Nine Eleven 10 Years On

My 09/11/01




I was in Africa: Gaborone, Botswana. Didn’t know anything about it until I entered in what was at the time the biggest general store in town, Game, where I found a group of europeans gathered in front of one of the large TV screens on the walls. It was tuned into a live broadcast from New York by CNN showing the first tower up in smoke and flames.
Before I could understand what was going on, the second tower was also hit by a plane and started burning. Some among the group of europeans started clapping and cheering – they were French, I could understand from the language they spoke.



Later that day, I went with an Angolan acquaintance to visit a couple from some Muslim-dominated East African country doing business in Botswana. At some point in our conversation, I said that I was thinking about sending a message of condolences to my American colleagues with whom I worked in a team of international consultants throughout Southern Africa for a project called Regional Activity to Promote Integration through Dialogue and Policy Implementation (RAPID) - by the way, this was the kind of work we were doing there at the time.


My companions were not enthusiastic about my idea, to put it mildly; the Angolan actually cautioned me against it. There was among them a overwhelming sense of “celebration” for what was there generally perceived as a lesson from the now called “Global South” that “the (arrogant, imperialist) Yanquis” and the West in general long deserved…


My personal feeling, however, was that no ideology or religion should arrogate to itself the “right” to cause so much pain to so many people in such a split moment of time – and I would feel and say very much the same if, as it happened here and there along history, the damage had been inflicted by “the Yanquis” or any other Western power upon any other country in the world. I was just moved by human empathy towards my American friends and colleagues. Yet there was still that strange sense of “grandeur” and even “sinister beauty” about all that spectacle, which somehow managed to subdue our reasoned thoughts about what was developing in front of our eyes.


So, I just kept quite afterwards sinking it all in and recalling the day, ten years earlier, when I had been to the World Trade Centre with a group of German economics students and the pictures we had taken on the top of those towers… I don’t know where they are now – they seem to have disappeared just like the Twin Towers.

My 09/11/01




I was in Africa: Gaborone, Botswana. Didn’t know anything about it until I entered in what was at the time the biggest general store in town, Game, where I found a group of europeans gathered in front of one of the large TV screens on the walls. It was tuned into a live broadcast from New York by CNN showing the first tower up in smoke and flames.
Before I could understand what was going on, the second tower was also hit by a plane and started burning. Some among the group of europeans started clapping and cheering – they were French, I could understand from the language they spoke.



Later that day, I went with an Angolan acquaintance to visit a couple from some Muslim-dominated East African country doing business in Botswana. At some point in our conversation, I said that I was thinking about sending a message of condolences to my American colleagues with whom I worked in a team of international consultants throughout Southern Africa for a project called Regional Activity to Promote Integration through Dialogue and Policy Implementation (RAPID) - by the way, this was the kind of work we were doing there at the time.


My companions were not enthusiastic about my idea, to put it mildly; the Angolan actually cautioned me against it. There was among them a overwhelming sense of “celebration” for what was there generally perceived as a lesson from the now called “Global South” that “the (arrogant, imperialist) Yanquis” and the West in general long deserved…


My personal feeling, however, was that no ideology or religion should arrogate to itself the “right” to cause so much pain to so many people in such a split moment of time – and I would feel and say very much the same if, as it happened here and there along history, the damage had been inflicted by “the Yanquis” or any other Western power upon any other country in the world. I was just moved by human empathy towards my American friends and colleagues. Yet there was still that strange sense of “grandeur” and even “sinister beauty” about all that spectacle, which somehow managed to subdue our reasoned thoughts about what was developing in front of our eyes.


So, I just kept quite afterwards sinking it all in and recalling the day, ten years earlier, when I had been to the World Trade Centre with a group of German economics students and the pictures we had taken on the top of those towers… I don’t know where they are now – they seem to have disappeared just like the Twin Towers.

Como construir um jardim no deserto...

Si j’avais beaucoup d’argent e me fosse dada a possibilidade de escolher entre um apartamento, por melhor que fosse, num ou noutro predio e uma casa terrea com quintal, nao hesitaria um segundo por esta ultima opcao. A menos que tivesse mesmo trop, trop d’argent e pudesse optar tanto pelo apartamento como pela casa… com um quintal onde eu pudesse fazer um jardim e/ou uma horta e plantar arvores que deixaria de heranca para os meus descendentes…

Ha' quem diga que "e' mais dificil contruir um jardim do que um predio"...

Nunca tentei construir um predio. Mas este foi o jardim (possivel) que construi com as minhas barehands (e sim, sem a ajuda de ninguem...) na terra arida e dura de Tlokweng – arredores de Gaborone, Botswana –, onde cavar mais fundo do que uns dez centimetros sem ter que dar no duro com uma picareta e' praticamente missao impossivel... Mas la’ me dei ao trabalho arduo de, ao longo de meses a fio, amaciar e fertilizar aquele chao cozido a pedra e sol de muita dura…

Claro que foi antes de um angolano destacado naquele pais ha' varios anos (que, tal como ‘todo o mundo importante’ a minha volta, achava que eu deveria morar em Phakalane – para que se perceba: Phakalane esta’ para Gaborone como a Talatona esta para Luanda), quando lhe disse que morava em Tlokweng (nao lhe consigo encontrar um equivalente em Luanda e arredores, mas e’ uma vila com muito mais de rural do que urbano, onde pessoas e viaturas teem amiude que parar ou desviar-se para deixarem passar o gado e que e’, tal como Serowe, um dos bercos da cultura e nacionalidade Tswana, com o seu proprio Kgotla e chefia local – uma especie de reino independente do poder central), respondeu-me: mas o que e’ que voce esta’ a fazer em Tlokweng? Ali naquela tribo entao enterram os mortos no quintal!

Bom, tarde demais para me deter de, a golpes de picareta, seguidos de muito cavar duro de enxada, construir um jardim no meu quintal de Tlokweng… e nao, nao encontrei la’ nenhumas ossadas, embora tenha podido confirmar a “dica” do meu conterra quando fui a um obito na vizinhanca e o pai do falecido (um Mais Velho empregado local da SADC) me levou pela mao ao sitio em que, no seu grande quintal, havia enterrado o filho, por sinal vitima de HIV/AIDS….

Nao sei o quanto e’ facil construir um predio, mas sei o quanto me foi dificil ter que abandonar o meu jardim de Tlokweng!



Posts relacionados:

Aguardando Luz Verde

Uma Estorieta Infantil

Django - Wynton Marsalis


Hot House Flowers - Wynton Marsalis


Lazy Afternoon - Wynton Marsalis


Stardust - Wynton Marsalis

Si j’avais beaucoup d’argent e me fosse dada a possibilidade de escolher entre um apartamento, por melhor que fosse, num ou noutro predio e uma casa terrea com quintal, nao hesitaria um segundo por esta ultima opcao. A menos que tivesse mesmo trop, trop d’argent e pudesse optar tanto pelo apartamento como pela casa… com um quintal onde eu pudesse fazer um jardim e/ou uma horta e plantar arvores que deixaria de heranca para os meus descendentes…

Ha' quem diga que "e' mais dificil contruir um jardim do que um predio"...

Nunca tentei construir um predio. Mas este foi o jardim (possivel) que construi com as minhas barehands (e sim, sem a ajuda de ninguem...) na terra arida e dura de Tlokweng – arredores de Gaborone, Botswana –, onde cavar mais fundo do que uns dez centimetros sem ter que dar no duro com uma picareta e' praticamente missao impossivel... Mas la’ me dei ao trabalho arduo de, ao longo de meses a fio, amaciar e fertilizar aquele chao cozido a pedra e sol de muita dura…

Claro que foi antes de um angolano destacado naquele pais ha' varios anos (que, tal como ‘todo o mundo importante’ a minha volta, achava que eu deveria morar em Phakalane – para que se perceba: Phakalane esta’ para Gaborone como a Talatona esta para Luanda), quando lhe disse que morava em Tlokweng (nao lhe consigo encontrar um equivalente em Luanda e arredores, mas e’ uma vila com muito mais de rural do que urbano, onde pessoas e viaturas teem amiude que parar ou desviar-se para deixarem passar o gado e que e’, tal como Serowe, um dos bercos da cultura e nacionalidade Tswana, com o seu proprio Kgotla e chefia local – uma especie de reino independente do poder central), respondeu-me: mas o que e’ que voce esta’ a fazer em Tlokweng? Ali naquela tribo entao enterram os mortos no quintal!

