy Warbucks, laments the lack of marketing smarts within the scene, identifying the defect as the missing link in connecting the music to a larger audience. “All these guys should be big!” He declares. Or at least bigger.

In a way, there are relatively ‘big’ names on the beat scene. During the festival season, a selection of beatsmiths pack blistering sonic shockwaves into their goodie bags to feed bass-hungry revellers (normally at the Red Bull stages). Sibot’s impressive show left a 3000 person-strong crowd at Rocking the Daisies dumbstruck; P.H.Fat fractured ligaments at Synergy with their psychedelic bass-funk; and Mr. Sakitumi had kids eating out of his palm at RAMfest.

Shane Cooper in studio

While beat-centric electronic music may be drawing capacity crowds at festivals, it’s hard to say whether this translates into album sales. Card On Spokes’ Shane Cooper gives out his debut EP In You Go for free at shows nowadays because “electronic CDs don’t really sell in stores anymore, it’s all gone online.”

Indeed, there are plenty of beatmakers across South Africa, but Cape Town is unique in that some of them have managed to build something resembling ‘a scene’. Their output compares with any in the world; the kicks thump at subsonic frequencies and the snares knock hard! The beat scene is comprised of these pockets of producers who are going out on a limb, working inside a mostly hip hop-inspired framework to bang out electronic music which draws influences from techno right through to straight-ahead jazz. But the most important aspect is that they play their beats live.

Sean Magner offers this proposition: “It seems like we [Capetonians] are very culturally aware, in terms of everything! We’re so hyper-aware of what’s going on in the UK, what’s going on in the States… to some extent what’s going on in Europe.” He continues that Cape Town producers are in a prime position to spectate on the rest of the world while also reflecting their environment, searching for elements within it to fuse into their productions, whether implicitly or explicitly. “We’ve got so many influences to draw from here, so it’s a fairly unique product,” he concludes.

When he’s not busy producing beats as Richard III, Richard Rumney manages the Red Bull Studios located on Jamieson Street in town. Red Bull has been instrumental in helping mould the scene, grooming talents such as Das Kapital, RVWR and Damascus, as well as curating the electronic music stages during the aforementioned festivals, and others. I wanted to know the selection criteria for which artists get to work with the studio.

He explains that the Red Bull Studios operate on a multi-tiered system which includes mainstream players such as Black Coffee, Khuli Chana and Professor alongside emerging artists – think Manqoba, Damascus, Jumping Back Slash, Christian Tiger School – adding that they need to ensure that “a certain amount of projects” are covered monthly.

Rumney has a firm grasp of the current progression of multiple forms of electronic music. I ask him what he thinks has inspired the current wave, and he traces it back to the late 90s, or, “when African Dope Records started.”

“The old-school of beatmakers probably paved the way.” He says, adding the afore-mentioned line-up has “shown many up and coming guys that they can be as game-changing as they wanna be.”

*

I love instrumental music, mostly of the hip hop-tinged variety; Pete Rock’s Petestrumentals remains a firm favourite. I try keep tabs on the global bass music scene, and however suspect that word may sound, it arguably remains the most apt descriptor of the sonic exploits birthed in people’s bedrooms, then disseminated on internet blogs until a label deems their creations worthy of a festival slot. I think the LA beat scene, with captain Fly Lo at the helm, is a brilliant example of how consistently good product will get you noticed regardless.

But there are other admirable movements too; France’s Evil Needle and Denmark’s Robin Hannibal are geniuses in my world. I recently discovered a group of musicians from Canada who use their music to raise awareness about the plight of indigenous people in North America.

However, it’s strange that almost all of the music coming out of the Cape Town beat scene is being made by white, mostly middle-to-upper-class kids either fresh out of university or just finding their footing in the world. If parallels are to be drawn, while the LA beat scene maintains a healthy cross-collaborative spirit between rappers and producers (Flying Lotus’ work with Earl Sweatshirt comes to mind), the practise is almost universally lacking in Cape Town – arguably the tabernacle where some of the rarest rap talents in South Africa rear their heads. Card On Spokes attributed this to his lack of awareness of any rappers in Cape Town, while Sideshow posited that the current crop needs to mature first before thinking about expanding. She made an example of Christian Tiger School, two beatminers whose profile rose after Questlove of The Roots crew tweeted a link to their song ‘Carlton Banks’, reasoning that they’re in a transitory phase where tightening up the live show and developing other aspects are more important.

Her theory seems to hold somewhat, but I remain unconvinced. Markus Wormstorm began his career with the rap outfit Constructus Corporation. The crew, a pre-precursor to Die Antwoord, also featured Sibot’s turntable wizardry. The two went on to work with Spoek Mathambo on futuristic rap projects – Sweat.X (with Wormstorm) and Playdoe (with Sibot). African Dope compilations were always littered with guest appearances from rap and reggae artists, from Godessa to Zoro. But then again, look at Mr Sakitumi. His next project is slated to feature collaborations with a list of rappers and Sakitumi’s a fairly established musician with an almost-flawless live show to boot, Sideshow’s theory could well be plausible. Yet again, I digress.

Either way, it is an exciting time to be living in Cape Town, to be immersed in this city of slime and grit on one hand, and a manicured, lilly-white image on the other; to navigate the Assembly/Fiction/Waiting Room scene alongside the parkjams in Gugs and Paarl. The beat scene could, unlike the city, attempt to be more inclusive. To have, for instance, more people like The Banktella – a bass music producer whom Fletcher discovered while running errands at the bank – active on the scene. Perhaps it’s shaping up; in the past six months, we’ve had a sizeable number of visits from internationally-renowned producers, from Hudson Mohawke, to The Clonius, to Chief, who trekked down with another producer, Deheb.

