Sean Jacobs's Blog, page 556

Cape Town Leather

The Rupert clan of South Africa owns a few businesses that make a lot of money: Cartier, Dunhill, Montblanc and Piaget, etcetera. Their fortunes began with Anthony Edward Rupert, who could not finish medical school "due to lack of funds," but thanks to apartheid magic (and business smarts) he began manufacturing cigarettes in his garage. He eventually built this into the tobacco industrial conglomerate The Rembrandt Group, which made him a billionaire. In the late '60s (think the time of the Rivonia Trials), a scion of the family purchased the L'Ormarins wine estate in Franschhoek in the then Cape province. The family's fortunes continued, with the addition of another wine estate, La Motte. One could say that Franschhoek's current stature is probably owed in large part to the efforts of the Ruperts to promote the district as a little corner of France, replete with cheeses, fruits, herbs, mushrooms, nuts, olives, coupled with the exotic appeal of the bush: ostrich and crocodile steaks. Of course, there's also the poorly paid coloured labour, but that's not in brochures intended to lure visitors.

Recently, one of the clan, Hanneli Rupert, opened a leather-goods outlet in South Africa, naming it "Okapi". And the PR is charming, though not aimed at anyone who has read any postcolonial critique in the last forty or so years. It begins harmlessly enough, with some inane nonsense about the Okapi being "the African Unicorn"; that "the elusive forest dwelling creature…has been hiding for millenia waiting to be discovered"; and that "she can shift shapes and as you navigate through the Okapi adventure try and figure out where she is hiding." The sales pitch includes some predictable lines about providing "job opportunities" and "growth," with "locally-sourced" materials, etc.

And then it got annoying. Apparently, the okapi "lives amongst the God's and Goddesses of Africa and over the years has taken on many of their powers."

Surely, the PR team that can be hired by the likes of the Ruperts knows about the proper use of plurals and possessives (not to mention using commas to separate coordinating conjunctions).

As I wandered to the "Campaign" pages, I began to wonder what exactly Hanneli meant when she "draws inspiration for her designs from the mystical traditions of Africa and its
 primordial beauty": is the primordial-quality of mystical Africa encapsulated within the exposed breasts of the black models, positioned (rather primordially, I must admit) amongst lianas, dugout canoes, a lily pond, and some strategic kudu horns? The promo video, where an all white crew photographs a (very beautiful) set of half-naked black women is the most troubling.

I can't say that I'm terribly surprised, since this is, after all, South Africa. And judging by the inspiration for the logo's typeface ("designed by hand for the brand. It's aesthetic was inspired by the art nouveau era often associated with an unchartered Africa. It was also during this time period that the Okapi was first discovered in the Belgian Congo"), I can see that some people haven't listened to Mbembe lately (or learned about the difference between its/it's: one is a possessive – its; the other, a contraction – it's).

In any case, even if the workmanship is stellar, the designs don't stand up to offerings by Longchamp, Dooney and Bourke, Cole Haan, or the ethereal Bottega Veneta's leather goods. If I'm gonna strap a thousand-dollar piece of cow to my shoulder, it'd better look more cutting edge than the offerings by Okapi.

Paris is a Continent N°10

Less than two months before France's presidential elections, this 'Letter to the Republic' couldn't come more timely. And it blew up accordingly. Kery James has some thoughts on France's history of racism, colonisation, and the African diaspora. "How can we love a country that hates us?"

Like Kery James, Nakk Mendosa wonders what it means to be 'black' and 'Arab' in France:

There's also a new video for Isleym's 'Risques et périls':

French-Senegalese Disiz La Peste returns to the stage after a three year break with 'Le poids d'un gravillon':

And this video for Tahra Sana's 'Molotov Land' becomes interesting halfway through:

"There is nothing left" in Alexandria

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The emigrants Céline Condorelli interviewed about their past lives in Alexandria, Egypt, often arrived at this conclusion: "Il n'y a plus rien [There is nothing left]." Condorelli, an artist of Italian and Egyptian descent currently based in London, found that Alexandria was experienced, even in the classical age, as a a city "that has been". She sees melancholia in the architecture of a place which constantly figures inevitability of its destruction. This idea, she recognizes, has implications for the city's current inhabitants. "There is always a shadow in statements like this, I wanted to look in the shadow."

This search resulted in a constellation of materials which Condorelli exhibited as Il n'y a plus rien, last year at the Alexandria Contemporary Arts Forum and Manifesta 8 in Murcia in 2010.