Bom, tarde demais para me deter de, a golpes de picareta, seguidos de muito cavar duro de enxada, construir um jardim no meu quintal de Tlokweng… e nao, nao encontrei la’ nenhumas ossadas, embora tenha podido confirmar a “dica” do meu conterra quando fui a um obito na vizinhanca e o pai do falecido (um Mais Velho empregado local da SADC) me levou pela mao ao sitio em que, no seu grande quintal, havia enterrado o filho, por sinal vitima de HIV/AIDS….

Nao sei o quanto e’ facil construir um predio, mas sei o quanto me foi dificil ter que abandonar o meu jardim de Tlokweng!



Posts relacionados:

Aguardando Luz Verde

Uma Estorieta Infantil

Django - Wynton Marsalis


Hot House Flowers - Wynton Marsalis


Lazy Afternoon - Wynton Marsalis


Stardust - Wynton Marsalis

A MINHA SECRETARIA [R*]

Ou, mais politicamente-correcto falando, a minha Personal Assistant (PA)…

E’ verdade, ja’ tive uma na vida… Mas, estruturalmente avessa que sou a “mordomias”, excepto aquelas que posso conceder a mim propria, pouco ou nenhum uso fiz dela – claro que sem ter consciencia do “real world” em que me movia: tratava-se de uma organizacao em que, como em muitas outras, as secretarias chegam a ter mais poder que os seus chefes, embora, paradoxalmente, tal poder lhes seja atribuido na exacta proporcao do poder desses mesmos chefes (aparentemente, para reflectir essa realidade, em Angola algumas passaram a ser designadas “Secretarias Executivas”) …

Mais especificamente, naquela organizacao, como em muitas outras, o poder do chefe e, consequentemente, o da sua PA, era aferido pelo numero de viagens ao exterior que faziam (geralmente para ‘workshops’ regionais cuja qualidade e eficiencia ninguem se preocupava em avaliar…) e, com elas, a quantidade de dolares que amealhavam em “ajudas de custo” enquanto permaneciam em hoteis e pensoes de quinta categoria “para poupar” – o que era conhecido no lingo interno da organizacao como “estrategias de aliviamento da pobreza”…

Acontece, porem, que esta chefe tinha um trabalho que envolvia primordialmente a pesquisa academica e que nao propiciava muitas viagens... Resultado: embora geralmente encontrasse trabalho como parte de um pool de PAs “menos ocupadas” que era usado por outros chefes, a coitada da minha PA via-se a bracos para justificar o seu emprego, particularmente quando chegava a altura dos “annual staff appraisals” em que eu me via a bracos para encontrar o que dizer sobre ela, excepto que era “uma adoravel e talentosa jovem, muito dedicada ao trabalho e que devia a todo o custo ser mantida pela organizacao”…

Bom, mas por “menor” que fosse o seu poder em relacao a mim e as outras (mais afortunadas) PAs, a minha PA tinha um poder pessoal que eu nao tinha e nao acredito que alguma vez venha a ter na minha vida... Tomei dele consciencia quando, numa rara ocasiao em que realmente precisava da assistencia dela para a organizacao de um 'workshop', ela me respondeu que nao iria estar disponivel num determinado dia porque esse era “o dia da vida dela”!

Nao, nao se tratava de pedido de noivado, ou casamento: era apenas o dia em que os “oficiais da terra” (land board) do seu pais lhe iriam entregar o seu plot de terra – algo que todos os cidadaos do Botswana teem como um direito inalienavel, mesmo que apenas la’ possam construir um “casebre” (que ninguem lhes vai demolir…) ou que depois o decidam alienar a outros nacionais ou estrangeiros – sendo que, neste caso, terao que submeter o seu proposito a um complicado e desencorajador processo burocratico em que, invariavelmente, acabam por prevalecer os principios inspiradores da lei de terras do pais, a qual garante que pelo menos 75% da terra pertence ao povo!

Confesso que, nesse dia, senti inveja da minha PA – uma inveja que nem sequer o seu “bruto carro” pessoal (muito melhor, ou pelo menos mais “vislumbrante” que o meu carro de servico – o unico de que eu dispunha) me havia alguma vez provocado... E’ que, nao so’ estava, por aqueles dias tal como hoje, a minha nacionalidade sendo questionada pelos “oficiais da minha terra”, como aquele era um direito que os nacionais do meu pais nao tinham como adquirido!

Mas nao me deu para transformar aquela inveja em nenhum acto de odio, ou qualquer outro sentimento negativo, contra a Mphwo – era assim que ela se chamava (ou chama, pois nao creio que tenha ainda morrido, salvo seja!) e era (e') de origem Khoisan – desejei apenas que toda a seguranca, felicidade e bem-estar de que ela usufruia pudessem ser partilhados por todos os cidadaos em todos os paises deste mundo. Por isso (tambem) o muito que devo ao Botswana, mesmo continuando sendo uma “sem terra”…


*[Postado inicialmente a 26/03/10 /// Repostado a proposito desta materia]

Ou, mais politicamente-correcto falando, a minha Personal Assistant (PA)…

E’ verdade, ja’ tive uma na vida… Mas, estruturalmente avessa que sou a “mordomias”, excepto aquelas que posso conceder a mim propria, pouco ou nenhum uso fiz dela – claro que sem ter consciencia do “real world” em que me movia: tratava-se de uma organizacao em que, como em muitas outras, as secretarias chegam a ter mais poder que os seus chefes, embora, paradoxalmente, tal poder lhes seja atribuido na exacta proporcao do poder desses mesmos chefes (aparentemente, para reflectir essa realidade, em Angola algumas passaram a ser designadas “Secretarias Executivas”) …

Mais especificamente, naquela organizacao, como em muitas outras, o poder do chefe e, consequentemente, o da sua PA, era aferido pelo numero de viagens ao exterior que faziam (geralmente para ‘workshops’ regionais cuja qualidade e eficiencia ninguem se preocupava em avaliar…) e, com elas, a quantidade de dolares que amealhavam em “ajudas de custo” enquanto permaneciam em hoteis e pensoes de quinta categoria “para poupar” – o que era conhecido no lingo interno da organizacao como “estrategias de aliviamento da pobreza”…

Acontece, porem, que esta chefe tinha um trabalho que envolvia primordialmente a pesquisa academica e que nao propiciava muitas viagens... Resultado: embora geralmente encontrasse trabalho como parte de um pool de PAs “menos ocupadas” que era usado por outros chefes, a coitada da minha PA via-se a bracos para justificar o seu emprego, particularmente quando chegava a altura dos “annual staff appraisals” em que eu me via a bracos para encontrar o que dizer sobre ela, excepto que era “uma adoravel e talentosa jovem, muito dedicada ao trabalho e que devia a todo o custo ser mantida pela organizacao”…

Bom, mas por “menor” que fosse o seu poder em relacao a mim e as outras (mais afortunadas) PAs, a minha PA tinha um poder pessoal que eu nao tinha e nao acredito que alguma vez venha a ter na minha vida... Tomei dele consciencia quando, numa rara ocasiao em que realmente precisava da assistencia dela para a organizacao de um 'workshop', ela me respondeu que nao iria estar disponivel num determinado dia porque esse era “o dia da vida dela”!

Nao, nao se tratava de pedido de noivado, ou casamento: era apenas o dia em que os “oficiais da terra” (land board) do seu pais lhe iriam entregar o seu plot de terra – algo que todos os cidadaos do Botswana teem como um direito inalienavel, mesmo que apenas la’ possam construir um “casebre” (que ninguem lhes vai demolir…) ou que depois o decidam alienar a outros nacionais ou estrangeiros – sendo que, neste caso, terao que submeter o seu proposito a um complicado e desencorajador processo burocratico em que, invariavelmente, acabam por prevalecer os principios inspiradores da lei de terras do pais, a qual garante que pelo menos 75% da terra pertence ao povo!

Confesso que, nesse dia, senti inveja da minha PA – uma inveja que nem sequer o seu “bruto carro” pessoal (muito melhor, ou pelo menos mais “vislumbrante” que o meu carro de servico – o unico de que eu dispunha) me havia alguma vez provocado... E’ que, nao so’ estava, por aqueles dias tal como hoje, a minha nacionalidade sendo questionada pelos “oficiais da minha terra”, como aquele era um direito que os nacionais do meu pais nao tinham como adquirido!

