Out of Big-Hearted Africa
By: Susan Scharfman
“What do the planes bring to Africa? The answers vary. In any case, they leave behind a scene of misery and devastation that “Darwin’s Nightmare” presents as the agonized human face of globalization. While the flesh of millions of Nile perch is stripped, cleaned and flash-frozen for export to wealthy countries, millions of people in the Tanzanian interior live on the brink of famine.” —A. O. Scott, The New York Times Movie Review, Sunday, September 11, 2005
The devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina on America’s gulf region brings to mind the tragedy of Africans in Africa who are dying like the flies on the faces of their emaciated children. The parallel between the slow response to pleas of help from Louisiana’s state and local leaders, and the indifference to genocide and hunger throughout Africa is not coincidental. Why is it that as a former U.S. Government employee whose assignments included nine years in various African countries, I do not see improvement in the quality of life of the indigenous people thirty years later? In many instances it is worse. The answers are complex even for the experts, which I am not. But consider this: From the first invaders to Africa eons ago, to eighteenth and nineteenth century colonists to the present assortment of plunderers, everyone takes from big-hearted Africa.
Predominantly Islamic North Africa is rich in natural resources, has a moderate climate, abundant antiquities and active tourist industries. Considering the problems left behind from Apartheid, South Africa still remains the largest producer of platinum and gold, and its wonderful game parks attract thousands of wealthy tourists. But what about the rest of Africa, the hundreds of thousands of square miles between the north, south, east and west? For centuries the old trans-Saharan camel caravan routes were highways for taking out ivory, gold, silk, salt and black Africans to the slave markets of Timbuktu. Then and now, everyone takes from Africa.
Years ago, while on temporary assignment in Tanzania to work with local embassy staff, I visited the nearby breezy island of Zanzibar. The aroma of spices was ubiquitous, as were the exquisitely carved wooden doors of residents’ homes. Unique to that place, the doors were art treasures. Today you can still smell the spices, but the original doors are now coffee tables in Beverly Hills. Authentic antique woodcarvings, bronzes, textiles and sculptures from across Africa have vanished into museums and collectors’ homes. It is our good fortune that the ingenuity of the people who produced this imaginative art (and music) is alive today in their descendants who are scattered across the globe, many in America, some in New Orleans. (http://www.africanart.org/html/exhibitions.html)
In a remote area of Ethiopia I once talked with a woman who was languishing in front of her hut. “I don’t want charity,” she said. “Just a few seeds, a few beans that I can plant myself.” Rather than handouts, people want the opportunity to do for themselves. They may be illiterate, but they’re not stupid. While geography and climate play a roll in the pervasive hopelessness that exists in the majority of African countries, to a greater extent it’s the corrupt African generals and politicians who keep their citizens in poverty. When Western leaders visit, the cameras turn our attention ever so briefly to the desperate need for humanitarian aid. When the cameras leave so does our capricious attention; we don’t like watching the ugly and that is what despots count on. We never get to know the sweetness of these innocent people. Instead we are conditioned to seeing the poor starving African, the down-and-out ghetto American. We have developed a consciousness of passive indifference. When Barbara Bush made her recent “silver lining” statement I like to think it was not out of meanness. In my view it is a way of thinking, subliminal or not, that many westerners are comfortable with because it avoids guilt and responsibility. If this kind of thinking continues, starvation, atrocities and genocide will continue to rape the big-hearted continent from which the developed world takes. Could the New Orleans nightmare of abandonment of the helpless be repeated in other American cities? “Am I My Brother’s Keeper?” Genesis 4:9
Susan Scharfman is a freelance writer and former foreign service officer.