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| Fall 2000 |
Marge
Shannon Snoeren
|
Vol.
5, No. 1
|
Peace
Corps Pays Tribute to Coverdell
Building African IT and Communications
A Brits First Thanksgiving
His Peoples Art
After Things Fell Apart
Back to Africa with Crisis Corps
by E. Timothy Carroll, (9) 63-65
Remembered mainly for the 25 countries which he opened to Volunteers in the ex-communist bloc, the late Senator Paul D. Coverdell was honored in a memorial tribute from Peace Corps, in Shriver Hall, Washington, September 19.
Director Mark Schneider welcomed guests and introduced speakers. Senator Chris Dodd (D-Conn), RPCV Dominican Republic, opened the service, followed by Elaine Chao, Peace Corps Director 91-92. Jody Olsen, Coverdell’s Chief of Staff, spoke of their travels together, and Ambassador Geoana of Romania, represented the countries served by Peace Corps.
Coverdell died in Atlanta on Tuesday, July 18, after suffering an aneurysm on the previous Saturday. As a memorial, World Wise Schools Program will bear Coverdell's name, and annual awards will be presented to the three top teachers in America who participate in the program.
Director Coverdell re-opened Nigeria during his tenure. Assisted by RPCV Jim Ekstrom, 63-65, they sent volunteers to the North and Midwest in a second attempt to bring Peace Corps assistance to the villages of our adopted country. Because of internal dissent, the program did not last long, but we do have RPCVs from that unique period in FON today.
Director
Coverdell, who become Senior Senator from Georgia and an insider with the Bush
Campaign, was a loyal spokesman for all Peace Corps appropriations on The Hill
and considered his two years at Peace Corps the most productive of his life.
He is survived by his widow, Nancy, who attended the tribute. ▪
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BUILDING AFRICAN IT AND COMMUNICATIONS
by Ed Malloy, (5) 62-65
Editors Note: The author, an information technology/communications expert, has worked at numerous post round the world for 30 years.
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| Ed Malloy (L) chats with Ernest Ndukwe (C), Nigerian Communication Commission Chief Executive, and Raymond Akwule (R), Professor at George Mason University, Fairfax, VA. |
There I was, cramped in an economy class seat on British Air from Gatwick to Abuja, wearied by the long trip from Washington, trying to prepare for the meetings only 12 hours away—and all I could think about was riding my blue Honda motorcycle in Oshogbo, Kano, Akure and Ibadan, where, at our New Years Eve party in 1963-64, Harry Drexler (bless his enormous soul) and I drove it into the swimming pool at midnight to the tune of auld lang syne. So many vivid memories. So many years. What would the newly-democratized Nigeria be like? What would this retired foreign service officer be like in comparison to that free-spirited PCV teacher at Oshogbo Grammar School?
Bridging the Digital Divide
Another RPCV, Lane Smith of the USAID Africa Bureau, and I had conceived of this mission even before the President announced his intention to visit Nigeria in August. This was the year of the global digital divide. It was becoming increasingly evident that the massive incorporation of information and communication technologies (ICT’s) in the U.S. had boosted productivity and sustained economic growth. The leading nations of Europe were beginning to follow a similar pattern.
What then would happen to poor countries? Would the information-rich countries get richer and the information-poor countries poorer? The need to address the digital divide became the main theme of the G8 Summit in July, and it became an important theme for the White House in planning the President’s visit to Nigeria. The Secretary of State had included Nigeria (with Ukraine, Colombia and Indonesia) in “a four-democracy initiative” intended to bolster four strategically important but fragile democratic nations.
As a result, our plans to participate in the Africa Internet Summit (Afrinet) and organize a telecommunications regulatory workshop Sept. 18-22 in the Nigerian capital of Abuja took on a new meaning. This would be the first ICT developmental activity since the President’s visit. I no longer had to beg experts to join us. They were pleased to be invited. We also got a green light to meet with the Nigerian telecommunications authorities to develop a bilateral assistance program.
Promoting Policy Reform
So there I was, straight off the plane after a 20-hour trip, at the gala dinner shaking hands with Nigeria’s officialdom and looking just as disheveled as I did as a PCV after a night of drinking Star beer and dancing the Highlife at the Paradise Club in Ibadan. And the next morning I was to look and act like an expert in chairing a morning session at Afrinet on electronic commerce. Some things don’t change.