Then there’s Sibot’s songs getting released on Mad Decent subsidiary Jeffree’s compilation, and his forthcoming effort on French label Jarring FX; there’s Christian Tiger School’s Adidas endorsement and their trip to New York; there’s scene-stealers naasThings getting profiled on other portals and contributing to the quality music getting released.

The final word goes to Richard Rumney. In response to a question about what propelled Christian Tiger School’s meteoric rise, he said the following: “They’re really good producers first off, they play their shit live (as opposed to just DJing), they made an instantly catchy underground hit with ‘Carlton Banks’, they have a great manager and they were in the right place at the right time. Success is a combination of talent, focus, hard-work and a healthy dollop of luck. Whether that actually constitutes “making it” in the music industry I don’t know. It certainly doesn’t necessarily translate to big bucks.”

* This article first appeared here.

 

#RespecTheProducer | The Cape Town Beat Scene [Throwback]

This article is part of a series of articles on music producers throughout the African continent called #RespecTheProducer. Check out daily updates on tumblr and follow the Instagramaccount. 

It’s mid-morning in late January when I meet with Shane Cooper, bassist and winner of the 2012 Standard Bank’s Young Artist Award 2012 in the jazz category, at a restaurant in Upper Woodstock, Cape Town. The nod, unexpected by his own admission, places him on the path of a legacy kick-started, posthumously, by Moses Molelekwa, and peppered with luminaries such as Andile Yenana, Mark Fransman and Kesivan Naidoo. He orders a cup of coffee while we grapple with where to sit, finally settling for a spot outside where the late-summer’s sun casts sharp rays on the four-person table. As he lights up his cigarette, I set the frame for the interview; equal parts jazz and electronic music conversation. The latter is a genre he’s been dabbling in since obtaining audio sequencing software (from his brother) over a decade ago. Prior to that, he fiddled with music instruments. “I started playing guitar when I was thirteen and then got into bass in high school/”.

Cooper, or Card On Spokes as he’s known around the beatmaking (or beat) scene in Cape Town, teamed up with Music Without Borders to conceptualise Live Evil, a series of events premised on catering to electronic music producers who perform their beats live. The idea was birthed by his growing frustration from not getting booked at gigs “because my stuff doesn’t fall in line with one tempo all the time.” In between drags from his ciggie, he explains to me the science behind his eclectic set, stating that “it goes through different genres and things like that.”

The first Live Evil took place in April 2012. Each event features the headliner (Dank in one instance), supporting acts (Mr Sakitumi, Christian Tiger School have featured), and Card On Spokes as resident knob-tweaker. While name-checking his influences – Kid Koala, Four Tet, Prefuse 73 – he let it slip that him and Dank were in the process of mixing their “Strawberries” EP. Initially slated for release around March, the project was only unleashed in June on the US-based independent imprint 710 Records. They aren’t the only ones. As far as quality releases go, Cape Town is bathing in swathes of sonic brilliance, admiring its own production wizardry at every juncture. Over the course of one month, beat heads have been spoiled for choice, from the uber-slick collective dialects of Gravy (a crew of kindred spirits featuring, among others, Sibot, Ol’tak, Mr Sakitumi, as well as Dank and Card On Spokes), to the shrieking, hazy lo-fi pleasantries of Funtoy, right down to the experimental shindigs of relative newcomer Thor Rixon.

But surely this has happened before?

The year 2000 ushered in an era of producers influenced by the creations of Aphex Twin, DJ Shadow, Anti-Pop Consortium and the better part of Ninja Tune’s artist roster – from Blockhead to Mr Scruff to Kid Koala. Names such as Felix Laband, Markus Wormstorm, Sibot, and a handful of others crafted sonic textures which effectively altered how people approached music consumption. African Dope records synergised that entire formation – two dudes and a chick holed up in a nondescript room on Buitenkant, banging away at ideas daily to advance what, albeit rewarding, ultimately proved an unsustainable exercise. “African Dope [was] pressing up 2000-3000 CDs; it’s not a business model!” says Fletcher. He’s one third of the original trio that ran African Dope; the other two being Honey B and Roach.

As Krushed and Sorted, Fletcher and Roach’s 2000 release “Acid made me to it” arguably set the tone for the sound of magic yet to be conceived. Felix Laband followed soon afterwards with Thin shoes in June, a minimalist fan’s wet dream that is still as ghoulish and haunting today as it was in 2001, infallible in every aspect. Roger Young described it as “an intrepid indie-tronic mashup of hybrid high and low cultures” in his excellent Rolling Stone profile of the troubled wunderkind.

Angela Weickl hosts The Mashup on Assembly radio, a show aimed at giving a platform for artists and deejays to showcase their music. She’s also a regular at venues like the Assembly and Mercury Live where she spins genre-defying sets under the alias DJ Sideshow. The first wave of the Cape Town beat scene tanked during the mid-2000s, and I was interested to find out the reasons. She attributes the dip to the rise in live bands, referencing early stuff from Fokofpolisiekar and later on the Plastics and others.

In 2009, African Dope records re-tuned their creative compass with African Dope Vol. 2, a compilation whose progenitor had been birthed some eight years prior, admittedly a long time in-between albums in music terms. A lot had changed. Instead of Waddy Jones (credited on the song “Crypticism” as ‘The Man Who Never Came Back’), we got Disco Izrael from P.H.Fat, a scruffy-haired stoned-looking wordsmith who wrapped creative circles around producer Narch’s beats, concurrently rapping his way into alternative imaginaries with his partner-in-words, Mike Zietsman. We got a glimpse into the collision of beats and words; Narch’s extra-thick squelches and super-grumpy basslines created a comfort zone for the rappers to yank out their best dinosaur metaphors.

