How to Write About Africa (originally published at http://www.granta.com/ )
Always
use the word ‘Africa’ or ‘Darkness’ or ‘Safari’ in your title.
Subtitles may include the words ‘Zanzibar’, ‘Masai’, ‘Zulu’, ‘Zambezi’,
‘Congo’, ‘Nile’, ‘Big’, ‘Sky’, ‘Shadow’, ‘Drum’, ‘Sun’ or ‘Bygone’. Also
useful are words such as ‘Guerrillas’, ‘Timeless’, ‘Primordial’ and
‘Tribal’. Note that ‘People’ means Africans who are not black, while
‘The People’ means black Africans.
Never
have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your book, or
in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Prize. An AK-47, prominent
ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an African, make
sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress.
In
your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and dusty
with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin people
who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people who eat
primates. Don’t get bogged down with precise descriptions. Africa is
big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy starving
and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The continent is
full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many other things,
but your reader doesn’t care about all that, so keep your descriptions
romantic and evocative and unparticular.
Make
sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their souls,
and eat things no other humans eat. Do not mention rice and beef and
wheat; monkey-brain is an African's cuisine of choice, along with goat,
snake, worms and grubs and all manner of game meat. Make sure you show
that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe how
you learn to enjoy it—because you care.
Taboo
subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans (unless a
death is involved), references to African writers or intellectuals,
mention of school-going children who are not suffering from yaws or
Ebola fever or female genital mutilation.
Throughout the book, adopt a sotto voice, in conspiracy with the reader, and a sad I-expected-so-much tone.
Establish early on that your liberalism is impeccable, and mention near
the beginning how much you love Africa, how you fell in love with the
place and can’t live without her. Africa is the only continent you can
love—take advantage of this. If you are a man, thrust yourself into her
warm virgin forests. If you are a woman, treat Africa as a man who wears
a bush jacket and disappears off into the sunset. Africa is to be
pitied, worshipped or dominated. Whichever angle you take, be sure to
leave the strong impression that without your intervention and your
important book, Africa is doomed.
Your
African characters may include naked warriors, loyal servants, diviners
and seers, ancient wise men living in hermitic splendour. Or corrupt
politicians, inept polygamous travel-guides, and prostitutes you have
slept with. The Loyal Servant always behaves like a seven-year-old and
needs a firm hand; he is scared of snakes, good with children, and
always involving you in his complex domestic dramas. The Ancient Wise
Man always comes from a noble tribe (not the money-grubbing tribes like
the Gikuyu, the Igbo or the Shona). He has rheumy eyes and is close to
the Earth. The Modern African is a fat man who steals and works in the
visa office, refusing to give work permits to qualified Westerners who
really care about Africa. He is an enemy of development, always using
his government job to make it difficult for pragmatic and good-hearted
expats to set up NGOs or Legal Conservation Areas. Or he is an
Oxford-educated intellectual turned serial-killing politician in a
Savile Row suit. He is a cannibal who likes Cristal champagne, and his
mother is a rich witch-doctor who really runs the country.
Among
your characters you must always include The Starving African, who
wanders the refugee camp nearly naked, and waits for the benevolence of
the West. Her children have flies on their eyelids and pot bellies, and
her breasts are flat and empty. She must look utterly helpless. She can
have no past, no history; such diversions ruin the dramatic moment.
Moans are good. She must never say anything about herself in the
dialogue except to speak of her (unspeakable) suffering. Also be sure to
include a warm and motherly woman who has a rolling laugh and who is
concerned for your well-being. Just call her Mama. Her children are all
delinquent. These characters should buzz around your main hero, making
him look good. Your hero can teach them, bathe them, feed them; he
carries lots of babies and has seen Death. Your hero is you (if
reportage), or a beautiful, tragic international celebrity/aristocrat
who now cares for animals (if fiction).
Bad
Western characters may include children of Tory cabinet ministers,
Afrikaners, employees of the World Bank. When talking about exploitation
by foreigners mention the Chinese and Indian traders. Blame the West
for Africa's situation. But do not be too specific.
Broad
brushstrokes throughout are good. Avoid having the African characters
laugh, or struggle to educate their kids, or just make do in mundane
circumstances. Have them illuminate something about Europe or America in
Africa. African characters should be colourful, exotic, larger than
life—but empty inside, with no dialogue, no conflicts or resolutions in
their stories, no depth or quirks to confuse the cause.
Describe,
in detail, naked breasts (young, old, conservative, recently raped,
big, small) or mutilated genitals, or enhanced genitals. Or any kind of
genitals. And dead bodies. Or, better, naked dead bodies. And especially
rotting naked dead bodies. Remember, any work you submit in which
people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as the ‘real
Africa’, and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel queasy about
this: you are trying to help them to get aid from the West. The biggest
taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead or suffering
white people.
Animals,
on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex characters.
They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and have names,
ambitions and desires. They also have family values: see how lions teach their children? Elephants
are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs. So are
gorillas. Never, ever say anything negative about an elephant or a
gorilla. Elephants may attack people’s property, destroy their crops,
and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant. Big cats have
public-school accents. Hyenas are fair game and have vaguely Middle
Eastern accents. Any short Africans who live in the jungle or desert may
be portrayed with good humour (unless they are in conflict with an
elephant or chimpanzee or gorilla, in which case they are pure evil).
After
celebrity activists and aid workers, conservationists are Africa’s most
important people. Do not offend them. You need them to invite you to
their 30,000-acre game ranch or ‘conservation area’, and this is the
only way you will get to interview the celebrity activist. Often a book
cover with a heroic-looking conservationist on it works magic for sales.
Anybody white, tanned and wearing khaki who once had a pet antelope or a
farm is a conservationist, one who is preserving Africa’s rich
heritage. When interviewing him or her, do not ask how much funding they
have; do not ask how much money they make off their game. Never ask how
much they pay their employees.
Readers
will be put off if you don’t mention the light in Africa. And sunsets,
the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red. There is always a
big sky. Wide empty spaces and game are critical—Africa is the Land of
Wide Empty Spaces. When writing about the plight of flora and fauna,
make sure you mention that Africa is overpopulated. When your main
character is in a desert or jungle living with indigenous peoples
(anybody short) it is okay to mention that Africa has been severely
depopulated by Aids and War (use caps).
You’ll
also need a nightclub called Tropicana, where mercenaries, evil nouveau
riche Africans and prostitutes and guerrillas and expats hang out.
Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care. ■
ah its too perfect!
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