Mas nao me deu para transformar aquela inveja em nenhum acto de odio, ou qualquer outro sentimento negativo, contra a Mphwo – era assim que ela se chamava (ou chama, pois nao creio que tenha ainda morrido, salvo seja!) e era (e') de origem Khoisan – desejei apenas que toda a seguranca, felicidade e bem-estar de que ela usufruia pudessem ser partilhados por todos os cidadaos em todos os paises deste mundo. Por isso (tambem) o muito que devo ao Botswana, mesmo continuando sendo uma “sem terra”…


*[Postado inicialmente a 26/03/10 /// Repostado a proposito desta materia]

Mandela International Day

We can change the world and make it a better place. It is in your hands to make a difference.
- Nelson Mandela

The overarching objective of Mandela Day is to inspire individuals to take action to help change the world for the better, and in doing so build a global movement for good. Ultimately it seeks to empower communities everywhere. “Take Action; Inspire Change; Make Every Day a Mandela Day.”
Individuals and organisations are free to participate in Mandela Day as they wish. We do however urge everyone to adhere to the ethical framework of “service to one’s fellow human”.


[More details here]

"Winnie Madikizela-Mandela did her field work in Johannesburg’s Alexandra Townships at Entokozweni Family Health and Welfare Centre under the watchful eye of my mother Polina, who was the head Social worker there. This exercise brought Winnie close to my family. In 1984 when she was banished to the remote town of Brandfort, my father Selema Thomas went to visit her against the wishes of the government of Apartheid. He paid for it later with the endless interrogations and raids on his house.

However, when Mrs. Mandela went on her routine visits to her husband who was at the Pollsmoor Prison, she told him about my father’s visits and what he had told her about my sister Barbara and I. On my 46th Birthday April 4th 1985, Nelson Mandela sent me a letter that was smuggled out of prison wishing me good luck with the recording projects and the School of Music we had started in Botswana. He conveyed warm wishes to my family and greetings to the Kalahari Band I was working with, plus many more good tidings.

I was intensely moved by the fact that a man who has been imprisoned for over twenty years could have so much passion and regard for the work that was being done by some musicians in a small town in Botswana. It brought tears to my eyes. His confidence about our imminent liberation was overwhelming. His dedication humbled me and the letter was most flattering.

This song came to me there and then and remains a classic forever, just like the man. We recorded it with Kalahari in 1986 in London as part of the album called “Tomorrow”. When Mandela was released in 1990, the song became a reality and was played as background music on many of his visits to the large cities of America during television broadcasts. It remains a favourite with American and European audiences."

Hugh Masekela



Bring Him Back Home (Nelson Mandela)

We can change the world and make it a better place. It is in your hands to make a difference.
- Nelson Mandela

The overarching objective of Mandela Day is to inspire individuals to take action to help change the world for the better, and in doing so build a global movement for good. Ultimately it seeks to empower communities everywhere. “Take Action; Inspire Change; Make Every Day a Mandela Day.”
Individuals and organisations are free to participate in Mandela Day as they wish. We do however urge everyone to adhere to the ethical framework of “service to one’s fellow human”.


[More details here]

"Winnie Madikizela-Mandela did her field work in Johannesburg’s Alexandra Townships at Entokozweni Family Health and Welfare Centre under the watchful eye of my mother Polina, who was the head Social worker there. This exercise brought Winnie close to my family. In 1984 when she was banished to the remote town of Brandfort, my father Selema Thomas went to visit her against the wishes of the government of Apartheid. He paid for it later with the endless interrogations and raids on his house.

However, when Mrs. Mandela went on her routine visits to her husband who was at the Pollsmoor Prison, she told him about my father’s visits and what he had told her about my sister Barbara and I. On my 46th Birthday April 4th 1985, Nelson Mandela sent me a letter that was smuggled out of prison wishing me good luck with the recording projects and the School of Music we had started in Botswana. He conveyed warm wishes to my family and greetings to the Kalahari Band I was working with, plus many more good tidings.

I was intensely moved by the fact that a man who has been imprisoned for over twenty years could have so much passion and regard for the work that was being done by some musicians in a small town in Botswana. It brought tears to my eyes. His confidence about our imminent liberation was overwhelming. His dedication humbled me and the letter was most flattering.

This song came to me there and then and remains a classic forever, just like the man. We recorded it with Kalahari in 1986 in London as part of the album called “Tomorrow”. When Mandela was released in 1990, the song became a reality and was played as background music on many of his visits to the large cities of America during television broadcasts. It remains a favourite with American and European audiences."

Hugh Masekela



Bring Him Back Home (Nelson Mandela)

IMAGINATIVE TRESPASSER [R]*

I so hate myself to be pinned down. My mind is always leaping ahead. People sense this. They resent it. Their little bit of truth is enough. Their life stops on their doorstep... I'd like to get a head start. I'd like to be a confederator in this new world. I've long outgrown my small little one. They have the signs up all over - trespassers will be prosecuted - but I am an imaginative trespasser. There are no real barriers then.

(Bessie Head, 3 October 1965)




(Souls) From Cape Town to Serowe and Back...

(...) There’s Bessie Head, of course, in extracts from “Imaginative Trespasser” (Letters between Bessie Head, Patrick and Wendy Cullinan 1963 - 1977) – a true literary treasure for me. I found it some three weeks ago and it took me to the good old days of the fine art of letter writing, which is all but dead nowadays, and has probably renewed in me this “bad habit” of writing to people… BJ, you certainly know her story: she eventually made peace with the ‘biggest African village’ and the village with her; she even came to deeply love the country, having at some point ‘fallen in love’ with the images and legacy of Khama the Great and Tshekedi – the very founder of the school where she had been given so much grief; built a little house with the proceedings of one of her books, became a citizen of the country and some sort of ‘honorary Mangwato’ even if only in her own complex and challenging (challenged?) mind…
You are one of the few I told about that afternoon I stormed out of Gabs and ended up in Serowe for the first time, where I spent a pleasant night in a thatched rondavel and the next day went around the place: visited the Kgotla, where the Chief (also a member of the clans Khama and Seretse) kindly received me, told me about the History of the place and the country and then offered to take me to the Khama graves, having walked me half the way till I asked him not to make the effort all the way uphill; went to the Khama Museum and even passed by the Tshekedi Memorial School. Unfortunately, at the time I didn’t know about the details of Bessie’s life in all those places, or of her arquives in the Museum, otherwise I would have certainly spent more time there just to find out more about her. I’m even tempted to go there again to complete the visit before I leave for Cape Town.
I had been wanting to go there since I read a book about a year ago by Gasebalwe Seretse, “Tshekedi Khama: The Master Whose Dogs Barked at - A critical look at Ngwato Politics”… Now, picture this: just now, I went to fetch this book to double check the author’s name and just ‘discovered’ that, among an all bunch of books on the Khamas and Botswana that I bought in the last year but still haven’t had the time to read, I have “A Question of Power” by Bessie, which I was in the last few days thinking about buying after reading “Imaginative Trespasser”… and more: Seretse actually quotes from Bessie's twice in his book to help the reader visualise Serowe… What a find!

(From a letter from me to some friends, SEP 2005)


*[First posted 25/01/07]

I so hate myself to be pinned down. My mind is always leaping ahead. People sense this. They resent it. Their little bit of truth is enough. Their life stops on their doorstep... I'd like to get a head start. I'd like to be a confederator in this new world. I've long outgrown my small little one. They have the signs up all over - trespassers will be prosecuted - but I am an imaginative trespasser. There are no real barriers then.

(Bessie Head, 3 October 1965)




(Souls) From Cape Town to Serowe and Back...