UCT Radio is one of two terrestrial stations with shows whose focus is on uplifting the local beat scene. Sean Magner, host of The New Music Show every Sunday evening, realised the dearth of support media were giving to producers in the city and decided to try remedy the situation. “I knew there was so much to see and get involved with that this is was sort of my only way in”, says Magner. His co-host Dylan Heneck quickly points out the resemblance between locally-produced beats and what is being churned out elsewhere on the bass music globe. Says Heneck: “It’s cool seeing how they align with each other, and how different they are as well. The stuff I’ve heard from here is a lot more obscure.” And they’ve heard a lot. Their show has become somewhat of a stopover whenever beatmakers active on the scene are about to release new music. All the usual suspects, from Ol’tak, Card On Spokes, Mr Sakitumi, and more have paid them a visit. Even the elusive Slabofmisuse was due for a guest slot but decided against it.

Heneck, who moonlights as a club deejay going by the moniker Daddy Warbucks, laments the lack of marketing smarts within the scene, identifying the defect as the missing link in connecting the music to a larger audience. “All these guys should be big!” He declares. Or at least bigger.

In a way, there are relatively ‘big’ names on the beat scene. During the festival season, a selection of beatsmiths pack blistering sonic shockwaves into their goodie bags to feed bass-hungry revellers (normally at the Red Bull stages). Sibot’s impressive show left a 3000 person-strong crowd at Rocking the Daisies dumbstruck; P.H.Fat fractured ligaments at Synergy with their psychedelic bass-funk; and Mr. Sakitumi had kids eating out of his palm at RAMfest.

Shane Cooper in studio

While beat-centric electronic music may be drawing capacity crowds at festivals, it’s hard to say whether this translates into album sales. Card On Spokes’ Shane Cooper gives out his debut EP In You Go for free at shows nowadays because “electronic CDs don’t really sell in stores anymore, it’s all gone online.”

Indeed, there are plenty of beatmakers across South Africa, but Cape Town is unique in that some of them have managed to build something resembling ‘a scene’. Their output compares with any in the world; the kicks thump at subsonic frequencies and the snares knock hard! The beat scene is comprised of these pockets of producers who are going out on a limb, working inside a mostly hip hop-inspired framework to bang out electronic music which draws influences from techno right through to straight-ahead jazz. But the most important aspect is that they play their beats live.

Sean Magner offers this proposition: “It seems like we [Capetonians] are very culturally aware, in terms of everything! We’re so hyper-aware of what’s going on in the UK, what’s going on in the States… to some extent what’s going on in Europe.” He continues that Cape Town producers are in a prime position to spectate on the rest of the world while also reflecting their environment, searching for elements within it to fuse into their productions, whether implicitly or explicitly. “We’ve got so many influences to draw from here, so it’s a fairly unique product,” he concludes.

When he’s not busy producing beats as Richard III, Richard Rumney manages the Red Bull Studios located on Jamieson Street in town. Red Bull has been instrumental in helping mould the scene, grooming talents such as Das Kapital, RVWR and Damascus, as well as curating the electronic music stages during the aforementioned festivals, and others. I wanted to know the selection criteria for which artists get to work with the studio.

He explains that the Red Bull Studios operate on a multi-tiered system which includes mainstream players such as Black Coffee, Khuli Chana and Professor alongside emerging artists – think Manqoba, Damascus, Jumping Back Slash, Christian Tiger School – adding that they need to ensure that “a certain amount of projects” are covered monthly.

Rumney has a firm grasp of the current progression of multiple forms of electronic music. I ask him what he thinks has inspired the current wave, and he traces it back to the late 90s, or, “when African Dope Records started.”

“The old-school of beatmakers probably paved the way.” He says, adding the afore-mentioned line-up has “shown many up and coming guys that they can be as game-changing as they wanna be.”

*

I love instrumental music, mostly of the hip hop-tinged variety; Pete Rock’s Petestrumentals remains a firm favourite. I try keep tabs on the global bass music scene, and however suspect that word may sound, it arguably remains the most apt descriptor of the sonic exploits birthed in people’s bedrooms, then disseminated on internet blogs until a label deems their creations worthy of a festival slot. I think the LA beat scene, with captain Fly Lo at the helm, is a brilliant example of how consistently good product will get you noticed regardless.

But there are other admirable movements too; France’s Evil Needle and Denmark’s Robin Hannibal are geniuses in my world. I recently discovered a group of musicians from Canada who use their music to raise awareness about the plight of indigenous people in North America.

However, it’s strange that almost all of the music coming out of the Cape Town beat scene is being made by white, mostly middle-to-upper-class kids either fresh out of university or just finding their footing in the world. If parallels are to be drawn, while the LA beat scene maintains a healthy cross-collaborative spirit between rappers and producers (Flying Lotus’ work with Earl Sweatshirt comes to mind), the practise is almost universally lacking in Cape Town – arguably the tabernacle where some of the rarest rap talents in South Africa rear their heads. Card On Spokes attributed this to his lack of awareness of any rappers in Cape Town, while Sideshow posited that the current crop needs to mature first before thinking about expanding. She made an example of Christian Tiger School, two beatminers whose profile rose after Questlove of The Roots crew tweeted a link to their song ‘Carlton Banks’, reasoning that they’re in a transitory phase where tightening up the live show and developing other aspects are more important.

Her theory seems to hold somewhat, but I remain unconvinced. Markus Wormstorm began his career with the rap outfit Constructus Corporation. The crew, a pre-precursor to Die Antwoord, also featured Sibot’s turntable wizardry. The two went on to work with Spoek Mathambo on futuristic rap projects – Sweat.X (with Wormstorm) and Playdoe (with Sibot). African Dope compilations were always littered with guest appearances from rap and reggae artists, from Godessa to Zoro. But then again, look at Mr Sakitumi. His next project is slated to feature collaborations with a list of rappers and Sakitumi’s a fairly established musician with an almost-flawless live show to boot, Sideshow’s theory could well be plausible. Yet again, I digress.