There is something almost funny about this (over)statement; the city, the artist reflects, "hasn't been bombarded … there hasn't been an earthquake." But this vision speaks to the reality experienced by those who are forced to leave the city in which they have built their lives.

Condorelli spoke to exiles who had left the country in 1956. A large population of Italians, Jews and Greeks worked in the cotton production industry, and many immediately lost their livelihoods when it was nationalised. "They didn't exactly have to leave violently, but became poor overnight." The cotton exchange was also the stage for Nasser's declaration that he had nationalised the Suez Canal Company. Condorelli is looking for what is "embedded in the square".

These exhibitions present found materials alongside "semi-fictional post-cards", new footage from the city, archival research into the cotton industry, and historical research into the former revolutions. With this, the project's interest in history as repetition becomes clear. If there is a melancholia to this work, it comes from the idea that the revolutions of the present may, in the future, become the failed revolutions of the past.

The first 'movement' of this project traces the journeys of 'Egyptian' cotton through India, Italy, and Lancashire. In the second, the painful journeys of the exile, constantly looking back at the ruins of a former life, is measured against the tireless movement of trade.

* Part of this work can be seen at the Social Fabric exhibition at the Rivington Gallery in London (until March 11th) and goes to Oslo next.

A Cappella Slaves

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Ever seen a poster for a touring boys' choir from Zambia? The adverts show a collection of cute young boys, grinning from ear to ear. Just in case American audiences wouldn't recognise that they are from Lion King Land, the boys are encased in some sort of oversized cheetah-print robes and positioned among some tall grass. Well, each of them were enslaved.

A "Christian" non-profit organization based in Sherman, Texas, imported orphaned Zambian boys under the guise of forming a world touring Zambian A Cappella Boys Choir. The story began when Teaching Teachers to Teach (TTT), a charity group from Texas, went to Zambia to help build schools. Hearing an impressive boys' choir apparently put dollar signs in the eyes of one couple from TTT; they brought the choir – some 67 boys – to the United States to put on concerts, under the guise of raising funds for school building projects in Zambia.

Needless to say, no funds went to the boys, their families, or to any charitable projects. Instead, the boys sang four to seven concerts a day. They even dug a swimming pool hole at the headquarters by hand. They were housed in a trailer; if they complained, their "boss" would cut off the gas so they could not cook. If they were tired or sick, they would be threatened with deportation, and a humiliating return to Zambia. Given Kachepa, a member of the choir who now lives in the US with his adoptive family, speaks about the shame and fear that held them captive: "…a lot of times we were shy to tell people about our situation because we'd been threatened, again with deportation, of going back to Zambia without anything." Perhaps that would not seem like enough of an incentive to stay enslaved; but I can imagine the fanfare they received when they left, carrying the hopes and dreams of entire villages hoping for a windfall from America. In a way, one could say that the boys were enslaved more subtly by their communities' demands and expectations, as well as by their more obvious slave masters.

Sandy Shepherd, a resident of Colleyville, Texas, suspected something fishy was going on with the boys' choir. But even when she dug up information about how the boys were being held against their will without any of the remuneration that was promised to their families, she found that at the time, there were no real avenues for reporting this crime. When Shepherd attempted to contact the authorities, she hit the proverbial brick wall:

"They were listening, but even the FBI said, you know, they weren't shackled, they weren't chained. They were free to walk in the area out in the country where they were being housed while they were on tour. But we knew that they were being exploited and couldn't get anybody to believe that in 1996 through 1998."

Eventually, after a year of exploiting the boys, the slave owners attempted to frighten them further by deporting a few of them. But their plan backfired: when INS came knocking, the whole scam was revealed.

Listen to the report on modern day human trafficking and slavery in the US on Talk of the Nation, NPR and see the documentary on CNN.

Black Bazar

Alain Mabanckou's 2009 novel Black Bazar spoke successfully to and about the African diaspora in France, their daily hustle, fashion, style and language. All through the eyes of the Congolese migrant nicknamed 'Fessologue', sapeur and pub philosopher, and arguably the author's alter ego. As a follow-up to the novel, Mabanckou now has produced an ambitious music album ("trying to change the way in which African music is perceived," he says) with Congolese musicians Modogo Abarambwa and Sam Tshintu. Other contributing artists come from Cuba, Colombia, Cameroon, the DRC, Congo-Brazzaville and Senegal. The above music video shows us what to expect (and Mabanckou gets his cameo).

Football: The 11 Commandments of Rigobert Song

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When the good Lord handed down the Decalogue to Moses atop Mount Sinai, he limited himself to just the ten commandments. The new boss of Cameroon's national football team, Rigobert Song, is obviously more demanding.