Although my scope is limited to information and communications policy, I am tremendously impressed by the knowledge and dedication of the African authorities and experts I meet in conferences like these. There is a conviction that Africa has to have access to the Internet, computers and basic communications, that the new technologies are both affordable and adaptable to local conditions, and therefore that access for rural and other under-served populations is now a real possibility. Country after country is dismantling the creaky old state-owned monopolies from the colonial era, and introducing competition and private investment as well as establishing non-discriminatory and open regulatory bodies. Nigeria is no exception.
African ICTs
The workshop for African telecommunications regulators, which was my main focus, featured experts from the International Telecommunication Union, the U.S. Federal Communications Commission and Department of Commerce, USAID, as well as the National Telephone Cooperative Association and George Mason University. The workshop produced a lively dialogue and appeared to break new ground for many of the 80 participants, not only in technical regulatory areas as spectrum management, interconnection and pricing but also in expanding access for rural and other underserved populations.
Many of the participants were interested in the experience of Senegal, which, by appropriate policy and pricing, had made it possible for private entrepreneurs to open 9000 profit-making telephone shops, cyberkiosks and telecenters. The emergence of communications in rural areas appears to have been a major factor in ensuring that the recent national elections, which produced a change in government, were free of fraud. The African participants concluded the workshop by calling for the establishment of the West African Telecommunications Regulators Association and establishing a working group to pursue that end.
In meetings with senior Nigerian officials after the workshop, we agreed to assist the Nigerian government in establishing a new mechanism for developing rural access, in preparing legislation and regulations, and promoting policy reform, and in promoting regional cooperation. Did we make a revolutionary breakthrough? Clearly not. But we hope to help a process that will take a long time for Nigerians themselves to accomplish.
What about Abuja?
Abuja, the new city of a million, has replaced Abuja the small town, which Howard Soroos, (11) 64-66, my replacement at Oshogbo Grammar School, visited long ago and now reminds me was known for traditional pottery. The city is now known for brilliant architecture, skyscraping government buildings, a story-book national mosque and an incomplete national church of equal story-book dimensions, broad boulevards, but hardly any place for its transplants from Lagos to live and recreate. If there is an urban plan, it is not evident. After touring several markets in a frantic search for traditional goods, I concluded that nearly everything there was manufactured abroad.
Nobody loves a big new city. It is easy to criticize Abuja when your standard is the traditional town you served in as a PCV. As a capital, it works pretty well. The government buildings are in operation. The population is growing. The Sheraton and Hilton are excellent hotels for the droves of foreign visitors. British Air stops in Abuja, relieving the traveler of negotiating Lagos airport.
What about Nigeria?
But what of Nigeria? My dealings with the Nigerian Communications Commission and the Minister of Communications left me convinced that this nation had turned the corner and was resuming the upward trajectory of the 1960s. The military seems to be held in universal contempt now that the plundering of the military leaders is well-known. The economy is edging upwards. Industrialized and other African nations look to Nigeria as a leader.
Yet there are signs on the surface of troubles within. The adoption of Islamic law, or Sharia, by most of the states to the north of Abuja has antagonized Christians living there and led to bloodshed. Newspapers carry reports, probably highly sensationalized, about the import of amputation equipment. Driving back from the Hilton to the Sheraton at 10:00 pm, our taxi was stopped on a broad, well-lit road by several soldiers bearing automatic weapons for a shakedown. Cowed by the protests of the foreign passengers, the soldiers let us go. But what would happen on a dark road in a village?
And me? Rather than become mired in nostalgia or depression, I found that nothing for me had changed that much. I got along fabulously with my Nigerian colleagues both at work, and at the nightly parties. I got a lot done, perhaps because there is so much to do, but found time to drink lots of Star beer and dance the Highlife—just like the old days. (I’m no better a dancer nor worse a drinker.)
They
say you can’t go home again. Hell, it was like I never really left. ▪
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by Andy Philpot, (VSO) 65-67
The whole thing was a bit of a surprise when Cleigh, Dave and Mike decided to invite the neighbours over for Thanksgiving. Apparently, in Britain we’d never had much to be thankful for.
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| VSO Andy Philpot arrived in Nigeria unprepared for the Peace Corps. |
As the plans developed for the celebration, the three of them each proudly announced what specialities they would cook and expected me to come up with a signature dish or two of my own. In those days, most self-respecting Englishmen wouldn’t dream of cooking, so I was at somewhat of a disadvantage. Steak and kidney pudding came to mind, but I feared it might strain international relationships so I suggested that other quintessential English dish—a trifle.