(...) There’s Bessie Head, of course, in extracts from “Imaginative Trespasser” (Letters between Bessie Head, Patrick and Wendy Cullinan 1963 - 1977) – a true literary treasure for me. I found it some three weeks ago and it took me to the good old days of the fine art of letter writing, which is all but dead nowadays, and has probably renewed in me this “bad habit” of writing to people… BJ, you certainly know her story: she eventually made peace with the ‘biggest African village’ and the village with her; she even came to deeply love the country, having at some point ‘fallen in love’ with the images and legacy of Khama the Great and Tshekedi – the very founder of the school where she had been given so much grief; built a little house with the proceedings of one of her books, became a citizen of the country and some sort of ‘honorary Mangwato’ even if only in her own complex and challenging (challenged?) mind…
You are one of the few I told about that afternoon I stormed out of Gabs and ended up in Serowe for the first time, where I spent a pleasant night in a thatched rondavel and the next day went around the place: visited the Kgotla, where the Chief (also a member of the clans Khama and Seretse) kindly received me, told me about the History of the place and the country and then offered to take me to the Khama graves, having walked me half the way till I asked him not to make the effort all the way uphill; went to the Khama Museum and even passed by the Tshekedi Memorial School. Unfortunately, at the time I didn’t know about the details of Bessie’s life in all those places, or of her arquives in the Museum, otherwise I would have certainly spent more time there just to find out more about her. I’m even tempted to go there again to complete the visit before I leave for Cape Town.
I had been wanting to go there since I read a book about a year ago by Gasebalwe Seretse, “Tshekedi Khama: The Master Whose Dogs Barked at - A critical look at Ngwato Politics”… Now, picture this: just now, I went to fetch this book to double check the author’s name and just ‘discovered’ that, among an all bunch of books on the Khamas and Botswana that I bought in the last year but still haven’t had the time to read, I have “A Question of Power” by Bessie, which I was in the last few days thinking about buying after reading “Imaginative Trespasser”… and more: Seretse actually quotes from Bessie's twice in his book to help the reader visualise Serowe… What a find!

(From a letter from me to some friends, SEP 2005)


*[First posted 25/01/07]

Just Poetry (XIII)

Criação

Crê-se que Deus
maior artista de todos os tempos
e céus
criou
     entre outros seres
os humanos
     [esses que vivem, morrem e são]
numa simples, mas precisa
mística operação
     de barros, sopros e ceres
em dias prenhes de mistérios
num ritual labor
     de água, sangue e pão.

E assim o terá feito
por uma simples razão:
que suas criações
fossem entendidas
tanto em prosas como em versos
     entre outros seres
pelos evolucionistas
     [esses que pensam, formulam e teorizam]
de todas as gerações
e universos.

E assim
simples e misteriosamente
o são.

A.S.

Escultura de autor anonimo, obtida a beira de uma estrada poeirenta do Botswana, nas coordenadas 23°26′S 20°0′E / 23.433°S do Tropico de Capricornio: a fronteira mais a sul da zona torrida dos tropicos, e a latitude mais austral em que o sol brilha directamente sobre a cabeça ao meio dia.

Criação

Crê-se que Deus
maior artista de todos os tempos
e céus
criou
     entre outros seres
os humanos
     [esses que vivem, morrem e são]
numa simples, mas precisa
mística operação
     de barros, sopros e ceres
em dias prenhes de mistérios
num ritual labor
     de água, sangue e pão.

E assim o terá feito
por uma simples razão:
que suas criações
fossem entendidas
tanto em prosas como em versos
     entre outros seres
pelos evolucionistas
     [esses que pensam, formulam e teorizam]
de todas as gerações
e universos.

E assim
simples e misteriosamente
o são.

A.S.

Escultura de autor anonimo, obtida a beira de uma estrada poeirenta do Botswana, nas coordenadas 23°26′S 20°0′E / 23.433°S do Tropico de Capricornio: a fronteira mais a sul da zona torrida dos tropicos, e a latitude mais austral em que o sol brilha directamente sobre a cabeça ao meio dia.

MO IBRAHIM'S LEADERSHIP PRIZE TO FESTUS MOGAE

As a former "honorary citizen" of Botswana, I say: good choice.

[You can listen to Kofi Annan's awarding speech here]

As a former "honorary citizen" of Botswana, I say: good choice.

[You can listen to Kofi Annan's awarding speech here]

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE (11)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Chopper for the Vice President


[Obs: President Mogae is expected to officially step down tomorrow in favour of Vice-President Ian Khama. Read more HERE]

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Chopper for the Vice President


[Obs: President Mogae is expected to officially step down tomorrow in favour of Vice-President Ian Khama. Read more HERE]

THE NO.1 LADIES' DETECTIVE AGENCY

… Over and done with. Watched the movie yesterday on TV, liked it, but it didn’t make me relieve the mystery and excitement of reading the book while living around the places where Mma Ramotswe unveiled the cases that came to her.
Well, Anthony Minghella himself said something to the effect that “a good book always survives its adaptation, however good the latter may be”…
But, by all means, do watch it if it comes your way and make your own judgment. The late film director and the all set of actors surely deserve it.

… Over and done with. Watched the movie yesterday on TV, liked it, but it didn’t make me relieve the mystery and excitement of reading the book while living around the places where Mma Ramotswe unveiled the cases that came to her.
Well, Anthony Minghella himself said something to the effect that “a good book always survives its adaptation, however good the latter may be”…
But, by all means, do watch it if it comes your way and make your own judgment. The late film director and the all set of actors surely deserve it.

ANTHONY MINGHELLA (R.I.P.)

A mere couple of days ago, I reported here how I was gobsmacked by finding out all about "The Nr 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency" being put on screen by Oscar-winning director Anthony Minghella.

That included seeing him that day on TV, in an interview recorded while he was still filming in Botswana, defending his movie and Alexander McCall Smith's book and explaining why in his view it should not be considered "patronising".

Today, the first news I got was that he died, aged only 54, in the aftermath of a surgical procedure he underwent a few days ago.

Just like that.

Now his film about Mma Ramotswe will go down in history as his last oeuvre. And I suspect I will always think of it as spooky.

A mere couple of days ago, I reported here how I was gobsmacked by finding out all about "The Nr 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency" being put on screen by Oscar-winning director Anthony Minghella.

That included seeing him that day on TV, in an interview recorded while he was still filming in Botswana, defending his movie and Alexander McCall Smith's book and explaining why in his view it should not be considered "patronising".

Today, the first news I got was that he died, aged only 54, in the aftermath of a surgical procedure he underwent a few days ago.

Just like that.

Now his film about Mma Ramotswe will go down in history as his last oeuvre. And I suspect I will always think of it as spooky.

MMA RAMOTSWE ON SCREEN!

It came as a shock to get to know about it all at once yesterday: not only that there was the idea for a movie based on The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, but also that the movie is already done, ready and out, and that it is directed by Anthony Minghella, and… that it stars Jill Scott! But there is more: the film is already getting a hard time from critics calling it “patronising”… And all this I got to know only yesterday!

My, where have I been in the last few months? Well, not in Botswana, that’s for sure.

Anyway, of course I can only reserve any personal opinion on the movie for after I’ve seen it (it will be on BBC on March 24). What I cannot avoid to point out now are these two things: this exchange where I expressed my view on the book, and this comment where I mention how much Jill Scott’s “Beautifully Human” and, specially,
“Golden”, marked my wonderings on the roads of Botswana… Now, how did it happen that it's exactly Jill Scott that ends up playing Mma Ramotswe, that beautifully human woman? I’m really gobsmacked!

Ah, before I forget: just found out that Mma Ramotswe also has a blog!


Related Posts:

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

Anthony Minghella (R.I.P.)

It came as a shock to get to know about it all at once yesterday: not only that there was the idea for a movie based on The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, but also that the movie is already done, ready and out, and that it is directed by Anthony Minghella, and… that it stars Jill Scott! But there is more: the film is already getting a hard time from critics calling it “patronising”… And all this I got to know only yesterday!

My, where have I been in the last few months? Well, not in Botswana, that’s for sure.

Anyway, of course I can only reserve any personal opinion on the movie for after I’ve seen it (it will be on BBC on March 24). What I cannot avoid to point out now are these two things: this exchange where I expressed my view on the book, and this comment where I mention how much Jill Scott’s “Beautifully Human” and, specially,
“Golden”, marked my wonderings on the roads of Botswana… Now, how did it happen that it's exactly Jill Scott that ends up playing Mma Ramotswe, that beautifully human woman? I’m really gobsmacked!

Ah, before I forget: just found out that Mma Ramotswe also has a blog!


Related Posts:

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

Anthony Minghella (R.I.P.)

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE (7)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Where is My Citizenship

N.B.: Only recently has the Government of Botswana started to relax the law requiring applicants for citizenship in the country to be fluent in Setswana.