Song met up with his team in Guinea-Bissau this week, and made them all sign up to a rousing 11-point "sermon". Here is the English version, courtesy of the BBC:

The Cameroon national team is sacred, serving it is my only goal
The green-red-yellow is sacred, I shall wear it in every stadium, honour and defend it
Playing for my country is an honour, with loyalty, fidelity and courage I shall represent it
Each match and each selection is goodness shared with my people, my public and mates
With my team-mates I shall be strong, with friendship and solidarity my watchword
Respect for elders is a principle, from them I inherit this jersey, illustrious they handed it to me and glorious I will pass it on
I shall communicate with my coaches, comrades and officials, dialogue shall remain my strength
No matter the time and place, player or substitute I shall serve with enthusiasm and professionalism
I shall give my best in the field, I shall be humble and hold my head high
From North to South, East to West, I shall be a model for the youths of Cameroon and Africa
Indomitable I am, indomitable I shall remain

Blimey. Truth be told, it would be nice if Cameroon's Lions were a bit less domitable than they've been of late. Despite having many of Africa's most gifted players, including Rigobert's Arsenal-based cousin Alex, and of course the world's highest-paid footballer and timepiece obsessive Samuel Eto'o (who at one point was banned for an astonishing 15 matches) Cameroon have been all over the place since former French boss Paul Le Guen's strife-riven spell in charge.

Maybe the Nigerians should try something similar?

Friday Music Bonus Edition

Niagass comments on Senegal's president Wade's running for another term:

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We've also been listening to Robert Glasper's new album since it came out and we think you should too. He played 'Always Shine' with Lupe Fiasco and Bilal on Letterman this week:

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Michael Kiwanuka (again) with an acoustic version of 'Home Again':‬

And Wilow Amsgood (he calls himself "Brazzaïrois") with Entek and Grems: 'Ô Ma Femme (homme à femme)':

Mutombo's 375 kilograms of gold

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The Houston Chronicle was first to cover the bizarre story of former NBA star Dikembe Mutombo's botched gold job (after the UN published a report on it in December). Now The Atlantic also has a piece. The main players are Mutombo himself, a Houston businessman, a former West Point football player and Congolese army general and war criminal Bosco Ntaganda. Like all accounts about the 'trading' of minerals in Eastern Congo, it gets messy. Many other media ran away with the story, so we got to read again and again about the 4,5 ton of gold Mutombo planned on buying and reselling. The Atlantic also embedded a Powerpoint presentation which Mutombo used to convince potential 'investors' to get in on the deal. Strangely, the presentation talks about a "purchase quantity" of 375 kg of gold. I'm trying to figure out how those 375 kilograms turned into the 4,5 tons that are splashed all over the media.

Still, what was Mutombo thinking?

Witchcraft and the British Media

Yesterday, Magalie Bamu and her boyfriend Eric Bikubi, were convicted of killing Magalie's younger brother Kristy, who was fifteen. Kristy and his two sisters had travelled from Paris to visit his older sister in Newham, East London for Christmas in 2010. There, in a council block identical to thousands of others across London, Kristy was branded as a witch, a 'kindoki', and tortured for days in the most horrific of ways. When police entered the flat, they found the materials of his abuse scattered around the flat — pliers, ceramic tiles, a hammer, and Kristy's exorcised body lying drowned in the bath.

Following their conviction, the British media, from print (The Guardian, The Telegraph and The Independent — who provided the most in-depth and interesting coverage of the murder) to TV (Channel 4, the BBC and Sky News), all ran reports of 'witchcraft' in Britain. It seems Kristy's death, in addition to the high-profile case of Ivorian Victoria Climbié, an eight year old who was ritually abused and finally murdered by her great-aunt in 2000, touches a nerve about belief, and incites the media to speculate not only about the beliefs themselves, but our placement — as cultural 'outsiders' in relation to them. Can they be completely condemned as immoral? Or do we have to accept cultural difference, and merely condemn the acts that follow as a consequence?

The Guardian took a contextual and soft approach to the issues surrounding the death. The article suggested that 'accusations of witchcraft are part of growing patterns of child abuse in the UK', linked to the rise of pentecostal churches in Britain. With statistics from Scotland Yard and The Victoria Climbié Foundation, The Guardian reported that "the 83 incidents uncovered in the past decade only scratch the surface of a hidden crime, according to Detective Superintendent Terry Sharpe, head of the child abuse investigation command at Scotland Yard. An average of eight children a year in Greater London are victims of abuse based on witchcraft-style exorcisms, but this only reflects cases resulting in police investigations."