The name was met with blank stares and not much enthusiasm was forthcoming as I described the desert of stale sponge cake soaked in jelly (or should that have been Jell-O), fruit salad, custard and topped off with lots of whipped cream. There was a little more excitement when I promised the whole thing would be liberally laced with booze of some sort.
On the day of the gathering, PCVs arrived from all corners of the Midwest. To work up a thirst and a hunger, a friendly game of volleyball was organized—a game unknown to me and at which I, apparently, had absolutely no talent. When I claimed I was used to the more gentlemanly game of rugby, some comedian—I suspect Mike—asked if I used to play left out or drawback. It took me a little time to catch on.
An immense amount of food had been prepared, and some of the traditional Thanksgiving dishes were as foreign to me as fufu had been a month before. However, the dinner went well and the trifle disappeared in short order.
It was decided to head to Otwa early the next morning to see the local harvest celebrations, and as I said goodnight to one and all, I innocently asked someone to come and knock me up in the morning as I had no alarm clock. Well, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop!
Dave followed me out into the night to explain that there were a few things that weren’t said in polite society and that was one of them. He warned me of another but, in spite of my faux pas, I should keep my spirits up. He did add that they, on their part, were all making a real effort not to say bloody too often as they’d been told it was considered to be a very bad word in English. I went to bed muttering to myself about whose bloody language was it anyway.
Now you can only cover so much in one week of training back ‘ome so only a passing mention had been made of the presence of the Peace Corps in Nigeria and no indication of how many of you there were knocking around the country. It had been a bit of a surprise on my arrival at Holy Trinity Grammar School at Sabongidda-Ora to find Cleigh Purvis, (14) 65-67, Dave Sugarman, (10) 64-68, and Mike Weston, (14) 65-67, in residence.
Up to that point in my life, the Americans I had met nearly all came from Hollywood, apart from the camera-toting tourists wandering the streets of my hometown, Oxford. When I was told I was going to have to live with one of them until my house was ready, it came as slight shock, culturally, that is.
I soon began to appreciate the value of my new-found friends. Having arrived with a backpack containing 40 pounds of my worldly possessions (all that VSO would allow me to bring), I felt somewhat inadequate beside the wealth of what Cleigh, Dave, and Mike had brought. If their own stuff, which seemed to include such luxury items as spice racks and typewriters, weren’t enough, they were also provided with household items, medical kits and book lockers to see them through the next two years. I was also intimidated by the thought of the three months training they had received back home.
The relevance of my lack of material possessions diminished as my first three real Americans made me welcome and allowed me to take advantage of their goodies as necessary. As time went by, I found I had some advantages in the cognitive and affective domains that no amount of training could furnish. I not only understood the idiosyncrasies of the British educational system, the meaning of such terms as headmaster, boarding house, prep and prefect, but also the global significance of “O” and “A” levels. Furthermore, I had behind me a heritage of a family, a large number of whom had spent much of their lives in far-flung outposts of the Empire, not to mention a mother born in Bombay and a father born in Baltimore.
Shortly after arriving at Sabongidda-Ora, I had broken out in a rash and on the urging of Cleigh, I paid a visit to Mike Taylor, (staff) 65-67, in Benin. They had their own doctor! Was there anything they didn’t have? He thought the spots were probably just dhobi itch and after supplying me with some antihistamine pills, he enquired about my last gammaglobulin shot. When the name obviously meant nothing to me, he said I should have one just for safety’s sake. I refused Mike’s kind offer, but he never gave up trying to get me to drop my trousers whenever he visited and had a needle to spare.
Apparently you even had your own diseases. I had never heard about mono and hepatitis, and it took Mike and I a little symptom swapping for me to realize he was really talking about good old glandular fever and jaundice.
My education continued.
At the Peace Corps hostel, I found it a little alarming, if not downright presumptuous, when people would come right up to me and introduce themselves. A little forward, methought! Brits of course will sit in silence for hours if there is no one to perform the necessary introductions.
To keep up with Dave, I had to buy a bike of my own. Put a Dave and a Honda together and before you know it’s in pieces all over the ground. The average Pom, on the other hand, would rather pay for someone to do their dirty work and so it was often with fear and trepidation that I allowed Dave near my bike. Most of the time he got it back together all right with no pieces left over, and sometimes it even ran better than it had before.