Either way, it is an exciting time to be living in Cape Town, to be immersed in this city of slime and grit on one hand, and a manicured, lilly-white image on the other; to navigate the Assembly/Fiction/Waiting Room scene alongside the parkjams in Gugs and Paarl. The beat scene could, unlike the city, attempt to be more inclusive. To have, for instance, more people like The Banktella – a bass music producer whom Fletcher discovered while running errands at the bank – active on the scene. Perhaps it’s shaping up; in the past six months, we’ve had a sizeable number of visits from internationally-renowned producers, from Hudson Mohawke, to The Clonius, to Chief, who trekked down with another producer, Deheb.

Then there’s Sibot’s songs getting released on Mad Decent subsidiary Jeffree’s compilation, and his forthcoming effort on French label Jarring FX; there’s Christian Tiger School’s Adidas endorsement and their trip to New York; there’s scene-stealers naasThings getting profiled on other portals and contributing to the quality music getting released.

The final word goes to Richard Rumney. In response to a question about what propelled Christian Tiger School’s meteoric rise, he said the following: “They’re really good producers first off, they play their shit live (as opposed to just DJing), they made an instantly catchy underground hit with ‘Carlton Banks’, they have a great manager and they were in the right place at the right time. Success is a combination of talent, focus, hard-work and a healthy dollop of luck. Whether that actually constitutes “making it” in the music industry I don’t know. It certainly doesn’t necessarily translate to big bucks.”

* This article first appeared here.

 

For Love of God, Love of Laughing: An interview with Okey Ndibe

Foreign Gods, Inc. is the rare novel that makes you laugh about religion. A young Nigerian named Ike has graduated with honors from the prestigious Amherst College in Massachusetts, but is forced to drive a taxi in New York City. He is not only broke, he is wracked with guilt, the kind that any good (or bad) Christian, Muslim, Hindu, pagan, or otherwise can understand: he has strayed from his family who sacrificed everything to send him to the United States and is regularly bothered about it via email by his sister, Nkiru. Sipping a beer, he reads “Mama’s Message”:

For a few years now you haven’t sent Mama (or me, your only sister) any money. Mama wonders if you want us to eat sand. Also, Mama says she has been telling you that there’s an important spiritual matter she must discuss with you in person, face-to-face. It’s about your satanic Uncle Osuakwu. After killing Papa, he is now making diabolical plans against all of us, but especially you. Mama says it’s urgent that you come home as soon as possible. Then you will be fully informed of this demonic plot, and how to cancel it in the mighty name of Jesus (45).

Ouch. So Ike hatches a plan to return to Nigeria to steal Ngene, the god of his village out from under his uncle, the shrine keeper (and servant of Lucifer, according to Ike’s mother), and sell it to Mark Gruels, the owner of the Foreign Gods, Inc. gallery in New York.

Okey Ndibe has written a rich tragic-comedy with family drama, conflicts between old and new gods, and even history peppered throughout. He skillfully moves us from New York through Lagos (readers will relish, or shudder at, the scenes of customs) and Enugu to land at Utonki, where much of the plot unfolds. Utonki—its river, its people—becomes a living, changing, and dying entity described first through a chapter-long flashback of the encounter between villagers and the Christian missionary Reverend Walter Stanton, who arrived with a “retinue of soldiers whose guns spoke from two mouths at once” and “an interpreter whose skin was as black as the blackest person in Utonki” (99). The conversations in this triangular relationship formed between two foreigners—one white, one black—and the villagers turn on its head the idea that simple villagers accepted Stanton’s god because of worldly power. Indeed, the village women cajole and tease Stanton and his weak manhood mercilessly. Utonki villagers convert not because of Stanton but because of their own dialogue and debate over the meaning of the Word. Like his ancestors, Ike’s own skepticism begins to change as he deals with his mother, uncle, and Pastor Uka, a new missionary on the scene. Utonki has survived many a battle, but with poverty, rapaciousness, the cults of Kobe Bryant and Calvin Klein, how does the village preserve itself —through its gods, its returned sons and daughters, or history? Like anyone seeking salvation, Ike finds mystery and few solutions. But that mystery —existing alongside the basest corruption and consumerism — is what is what makes this novel unforgettable. The following is an interview I conducted with Ndibe about his book:

I laughed out loud when I was reading this book. From where you do get your sense of humor? Is it because the Gallup poll says Nigerians are the happiest people in the world? Are Nigerians actually the funniest people in the world?

I come from a culture—the Igbo people of southeastern Nigeria—and a country where humor is celebrated. Even when life leaves you all twisted up—indeed, especially then—you’re expected to retain this stubborn, deep sense of the world as a place of laughter. Whatever the event, then, people seem to insist on their right to have a good, resounding laugh. The only thing worse than death is to lose that gift. As a writer, reader and human, I’m always attentive to the exuberant, laugh-inducing elements of life. If I were asked to legislate for the world for one minute, I’d ordain a law that would make laughter a fundamental human right! Perhaps, then, the pollsters who, some years ago, declared Nigerians the happiest people on earth were on to something. Given all of Nigeria’s crises, the aborted promises, missed opportunities and absurd aspects of Nigerian life—a skeptic might say, these people shouldn’t be laughing so much; they have no reason or right to be this happy! To which one must respond that a sunny spirit should have no impediments—not class, gender, ethnicity, age or circumstance.

Is there anyone who is angry with you for writing this book? Because of its irreverence about faith, the American Dream, race, just about everything?

One or two reviewers—that’s all. One, a reviewer for a Christian magazine, accused me of setting out to render Christians as absurd out of a deep antipathy to Christianity. An absurd claim, since I happen to be a fairly reverent Christian. Part of my subject was to explore the various schemes and scams people conjure to exploit the unwary, the vulnerable and the gullible. I have great respect for the spiritual and sacred dimensions of the human experience. But I also know that some crooks and scam artists have refined religion into a tool for duping others.

