The Path to Freedom

There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires.” Long walk to freedom by Nelson Mandela, 1994

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Mountain: Mts Bamboutos, Cameroon

 

Sarah Baartman: The Movie

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‘Black Venus’ poster (Wikipedia)

I had to share the trailer for the movie on Sarah Baartman, Black Venus, which starred Yahima Torres and was released in 2010. The film was nominated for the Golden Lion at the 67th Venice International Film Festival, where [for what it is worth] it was awarded the Equal Opportunity Award. Here are articles from the BBC about Sarah Baartman The significance of Sarah Baartman, SA History – Sarah Baartman, and this article by Brand South Africa. As stated in this New York Times article, “[the story of Sarah Baartman] is “a symbol of the alienation and degradation of colonization, lost children, exile, the expropriation of female labor and the sexual and economic exploitation of black women by men, white and black.”

Sarah Baartman: The Black Venus

Sarah Baartman_Caricature drawn in early 19th century
Caricature of Sarah Baartman from the 19th century

I have long wanted to talk about Sarah Baartman, known as the Hottentot Venus or the Black Venus. This Black woman was promised a life of fortune, taken to Europe as a slave to be exhibited naked to men and women around Europe just because of her physique, the physique of a Black woman. Her life was that of humiliation, prostitution, and slavery of another name. Her story is a very hard one to hear when you are a Black woman, when you love Black women, or when you love women in general. Her life was not that of a Venus, but rather that of a sex slave and zoo animal being exposed naked all the time, and raped by men who dreamt of “trying” this Black Venus. She was displayed as a freak because of her unusual physical features, studied, dissected after death and will only finally be put to rest 187 years after her death.

Sarah Baartman_1
Saartje

Sawtche, from her real name, was born in 1789 in the Eastern Cape, of modern-day South Africa. Her father was from the Khoikhoi tribe, and her mother came from the Bushmen or San tribe, the oldest tribe in Southern Africa. Women from that tribe are known to have a lighter skin tone, with very developed hips. In the Khoi tribe, it is a sign of beauty, but to Europeans who had never seen it, it was considered a physical deformation or a sign of racial inferiority (not sure how having a flat bum-bum can attest of a race superiority). As a teen, Sawtche was a typical Khoi woman of medium build and light skin tone, and as will be said today, with a big bootie. Even if she was beautiful, no one in her tribe was shocked by her physique given that thousands of women were just as Sawtche.

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Exposed face of Sarah Baartman from the French Museum

She was captured and moved to the Gamtoos River as the slave of a rich Afrikaner farmer for whom she worked several months. A Dutch doctor working for the Royal Navy, William Dunlop, met the farmer, and noticed Sawtche and was not indifferent to her physique. She seemed to meet all his sexual fantasies, and so he decided to buy her. He made her his slave and sexual servant, and took her back to Cape Town, and from there taken onboard a boat to London where he gave her the name Sarah or Saartjie (little Sarah in dutch).

Sarah Baartman_La_Belle_Hottentot_illustration de la mode des zoos humains
La Belle Hottentot on display, French print, 19th century

In 1810 in London, Sarah was only 16, and Dunlop was very manipulative. He constantly had sexual relations with her, and the young woman thought he loved her. He made her believe that in London, and throughout Europe, she could become rich just by exposing her body. He told her that white women didn’t have the same physique and will be willing to see her in exchange for some money. White Men will be crazy to touch and get the power to touch a Black woman, object of their wildest most secret fantasies, in exchange for money.

Sarah accepted without hesitation, and was quickly exposed in cities in England and in the Netherlands, exhibiting her body under all orders given her. As an animal, she walked, stood up or sat obediently. The public was mixed with astonishment, amusement, disgust, and stupefaction. Those men and women who wanted to approach her, those who wanted to touch her did. People told her all sorts of words, sweet as well as disdainful. Doctors and scientists came up with all sorts of theories to explain her anatomy. It was clear to them that Sarah was the proof of the Black race’s inferiority! To them, she was victim of a sickness that was the lot of all people of her race. Her sickness was called steatopygy, and since her sexual organs were abnormally developed she was said to be suffering from macronymphy (even though this is a normal characteristic found only in Black women).

