West Africa Review (2000)

ISSN: 1525-4488

EDITORIAL

Olufemi Taiwo

Come and see
American Wonder
Come and see
American Wonder
Iro ni won n pa
American Wonder
Eke ni won n se
American Wonder

Anyone who grew up in parts of southern Nigeria will easily recognize the epigram above. When we were growing up, it was a jingle usually sung by "patent medicine" salesmen with, on occasion, their pickpocket sidekicks. At other times, it was a jingle on the lips of another category of vendors: men who went around with `cinema-in-a-box'. These boxes, which had a hole covered with glass or polyethylene that served as a viewfinder, had stored in them a scroll of pictures of exotic places, including American images. The viewer was charged the royal sum of one kobo to feed her\his eyes. What is remarkable about the jingle is that, in either case in which it was used, the object of the pitch had little or nothing to do with America; and, in the "patent medicine" salesmen's case, nor was the "'medicine" genuine at all. Additionally, the salesmen were not quacks. No, they sold whatever their wholesalers supplied to them. In the case of the roving 'cinema-in-a-box' vendor, he quite often was not misrepresenting the images in his scroll; he did not know better.

We have followed the reactions that have greeted Henry Louis Gates' "Wonders of the African World," ever since its screening on this side of the Atlantic, by PBS in October 1999. From the reactions published in this special issue, in light of the advance publicity for "Wonders of the African World," we garnered that many felt that the object of the series bore little resemblance to what they had been led to expect. Others felt that the medicine that Gates had to offer was dubious, at best. Needless to say, just as in the case of those of us who were the target audience of the jingle in our epigram, some of us thought that the medicine was effective and swore by it, and others felt that the "cinema" was worth the kobo expended on it; so also, in the case of "Wonders of the African World," there are those who see in it a welcome teaching tool or, at least, a terrific entertainment. This explains, in part, the wide variations in the reactions that we present in this issue. We can only hope that in making these reactions available to a wider audience they generate further airing of the issues that they raise. In the rest of this editorial, we summarize some of those issues for further reflection.

Our interest in the debate goes beyond our serving merely as a clearinghouse for the many views that have been canvassed. For, as we intimated in our inaugural issue, part of our mission in founding the journal is to make interventions in the ways in which the region that forms our focus is represented, and raise critical questions for consideration by scholars of the region, and others. In this connection, we can see the point of those who, in their reactions, have questioned the competence of Gates, especially where certain historical facts and interpretive debates are concerned. This comes out clearly in the matter of his rendering of the trajectory of the Atlantic Slave Trade and what, if anything, it shared in common with other forms of slavery in Africa. On this issue, it may not be sufficient to point out that Gates' interest is in provoking a discussion of the complicity of Africans in the Slave Trade from the perspective of the descendants of those who were sold. Gates will not be the first to raise the question. And it is false to state that Africans, least of all African scholars and thinkers, have been absolutely silent about the issue. It was a staple of African history courses, at least when some of us went to school in Nigeria. It was an issue in the Colloquium that was part of FESTAC '77. Not too long ago, a serious discussion was held in Ghana, as part of the Pan- African Historical and Theatre Festival (PANAFEST), in 1995, and such was the nature of the discussion there that it attracted the attention of the New York Times. But we hope that this latest raising of the question will lead others to check the records of many African-Americans who have visited, studied, and lived in Africa, as far back as the nineteenth century. A good place to start is Apropos of Africa: Afro- American Leaders and the Romance of Africa, eds. Martin Kilson and Adelaide Hill, (New York: Anchor, 1971). Rather than bemoan the likelihood of conflict between Africans and African-Americans, as many seem to fear, a more fruitful outcome of Gates' fresh articulation of the issue will be to go back and reacquaint ourselves with the history of the ongoing debates between Africans from the continent and those of the diaspora, with a view to coming up with a better understanding of the divergences and, simultaneously, a greater appreciation of the necessity of cooperation, as well as its possibility.