Of all people, a young Nigerian reviewer detected racial animus in my portrayal of Walter Stanton, an English missionary in my novel! He wrote, this Nigerian reviewer, that Chinua Achebe’s indictment of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness as a racist text could be applied to my work. My response to that colossal act of misreading, that species of absurdity, is—you guessed it—to laugh!

My students asked me how much of the novel was “true.” I asked them what they meant. They thought the corruption part was fictionalized and that the derisive attitude of Americans towards foreign accents was dated! I asked them what post-racial Obama world they live in?! Tell me about the world where this story happens. Who lives there—taxi drivers, wives for hire, palm wine drinkers?

That’s a fascinating question. In one sense, one could say that fiction is always “true” in its own way, but not in the same sense as a newspaper account of an event. Good fiction often reflects experience and recreates or projects social realities. It gives us the illusion, as we read, of being cast in the midst or hub of lived life. But it isn’t a simulacrum of life. A former student of mine at Brown University rang me after reading Foreign Gods, Inc. “You’ve written my father’s and my uncle’s stories,” he said. Then he informed me that his father earned an MBA, his uncle a masters degree, but both have driven cabs for more than twenty years—and not by choice. So, that was an interesting response.

Yet, almost everywhere I read, especially in the US, some reader inevitably objects that one’s accent—however strong—would not put one in any disadvantage in America. I always tell such objectors to open their eyes and ears more. I challenge them: When next you’re in a big city in the US or Europe and your taxi driver happens to, quote and unquote, have an accent, initiate a conversation. In many cases, you’d find that the driver—who may be Asian, African or East European—has a degree or two—sometimes a doctorate. Often, you’d hear that they took to driving because their accent imperiled their efforts to get a corporate, teaching or government job.

The scenes of my novel set in Nigeria demonstrate the same vital links between lived life and imaginative recreation. Those familiar with Nigeria are unlikely to argue that the Nigeria in the novel is unrecognizable. But I’m the first to stipulate that fiction, even when it deeply mirrors society, should not be viewed as an attempt to hand the reader a photocopy of some society. That would be to reduce fiction to an uninteresting map or manual, a false proposition. Fiction engages us deeply both because it reflects and projects experience at once. Fiction’s imaginative faculty is a powerful piece of equipment. It both affords the reader moments of affirmation, of recognition of the familiar (albeit powerfully recreated or rendered) and moments of transport to strange, unfamiliar, enchanting places and times.

Big Ed is a philosopher. And Ike is often dumbfounded. Which characters do you like in Foreign Gods, Inc.? Who did you love to hate along the way?

You’re right about Big Ed and Ike. I actually have varying degrees of affection for all my characters—because, whatever they’re doing, I find them fascinating. I find hypocrites and scam artists of all sorts revolting, so a part of me finds Pastor Uka repellent. But I love him as a character qua character.

I remember being a child visiting family in India, driving past white people dressed in Indian clothes and instantly registering them as missionaries. Do you think the postcolonial world can ever escape them? Are tales about missionaries in Nigeria bedtime stories? Why are they so deep in our consciousness?

It’s no exaggeration to say that missionaries reshaped us, remapped our lives, and changed our sense of space, time and identity. In Nigeria, missionaries remade indigenous gods into strange deities, supplanted in their originary spaces by a new, capital G God. Missionaries established the first formal schools, thus ushering in or imposing a certain kind of modernity—a time linked with the European world. Missionaries softened the ground for the emergence and flowering of colonialism. They saturated—and saturate-our lives, our sensibility, our literature—and our counter-hegemonic discourse.

I love this book because it doesn’t moralize. But is there a moral here? Should we be scared of Pastor Uka? Or Mark Gruels?

I am extremely reluctant to instruct a reader on what moral lesson to draw from a text s/he’s read. All I can speak to are my own passions, interests, fascinations. I’m interested in the subject of greed. I’m fascinated by the ways in which relationships, ideas and values are repackaged as commodities for consumption. The human desire for hoarding, for accumulating more and more of what, in the end, we don’t need—I find that a terribly interesting subject. I had fun exploring these issues—and more—in Foreign Gods, Inc. And I explore them without—as you rightly noted—moralizing. Often, when a novelist moralizes, it’s out of an absence of confidence that the reader has the requisite acumen to get the point. I trust my readers to laugh and cry their way to whatever moral vision they discover in my work.

Germany on safari: A new military scramble for Africa?

In June this year, I attended a public discussion on ‘Crises in Africa’ organized by the PR Department of the German military (Bundeswehr) in Berlin. Since scrapping conscription in 2011, the army of Europe’s most populous country has been struggling to attract young recruits, as few are enthusiastic to serve in the armed forces.

At the forefront of this ‘hearts and minds’ offensive is the “Bundeswehr Showroom”, a sparkling flagship store in central Berlin: modern, tidy, militaristic. For its African crises event, the organizers left nothing to chance. There were decorative images of fighter jets, submarines and tanks. An eloquent, youthful Navy lieutenant with a degree in political science spoke to us about Africa’s security challenges and possible German military strategies for the future.

Germany’s concern for ‘African security’ is no surprise, especially with the media’s recent focus on Ebola, Boko Haram, and the rising numbers of (African) refugees landing on European shores. The German electorate demands reassurances and the military’s growing budget of nearly $40bn – the second largest in Merkel’s government – needs to be spent.

In April 2014, Germany’s Minister of Defence, Ursula von der Leyen, announced a strategic shift to more military engagement in Africa, neatly dressed in the cushy language of “assuming responsibility” for solving the continent’s conflicts. In the post-WWII years, Germany had adopted a policy of non-deployment beyond its own borders, also because a vast majority of the population has traditionally been strictly averse towards military adventures overseas. But with the country’s reunification in 1990, the German government’s position changed. Soon followed contentious military operations under the guise of NATO obligations in the Persian Gulf (1991), Turkey (1991), and Kosovo (1999). This trend now continues with Von der Leyen’s vision of more boots on African ground, as in Mali, Central Africa Republic and South Sudan. Militarizing its foreign policy is Berlin’s newest panacea, even deploying Bundeswehr soldiers to assist in containing Liberia’s Ebola epidemic in November 2014.