On the day of her farewell concert, Nash Noble, (9) 63-65, asked how I was handling Culture Shock. I had no idea what she was talking about. I honestly thought she was asking if I missed the theatre and tele, not to mention the wireless. Up to that point, I had been quite happy. Now I really had something to worry about. Was there anything else VSO had forgotten to tell us?
Who was Snoopy? Was this loser Charlie Brown an American hero? Was this Culture? In a drawer at Government College, Ughelli, I had found two years worth of Peanuts. Kevin Montgomery, (21) 66-67, and Perkin Foss, (18) 65-68, my new housemates, thought me a little strange as I poured over this new form of amusement. UK papers didn’t carry comic strips. Comics were for kids!
My move to Ughelli came about because I wanted to stay for another year but the job at Sabongidda had come to an end. VSO agreed to let me stay but didn’t seem too willing to approach the Ministry of Education to see if anyone needed a chemistry teacher. Ginny Cruickshank, (10) 64-66, at the PC office, bless her, supplied me with a list of schools which I took to VSO and the problem was solved.
There were times, in Nigeria, when I found myself thinking that I was more of a PCV than a VSO and I rather think that Don Barton my minder at the British Council, thought the same. When he had difficulty in finding me transport to get from Sabongidda to Ughelli, he suggested I might borrow a Chevy van from you guys!
Amongst other notable memories of that time:
Arriving at peoples’ houses in Dave’s wake, covered in dust and dirt,
as I always seemed to have to ride behind him. He, meanwhile, arrived as his
usual clean-cut self.
Driving
back from Sapele with a block of frozen tilapia for the “O” level biology practical
exam and Cleigh on the back of the bike. The ice rapidly thawing while Cleigh
slept.
Suggesting
to VSO that, as the political situation got worse, we should have an evacuation
plan and being told that a gallon of petrol and some rope might be handy in
case the balloon went up. I guess I was a little jealous of your plan and didn’t
know if friendship would stretch as far as including me in.
Coming
to the aid of Phyllis Noble and Whitney Dunn, (17) 66-67, by teaching Scottish
Dancing on Wednesday afternoons at their school in Ughelli.
Shocking
some new PVCs when they found a limey driving the Chevy van that picked them
up at Benin airport on their arrival in the Midwest.
Appearing
at Mike and Joyce Taylor’s to find that they had just flushed the steak and
kidney pudding, lovingly prepared by their cook, down the loo!
Sipping
my first martini after someone found a bottle of Vermouth. They looked pretty
good being drunk on the big screen. However, to this day I still prefer to
have my gin with tonic, and if I drink enough it even helps keep the malaria
away.
Being
slightly hurt when I found that Peace Corps Director Jack Vaughn had never heard
of VSO when we met at Ughelli. I guess I must have made an impression (or he
was being polite) as he remembered me at that party at Del and Gayle Lewis’
place outside Washington on the 25th anniversary of the Peace Corps.
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| Last year, Andy travelled from home in Hamilton, Ontario, to Namibia to lead a three-week Landrover safari. |
Being saved by Mike Taylor when he supplied me with syringes and anti-rabies serum when I came into contact with a possibly rabid dog when visiting Frank Monahan, (13) 64-67, at Otwa.
And so much more...
Living, playing and working together in a strange land that was far from home for all of us, gave me new insight into Americans and to a certain extent America. So much so, that I took the plunge and shortly after leaving Nigeria and returning to the UK, I immigrated to Canada where I seem to have the best of both worlds.
I
can never repay the support, hospitality, and above all the friendship each
of you showed me in the Midwest all those years ago. Many thanks. ▪
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HIS PEOPLE'S ART
by Leo V. Ryan, CSV, staff 66-68
In early 1967 I transferred from Lagos as Country Deputy to Ibadan as Western Region Director. There I met Fred Englander, (14) 65-67, who was widely recognized as our best Yoruba linguist. Fred introduced me to HRH Adenle II, the Oba of Oshogbo. My Nigerian assistant, Alex Ojo Bamishe, trained me in palace protocol.