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Where is My Citizenship

N.B.: Only recently has the Government of Botswana started to relax the law requiring applicants for citizenship in the country to be fluent in Setswana.

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE - 4

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Stolen Car

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

Stolen Car

LOCAL VOICES OFFLINE (2)

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

I was about to post this yesterday when the news of Benazir Bhutto’s assassination made me suspend it for at least a day.

“Now We’re Talking” is part of a show on Gabz FM by top Botswana radio DJ and comedian extraordinaire Michael “Dignash” Morapedi (read about him here and here). It consists of a delightful series of pranks he plays on unaware, innocent people he manages to get on the phone… Mimicking an amazingly wide range of personalities, voices, accents and tones, he succeeds at caricaturing some of the most interesting aspects of daily social, economic and political life in Gaborone, Botswana and the wider Southern African region. Truly a ‘must listen’ if you are around…


Intro

To help us unwind and try to rescue the rest of this holiday period from the somberness of yesterday’s news, I selected this ridiculously funny episode ('Don't Touch My Wife') about the absurdity of a situation that leaves a poor man crying… Enjoy!


Don't Touch My Wife

Things someone, somewhere in the world, was talking about but you probably weren’t listening…

I was about to post this yesterday when the news of Benazir Bhutto’s assassination made me suspend it for at least a day.

“Now We’re Talking” is part of a show on Gabz FM by top Botswana radio DJ and comedian extraordinaire Michael “Dignash” Morapedi (read about him here and here). It consists of a delightful series of pranks he plays on unaware, innocent people he manages to get on the phone… Mimicking an amazingly wide range of personalities, voices, accents and tones, he succeeds at caricaturing some of the most interesting aspects of daily social, economic and political life in Gaborone, Botswana and the wider Southern African region. Truly a ‘must listen’ if you are around…


Intro

To help us unwind and try to rescue the rest of this holiday period from the somberness of yesterday’s news, I selected this ridiculously funny episode ('Don't Touch My Wife') about the absurdity of a situation that leaves a poor man crying… Enjoy!


Don't Touch My Wife

SALA SENTLÊ! - UM TRIBUTO AO BOTSWANA*

É verdade amigos, tenho que me despedir. Escrevo-vos de Gaborone, onde as tarefas que me esperam nos próximos tempos não me permitem continuar estas conversas quinzenais. Não posso deixar de agradecer ao Graça Campos por me ter convidado a participar e ao colectivo do Semanário Angolense por me ter deixado partilhar um pouco desta excitante empresa de construção de um espaço alternativo, forte e independente na imprensa nacional. Tenho também que agradecer profundamente a todos os amigos (conhecidos e desconhecidos) que me enviaram mensagens de felicitações e encorajamento. Estou certa de que este valioso espaço no SA será bem aproveitado e continuará a dar oportunidade a outros para expressarem as suas idéias sobre o que vai pela terra e pelo mundo.

Mama Boregwe - Skizo (Afroblue/Native Tongues)

Deixei Londres, há cerca de três semanas, entregue à sua onda de greves e ao seu Tony Blair a tentar emular o machismo da Lady Thatcher e, ao mesmo tempo, articular uma boa razão para dispender na projectada guerra ao Iraque os fundos necessários à melhoria dos seus serviços públicos; aos seus muitos, quase diários, “celebrity and royal scandals”; à sua chuva miudinha e tempo cinzento e àquela sensação de estarmos parados no espaço, escrutinando o mundo a girar à nossa volta e o tempo a fugir de nós a toda a hora.

Neste meu regresso a Gabs, alguns meses depois de cá ter estado a trabalhar durante pouco mais de um ano, noto que ela continua a impressionar quem chega pela sua limpeza, cosmopolitismo e espírito empreendedor. Perdi a explosão púrpura dos jacarandás (diz-nos Alice Walker que Deus fica muito irritado – pior, fica “pissed off” – se a humanidade não repara na cor púrpura) que todos os Setembros prenuncia o início da época das chuvas, mas o vermelho das acácias e a profusão de cores das buganvílias continuam o seu perene, despudorado, romance com o dourado do sol. O imenso calor tende a fazer recolher os habitantes a espaços interiores durante a maior parte do tempo, deixando o exterior entregue quase exclusivamente a uma imensa variedade de répteis e insectos (que não perdem uma oportunidade para nos entrar pela casa adentro) e ao som do silêncio ou dos pássaros.

Sombele - Skizo (Afroblue/Native Tongues)

Os Batswana continuam demasiado ocupados a dar à Àfrica algumas das suas poucas razões de orgulho para se permitirem desenvolver quaisquer complexos (muito menos o de “colonizado”, o que quer que seja que isso signifique). Embora esteja convencida de que ao Motswana médio escapará a relevância, ou mesmo o significado, que este tipo de questões assume em Angola, acredito que qualquer deles subscreverá a idéia de que muito mal está um país quando a mera sugestão da importância de uma clara definição de uma identidade cultural nacional, não necessáriamente tributária da situação política colonial, atrai sobre quem se atreva a fazê-lo a rasteira acusação de ser “complexado(a)”.

Aliás, suspeito que se Freud estivesse vivo, dedicaria o resto da sua vida à reinvenção total da Psicanálise, por forma a nela acomodar a vacuidade que a palavra “complexos” (sem qualquer indicação de em relação a quê, ou sobre se de inferioridade, de superioridade, de Édipo, ou de Electra…) parece ter assumido no léxico de alguns sectores da nossa sociedade.

Numa conjuntura histórica em que práticamente todos os sectores acadêmicos, técnicos e intelectuais internacionais começam a dar cada vez mais peso a factores culturais endógenos como variáveis explicativas de experiências de desenvolvimento sustentado em todo o mundo, o Botswana emerge como um “caso especial”: estamos perante um povo que construiu a sua cidade capital práticamente a partir do zero (Gaborone, que significa “nossa casa”, só começou a ser construída um ano antes da independência, obtida em 1966, quando o país já se encontrava sob um regime de auto-determinação); um povo que, a par do Inglês e de outras línguas locais, fala e escreve o seu principal idioma nacional, Setswana, em todas as instâncias da sua vida privada, social e profissional - desde os aviões da companhia aérea nacional, aos aeroportos, aos sinais de trânsito, aos painéis de publicidade, aos meios de comunicação social, às escolas e faculdades, ao parlamento, aos tribunais, às empresas, ou aos bancos.

Fire - Wizards of the Desert (Khoisan Aristocracy)

Estamos perante um país cujo modo de governo é baseado no tradicional sistema de “Kgotla”, em que a autoridade suprema é investida numa legislatura que, compreendendo a Assembléia Nacional e o Presidente, age em mandatória consultação com a “Câmara dos Chefes Tradicionais”, a qual supervisiona e decide sobre todos os aspectos da acção governativa que afectem os valores, costumes e tradições nacionais. O próprio conceito de desenvolvimento inclusivo e harmonia social, “Kagisano”, que norteia a sua estratégia económica é derivado da cultura nacional - dele emanam os princípios de democracia, auto-suficiência e unidade que servem de contexto geral para a definição dos objectivos da nação.

Estamos perante um país que pôs no centro do seu programa de diversificação económica e desenvolvimento industrial o “empowerment” dos seus cidadãos, através de programas concretos, fundos específicos e mecanismos institucionais que promovem a sua efectiva implementação e o desenvolvimento de uma classe empresarial nacional em todos os sectores da economia, tendo-se o governo compromotido a estender as suas preferências a consultores nacionais e a comprar acções em empresas de proprietários locais que estejam a enfrentar dificuldades financeiras; um país cujo código de investimento estrangeiro estipula, por exemplo, que as empresas estrangeiras que envolvam accionistas locais podem beneficiar de uma diminuição do mínimo investimento que lhes é exigido para metade, ou um terço, dependendo do sector em que queiram investir, sendo que em alguns sectores as empresas estrangeiras são obrigadas a sub-contratar empresas locais, enquanto o governo se dispõe a reembolsar 50% dos custos de formação dos empregados locais e a pagar um montante entre 40 e 85%, dependendo da localização da empresa numa área urbana ou rural, dos custos de cada posto de trabalho criado na indústria manufactureira.

