A Trip down Memory Lane : Lumumba’s death: Could we (Africans) have acted differently?

Patrice Lumumba

As always, ahead of June 30, the ‘independence’ day of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), we write about  Patrice Emery Lumumba, the first Prime Minister of Congo. This time, we will take a trip down memory lane with the great article by the prominent anti-colonial thinker, activist and writer, Frantz Fanon, which was published earlier here on Afrolegends in French in 2011.  (You will find the original here).  In view of all the events occurring in Africa (The New Scramble for Africa, Creation of the AES and destabilization attempts) with the United Nations (UN) approval, I thought that this article, published in 1964, was so important that I had translated it into English for all to read! In the article, Fanon talks about the kind of Africans who betray their people, and the uselessness (to us, Africans) of the UN which only serves Western interests. The scenario is the same and has not changed over the past 6 decades: wherever the UN lands in a country, all of sudden there are troubles, tensions, massacres, (ONUCI, MINUSMA, MONUSCO, …), etc.  Enjoy… For the full article, check out: Lumumba’s death: Could we (Africans) have acted differently?

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Frantz Fanon
Frantz Fanon

The great success of the enemies of Africa is to have corrupted the Africans themselves.  It is true that these Africans had vested interest in the murder of Lumumba.  Heads of puppet governments, in a fake independence, faced everyday by massive opposition from their peoples, it did not take long to convince themselves that the real independence of the Congo would put them personally at risk.  And there were other Africans, a little less puppet, but who get frightened when it comes to disengaging Africa from the West.  It seems as if these African Heads of State are still afraid to face Africa.  These, also, though less actively, but consciously, contributed to the deterioration of the situation in Congo.  Little by little, we were reaching the agreement in the West that there was a need to intervene in Congo, we could not let things evolve at this pace.

Gradually, the idea of a UN intervention was taking shape. So we can say today that two simultaneous errors were committed by Africans.

Patrice Lumumba
Patrice Lumumba

And first by Lumumba when he sought the intervention of the UN.  He should have never called on the United Nations.  The UN has never been able to properly solve problems brought to man’s consciousness by colonialism, and whenever it has intervened, it was to actually come to the aid of the colonial power to the oppressed country.  Look at Cameroon.  What kind of peace do the subjects of Mr. Ahidjo kept in check by a French expeditionary force, which most of the time, made ​​its debut in Algeria, enjoy?  The UN, however, controlled the autodetermination of Cameroon and the French government has set up a “Provisional Executive” there.

Look at Viet-Nam.  Look at Laos.

It is not true to say that the UN fail because the causes are too difficult.

Map of the Democratic Republic of Congo
Map of the Democratic Republic of Congo

In reality the UN is the legal card used by imperialist interests when brute force has failed.  The sharing, the mixed controlled joint committees, under guardianship are international means of torture to break the will of the people, cultivating anarchy, banditry and misery.

… Lumumba’s fault was then initially to believe in the impartiality of the UN. He forgot that the UN, particularly in the current state, is only a reserve assembly established by the Greats to continue, between two armed conflicts, the “peaceful struggle” for the balkanization of the world. …

Africans should remember this lesson.  If outside help is necessary to us, let us call on our friends.  Only they can truly and fully help us achieve our goals precisely because the friendship between us is a friendship of struggles.

… Our mistake, as Africans, is to have forgotten that the enemy never backs down sincerely.  He never understands.  He surrenders, but is not converted.

Our mistake is to have believed that the enemy had lost its militancy and its harmfulness.  If Lumumba disturbs, Lumumba should disappear.

Hesitation in commiting murder has never been a feature of imperialism.