Sawtche_(dite_Sarah_Saartjie_Baartman),_étudiée_comme_Femme_de_race_Bôchismann,_Histoire_Naturelle_des_Mammifères,_tome_II,_Cuvier,_Werner,_de_Lasteyrie
Illustration of Sarah Baartman from Illutrations Histoire Naturelle des mammiferes (History of Natural studies of mammals)

A young Jamaican, Robert Wedderburn, activist against racism and slavery watched those disgusting scenes and decided to act. He formed a support group for Sarah and started a series of judiciary pressures against the British government to stop this sort of horrible spectacles. Because of all these pressures, Sarah was taken to Paris, where she was exposed publicly between two circus spectacles, in music halls, and in the halls of the Haute Bourgeoisie. They called her the Hottentot Venus. She ended up being forced to prostitute herself at private soirees where she became a true sex object, believing that in due time she will be given the money she had made up to then.

It is at that time that she became the subject of studies by zoologist and surgeon Georges Cuvier, generalist, and surgeon of Napoleon Bonaparte. For him, Sarah was the missing link between the animal and man. The zoology professor and administrator of the National museum of Natural History of France, Etienne Geoffroy de Saint Hilaire, asked for the official authorization to “profit from the circumstances given them to have a Bushman woman in Paris to study, with more precision, the distinct characteristics of a peculiar race.” [« profiter de la circonstance offerte par la présence à Paris d’une femme bochimane pour donner avec plus de précision qu’on ne l’a fait jusqu’à ce jour, les caractères distinctifs de cette race curieuse. » ] de Saint Hilaire concluded his studies by comparing the face of Sarah with that of an orang-utang and her buttocks to those of female mandrills!

Sarah Baartman_A_Pair_of_Broad_Bottoms_caricature de William Heath 1810
1810 caricature of Sarah Baartman by William Heath

Later, the writer Victor Hugo made reference to Sarah in his work “Les Misérables” in 1862, describing the activities of the city of Paris: “Paris is like a good child. He royally accepts everything: it is not difficult in fact of a Venus; Her callipyge is Hottentot; provided he laughs, he amnesties ; ugliness cheers him, difformity delights him, vice distracts him […]: « Paris est bon enfant. Il accepte royalement tout ; il n’est pas difficile en fait de Vénus ; sa callipyge est hottentote ; pourvu qu’il rie, il amnistie ; la laideur l’égaye, la difformité le désopile, le vice le distrait […] »

Sarah died in Paris on 29 December 1815 at the age of 26. She died poor, she who was made to think that she could become rich by exposing her body as an art object.

After her death, Georges Cuvier dissected her body, and displayed her remains. He gathered her brains and genital organs which he conserved in formol. He extracted her skeleton and continued his studies about the missing link between humans and monkey. In 1817, he presented his work at the Academy of Medicine, and concluded, “the races [the niggers] are condemned to eternal inferiority.” [« Les races à crâne déprimé et comprimé [les “ nègres ”] sont condamnées à une éternelle infériorité. »]

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Advertisement for Sarah’s exposition

Her genitals, skeleton, brain, and a plaster cast of her body were exposed for over 150 years in Paris until 1975. In 1994, when Nelson Mandela became president of South Africa, the Khoi people’s first request was for the return of Sarah’s remains. But the French government refused stating that they wanted to conserve their “national collections.” However, after several discussions, on 9 August 2002, Sarah was inhumed near the village of Hankey in Eastern Cape in a ceremony presided by President Thabo Mbeki, several ministers, and traditional chiefs Khoi.

Weird how today, most women around the world wish for a nice bum-bum, and some are willing to pay thousands to have it protruding, while the beautiful Sarah was exploited, humiliated, raped, for simply being beautiful, the way her Creator had made her.