The Guardian also suggested that the internet can play a role in disseminating aggressive ideas about witchcraft to those living abroad; Youtube videos featuring well-known Nigerian preacher David Oyedepo reveal disturbing aggression and humiliating tactics against women he brands 'evil'.

Sky News took a different tactic, seeking less to understand how witchcraft beliefs are sustained within Britain, instead producing a short film on DRC exorcisms, interviewing people affected by the belief of witchcraft. It showed disturbing images of pastors and 'child witches', giving British audiences a somewhat closed, isolated entry into the belief of witchcraft that exists within the DRC, failing to mention any kind of contextual or historical factors that might play a role, only mentioned the buzzword 'poverty'. It clearly made the link between financial gain and belief, suggesting that pastors and preachers were exploiting worried parents.

A Newsnight feature on the BBC called the murder 'ferral', rightly, but then goes on to broadcast images of the implements used in Kristy's murder: the blood-stained pliers, ceramic tiles smashed and smeared in blood. This kind of reporting succumbs to the media's tendency to indulge in horror, knowing it will both disgust and attract their audience. Moving on to an interview with 'African religions expert' Dr. David Hoskins who links cultural and historical events with Kristy's death, the balanced nature of this part of the programme feels undermined by the earlier sensationalist images.

Channel 4, who also ran a programme about the murder, showed an incredibly moving interview with Pierre Bamu, Kristy's father. Tender, painful and sensitive, the Channel 4 coverage then undermined its sensitive approach by the inclusion of the sentence "…the ancient West African rituals of 'kindoki' or the belief that someone is possessed by an evil spirit, have weaved their murderous path into a family which had long left such beliefs behind."

It's the 'ancient' that clearly rings untrue in this, for what Kristy's death illustrates is that these are in fact not 'ancient' beliefs, but current, contemporary modes of thinking. It's easier to think of them as archaic, irrelevant, rearing their heads at moments of extreme brutality. But, as the situation in the DRC and other African countries shows, this isn't the case. It is a commonplace, widely held belief. Clearly witchcraft beliefs are not something left behind, in the 'primitive' days of central Africa, but rather a powerful, often-destructive belief that aids people in explaining the harsh realities of contemporary life. Few people in the mainstream media would call christian beliefs 'ancient'.

Hoskins, a senior lecturer in the Study of Religions at Bath Spa University, links the resurgence in witchcraft accusations toward children with their involvement as soldiers during the war, which has led to a deep fear of children as capable of evil and brutal acts.

He also claims that one of the main problems in effectively dealing with witchcraft abuse and killings in Britain is the 'liberal multicultural agenda', which acts as a block within British politics. Quoted in The Guardian, he says "we're quite happy to talk about what is inappropriate belief when it comes to terrorism or paedophilia, but when it comes to fundamentalist religious belief affecting child protection, we don't seem to want to talk about it."

The articles and broadcasts reflect a grey area; for they either explain away the fact of its happening in Britain by claiming the witchcraft beliefs originate elsewhere, thereby bypassing Britain's role in protecting, accommodating or changing these beliefs, or, they sensationalize the case, feeding once again into the predictable stream of news reporting that feeds Britain's anxiety toward 'foreigners' and 'immigrants'. I won't even go into the reporting in The Daily Mail, whose article about the murder is just downright offensive.

What these articles and broadcasts reflect is a sense of unease about migrant beliefs, and Britain's role in accommodating them. The reporting shows a will to contextualize witchcraft, but merely by linking it to 'Central Africa', rather than seeking to understand the truly complex political, social and religious reasons for their resurgence to such extremes, particularly when believers are in other parts of the world.

Arab Women Filmmakers in Berlin

'A Game' is a short fiction film from 2010 by Sudanese director Marwa Zein, based on Italian novelist Alberto Moravia's story 'Let's play a game'. Zein is one of the 'Arab Women Filmmakers' whose work will be screened and discussed at the Cervantes Institute in Berlin (with many of the directors attending). Other (older and new) films and directors are: Forbidden (Amal Ramsis), Kingdom of Women (Dahna Abourahme), Neither Allah, Nor Master (Nadia El Fani), Letter to my Sister (Habiba Djahnine), Damascus Roof and Tales of Paradise (Soudade Kaadan) and Lemon Flowers (Pamela Ghanimeh). A great selection. The series started earlier this week and runs till March 6. Details here. Trailer for the 'festival' here.