“Tribute to Steve Biko” by Dennis Brutus

Steve Biko (Source: Britannica / Everett Collection)

The acclaimed South African poet Dennis Brutus wrote a poem in honor of Steve Biko; it was written on the anniversary of the Soweto Massacre a year later on June 16, 1978. Brutus said, “This poem written in tribute to Steve Biko reflects a long interest, including my founding of the Steve Biko Memorial Committee during exile in Chicago. Descriptions of the towns (including King Williamstown) were recalled from an earlier hitchhiking trip, from Port Elizabeth to East London. Twenty years later, Biko’s own fatal interrogation, in September 1977, occurred in the same building in Port Elizabeth in which I had been interrogated years earlier.” Steve Biko is known to many as the outspoken leader of the Black Consciousness (BC) movement. As the movement’s most prominent leader, he guided the movement of student discontent into a political force unprecedented in the history of South Africa that led to the end of apartheid in South Africa. He is known to Afro descendants around the world for his famous phrase “Black is Beautiful“, which was an inspiration to the civil rights movement in the USA, and to many other movements across the globe. Biko believed in the unity of the oppressed.

Tribute to Steve Biko

Poem composed for Steve Biko Day, San Antonio, June 16, 1978

The dusty roads
from Peddie to King
the yellow river
choking with silt
draining to i’Monti
the dust-filmed bluegums
poised and dreaming
in the arid air
the parching dust
harsh in the throat
and hurtful on the eyes
the crude teutonic towns
Hamburg, Berlin, Hanover
with their ominous echoes
— all these he knew
their roads he traversed:
they fired him with resolve
and smoldering anger
their racial hate seethed round him
like the surge of shimmering heatwaves
and laid a thousand lashes
on his taut flesh:
here he planned, dreamed,
waged his struggle
and hardened his will
to confront the butchers
to challenge their terror
—even if they robbed him of his life.
Dennis Brutus 16/6/78

Les Vautours / The Vultures by David Mandessi Diop

David Mandessi Diop

I found this gem of a poem by the great African poet David Mandessi Diop. Diop was born in France, of a Cameroonian mother from the royal Bell line with illustrious members such as Rudolf Duala Manga Bell and Ndumbe Lobe Bell (King Bell) both kings of the Duala people, and a Senegalese father. Although he died young, in a plane crash in 1960, he has left a strong imprint on African poetry. His most famous poem, Africa, has been one of my favorites growing up and was thought in schools throughout the continent. His work always focused on a condemnation of colonialism and slavery, while filled with hope for an independent Africa.

Vautour / Vulture

Thus, the poem Les Vautours (The Vultures) explores the horrors of colonialism and its impact on Africa. As one can guess, the Vultures are the colonizers who preyed on a fragile Africa, and exploited it with extreme violence. With the arrival of the Europeans, there was a clash of civilizations, Christianity was imposed upon our ancestors via machine guns as noted by the author’s reference to “monotonous rhythm of Pater-Nosters,” and slavery and later forced labor took a toll on them in the plantations or on the roads built referenced as “bloody monument.” When the author mentions “mutilated promises through machine guns,” it reminds us, for example, of the Thiaroye Camp where the tirailleurs were killed by French forces for simply asking for their pension after having served to free France from Nazi forces during World War II. As always, the author finishes on the high note of hope “Spring will put on flesh under our steps of light.” As one reads this poem, it appears that The Vultures are still at work on African soil, but the Spring is putting on flesh under Africans’ steps as we can see in the AES and more.

The original was published in Coups de pilon, Présence Africaine, 1956. Translated to English by Dr. Y., Afrolegends.com

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Les Vautours par David Mandessi Diop / The Vultures by David Mandessi Diop

Les VautoursEn ce temps là

A coups de gueule de civilisation

A coups d’eau bénite sur les fronts domestiqués

Les vautours construisaient à l’ombre de leurs serres

Le sanglant monument de l’ère tutélaire

En ce temps là

Les rires agonisaient dans l’enfer métallique des routes

Et le rythme monotone des Pater-Noster

Couvraient les hurlements des plantations à profit

O le souvenir acide des baisers arrachés

Les promesses mutilées au choc des mitrailleuses

Hommes étranges qui n’étiez pas des hommes

Vous saviez tous les livres vous ne saviez pas l’amour

Et les mains qui fécondent le ventre de la terre

Les racines de nos mains profondes comme la révolte

Malgré vos chants d’orgueil au milieu des charniers

Les villages désolés l’Afrique écartelée

L’espoir vivait en nous comme une citadelle

Et des mines du Souaziland à la sueur lourde des usines d’Europe

Le printemps prendra chair sous nos pas de clarté.