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Nelson Rohlilahla Mandela

There’s more to the story: Sarah would have been considered highly attractive and desirable to her people. The Dutch told Sarah if she came with them to Paris they would make her a celebrity and she would be treated like a queen. Her humiliation was even greater because she was deceived. If only Sarah had known that nearly 50 years after her death she would inspire the fashion of the times. Women wanted to resemble her shape so they began wearing corsets and ridiculous layers of clothes with a back bump. Her shape became the most coveted and white women would risk death wearing constricting corsets. In fact, many white women died from having their ribs crushed and internal organs like kidneys and the stomach moved up and out of place. Instead Sarah died of shame and disease.  At last, in 2002, she was laid back into dignity at home among her ancestors!

Quote by Miriam Makeba on Endurance

A true African beauty: Mama Africa, Miriam Makeba
A true African beauty: Mama Africa, Miriam Makeba

I look at an ant and I see myself: a native South African, endowed by nature with a strength much greater than my size so I might cope with the weight of a racism that crushes my spirit.” Miriam Makeba

Black ant
Fourmi / Ant

“Pleure, Ô Noir Frère Bien-Aimé” de Patrice Lumumba / “Weep, Beloved Black Brother” by Patrice Lumumba

Patrice Emery Lumumba
Patrice Emery Lumumba

The 30 June 1960 marks the independence of the then Congo-Belge (Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC)) from Belgium. We will celebrate DRC’s independence today with a poem by one of Congo’s proud sons, none other than its first democratically elected Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba, “Pleure, Ô Noir Frère bien-aimé (Weep, beloved black brother)”. This poem was published in the journal INDEPENDANCE, organe du M.N.C., en septembre 1959 (Cf. La pensée politique de Patrice LUMUMBA, textes et documents recueillis par Jean VAN LIERDE, Présence Africaine, 1963, p. 69-70). Translated to English by Lillian Lowenfels and Nan Apotheker.

 

Pleure, O Noir Frère bien-aimé

O Noir, bétail humain depuis des millénaires
Tes cendres s’éparpillent à tous les vents du ciel
Et tu bâtis jadis les temples funéraires
Où dorment les bourreaux d’un sommeil éternel.
Poursuivi et traqué, chassé de tes villages,
Vaincu en des batailles où la loi du plus fort,
En ces siècles barbares de rapt et de carnage,
Signifiait pour toi l’esclavage ou la mort,
Tu t’étais réfugié en ces forêts profondes
Où l’autre mort guettait sous son masque fiévreux
Sous la dent du félin, ou dans l’étreinte immonde
Et froide du serpent, t’écrasant peu à peu.
Et puis s’en vint le Blanc, plus sournois, plus rusé et rapace
Qui échangeait ton or pour de la pacotille,
Violentant tes femmes, enivrant tes guerriers,
Parquant en ses vaisseaux tes garçons et tes filles.
Le tam-tam bourdonnait de village en village
Portant au loin le deuil, semant le désarroi,
Disant le grand départ pour les lointains rivages
Où le coton est Dieu et le dollar Roi
Condamné au travail forcé, tel une bête de somme
De l’aube au crépuscule sous un soleil de feu
Pour te faire oublier que tu étais un homme
On t’apprit à chanter les louanges de Dieu.
Et ces divers cantiques, en rythmant ton calvaire
Te donnaient l’espoir en un monde meilleur…
Mais en ton cœur de créature humaine, tu ne demandais guère
Que ton droit à la vie et ta part de bonheur.
Assis autour du feu, les yeux pleins de rêve et d’angoisse
Chantant des mélopées qui disaient ton cafard
Parfois joyeux aussi, lorsque montait la sève
Tu dansais, éperdu, dans la moiteur du soir.
Et c’est là que jaillit, magnifique,
Sensuelle et virile comme une voix d’airain
Issue de ta douleur, ta puissante musique,
Le jazz, aujourd’hui admiré dans le monde
En forçant le respect de l’homme blanc,
En lui disant tout haut que dorénavant,
Ce pays n’est plus le sien comme aux vieux temps.
Tu as permis ainsi à tes frères de race
De relever la tête et de regarder en face
L’avenir heureux que promet la délivrance.
Les rives du grand fleuve, pleines de promesses
Sont désormais tiennes.
Cette terre et toutes ses richesses
Sont désormais tiennes.
Et là haut, le soleil de feu dans un ciel sans couleur,
De sa chaleur étouffera ta douleur
Ses rayons brûlants sécheront pour toujours
La larme qu’ont coulée tes ancêtres,
Martyrisés par leurs tyranniques maîtres,
Sur ce sol que tu chéris toujours.
Et tu feras du Congo, une nation libre et heureuse,
Au centre de cette gigantesque Afrique Noire.