But German soldiers are no strangers to Africa. The inglorious history of Germany’s colonial protection force (Schutztruppe) is well-documented, a history of coercion, genocide and “theatrical colonial rule” in today’s Tanzania, Rwanda, Burundi, Togo, Namibia and Cameroon. In World War II, Nazi Germany again fantasized about reclaiming these colonies, and restoring Germany’s imperial grandeur. Hitler’s backing of Benito Mussolini’s colonial ambitions drove the German Africa Corps (Afrikakorps) into the soon abortive North African Campaign (1940-1943). Eventually, Germany’s 1945 defeat in World War II marked the end of these imperial dreams. While France and Britain were confronted with Africa’s decolonization movements in the 1950s and 1960s, Germany had become a mere spectator.

Paradoxically, while Germany’s recent history of militarism and Nazi fascism in theory led to more sensitivity towards such dangerous tendencies, the country’s colonial heritage seems inconsequential for its newly-militarized engagement with Africa and debates in society at large. Today, Germany participates with some 570 soldiers in nine missions across the continent, of which the EU’s anti-piracy operation ATALANTA is the largest.

The “Bundeswehr Showroom” is sanitized of these painful colonial memories, infused instead with Von der Leyen’s vision of a new German role in Africa. In government statements, Berlin indicates its desire to mimic some French policies towards Africa and seek closer security cooperation with Paris. However, this aspiration ignores the fact that French ties with former African colonies – known as Franҫafrique – represent a neo-colonial dependency relationship on unequal terms. As the world’s fourth largest arms exporter, Germany’s arms manufacturers already pocket great portions of African capital and ensure the continuous flow of weapons into conflict zones, despite targeted bans on exports. A commentator in the weekly Die Zeit argued that Germany is “caught between [its] hard interests and soft values”. Considering the Merkel government’s increase in the defence budget and more recent European policy proposals, such as military action against smugglers in North Africa, I am pessimistic about which of the above two options will prevail.

In Berlin that evening, the message was clear: the Bundeswehr is increasingly being deployed for humanitarian emergencies (and it does so along with other militaries) – for instance by rescuing asylum-seekers in the Mediterranean. Without doubt, saving lives is commendable, yet we forget that armies are no substitutes for civil emergency response, coastguards, or humanitarian agencies. Germany’s government civil protection mechanisms, such as the Federal Agency for Technical Relief (THW) – which was supporting anti-Ebola operations in Sierra Leone – are based on voluntary work, understaffed, underfunded and not equipped with adequate technology for sustained world-wide operations. By overfunding the military, successive governments have made the Bundeswehr logistically indispensable for emergency situations.

This mix of militarized humanitarianism, arms exports and security-centred development strategies is embodied in the government’s approach of “comprehensive security” (Vernetzte Sicherheit), a thin disguise for making security – and inevitably military engagement – a new priority in dealing with development issues. In some ways, Germany’s military shift, and its renewed search for a “place in the sun” in a contemporary scramble for Africa, represents the country’s belated entry into a “colonial present“. However this is not an inescapable future without an alternative. It is high time to de-militarize our minds, as well as government budgets.

What can Africa learn from the Greek crisis?

In recent days many of our readers have requested analysis of the Greek/Euro crisis and how to relate it to Africa’s long and bruising experience with major international creditors.

So we put the following question to a range of thinkers and commentators: What can African politicians learn from the Greek crisis and Syriza’s approach to dealing with creditors? What wider connections do you draw?

Grieve Chelwa, PhD candidate in economics, University of Cape Town

1. Greece’s experience with the troika (IMF, European Central Bank and the European Commission) is yet more confirmation of what we in Africa have been saying about how punitive austerity measures are. The Greek economy has contracted by about 25% since the Troika began effectively calling the shots in Athens around 2010. The austerity pill was administered for far longer in most parts of Africa, starting around the late 1970s and running all the way through to the 1990s. Only the heavens know the magnitude of the wreckage that this left in its wake.

2. The second lesson is that international creditors are the enemy of democracy. The Troika, which really has been weighing heavily on the side of creditors, tried to bully the Greek government into not consulting with its people, as democracy requires, over further austerity proposals. In a blatant display of elitism, Yanis Varoufakis, the outgoing finance minister, was once asked: “How do you expect common people to understand complex issues“?

Robtel Pailey, Liberian academic, activist and author

In its recent vote to reject austerity measures proposed by international creditors, Greece has shown that economic might does not always make right. Syriza’s tough stance has mirrored the approach that Thomas Sankara of Burkina Faso had to structural adjustment, so this is nothing new. Perhaps a potential Grexit might be a sign of the times and Africans may evoke this as a clarion call to reject odious debts accrued from kleptocratic and authoritarian regimes of the past.

Steven Friedman, scholar and public intellectual

The key lesson for African politicians is that, in the fight against economic bullying, the people are the most potent source of power. Giving voice to the people is rarely if ever a core strategy in the fights for economic justice which are waged across the continent – Greece shows that it needs to become that. What is so important about Greece is that the fight for justice is being waged using the methods made available by formal democracy. Regardless of the outcome, this shows that formal democracy is not a plot by the powerful to tame the powerless: it has often been that only because too many people have been excluded from democratic participation and too few issues have been up for popular decision . By pushing the boundaries of what the people can decide and who should decide it, the Greek government is hopefully beginning a new era of democratic politics as a weapon for social justice. It is essential that Africa become a part of this.