The VulturesIn that time

When civilization struck in a fit of anger

When holy water struck domesticated foreheads

The vultures built in the shadow of their claws

The bloody monument of the tutelary era

In that time

Laughter died away in the metallic hell of the roads

And the monotonous rhythm of Pater-nosters

Covered the screams on plantations run for profit

O sour memory of extorted kisses

Promises mutilated by machine-gun blasts

Strange men who were not men

You knew all the books you did not know love

Or the hands that fertilize the womb of the earth

The roots of our hands deep as the revolt

Despite your hymns of pride among graveyards

Villages laid to waste and Africa dismembered

Hope lived in us like a citadel

And from the mines of Swaziland to the heavy sweat of Europe’s factories

Spring will take shape under our steps of light.

Quote on Problems by Maryse Condé

A millennial tree

How true! Life’s problems are like trees. We see the trunk, we see the branches and the leaves. But we can’t see the roots, hidden deep down under the ground. And yet it is their shape and nature and how far they dig into the slimy humus to search for water that we need to know. Then perhaps we would understand.”

Maryse Condé, Crossing the Mangrove

Maryse Conde: The Grande Dame of Caribbean Literature is no more

Maryse Condé
Maryse Condé

The great Guadeloupean writer, the Grande dame of Caribbean literature, Maryse Condé has transitioned to the land of our ancestors at the age of 90. Condé’s work has touched so many throughout the world, as it was a bridge between Africa, the Caribbean, and Europe. Her best work, Segu, has been one of my favorites. My first encounter with Maryse Condé’s work, was when I read her book “La Belle Créole.” Then I read Segu, and really that was it! I was sold… It was unforgettable, strong, and vivid. This book might actually be among the first historical fiction books written by a person of African descent on one of the ancient African kingdoms spanning several decades. Set in the 18th century, it followed the life of Dousika Traore, a royal adviser in an ancient historical kingdom based in Segu in modern-day Mali, torn apart by the arrival of the slave trade and Islam. It reminded me of the Alex Haley’s Kunta Kinte or Roots saga. It was deep, rich, and truly captivating.

Moi, Tituba Sorciere de Maryse Conde

In “I, Tituba: Black Witch of Salem,” Condé told the story of a slave who was one of the first women to be accused of witchcraft during the 1692 Salem witch trials. It was based on the story of an American slave who was tried for witchcraft. Honestly, up until then, I could not fathom that a Black woman could have been on trial back then in the United States; but in reality, given how Africans were uprooted from the continent, and their religion, and spirituality, it should not have come as a surprise.

I read her other book, The last of the African Kings which is a fictional account following King Behanzin’s offsprings and entourage when he was in exile in Martinique, and their lives in the caribbeans and then the United States, after the French deported him there. It skillfully intertwined the themes of exile, memory, hope, loss, with Africa always in the background.

The Last of the African Kings, by Maryse Condé

After that, I read her other books A Season in Rihata, The Crossing of the Mangrove, La Vie Scélérate (Tree of Life: A Novel of the Caribbean), Desiderada.

Her themes always embraced motherhood, femininity, race relations, slavery, the Caribbeans, and Africa. Her novels drew upon African and Caribbean history. She has written over 20 novels,

Throughout her life, she was awarded France’s Legion of Honour in 2004, and twice nominated for the International Booker Prize – first for her entire body of work in 2015, then in 2023 for her final novel, The Gospel According to the New World. In 2018, she won an award set up in place of the Nobel Prize in Literature, which was engulfed in scandal. Condé was the first and remains the only winner of the New Academy Prize in Literature, whose judges praised the way she “describes the ravages of colonialism and post-colonial chaos in a language which is both precise and overwhelming“.

The excerpts below are from the Guardian.