Soon we negotiated with the Oba the idea of bringing newly arriving PCVs direct to Oshogbo for cultural immersion, market exposure and further language training. A dozen PCVs worked in the Kingdom. Oshogbo is a commercial and cultural center, midpoint on the road between the market cities of the East and West. Oshogbo is the home to playwright Duro Ladipo and his Theatre Company; of the Banta Dancers and Oshun Shrine restored by Suzanne Wenger, High Priestess of the Oshun Cult. Anthropologist Ulli Beier with his artist wife, Georgiana, came in 1964 to study this unique Yoruba "village." By 1967 Oshogbo was one of Nigeria's 100,000 cities.
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| This official photo was taken after Leo V. Ryan, CVS, was installed as an Oshogbo Chief |
A Mbari-Mbayo Club opened in Oshogbo in 1961. Julian Beinart in 1960 and Dennis Williams in 1962 conducted experimental summer schools for young artists. Georgiana Beier organized a colony of six artists at her home (1964-1967). Jean Kennedy, wife of an AID employee, was instrumental in providing materials which permitted emerging artists to experiment in various art forms. Thus, Oshogbo became an art center with an emphasis on traditional Yoruba themes but contemporary in mode. Earlier, Fr. Kevin Carroll organized an artist’s workshop in Oye Ekiti to encourage traditional carvers to perfect their techniques while expressing Christian themes through their carvings.
Like most first-year staff and volunteers my art purchases were limited to so called airport art. Most of us acquired elephants, various figures, thorn carvings and masks. Only in my second year was I introduced to real Nigerian art. Alice O'Grady, (staff) 64-67, was active in Ibadan art circles and introduced me to some of her artistic friends. As my contacts with Oshogbo and with the Oba increased, so, too, did my contact with Oshogbo artists. Between Ibadan and Oshogbo visits my interest in Yoruba art deepened.
I became a modest patron of the arts and an amateur collector, excluding textiles, beads and masks. I concentrated on the works of Nigerian and Oshogbo artists. My collection now includes over 50 representative works.
Early in my Nigerian days, I befriended Lamidi Fakeyi, a famous third generation traditional carver. Over the past quarter century he has concentrated on popular carvings. He visits the U.S. regularly and I maintain contact with him through Professor Bruce Haight at Western Michigan University. Bruce is his biographer, U.S. tour and exhibit coordinator and U.S. contact. My collection includes many Fakeyi carvings. A panel he did for me in 1997 was the centerpiece in the catalog and exhibit for a 1996 retrospective on his artistic career at, Hope College, Holland, MI.
For me the greatest joy in assembling my Oshogbo collection was in acquiring the majority of the items directly from the artists. I knew Jimoh Buraimuh at 16 when he was experimenting with graphics and later with beaded works. I have three of his earliest graphics, a beaded panel and tabletop.
My collection includes batiks by David Josevne, and graphics by Florence Adeyewi, Jacob Afolabi, David Dale, Adebisi Fabunmi and Tunde. I have a Twin Seven Seven painting, a Ben Enwonwu sculpture, and four repousee metal panels by Asiru Olatunde and Bruce Onabrakpeye. My Onabrakpeye collection is 12 prints and graphics.
Oba Adenle advised me in June 1962 that he and the chiefs wished to honor me for my “commitment to fostering a Yoruba life, language and culture, and for the contribution of Peace Corps to Nigeria and Oshogbo.” I was to become the first American, and the third white person named an Oshogbo chief in the 1000-year history of the kingdom.
On 5 August, 1967, I was installed as the Asoju Atoaja of Oshogbo with diplomats, friends, Peace Corps staff and volunteers attending. Five governments were officially represented: England, Germany, Ireland, Nigeria and the U.S. Chief (then Col.) Olusegun Obasanjo and now President, represented Nigeria. The ceremony was widely covered on radio and in the press.
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| Peace Corps volunteers and staff celebrate with HRH Adenle II, Oba of Oshogbo (holding septer), and the new chief. |
My title translates as Asoju (The eye watching the outside world on behalf of), Atoaja (he who accepts fish from his people in tribute) of Oshogbo (kingdom on the shores of the Oshun River). Oshun is the goddess of fish life in river streams.
The ceremonies extended over three days. Aug. 4, I presented the traditional gifts and other gifts to the Oba and chiefs. Aug. 5, was the installation with two receptions. Aug. 6, the local Bishop celebrated a Mass of Thanksgiving at the Catholic Cathedral. Ten Oshogbo artists exhibited during the festivities. They did a brisk business earning me further credit as a patron of the arts and commerce.