 

Weep, Beloved Black Brother

O black man, beast of burden through the centuries,
Your ashes scattered to the winds of heaven,
There was a time when you built burial temples
In which your murderers sleep their final sleep.
Hunted down and tracked, driven from your homes.
Beaten in battles where brute force prevailed.
Barbaric centuries of rape and carnage
That offered you the choice of death or slavery.
You went for refuge to the forest depths,
And other deaths waylaid you, burning fevers,
Jaws of wild beasts, the cold, unholy coils
Of snakes who crushed you gradually to death.
Then came the white man, more clever, tricky, cruel,
He took your gold in trade for shoddy stuff,
He raped your women, made your warriors drunk,
Penned up you sons and daughters on his ships.
The tom-toms hummed through all the villages,
Spreading afar the mourning, the wild grief
At news of exile to a distant land
Where cotton is God and the dollar King.
Condemned to enforced labor, beasts of burden,
Under a burning sun from dawn to dusk,
So that you might forget you are a man
They taught your to sing the praises of their God,
And these hosannas, tuned in to your sorrows,
Gave you the hope of a better world to come.
But in your human heart you only asked
The right to live, your share of happiness.
Beside your fire, your eyes reflect your dreams and suffering,
You sang the chants that gave voice to your blues.
And sometimes to your joys, when sap rose in the trees
And you danced wildly in the damp of evening.
And out of this sprang forth, magnificent,
Alive and virile, like a bell of brass
Sounding your sorrow, that powerful music,
Jazz, now loved, admired throughout the world,
Compelling the white man to respect,
Announcing in clear loud tones from this time on
This country no longer belongs to him.
And thus you made the brothers of your race
Lift up their heads to see clear, straight ahead
The happy future bearing deliverance.
The banks of a great river in flower with hope
Are yours from this time onward.
The earth and all its riches
Are yours from this time onward.
The blazing sun in the colorless sky
Dissolves our sorrow in a wave of warmth.
Its burning rays will help to dry forever
The flood of tears shed by our ancestors,
Martyrs of the tyranny of the masters.
And on this earth which you will always love
You will make the Congo a nation, happy and free,
In the very heart of vast Black Africa.

 

Ghanaian Talented Inventor

Ghanaian inventor, Asidu Abudu, fabricates things to make every day chores easier and faster. Imagine helping women who just finished a whole day in the fields, and who have to come back and pound eba to feed the entire family? Now you have a machine which pounds it for you, and gives you a break, all compliments of this brilliant inventor!

Great Quote by Miriam Makeba

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True African Beauty: Miriam Makeba

The conqueror writes history; they came, they conquered, and they write. You don’t expect people who come to invade us to write the truth about us…” Miriam Makeba

Le vainqueur écrit l’histoire, ils sont venus, ils ont vaincu et ils ont écrit. On ne peut pas attendre de ceux qui nous ont envahi qu’ils écrivent la vérité sur nous…” Miriam Makeba

Great Quote by Miriam Makeba on Equality

miriam-makeba
Miriam Makeba, True African Beauty (sahistory.org.za)

I ask you and all the leaders of the world: Would you act differently, would you keep silent and do nothing if you were in our place? Would you not resist if you were allowed no rights in your own country because the color of your skin is different to that of the rulers, and if you were punished for even asking for equality? I appeal to you, and through you to all the countries of the world, to do everything you can to stop the coming tragedy. I appeal to you to save the lives of our leaders, to empty the prisons of all those who should never have been there.” Miriam Makeba

Africa is funding Europe!