Mama - Wizards of the Desert (Khoisan Aristocracy)

Perante tudo isso, não será certamente de espantar, especialmente aos olhos dos países ocidentais, que basearam as suas estratégias de crescimento económico nos direitos dos seus cidadãos e nas suas culturas e valores tradicionais (e que talvez partilhem com certos segmentos das elites urbanas angolanas um perfeito entendimento da importância fulcral da língua e da cultura como instrumentos de poder e dominação, bem como um indisfarçável nervosismo à simples menção do conceito de “identidade africana”), que o Botswana seja: o país com as taxas de crescimento mais impressivas e consistentes em África (cerca de 9% p.a. ao longo das últimas três décadas) e comparáveis às de “tigres asiáticos” como a Tailândia e a Coreia do Sul; o país com uma das políticas de combate ao SIDA mais coerentes e agressivas na região (a taxa de incidência sobre o seu comparativamente diminuto agregado populacional tem afectado negativamente o seu índice de desenvolvimento humano e constitui a maior ameaça ao futuro do país); o segundo país mais competitivo da SADC, depois das Maurícias; o país com as taxas de corrupção mais baixas em África e com uma melhor reputação nessa área do que países como França, Itália, Grécia ou Portugal; o país com taxas de juro reais comparáveis às dos principais mercados mundiais de capitais e até superiores, durante vários períodos, às do UK, EUA e África do Sul; ou o país com as melhores posições em África em termos de robustez económica e solvabilidade, acima da África do Sul ou de países como a Coreia do Sul e a Malásia.

Ba Ntatola Ke Tshela - Franco (Ba Ntatola)

Complexo de colonizado? Definitivamente, esse é um conceito que não existe em nenhuma das línguas nacionais deste povo, mestre da estética da alma: pacato e de uma tocante cortezia e humildade, mas confiante, orgulhoso, soberano e internacionalmente respeitado. Despeço-me em Setswana: Sala Sentlê! (Fiquem Bem, na língua de Camões; Stay Well, na língua de Shakespeare).

P.S.: E que viva para sempre a memória da rainha NZinga – um dos expoentes maiores da nacionalidade Angolana!

Issa - Franco (Ba Ntatola)

{*Cronica por mim publicada no SA ha' 5 anos (a ultima da serie “Factos e Ficcoes"). Foi parcialmente em resposta a um outro colunista do mesmo semanario que, embora nao citando o meu nome, mas de forma suficientemente directa e inequivoca, me acusava de ter "complexos de colonizado", ao mesmo tempo que invectivava contra a estatua da Rainha Nzinga…}

Ma Africa - Franco (Ba Ntatola)

***
About the songs: these are some of the songs on Botswana airwaves’ top-10 in the last few years, with Franco invariably at number 1, lately closely followed by the Wizards. Except for ‘Mama Boregwe’, which conveys the sounds and voices of the Kalahari, with these choices I wanted to highlight a very interesting phenomenon in the country’s music trends, which can also be observed in almost all Sub-Saharan African countries these days: the adoption of Congolese sounds (soukous, rumba and that wild mix generally known as kwassa-kwassa), be it through remixes/covers – as in ‘Sombele’ or ‘Mama’ (remember Congolese Franco’s ‘Mario’?) or ‘legitimate appropriation’ – as in almost all Motswana Franco’s (Frank Lesokwane) music and his adopted name. The contagion is of such order that when I left the country about 2 years ago there was a public discussion going on whether the genre should be adopted as Botswana’s “national music”.

É verdade amigos, tenho que me despedir. Escrevo-vos de Gaborone, onde as tarefas que me esperam nos próximos tempos não me permitem continuar estas conversas quinzenais. Não posso deixar de agradecer ao Graça Campos por me ter convidado a participar e ao colectivo do Semanário Angolense por me ter deixado partilhar um pouco desta excitante empresa de construção de um espaço alternativo, forte e independente na imprensa nacional. Tenho também que agradecer profundamente a todos os amigos (conhecidos e desconhecidos) que me enviaram mensagens de felicitações e encorajamento. Estou certa de que este valioso espaço no SA será bem aproveitado e continuará a dar oportunidade a outros para expressarem as suas idéias sobre o que vai pela terra e pelo mundo.

Mama Boregwe - Skizo (Afroblue/Native Tongues)

Deixei Londres, há cerca de três semanas, entregue à sua onda de greves e ao seu Tony Blair a tentar emular o machismo da Lady Thatcher e, ao mesmo tempo, articular uma boa razão para dispender na projectada guerra ao Iraque os fundos necessários à melhoria dos seus serviços públicos; aos seus muitos, quase diários, “celebrity and royal scandals”; à sua chuva miudinha e tempo cinzento e àquela sensação de estarmos parados no espaço, escrutinando o mundo a girar à nossa volta e o tempo a fugir de nós a toda a hora.

Neste meu regresso a Gabs, alguns meses depois de cá ter estado a trabalhar durante pouco mais de um ano, noto que ela continua a impressionar quem chega pela sua limpeza, cosmopolitismo e espírito empreendedor. Perdi a explosão púrpura dos jacarandás (diz-nos Alice Walker que Deus fica muito irritado – pior, fica “pissed off” – se a humanidade não repara na cor púrpura) que todos os Setembros prenuncia o início da época das chuvas, mas o vermelho das acácias e a profusão de cores das buganvílias continuam o seu perene, despudorado, romance com o dourado do sol. O imenso calor tende a fazer recolher os habitantes a espaços interiores durante a maior parte do tempo, deixando o exterior entregue quase exclusivamente a uma imensa variedade de répteis e insectos (que não perdem uma oportunidade para nos entrar pela casa adentro) e ao som do silêncio ou dos pássaros.

Sombele - Skizo (Afroblue/Native Tongues)

Os Batswana continuam demasiado ocupados a dar à Àfrica algumas das suas poucas razões de orgulho para se permitirem desenvolver quaisquer complexos (muito menos o de “colonizado”, o que quer que seja que isso signifique). Embora esteja convencida de que ao Motswana médio escapará a relevância, ou mesmo o significado, que este tipo de questões assume em Angola, acredito que qualquer deles subscreverá a idéia de que muito mal está um país quando a mera sugestão da importância de uma clara definição de uma identidade cultural nacional, não necessáriamente tributária da situação política colonial, atrai sobre quem se atreva a fazê-lo a rasteira acusação de ser “complexado(a)”.

Aliás, suspeito que se Freud estivesse vivo, dedicaria o resto da sua vida à reinvenção total da Psicanálise, por forma a nela acomodar a vacuidade que a palavra “complexos” (sem qualquer indicação de em relação a quê, ou sobre se de inferioridade, de superioridade, de Édipo, ou de Electra…) parece ter assumido no léxico de alguns sectores da nossa sociedade.

Numa conjuntura histórica em que práticamente todos os sectores acadêmicos, técnicos e intelectuais internacionais começam a dar cada vez mais peso a factores culturais endógenos como variáveis explicativas de experiências de desenvolvimento sustentado em todo o mundo, o Botswana emerge como um “caso especial”: estamos perante um povo que construiu a sua cidade capital práticamente a partir do zero (Gaborone, que significa “nossa casa”, só começou a ser construída um ano antes da independência, obtida em 1966, quando o país já se encontrava sob um regime de auto-determinação); um povo que, a par do Inglês e de outras línguas locais, fala e escreve o seu principal idioma nacional, Setswana, em todas as instâncias da sua vida privada, social e profissional - desde os aviões da companhia aérea nacional, aos aeroportos, aos sinais de trânsito, aos painéis de publicidade, aos meios de comunicação social, às escolas e faculdades, ao parlamento, aos tribunais, às empresas, ou aos bancos.

Fire - Wizards of the Desert (Khoisan Aristocracy)

Estamos perante um país cujo modo de governo é baseado no tradicional sistema de “Kgotla”, em que a autoridade suprema é investida numa legislatura que, compreendendo a Assembléia Nacional e o Presidente, age em mandatória consultação com a “Câmara dos Chefes Tradicionais”, a qual supervisiona e decide sobre todos os aspectos da acção governativa que afectem os valores, costumes e tradições nacionais. O próprio conceito de desenvolvimento inclusivo e harmonia social, “Kagisano”, que norteia a sua estratégia económica é derivado da cultura nacional - dele emanam os princípios de democracia, auto-suficiência e unidade que servem de contexto geral para a definição dos objectivos da nação.