Others have remarked on Gates' preferred mode of presentation-the travelogue-and the continuous insertion of himself and his personal takes in the series. As the reader will see, Gates has his reasons for his preference. And Biodun Jeyifo, in his contribution, does an even better job of showing the strength of this mode of presentation. Yet, this mode of presentation makes the job of evaluating the series a lot more difficult. For, in some sense, the form of presentation makes the epigram above quite apposite. It is a spectacle that we are invited, à la our "cinema-in-a-box" vendor, to see. Does Gates want us not to take the material seriously because it is, as he says, "[his] attempt to bring into the homes of average Africans, African Americans, Europeans, and Americans, some of the monuments of civilization created by people living in twelve countries on the African continent, delivered in an accessible form"? Given the reaction that this form has elicited, is it possible that "accessibility" has been purchased at too a high price? Might the assumptions that motivated the choice of form be problematic; might the choice have been motivated by some measure of paternalism as to the capacity of the prospective audience to digest a complex narrative? The situation is further complicated by his later description of his project as "an autobiographical essay, narrated and written by an African American, one who has travelled extensively by land and water from Johannesburg to Cairo, from Zanzibar to Dakar, on over 50 trips to the Continent; the whole series was framed as a travelogue which allowed me to show both the diversity of the vast African continent and the African peoples themselves." How are critics supposed to take this declaration? As an autobiographical essay? One may quibble about some of the facts, but it is beyond the pale of criticism to suggest that Gates should have told his story in a manner that another person writing her own story might have told it. Might it be the case that, in light of Gates' declaration, those who have criticized the series as if it were a scholarly piece have misconstrued it and, consequently, have misdirected their attention? Yet, if the author, as he seems to suggest, intends, if only in part, the series to be educational, then critics are right to raise questions about the qualifications of the author and the educational value of the product. Travelling in Africa or any other continent for that matter, howsoever many times, does not turn one into a scholar of the region. There are many African scholars who live in the United States, and have travelled the length and breadth of the country. I do not think that too many of them will be rash enough to proclaim themselves ready, even with the help of a battery of consultants, many of them with tenuous knowledge of the subject matter, to do an American equivalent of "Wonders of the African World." In the unlikely event that they are, it is highly unlikely that PBS and BBC would have been as forthcoming with funding. These are legitimate questions that, we think, deserve some serious engagement on the part of all who take care to interest themselves in this debate.

Several commentators have taken issue with what they consider to be Gates' patronizing attitude toward some of his African interlocutors. They object, in particular, to his attitude in his questioning of the Ethiopian Patriarch. Of course, raising questions is a key component of what scholars do. But remember our earlier point that it is problematic to look at "Wonders" as a scholarly production. In light of his style of questioning regarding the history and authenticity of the Ark, Gates ended up looking disrespectful of something which, for the Partiarch, was not a matter to be taken lightly. The difference between irreverence and arrogance becomes very tenuous in this case. Of greater importance, though, is that because, given the mode of presentation, the tourist supplanted the scholar, it does not appear that Gates was aware that his offhand remarks might play into the hands of one side or another in a long-standing and continuing heated debate concerning the history and authenticity of the Ark. It is a debate that pits scholars of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church against Jewish theologians. At issue is the attempt by Jewish theologians to deny that one of the most important symbols of Judaism, the Ark, could either be in African country or in the custody of Christians. There are serious implications for both Judaism and Christianity should the Ethiopians be right. For example, for Jewish theologians to concede that the Ark is genuine would be for them to change the story that the Ark was lost irretrievably. Secondly, there would have to be a revision of accepted wisdom concerning the relationship between the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon. There has been some movement in this direction in recent times given the admission of Ethiopian Jews as authentic members of the Jewish Diaspora with a right to return to Israel. We have no evidence that Gates was aware of this debate. If he was aware of this controversy but went ahead to approach the issue the way he did, then it becomes even more problematic to consider "Wonders" as a serious scholarly tool. If he wasn't aware then, like our proverbial patent medicine seller, he is vending goods the constitution and potency of which he did not know. The upshot is that many who are aware of this controversy might view his dismissive attitude towards the authenticity of the Ark as a declaration of support for one side in the controversy.

Finally, we come again to a very central question raised by the series that has been variously touched upon by some contributors to this volume: who deserves to be an authority and how did Gates choose those that he consulted on various aspects of the series? Might he have come up with a different take on slavery and the Atlantic Slave Trade if he had consulted Joseph Inikori? In the rich world of African History where African scholarship is [impeccable] and one of the most established, how come David Anderson became the chief consultant? And given many of the issues that have been raised, one is tempted to ask: How much use did Gates really make of his consultants? What did they tell him? How much of what they told him did he incorporate into his improvised script? These questions go to the heart of why some have seen no difference between what Gates has done and what earlier and still present imperialist narratives about Africa continue to do. It may turn out that in spite of the wealth of information that the series seems to embody, for some of us, it is the failure to take the subject matter, Africa, seriously that will continue to rivet attention. That will be a shame.

EDITORS' NOTE

NOTE THAT WE INTEND TO ADD MORE COMMENTARIES AND ESSAYS ON HENRY LOUIS GATES' FILM SERIES WONDERS OF THE AFRICAN WORLD TO THIS ISSUE. ARTICLES WILL BE ADDED AS RECEIVED FOLLOWING REVIEW BY THE EDITORS. OUR INTENTION IS TO MAKE THIS ISSUE OF WEST AFRICA REVIEW A RESOURCE BASE FOR DISCUSSIONS ON THE FILM SERIES.


Citation Format

Taiwo, Olufemi. (2000). EDITORIAL. West Africa Review: 1 , 2.[iuicode: http://www.icaap.org/iuicode?101.1.2.21]