Patrick Bond, scholar and public intellectual

We have witnessed what are termed “IMF Riots” in Africa over the last third of a century – most successfully in reversing the January 2012 petrol price increase in Nigeria – but if these have not worked in most of the continent, there’s a lesson for future leftist electoral politics last Sunday. If Syriza can break through not only by its January election with nearly 40% of the vote but now with the 61% vote against banker logic, it suggests a strong latent support for anti-neoliberalism. Here in South Africa this is a sentiment that has bubbled away for years but hasn’t found an expression like Syriza, uniting such a large share of society. But it’s surely the future of politics.

Cassandra Veney, political scientist, Quinnipiac University

“Lessons from Africa for Greece”

Greece, like many African countries, is simply facing structural adjustment.  By the 1990s, most African countries were under structural adjustment superimposed upon them by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank.

The cornerstone of SAPs include:  devaluing national currencies, eliminating subsidies and price controls, reducing tariffs on imports, selling off state enterprises, retrenching state workers, freezing wages and salaries for state workers, introducing user fees in clinics, hospitals, schools, and universities.  Governments are to design and implement policies to achieve these goals with little input from its citizens.  In other words, African governments have had very little leverage to negotiate more favorable loans as pressure is put on them to spend scarce resources on servicing the debt at the expense of housing, education, and healthcare.

The IMF and World Bank also tie reducing corruption and instituting transparency measure to loans.  Angola serves as an example. One of the conditions of Angola’s loans over the years was it had to become more transparent in terms of its oil revenues. Angola complied when it was desperate for money and it ignored the conditions when its finances improved.  Angola was in the position to do this because it has oil and diamonds to sell.  Angola has a record of entering into negotiations with the IMF, refusing to implement conditions, breaking off negotiations, and turning to the Chinese for loans.

Most of the countries, not just African countries, that were brow beaten into imposing SAPs experienced economic and social upheavals for all sectors of society except for perhaps the super rich.

African governments can explain to Greek citizens what will happen when the government no longer funds, or funds are decreased for, infrastructure that all countries need if they have any hope of meeting the basic needs of its citizens, let alone developing and becoming a part of the global capitalist economy.  SAPs have now proved that one size does not fit all—there is no magic pill that all sick economies can swallow to make them all better. There is nothing wrong with the Greek government calling for a referendum and letting the people decide if they want a debt bailout or not.

Greece may want to take advice from some African countries if it wants to lessen its dependence on the IMF–borrow money from the Chinese as it comes with fewer onerous strings attached.

What Greece is experiencing is not different from what African countries have faced in their attempts to balance austerity with humane policies toward their vulnerable. The troika is quick to place Greece’s economic problems at the feet of the government.  It cannot admit that it had a role to play in creating this economic mess. African governments were also accused of engaging in corrupt practices, not selling off state enterprises in a timely manner, and dragging their feet in the implementation of some austerity measures. What is wrong with this? One of the most important functions of a state is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Greece should be applauded and not vilified for standing firm in its efforts to provide for the vulnerable. The problem is Greece is alone in its stand on a continent that is awash in contempt and distain for the downtrodden. Africans, even as their governments implemented structural adjustment programs, were united in their contempt for the measures and took to the streets to demonstrate. Hopefully, Greece like several other African countries will rise from the ashes of this economic abyss not because of the IMF but despite international financial institutions that do not have the best interest of Africans as part of their agenda.

Siddhartha Mitter, journalist and consultant

I would be cautious about drawing direct lessons for African or other debtor states. For one thing, we don’t know yet where this story ends: Greece could yet get forced out of the Eurozone. Irrespective, the Greek crisis is as much a political crisis as it is an economic one. Greece is bound to its creditors by a double layer of political institutions: those of the EU, and those of the Eurozone. The transfer of Greek debt to the Eurozone governments and ECB, and the relatively small share of IMF debt in the overall Greek portfolio, only add to the political and intra-European nature of this crisis. The genius of Syriza, in calling the referendum, was to force the political stakes, and the need for a political resolution, to the surface.

Debtor states in Africa or elsewhere face a very different problem. They aren’t bound to their creditors in a political union. Much of their debt is commercial, and their official debt is largely to multilateral lenders. Bilateral debt is rarely the problem. Moreover, the austerity terms that the IMF and World Bank typically require are not quite as draconian as they were 10 or 20 years ago. And there are new lenders available, particularly China and the Gulf states. So it’s really a different game.

With that said, the political message from the Greek referendum — that there is a limit to austerity beyond which people cannot and should not tolerate further hardship — is one that will resonate worldwide. If it is to have an impact in Africa, I think that will be more among opposition parties, grassroots activists, and “civil society,” emboldening opposition to fiscal policies that governments may initiate to satisfy their creditors’ terms. In this short term, this risks making life more difficult for African governments, not easier. In the medium term, it should encourage them to do what smart ones are already doing: diversify their debt portfolio, and improve technical management of the economy no matter which policy orientation they favor.

Benjamin Fogel, writer and doctoral student in history, NYU

The Greek resistance to the EU’s austerity regime could only be possible after years of sustained struggle both within political parties and social movements since 2008. These are struggles are further drawing on the great traditions of Greek resistance beginning with the Greek war of independence against the Ottoman empire and later the resistance to both the Italian and German invasions during WW2 and the various Military Juntas of the last 50 years. This has produced an eclectic and militant left political scene in what there are a multiplicity of strong intellectual and political tendencies which combine to produce a left intelligentsia and activist scene capable of building hegemony over a large swathe of Greek society. It should be noted this resistance has no real solidarity from any other state in the Eurozone.