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'Segu' by Maryse Conde
‘Segu’ by Maryse Conde

… Born Maryse Boucolon in Guadeloupe in 1934, the youngest of eight children, Condé described herself as a “spoilt child … oblivious to the outside world”. Her parents, she told the Guardian, never taught her about slavery and “were convinced France was the best place in the world”. She went to Paris at 16 for her education, but was expelled from school after two years: “When I came to study in France I discovered people’s prejudices. People believed I was inferior just because I was black. I had to prove to them I was gifted and to show to everybody that the colour of my skin didn’t matter – what matters is in your brain and in your heart.”

Guinea-Conakry
Guinea-Conakry

Studying at the Sorbonne, she began to learn about African history and slavery from fellow students and found sympathy with the Communist movement. She became pregnant after an affair with Haitian activist Jean Dominique. In 1958, she married the Guinean actor Mamadou Condé, a decision she later admitted was a means of regaining status as a black single mother. Within months their relationship was strained, and Condé moved to the Ivory Coast, spending the next decade in various African countries including Guinea, Senegal, Mali and Ghana, mixing with Che Guevera, Malcolm X, Julius Nyerere, Maya Angelou, future Ivory Coast president Laurent Gbagbo and Senegalese film-maker and author Ousmane Sembène.

Map and Flag of Ghana
Map and Flag of Ghana

Unable to speak local languages and presumed to hold francophile sympathies, Condé struggled to find her place in Africa. “I know now just how badly prepared I was to encounter Africa,” she would later say. “I had a very romantic vision, and I just wasn’t prepared, either politically or socially.” She remained outspoken until she was accused of subversive activity in Ghana and deported to London, where she worked as a BBC producer for two years. She eventually returned to France and earned her MA and PhD in comparative literature at Paris-Sorbonne University in 1975.

Her debut novel, Hérémakhonon, was published in 1976, with Condé saying she waited until she was nearly 40 because she “didn’t have confidence in myself and did not dare present my writing to the outside world”. The novel follows a Paris-educated Guadeloupean woman, who realises that her struggle to locate her identity is an internal journey, rather than a geographical one. Condé later recalled the Ghanaian author Ama Ata Aidoo telling her: “Africa … has codes that are easy to understand. It’s because you’re looking for something else … a land that is a foil that would allow you to be what you dream of being. And on that level, nobody can help you.” “I think she may have been right,” Condé later wrote.

… She gained prominence as a contemporary Caribbean writer with her third novel, Segu, in 1984. The novel follows the life of Dousika Traore, a royal adviser in the titular African kingdom in the late-18th century, who must deal with encroaching challenges from religion, colonisation and the slave trade over six decades. It was a bestseller and praised as “the most significant novel about black Africa published in many a year” by the New York Times.

“Raconte-moi”/”Tell Me” by Véronique Tadjo

Senufo face mask (Kpeliye’e) exposed at the MET

Slavery dealt a big blow to Africa. It dealt a big blow to her strength (imagine losing millions upon millions of some of your strongest children), to her self-confidence (imagine her children fearing for their lives chased into the depths of forests and savannahs), and to her soul. Then came colonization with forced labor, depersonnalization, confiscation of History, disregard for local cultures, cultural alienation, and colonial oppression. Slowly, the awakening is upon us; and slowly Africans are linking back to that glorious past of African civilizations, science, and cultures. The poem below by Ivorian author Véronique Tadjo is anchored upon that re-discovery of the African self in all its splendor, and connection to its roots in order to continue the legacy.

The poem “Raconte-moi” was published in Latérite / Red Earth, written in homage to Senufo culture, which won a literary prize from the Agence de Coopération Culturelle et Technique. The poem below was re-published  re-published in Anthologie Africaine: Poésie Vol2, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, 1988, and translated to English by Dr. Y. Afrolegends.com .

“Raconte-moi” de Véronique Tadjo / “Tell me” from Véronique Tadjo

Raconte-moi

La parole du Griot

Qui chante l’Afrique

Des temps immémoriaux

Il dit

Ces rois patients

Sur les cimes du silence

Et la beauté des vieux

Aux sourires fanés

Mon passé revenu

Du fond de ma mémoire

Comme un serpent totem

A mes chevilles lié

Ma solitude

Et mes espoirs brisés

Qu’apporterais-je

A mes enfants

Si j’ai perdu leur âme ?