My Yoruba art collection serves to remind me of my Peace Corps days, my Oshogbo chieftaincy, and my deep affection for the Nigerian people.
Editor’s
Note: Last Mar. 2, Brother Leo celebrated his Golden Jubilee as a member
of the Clerics of St. Viator (CVS). He directed Peace Corps training for Brazil
at Marquette 63-65 and was the test case for the appointment of a Roman Catholic
cleric as a Foreign Service Officer (Reserve) when he was named Deputy Director
of Peace Corps Nigeria in 66, and Western Region Director in 67. He has been
a Professor of Management at DePaul University, Chicago, for 19 years and currently
shares teaching responsibilities with colleagues at universities in Poland
and Finland as well. ▪
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by Bob Cohen, (4) 62-64
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| Charles Larson is a prolific scholar and critic of African literature |
Editor's Note: Book Editor Cohen interviews Charles R. Larson, (4) 62-64, professor of literature at American University in Washington, DC.. His latest publication is an anthology Under African Skies: Modern African Stories (Farrer, Straus, and Giroux). Larsen is also President of African Skies Library Foundation, set up to fund the building of free public libraries in Africa.
COHEN: How did your interest in African literature develop?
LARSON: I didn't know anything about African literature before Peace Corps
training. I read several Nigerian novels at UCLA (in training), but my real exposure happened in the field. I kick myself that I never sought out Chinua Achebe, whose family compound was located a few miles from where I lived.
COHEN: Maybe it's particularly Western of us to want, even expect, a chronicler of Nigerian life and times, of the sort Americans have in novelists such as Updike and Roth. What's the closest Nigeria (or Africa) has to them?
LARSON: Achebe, when you read all of his novels in chronological order.
COHEN: So many Nigeria RPCVs stopped reading Nigerian writing after Jagua Nana, Things Fall Apart, and the earlier Soyinka plays. Could you give us a short list of must-read books that come after the Biafra War, 1967?
LARSON: Wole Soyinka's The Man Died (1972), the account of his imprisonment during the civil war, and Soyinka's Ake, The Years of Childhood (1981), the first volume of his autobiography. Chinua Achebe's The Trouble With Nigeria (1983), just as it sounds, and sadly unread by Nigerian politicians/leaders when it could have mattered. Also Achebe's most recent novel, Anthills of the Savannah (1987). (Achebe is working on a new novel now, just as he approaches his 70th birthday.) Ben Okri's The Famished Road (1991), magic realism hits Nigeria; this book won the Booker Prize. T. Obinkaram Echewa's I Saw The Sky Catch Fire (1992), a novel based on a woman's war in Nigeria in 1929.
COHEN: What has happened to Nigeria pop literature, such as the Onitsha Market six-penny pamphlet novels, since they first appeared? Is there a development of such a literature?
LARSON: There's not much happening here or in the so-called literary market.
The economy is dead. Books have become luxury items that few people can afford. Educated Nigerians do not read as much as they did twenty or thirty years ago. Achebe's Things Fall Apart sells only a couple of hundred copies per year in Nigeria, yet supposedly 100,000 copies a year in the U.S. True, if books are set texts for schools they still sell, but that's no longer true for Things Fall Apart. But think of a country with more than a 100 million people, plus its greatest novelist and his major novel, and it's just unbelievable that Things Fall Apart sells so few copies in Nigeria. The lack of readers, that's the saddest thing I am aware of. What this means is that a younger writer, such as Ben Okri, is virtually unread (and therefore unknown) within his country, since he publishes in England and his books are so expensive (the few that reach Nigeria) that people can't afford them.
|
COHEN: Since so many years in the lives of Nigerian writers have been spent
in exile, where is the literature of that experience of exile?
LARSON: Oddly, Nigerian writers haven't written much about exile. Writers from other African countries have, but this isn't so true of Nigerian writers. Biyi Bandele's The Street (1999) is set in England, but it's about Britain's multiracial community, sort of like Zadie Smith's White Teeth (1999), but that's other ethnic groups in the UK.
COHEN: Wole Soyinka, given a hero's welcome in Nigeria after the recent elections, has decided to live for the most part outside of Nigeria. As Nobel Prize-winner and political activist, he has steadfastly maintained a universalistic humanitarian stance. If other Nigerian writers follow this pattern, what predictions do you make for the literature that would result?
