SIYABONGA MAMA AFRIKA

Mashakane


Pictures: Last performance by Miriam Makeba in South Africa
(Cape Town International Jazz Festival, 2005) by Ana Santana

Mashakane


Pictures: Last performance by Miriam Makeba in South Africa
(Cape Town International Jazz Festival, 2005) by Ana Santana

ABOUT THE "MAY 27": I. 30 YEARS ON

Today is the 30th anniversary of May 27, 1977, a date which conveys what are arguably the deepest wounds in the Angolan soul. It marks the brutal repression of a “movement”, mainly by high-level militants of the ruling party MPLA, the so-called “fraccionistas”, allegedly intent on overthrowing the then President, A. Neto, and his entourage from power. Neto then pronounced a famous sentence: “Nao Havera’ Perdao” (“There Will Be No Pardon!”).

In the ensuing months and for several years afterwards, thousands of Angolans from all social, racial and cultural backgrounds (although some more targeted and victimised than others) were either eliminated, imprisoned or confined to “Campos de Re-educacao” (“Re-education Camps”), in some cases in the same camps where they, or their fathers and/or other family members, had been imprisoned by the colonialists, without any formal judicial process.

Personally, not having been involved directly or indirectly in either side of the events, I had, nevertheless, as with millions of other Angolans, family members, friends, colleagues and aquaintances eliminated or otherwise victimised by the purge. The total number of dead is estimated at at least 30.000, which is ten times more than the number of Pinochet's victims... Just imagine 1.000 dead each year since that date...

To this day there are parents, wives, offspring, relatives and friends of the disappeared in psychologically suspended grief for not knowing why, when, where and what happened to their loved ones.

Countries such as South Africa have instituted mechanisms like the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to address this sort of issues. Yet, Angola is still hung on its inability to face head-on its darkest traumas, thus unable to rationally heal, or at least try to, its deepest wounds on behalf of its future as a Nation.

(Pictures from here)

(Click nas imagens para ler artigos)

Today is the 30th anniversary of May 27, 1977, a date which conveys what are arguably the deepest wounds in the Angolan soul. It marks the brutal repression of a “movement”, mainly by high-level militants of the ruling party MPLA, the so-called “fraccionistas”, allegedly intent on overthrowing the then President, A. Neto, and his entourage from power. Neto then pronounced a famous sentence: “Nao Havera’ Perdao” (“There Will Be No Pardon!”).

In the ensuing months and for several years afterwards, thousands of Angolans from all social, racial and cultural backgrounds (although some more targeted and victimised than others) were either eliminated, imprisoned or confined to “Campos de Re-educacao” (“Re-education Camps”), in some cases in the same camps where they, or their fathers and/or other family members, had been imprisoned by the colonialists, without any formal judicial process.

Personally, not having been involved directly or indirectly in either side of the events, I had, nevertheless, as with millions of other Angolans, family members, friends, colleagues and aquaintances eliminated or otherwise victimised by the purge. The total number of dead is estimated at at least 30.000, which is ten times more than the number of Pinochet's victims... Just imagine 1.000 dead each year since that date...

To this day there are parents, wives, offspring, relatives and friends of the disappeared in psychologically suspended grief for not knowing why, when, where and what happened to their loved ones.

Countries such as South Africa have instituted mechanisms like the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to address this sort of issues. Yet, Angola is still hung on its inability to face head-on its darkest traumas, thus unable to rationally heal, or at least try to, its deepest wounds on behalf of its future as a Nation.

(Pictures from here)

(Click nas imagens para ler artigos)

"THE ANGOLA OF MY DREAMS"

"I would like to explain the context in which I produced the flashmovie "The Angola of My Dreams".

This movie is a tribute to Jorge Sangumba, the first Foreign Secretary of UNITA. Jorge Sangumba and I were married in 1975. I was at the time a graduate student at Harvard, finishing a Ph.D. in African History. Jorge was killed in 1982. Because we frequently communicated by letter, I have in my possession several hundred pages of correspondence from him.

As we scholars sort through the chaos of the Angolan civil war, we must recognize that certain voices with meaningful messages will never be heard. This movie is my attempt to introduce one such voice to those who have an interest in Angola, its history and traumas. I spent a year sifting through Jorge's correspondence and speeches to distill the essence of what he stood for and have tried to convey that essence in his own words with this flash movie."

By Constance Hilliard

(See it here)

"I would like to explain the context in which I produced the flashmovie "The Angola of My Dreams".

This movie is a tribute to Jorge Sangumba, the first Foreign Secretary of UNITA. Jorge Sangumba and I were married in 1975. I was at the time a graduate student at Harvard, finishing a Ph.D. in African History. Jorge was killed in 1982. Because we frequently communicated by letter, I have in my possession several hundred pages of correspondence from him.

As we scholars sort through the chaos of the Angolan civil war, we must recognize that certain voices with meaningful messages will never be heard. This movie is my attempt to introduce one such voice to those who have an interest in Angola, its history and traumas. I spent a year sifting through Jorge's correspondence and speeches to distill the essence of what he stood for and have tried to convey that essence in his own words with this flash movie."

By Constance Hilliard

(See it here)

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™)