Estamos perante um país que pôs no centro do seu programa de diversificação económica e desenvolvimento industrial o “empowerment” dos seus cidadãos, através de programas concretos, fundos específicos e mecanismos institucionais que promovem a sua efectiva implementação e o desenvolvimento de uma classe empresarial nacional em todos os sectores da economia, tendo-se o governo compromotido a estender as suas preferências a consultores nacionais e a comprar acções em empresas de proprietários locais que estejam a enfrentar dificuldades financeiras; um país cujo código de investimento estrangeiro estipula, por exemplo, que as empresas estrangeiras que envolvam accionistas locais podem beneficiar de uma diminuição do mínimo investimento que lhes é exigido para metade, ou um terço, dependendo do sector em que queiram investir, sendo que em alguns sectores as empresas estrangeiras são obrigadas a sub-contratar empresas locais, enquanto o governo se dispõe a reembolsar 50% dos custos de formação dos empregados locais e a pagar um montante entre 40 e 85%, dependendo da localização da empresa numa área urbana ou rural, dos custos de cada posto de trabalho criado na indústria manufactureira.

Mama - Wizards of the Desert (Khoisan Aristocracy)

Perante tudo isso, não será certamente de espantar, especialmente aos olhos dos países ocidentais, que basearam as suas estratégias de crescimento económico nos direitos dos seus cidadãos e nas suas culturas e valores tradicionais (e que talvez partilhem com certos segmentos das elites urbanas angolanas um perfeito entendimento da importância fulcral da língua e da cultura como instrumentos de poder e dominação, bem como um indisfarçável nervosismo à simples menção do conceito de “identidade africana”), que o Botswana seja: o país com as taxas de crescimento mais impressivas e consistentes em África (cerca de 9% p.a. ao longo das últimas três décadas) e comparáveis às de “tigres asiáticos” como a Tailândia e a Coreia do Sul; o país com uma das políticas de combate ao SIDA mais coerentes e agressivas na região (a taxa de incidência sobre o seu comparativamente diminuto agregado populacional tem afectado negativamente o seu índice de desenvolvimento humano e constitui a maior ameaça ao futuro do país); o segundo país mais competitivo da SADC, depois das Maurícias; o país com as taxas de corrupção mais baixas em África e com uma melhor reputação nessa área do que países como França, Itália, Grécia ou Portugal; o país com taxas de juro reais comparáveis às dos principais mercados mundiais de capitais e até superiores, durante vários períodos, às do UK, EUA e África do Sul; ou o país com as melhores posições em África em termos de robustez económica e solvabilidade, acima da África do Sul ou de países como a Coreia do Sul e a Malásia.

Ba Ntatola Ke Tshela - Franco (Ba Ntatola)

Complexo de colonizado? Definitivamente, esse é um conceito que não existe em nenhuma das línguas nacionais deste povo, mestre da estética da alma: pacato e de uma tocante cortezia e humildade, mas confiante, orgulhoso, soberano e internacionalmente respeitado. Despeço-me em Setswana: Sala Sentlê! (Fiquem Bem, na língua de Camões; Stay Well, na língua de Shakespeare).

P.S.: E que viva para sempre a memória da rainha NZinga – um dos expoentes maiores da nacionalidade Angolana!

Issa - Franco (Ba Ntatola)

{*Cronica por mim publicada no SA ha' 5 anos (a ultima da serie “Factos e Ficcoes"). Foi parcialmente em resposta a um outro colunista do mesmo semanario que, embora nao citando o meu nome, mas de forma suficientemente directa e inequivoca, me acusava de ter "complexos de colonizado", ao mesmo tempo que invectivava contra a estatua da Rainha Nzinga…}

Ma Africa - Franco (Ba Ntatola)

***
About the songs: these are some of the songs on Botswana airwaves’ top-10 in the last few years, with Franco invariably at number 1, lately closely followed by the Wizards. Except for ‘Mama Boregwe’, which conveys the sounds and voices of the Kalahari, with these choices I wanted to highlight a very interesting phenomenon in the country’s music trends, which can also be observed in almost all Sub-Saharan African countries these days: the adoption of Congolese sounds (soukous, rumba and that wild mix generally known as kwassa-kwassa), be it through remixes/covers – as in ‘Sombele’ or ‘Mama’ (remember Congolese Franco’s ‘Mario’?) or ‘legitimate appropriation’ – as in almost all Motswana Franco’s (Frank Lesokwane) music and his adopted name. The contagion is of such order that when I left the country about 2 years ago there was a public discussion going on whether the genre should be adopted as Botswana’s “national music”.

ZIMBABWEAN SCULPTURE

Whoever lives or travels around Southern Africa has certainly marveled at the numerous ‘informal markets’, normally by the roadsides, where all sorts of works of art, by men and women, are sold by Zimbabwean refugees all across the region. Of these, the most noticeable are sculptures, most frequently in soap-stone, but also in wood, iron and other materials. These elaborated, often sumptuous, works of art, for which one would most certainly pay small or big fortunes in big city art galleries, will cost you ‘peanuts’ in those markets.

This is just one of the many facets of the current tragedy affecting Zimbabwe: thousands of nationals from the country, reputed as not just the “former bread-basket”, but also as possessing one of the biggest reservoirs of qualified people in the region, nowadays try to earn a living in such markets or through menial jobs in neighbouring countries, while being targeted by all sorts of xenophobic attitudes from the authorities and nationals of those countries – something not likely to figure in the agendas of the AU summits, at a time when the buzzword in various continental fora is one “United States of Africa”…

There are, however, as with everything in life, exceptions to the rule, and as much as you will find former Zimbabwean engineers, teachers and other professionals washing dishes as domestic workers in some middle-class household in a neighbouring country, you will also find many qualified and competent Zimbabweans well employed in institutions and companies across the region, the rest of the continent and the world at large.

The sculptures depicted above are just one such example: the work of Shepherd Ndudzo, a Zimbabwean artist based in Gaborone, they’ve escaped the roadside and were exhibited at local galleries and sold, well… not exactly for ‘peanuts’! To my chagrin, I couldn’t buy one, but managed to get from the artist one of the limited series of postcards made out of his fabulous collection of female postures.

Whoever lives or travels around Southern Africa has certainly marveled at the numerous ‘informal markets’, normally by the roadsides, where all sorts of works of art, by men and women, are sold by Zimbabwean refugees all across the region. Of these, the most noticeable are sculptures, most frequently in soap-stone, but also in wood, iron and other materials. These elaborated, often sumptuous, works of art, for which one would most certainly pay small or big fortunes in big city art galleries, will cost you ‘peanuts’ in those markets.

This is just one of the many facets of the current tragedy affecting Zimbabwe: thousands of nationals from the country, reputed as not just the “former bread-basket”, but also as possessing one of the biggest reservoirs of qualified people in the region, nowadays try to earn a living in such markets or through menial jobs in neighbouring countries, while being targeted by all sorts of xenophobic attitudes from the authorities and nationals of those countries – something not likely to figure in the agendas of the AU summits, at a time when the buzzword in various continental fora is one “United States of Africa”…

There are, however, as with everything in life, exceptions to the rule, and as much as you will find former Zimbabwean engineers, teachers and other professionals washing dishes as domestic workers in some middle-class household in a neighbouring country, you will also find many qualified and competent Zimbabweans well employed in institutions and companies across the region, the rest of the continent and the world at large.

The sculptures depicted above are just one such example: the work of Shepherd Ndudzo, a Zimbabwean artist based in Gaborone, they’ve escaped the roadside and were exhibited at local galleries and sold, well… not exactly for ‘peanuts’! To my chagrin, I couldn’t buy one, but managed to get from the artist one of the limited series of postcards made out of his fabulous collection of female postures.

ANOTHER TAKE AT THE AFRICAN "BRAIN DRAIN"

I found this document the other day at the Air Botswana check-in counter at the recently renamed O.R. Tambo International Airport, Jo'burg. It reads:

NOTICE TO AIR BOTSWANA PASSENGERS & STAKEHOLDERS

Air Botswana apologises sincerely to passengers who are affected by the current disruption to its services.

This temporary situation is caused by factors relating to flight crew.

In common with many airlines in Africa and elsewhere, Air Botswana has experienced a loss of pilots, whose skills have been recruited by carriers in the Middle East and Asia where the civil aviation industry is growing rapidly.