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Mallence Bart-Williams

I had to share this snippet of Mallence Bart-Williams’ TEDx talk. It is so good. It says it all! We, Africans, are made to think that we are poor, when in reality, like Jacques Chirac, previous French president, said “without Africa, France will be relegated to a third world power.”

Mallence says it so well…”why is it that, 5000 units of our currency is worth 1 unit of your currency, when we are the ones with the actual gold reserves! It is quite evident that the aid is in fact not coming from the west to Africa, but from Africa to the Western world, the Western world depends on Africa in every possible way!“…  “So sweet of you to come with your colored paper for our gold and diamond.” “we want to share with you our wealth and invite you to share with us.” And “…in nature, any species that is over hunting, over exploiting the resources they depend on for nourishment, natural selection will sooner or later take the predator out because it offsets the balance!” This is to all Africans, stop thinking yourself poor, and rise!

“Vos yeux prophétisent une douleur” de Tchicaya U Tam’si / “Your Eyes Prophesy a Pain” by Tchicaya U Tam’si

Tchicaya UTamsi
Tchicaya U Tam’si (Revuenoire.com)

I share with you a poem by the late Congolese writer Tchicaya U Tam’si, “Vos yeux prophétisent une douleur”/”Your Eyes Prophesy a Pain.” Gérald-Félix Tchicaya is mostly known by his pseudonym Tchicaya U Tam’si, where U Tam’si means ‘the one who speaks for his country‘. Born in Mpili in the former French Congo (Republic of Congo), he was a poet, journalist, and an activist. He is considered by many as one of the greatest poets of his generation.

Patrice Emery Lumumba
Patrice Emery Lumumba

U Tam’si’s poetry uses symbolism, dark humor, and surrealist, corporeal imagery to explore cultural identity in a politically unstable society. A member of the Congolese independence movement, a friend of Patrice Lumumba, U Tam’si creates work on the nature of African identity that is sometimes connected to Aimé Césaire’s Negritude movement, which advocated for the protection of a distinct African culture in the face of French colonialism and European exploitation.

To me, the pain U Tam’si talks about in this poem is that of slavery, of colonialism, of neo-colonialism, of tribalism. He talks as if he was in the 1600s, during slavery times, and predicting more pain. What do you think? What pain is U Tam’si talking about? The original poem was published in Anthologie Africaine: Poésie Vol2, Jacques Chevrier, Collection Monde Noir Poche, 1988; the English translation is brought to you by Dr. Y., Afrolegends.com.

Vos yeux prophétisent une douleur…

Comme trois terrils, trois collines de cendres!

Mais dites-moi de qui sont ces cendres?

La mer obéissait déjà aux seuls négriers

Des négres s’y laissaient prendre

Malgré les sortilèges de leurs sourires

On sonnait le tocsin

A coups de pied au ventre

De passantes enceintes:

Il y a un couvre-feu pour faisander leur agonie

Les feux de brousse surtout donnent de mauvais rêves

Quant à moi

Quel crime commettrais-je ?

Si je violais la lune

Les ressusciterais-je ?

Quelle douleur prophétisent vos yeux ?

 

Your eyes prophesy a pain …

As three heaps, three hills of ashes!

But tell me, from whom are those ashes?

The sea already obeyed only the slave ships

Niggers were being captured

Despite the spells of their smiles

The tocsin was sounded

Through kicks in the belly

Of pregnant passers-by:

There is a curfew to intensify their agony

Bushfires especially give nightmares

As for me

What crime would I commit?

If I raped the moon

Will I resuscitate them?

What pain do your eyes prophesy?