Debt peonage is something experienced by many African and third world countries, Greece and similar resistance and Latin America shows the need for us in South Africa to develop our own political movements and allied intelligentsia not only capable of building political power, but battling for hegemony, in the sense of providing an alternate vision of society, too often ‘resistance’ or ‘debt’ gets caught up in the depoliticised rhetoric of bourgeois NGOs masquerading as the political resistance to neoliberalism or as ‘civil society’, movements exist as fundraising tools, Greece shows both the courage and strength of working class based political movements and the ability to offer a model of resistance that breaks with depoliticised social justice rhetoric. 

Dennis Laumann, historian, University of Memphis

The gospel of neoliberalism is manifested not only in global capital’s insane insistence on “austerity” in the face of unemployment, homelessness, and hunger, but also in the perverted bourgeois morality that condemns, belittles, and silences any criticism of it.

At a recent, exhilarating and triumphant concert in Memphis by the Afrobeat star Seun Kuti, son of the late Fela and leader of his father’s band Egypt 80, the concert organizers felt compelled to apologize for his politics. Though “IMF,” a standout song from Kuti’s latest album, A Long Way to the Beginning, stands for “International motherfuckers,” it was his good-natured, often funny, but sincere bantering between songs, mostly about poverty and corruption and a few times laced with a swear word or two, which offended the venue management. First they displayed an impromptu and incomplete message on the giant stage screen – in the middle of Kuti’s set! –  apologizing for Kuti’s language and assuring the audience that they do not endorse the his political views. Then the same woman who enthusiastically introduced Kuti at the start of his set returned to the stage after his standing ovation to verbally reiterate the apology. Like the Greek “no” voters, however, the audience responded to her with loud boos and later insulted Levitt Shell, the concert venue, on its Facebook page (One of my favorites was the comment describing the giant electronic message as “Orwellian”).

It seems obvious the concert organizers knew nothing about Kuti’s politically-charged music when they invited him– not to mention his father or in fact his family lineage going back to his grandmother, the anti-colonial fighter Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti! Moreover, they somehow believe there are artists who do not have politics and audiences that cannot handle the truth. International motherfuckers, indeed. 

Flying to Frankfurt with a Super Eagle

I arrived at Murtala Muhammed airport after my last trip to Lagos dressed for the heat in drop crotch pants and a loose tank, both in varying shades of mottled grey. I kept my lowtop Chucks loosely laced, so I could slip them off at security. After the customs official who glanced through my bags advised me to get married instead of focusing on school, two men tried to chat me up, asking if I was a footballer. When I said no, they switched their guess over to basketball. I figured it was because of my tattoos—I always consider covering them up at the airport just to avoid the trouble they’ll cause, but Nigeria is too hot for sleeves. So instead I get my passports rechecked and rechecked, even when I’m cleared and waiting in the security line, because there’s always some immigration official who singles me out and demands to see my papers again. I’ve long since given up on flying under the radar.

Consequently, when the man I was standing behind at the gate casually glanced over at me, I wasn’t surprised. I know what I look like to Nigerians. Instead, I glanced back at him, noting that he was tall and well dressed, evaluating his shoes like New York taught me to. When he handed his passport to the agent, I noticed the cloud of dark freckles splashed over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones and I tried to guess if he was a redhead. He turned towards me and smiled a little, asking if I was going to the UK.

‘No, I’m going to the US,’ I said, and he winced.

‘Sorry,’ he said, and I made a face back.

‘I know.’ America. These days, it didn’t need extra words. We continued chatting and he told me that he lived in Belgium, close to Germany. People kept interrupting us to greet him and shake his hand, until I turned to him, too curious to ignore it.

‘You have to tell me how everyone knows you.’

He smiled. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

I thought of my brother. ‘You fly a lot.’

‘Nope.’

‘You work for Lufthansa.’

He laughed. ‘I’m too Nigerian for that.’

‘You…work for the airport.’ He winced again and I laughed. ‘Fine, what is it?’

He hesitated for a moment. ‘I used to be captain of the national football team,’ he admitted, and I slapped my palm to my face.

‘I should’ve guessed you were someone famous! What’s your name?’

‘It’s very easy to remember. It’s one of the days of the week, Sunday.’

My face stayed blank. ‘What’s your last name?’

Sunday laughed like he didn’t quite believe me. ‘There’s only one footballer with my first name. Look it up.’

‘Ah please, you want me to go and Google you? That’s not going to happen.’ He gave in.

‘Oliseh,’ he said, and the name clicked into my head like a sure thing.

‘Oh, I know you!’ I exclaimed and he laughed. ‘I’ll pretend like I believe you,’ he replied, but I meant it. I tend to remember names in their fullness and his name was stored there like Kanu Nwankwo or Jay-Jay Okocha.

Football is Nigeria’s national sport and you could feel it through every thread of my childhood. I remember our street erupting in screams when we scored goals or won, the roar pushing in through our windows. I was seven when Rashidi Yekini scored that first World Cup goal, and the memory of his face screaming into the net with his arms bent and clutching is permanent in my mind. I grew up in Enyimba City and our football chant made it out to a stage in Lagos where I watched Bantu singing ‘Nzogbu Enyimba, nzogbu-zogbu, Enyimba-enyi’ like we were all in Aba. Just a few weeks ago, I was having dinner at Yellow Chilli in Lagos as the Nigerian women’s team played on TV, and before I knew it, I found myself shouting and groaning at the screen with the other people in the room. I am Nigerian. I believe in the magic of football.

I had also bragged about the Olympic gold we won in ‘96 enough times, so I was duly impressed to be in casual conversation with one of the medalists, but I played it cool. As boarding started, we chatted about Sunday’s family in Belgium, his work with FIFA, and some trouble around the current captain Vincent Enyeama that he’d had to address. Once in the isolation of my seat, I Googled him and texted a few of my friends, laughing at myself for not connecting his last name.  When the plane landed in Frankfurt, we discussed racism in European football over croissants and before we parted ways, I whipped out my camera and made him take a selfie with me because, come on.

It’s Sunday Oliseh. I’m only Nigerian, after all.