This has resulted in a diminished capacity to maintain a full timetable for services, necessitating a rescheduling of some flights.

In seeking the understanding and patience of our customers, Air Botswana also assures them that the situation is being effectively addressed, in order to bring about a speedy return to normal services.

Issued by office of the Brand Manager.

AIR BOTSWANA - Going Your Way

I found this document the other day at the Air Botswana check-in counter at the recently renamed O.R. Tambo International Airport, Jo'burg. It reads:

NOTICE TO AIR BOTSWANA PASSENGERS & STAKEHOLDERS

Air Botswana apologises sincerely to passengers who are affected by the current disruption to its services.

This temporary situation is caused by factors relating to flight crew.

In common with many airlines in Africa and elsewhere, Air Botswana has experienced a loss of pilots, whose skills have been recruited by carriers in the Middle East and Asia where the civil aviation industry is growing rapidly.

This has resulted in a diminished capacity to maintain a full timetable for services, necessitating a rescheduling of some flights.

In seeking the understanding and patience of our customers, Air Botswana also assures them that the situation is being effectively addressed, in order to bring about a speedy return to normal services.

Issued by office of the Brand Manager.

AIR BOTSWANA - Going Your Way

IT’S FRIDAY!!!!

It was with this ‘jumpy shout’ conjuring up happiness and excitement at the beginning of the weekend that my favourite radio station in Botswana, Gabz fm, started its programmes on Fridays, while suggesting interesting things to do in the weekend: It’s Friday!!!! How I miss it sometimes…

One thing that particularly springs to mind at the weekend is dance: in a club, at home, wherever! It’s not just about happiness and excitement, it also acts therapeutically to cleanse body, mind and soul of all impurities accumulated during the week.

When thinking about dance, I recall my sparse dabbles at “structured” ways of doing this thing that always comes to me naturally, impulsively and instinctively since I was born, which is not to mean that my dance is not “naturally structured” by any sound I move to…

One such instance was in the early 80s in Luanda at a weekly “jazz dance” class given by the Swedish UN representative’s wife in her need to use her idle time. Another, also for “jazz dance”, was in the early 90s in Lisbon, at a formal dance company, where I had as teachers a female dancer/choreographer of French-Algerian origin and a Russian male former professional classical dancer, who had been forced out of the big stages and spotlights by a permanent knee injury. In both cases, I felt, with very rare exceptions, somewhat uncomfortable, due to being constrained to "perform" moves in ways that didn’t come naturally to my mind or to my body, added to the rigidity and extreme competitiveness characteristics of such environments…

Then, some 8 years ago, I attended a series of special African dance classes at the Africa Centre in London, given by one of the main female dancers/choreographers from Ghana. The music was played by African drummers from West Africa, including Ghana, Senegal and Cameroon, and the classes were attended by people of all races, ages and nationalities… it was my best “structured” dance experience so far! Unfortunately, it was cut short by the decision of its directors at the time to stop all “noisy” activities at the Centre (because the dance classes, which were accompanied by drums, were followed by African drum classes…), arguing that they interfered with the more “serious” events going on in there, such as conferences, workshops, roundtables and the like… Such a shame!

Anyway, I didn’t feel “lost in dance” because of that, since I always carry my natural dance and my music, as an intrinsic part of my life, everywhere I go…

Did I say anything about "art"?


I don’t know if the African drum’s classes were ever retaken at the Africa Centre, but one thing is for sure: you can catch them pretty much anywhere in London these days. They’ve joined activities such as yoga, pottery, etc. in the common menu of healthy things to do in your leisure time!

You can find them at such places as the Drum Jam or the evocatively named Nzinga Dance.

(All pictures © Nzinga Dance™)

It was with this ‘jumpy shout’ conjuring up happiness and excitement at the beginning of the weekend that my favourite radio station in Botswana, Gabz fm, started its programmes on Fridays, while suggesting interesting things to do in the weekend: It’s Friday!!!! How I miss it sometimes…

One thing that particularly springs to mind at the weekend is dance: in a club, at home, wherever! It’s not just about happiness and excitement, it also acts therapeutically to cleanse body, mind and soul of all impurities accumulated during the week.

When thinking about dance, I recall my sparse dabbles at “structured” ways of doing this thing that always comes to me naturally, impulsively and instinctively since I was born, which is not to mean that my dance is not “naturally structured” by any sound I move to…

One such instance was in the early 80s in Luanda at a weekly “jazz dance” class given by the Swedish UN representative’s wife in her need to use her idle time. Another, also for “jazz dance”, was in the early 90s in Lisbon, at a formal dance company, where I had as teachers a female dancer/choreographer of French-Algerian origin and a Russian male former professional classical dancer, who had been forced out of the big stages and spotlights by a permanent knee injury. In both cases, I felt, with very rare exceptions, somewhat uncomfortable, due to being constrained to "perform" moves in ways that didn’t come naturally to my mind or to my body, added to the rigidity and extreme competitiveness characteristics of such environments…

Then, some 8 years ago, I attended a series of special African dance classes at the Africa Centre in London, given by one of the main female dancers/choreographers from Ghana. The music was played by African drummers from West Africa, including Ghana, Senegal and Cameroon, and the classes were attended by people of all races, ages and nationalities… it was my best “structured” dance experience so far! Unfortunately, it was cut short by the decision of its directors at the time to stop all “noisy” activities at the Centre (because the dance classes, which were accompanied by drums, were followed by African drum classes…), arguing that they interfered with the more “serious” events going on in there, such as conferences, workshops, roundtables and the like… Such a shame!

Anyway, I didn’t feel “lost in dance” because of that, since I always carry my natural dance and my music, as an intrinsic part of my life, everywhere I go…

Did I say anything about "art"?


I don’t know if the African drum’s classes were ever retaken at the Africa Centre, but one thing is for sure: you can catch them pretty much anywhere in London these days. They’ve joined activities such as yoga, pottery, etc. in the common menu of healthy things to do in your leisure time!

You can find them at such places as the Drum Jam or the evocatively named Nzinga Dance.

(All pictures © Nzinga Dance™)

OUTBLOGGING @ AFRICANPATH – II

As at least some of you might have noticed, my first article at Africanpath received almost immediately a response from Dennis Matanda, one of the site’s resident bloggers.
In my second article, posted today, I seek to address some of the issues raised by Matanda in his last and previous articles. In doing so, I deal with three discrete cases from African economic history, namely Ghana, Zimbabwe and Botswana.

Again, you can read and comment it either Here or at Africanpath.

As at least some of you might have noticed, my first article at Africanpath received almost immediately a response from Dennis Matanda, one of the site’s resident bloggers.
In my second article, posted today, I seek to address some of the issues raised by Matanda in his last and previous articles. In doing so, I deal with three discrete cases from African economic history, namely Ghana, Zimbabwe and Botswana.

Again, you can read and comment it either Here or at Africanpath.

FLOR DO JACARANDA'

Jacaranda' em flor. Este e' de Gaborone (cidade dos jacarandas e das buganvilias), mas tambem se encontram, e muitos, em Tswane (Pretoria - cidade so' dos jacarandas). Embora ainda se possam ver nesta altura do ano, a altura certa para os fruir em plenitude e' em Setembro/Outubro, imediatamente a seguir 'a primeira grande chuvada do ano. Tenho ouvido falar dos jacarandas do Huambo, mas como nunca la' fui nao sei se dao flores da mesma cor... De qualquer modo, parecem ter algum parentesco, mesmo que longinquo geografica e botanicamente, com as amendoeiras em flor que o Denudado mostra hoje no seu blog.

Jacaranda' em flor. Este e' de Gaborone (cidade dos jacarandas e das buganvilias), mas tambem se encontram, e muitos, em Tswane (Pretoria - cidade so' dos jacarandas). Embora ainda se possam ver nesta altura do ano, a altura certa para os fruir em plenitude e' em Setembro/Outubro, imediatamente a seguir 'a primeira grande chuvada do ano. Tenho ouvido falar dos jacarandas do Huambo, mas como nunca la' fui nao sei se dao flores da mesma cor... De qualquer modo, parecem ter algum parentesco, mesmo que longinquo geografica e botanicamente, com as amendoeiras em flor que o Denudado mostra hoje no seu blog.