Tell me

The word of the Griot

Who sings Africa

From times immemorial

He says

These patient kings

On the peaks of silence

And the beauty of the old ones

With faded smiles

My past returned

From the depths of my memory

Like a totem snake

To my ankles linked

My loneliness

And my hopes shattered

What will I brink

To my children

If I lost their soul?

‘Ma vie est une chanson / My Life is a Song’ by Francis Bebey

music_1Below is ‘Ma vie est une chanson‘ or ‘My Life is a Song‘, a love poem by Cameroonian author Francis Bebey, a poem celebrating his love for the African woman, in this case for his lover. As we remember that Francis Bebey was multi-talented as a journalist, writer, sculptor and musician, it is no surprise that the title of his poem is “My Life is a Song”. He even headed the UNESCO music department researching and documenting traditional African music. In the poem, he highlights that he was born from the love of the earth with the sun, thus a birth that was very celebrated and a life full of love. As we read the poem, Bebey’s love for his country is abundantly clear as he dreams of taking his lover there, and not only that, but lets her know that his country is where to find the love between the earth and the sun; it is almost as if he was telling all that he was born on the equator. Moreover, let’s face it, the link between the earth and the sun is undeniable, unbreakable, unavoidable, constant, and forever omnipresent. He is so taken by the love so much so that his life is a song that he will sing everyday to his precious one. Wouldn’t you all like to be loved like that? Enjoy!

The poem Ma vie est une chansonby Francis Bebey, was published in Anthologie africaine: poésie, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, Hatier 1988. Translated to English by Dr. Y. Afrolegends.com.

Ma vie est une chansonOn me demande parfois d’où je viens

Et je reponds “je n’en sais rien

Depuis longtemps je suis sur le chemin

Qui me conduit jusqu’ici

Mais je sais que je suis né de l’amour

De la terre avec le soleil”

Toute ma vie est une chanson

Que je chante pour dire combien je t’aime

Toute ma vie est une chanson

Que je fredonne auprès de toi

Ce soir il a plu, la route est mouillée

Mais je veux rester près de toi

Et t’emmener au pays d’où je viens

Ou j’ai caché mon secret

Et toi aussi tu naîtras de l’amour de la terre avec le soleil

Toute ma vie est une chanson

Que je chante pour dire combien je t’aime

Toute ma vie est une chanson

Que je fredonne auprès de toi.

My Life is a SongI am sometimes asked where I come from

And I answer “I don’t know

For a long time I have been on the way

That leads me here

But I know that I was born from the love

between the land and the sun”

My whole life is a song

That I sing to tell you how much I love you

My whole life is a song

That I hum next to you

Tonight it has rained, the road is wet

But I want to stay close to you

And take you to the land where I come from

Where I hid my secret

And you too will be born from the love of the earth with the sun

My whole life is a song

That I sing to tell you how much I love you

My whole life is a song

That I hum next to you.

The mind as a weapon – Quote by Steve Biko

Black Consciouness Movement flag with Steve Biko

Let’s open the year with this quote from Steve Biko, the leader of the Black Consciousness movement which guided the movement of student discontent into a political force unprecedented in the history of South Africa, culminating in the Soweto uprising of 1976, which helped in toppling the apartheid regime. His quote below applies to all societal problems, it is the issue of the haves and the have-nots, racism, classism, exploitation, and is of great actuality. 

The greatest weapon in the hand of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.” Speech in Cape Town, 1971

Reinstating an African Writer: The Case of Yambo Ouologuem

Mohamed Mbougar Sarr (Source: France 24)

At the end of 2021, we celebrated the win of Senegalese author Mohamed Mbougar Sarr, the first man from sub-Saharan Africa to win the prestigious literary Prix Goncourt, 100 years after René Maran who was the first person of African descent to win the prize for his controversial novel Batouala. Mbougar Sarr’s winning novel, La plus secrète mémoire des hommes (The Most Secret Memory of Men), tells the story of a young Senegalese writer living in Paris who stumbles by chance across a novel published in 1938 by a fictional African author named TC Elimane, nicknamed “the Black Rimbaud” by an ecstatic Paris media. The story, described as a reflection on the links between fiction and reality, follows the life of a cursed African writer echoing the real-life experience of the Malian writer Yambo Ouologuem who in 1968 was the first African winner of the prix Renaudot, but was later accused of plagiarism, and had to flee France back to his natal Mali, to live a reclusive life, and die in utter misery.