LARSON: Why stay in Nigeria where no one reads books? Writers need the energy from other writers and from their readers, so it's logical that Soyinka, Achebe, Okri, etc., live outside of Nigeria, outside of Africa. Since these writers can return to Nigeria, and they do visit, it isn't the same for black writers from South Africa, during apartheid, being forced to leave and not return.
worry, outside of Nigeria. Granted, Achebe and Soyinka are able to say what they want, write what they want, without worry. It's unsettling that life away from Nigeria may be more rewarding, and I don't mean simply economically, but these are complicated times.
COHEN: How is democracy in Nigeria going to affect literary activity?
LARSON:
I can't think of a worse place for a writer to live these days than in most
African countries. Zimbabwe's incredible literary flowering of the last ten
years is coming to an abrupt halt because of Mugabe and the collapsed economy.
South Africa hasn't yet produced a large enough middle class to support black
writing; hopefully that will change, if anywhere on the continent. Not only
does the economy have to change, so people can afford books, but people have
to decide that books are important. So it's pretty bleak. You'll be able to
read about this in my forthcoming book, The Ordeal of the African Writer
(Zed Books, 2001). ▪
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I write from Meru in the middle of Kenya where I am engaged in the battle against the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Sub-Saharan Africa. I am one of six Crisis Corps Volunteers who are responding to Kenya's plea for help
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| On her first Crisis Corps assignment last spring, Pat poses with her driver, landlord and translator in Kosovo. |
.Over two million Kenyans are HIV positive—600 are dying each day. Some communities are 29% infected and those aged 15-25 have the highest infection rate. President Moi has declared the epidemic a national emergency and called for help from all sectors.
My Peace Corps service in Nigeria over 30 years ago, with so many life events since then, seemed only a dim memory. While in Nairobi for a very short orientation period (Crisis Corps Volunteers are expected to be knowledgeable, experienced, and ready to hit the ground running), I visited the Kenya National Museum. Displays of African birds, flowers, animals and cultural materials brought back floods of memories. I felt like I had never left Africa.
In some respects Kenya has stood still or even lost ground in its struggle for development since independence. Poor living conditions, unemployment, and lack of opportunities still plague Kenya. When the current drought and effects of the AIDS epidemic are heaped on an already struggling system, it seems almost hopeless. But, Kenyans are intelligent, resourceful, resilient, deeply religious, and hard working. One hopes that they will have the fortitude to survive today’s incredible challenges.
My project introduces a newly-developed AIDS education syllabus to school classroom teachers as well as teachers in training colleges. Unfortunately, funds do not exist to print the guide books and classroom materials. The challenge is to help teachers learn to talk about sexuality, a previously taboo subject, and a sexually transmitted disease which threatens to eliminate the most productive members of the society. This must be done in an educational system that is a remnant of colonial rule and no longer meets the needs of a country struggling to keep up with technological advances.
Teachers must reach youth without advantage of videos, educational materials, or the Internet. They have only badly worn chalkboards, pieces of chalk, and their dedication to their students.
The return to volunteering after so many years and so many life experiences gives one a completely different perspective. Leaving family behind as a young Peace Corps volunteer seemed to be a separation to establish one’s identity and niche in life. Leaving behind ones own children, even though they are well-established, is completely different. We become dependent on communication networks which we take for granted in the States and when we find that those avenues of communication are not available in the developing countries, the separation seems greater.
Having spent most of the last 30 years in the States I, like most Americans, take for granted all the conveniences and the good quality of life we enjoy. The vast majority of Americans are totally ignorant of the conditions under which so much of the rest of the world exists. So, too, even university-educated Kenyan teachers sorely lack knowledge about the rest of the world. After my presentations, the informal questions reveal the great cultural and knowledge gaps that still exist. Here in Meru, the picture of American life comes from The Bold and the Beautiful which is shown every night in prime-time on the only TV channel!
The need for American volunteers to dispel some myths has not changed in 30 years, and the need for technical assistance is probably even greater.
As your families mature and you reach some of your life’s goals, look again to see where you can make a contribution in the developing countries.
You continue to be desperately needed.
Editor's
Note: If you are available for short-term crisis work abroad, contact the Crisis
Corps by calling 1-800-424-8580, ext. 2250 or by email to crisiscorps@peacecorps.gov. ▪
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