Malian writer Yambo Ouologuem in France in November 1968. Photograph: Yves Le Roux/Gamma-Rapho/Getty Images/The Guardian

Now thanks to Mbougar Sarr’s work, the publishing house Penguin Modern Classics is re-publishing the Yambo Ouologuem’s book over 50 years after his work was pulled out and banned. Le devoir de violence (published in English as Bound to Violence) was first published in 1968 by Editions du Seuil. After winning the Prix Renaudot that very year, Ouologuem became a celebrity equated to the likes of Leopold Sedar Senghor. “Ouologuem’s novel is harshly critical of African nationalism, and in fact reserves its greatest hostility for the violence Africans committed against other Africans” (Richard Posner on Plagiarism, the case of Yambo Ouologuem). For many critics, Africans in particular, Ouologuem’s book is a validation of the twisted views of the West on Africa who exonerate themselves of the violence they committed on Africans throughout centuries.

Excerpts below are from the Guardian. You can also check out the blog created by Ouologuem’s daughter or Richard Posner on Plagiarism, the case of Yambo Ouologuem at Amardeep Singh, or The Tortured Legacy of Yambo Ouologuem.

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In 1968 the books pages of the French newspaper Le Monde excitedly praised an uncompromising new novel, Bound to Violence, going on to salute its author as one of “the rare intellectuals of international stature presented to the world by Black Africa”.

The newspaper’s words, written in tribute to the young Malian writer Yambo Ouologuem, sound condescending today. Back then, however, the intended compliment was genuine and many European critics soon agreed: the publication of Ouologuem’s strange novel really did mark the arrival of a major new talent.

But the literary world can be brutal, and particularly so for a young African novelist living in Paris who was attempting a fresh twist on conventional storytelling.

Fellow African writers began to express shock at Ouologuem’s harsh parody of his own culture. Three years later damaging accusations of plagiarism had also emerged, including a public skirmish with Graham Greene, which ended Ouologuem’s short career. He retreated into the life of a recluse, returned to Mali and died in 2017, having never published again.

Now, 50 years after this scandal, Penguin Classics is to bring out a new English edition of Bound to Violence in a bid to rehabilitate the gifted author and introduce him to new readers.

“Hopes for a Better World” by Dennis Brutus

Dennis Brutus (Source: Sahistory.org.za)

I found this poem by the great South African writer, activist, educator, journalist, and poet, Dennis Brutus, “Hopes for a better world.” I found it quite appropriate in these times. Dennis Brutus is known as one of the most prolific South African writers. Born in then Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), Brutus grew up in Port Elizabeth (Gqeberha) where he was classified as “coloured” under South African apartheid codes. He was an activist against the apartheid government of South Africa in the 1950s and 1960s, best known for his campaign to have South Africa banned from the Olympic Games due to its institutionalized segregation system of apartheid. He is among Africa’s greatest and most influential modern poets.

This poem, “Hopes for a better world” was written on a trip from Caracas, Venezuela, to Durban, South Africa. At the beginning of the poem, Brutus stated, “There are lively political struggles in our time, particularly in Venezuela, Ecuador and Bolivia.” The poem is really about the outlook one has on life, the wish for simple joys, and the hope that something good will come. It highlights simple needs: the joys that come from a smile, the appreciation of frankness, openness, and friendliness.

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Hope

Hopes for a better world” by Dennis Brutus

Walking those ragged, pitted sidewalks

where walkers, shoppers surged

one had a sense of buoyant hope

surges of confidence, unleashed desire:

the broad-grinned ice cream vendor

frank gazed waitress swabbing spills:

all had a friendliness and trust:

it was good to walk those cordial streets

companioned by one striving to serve

Caracas to Durban, 2008-09, for p.b.