Dom's Deep blog

Race and Friendship in Africa

Warning, this blog will be awkward, but I think people appreciate both updates and philosophy from their blogs, so Im going to ‘go there’ since Amy is covering our activities so well.  The day before Christmas, we went with friends to the Ssese Islands in Lake Victoria, to a resort popular with local people…….it was fantastic!  We were an interesting group racially, one white couple, one black, and one mixed black and white.  It was a wonderful display of racial harmony and friendship across race, gender, profession and cultural boundaries – the way it should be – in an area of the world where things have not always been so.  Race and politics are things that you are constantly faced with when working in Africa as a white American; it gives one a huge new perspective on what it must be like to be a minority in the US (not that it is exactly the same of course).  At first, it is incredibly difficult to reconcile what they call ‘white man’s guilt’ and you have to resist the urge to try to make up for all the sins of our past in one fell swoop.  In my case, I have decided that being real while trying to positively contribute in my own way is the best way I can help combat history and show that it is now a different world – this has luckily resulted in some of the best friendships of my life.   However, I have at the same time been amazed at how we can make light of this issue from time to time and how it does not affect (or at least obviously not) work relationships negatively over here.

Previously, the most ‘in-your-face’ the sorted history of the slave trade has been for me personally was when visiting Jinja, Tanzania, which is on Lake Tanzania (next to Kigoma, the launching point for Gombe National Park) while reading a book on the history of the slave trade.  Jinja is notorious for being the ‘end’ or ‘beginning’, depending upon your point of view, of one of the major routes of the East African slave trade.  It is now a small, mostly Muslim town, but there are remnants of the past.  The old wide avenue is lined by huge mango trees (virtually planted by captives), and is the spot purported to be where Stanly finally ‘presumed’ to have found Livingston after being guided there largely by slave trading arabs.  When visiting, one gets an eerie feeling of the past, but in the sense that there are still ghosts wandering around, not unlike other places with traumatic histories. 

However, our recent boat ride to the Ssese Islands, the day before Christmas, left me with an entirely different, gut wrenching feeling.  To my knowledge, there is no specific historical significance to this specific place, although L. Victoria has witnessed its share of atrocities.  The ‘ferry’ to the islands was a typical large African wooden lake boat, sometimes infamous in the international news for sinking with passengers aboard, other times for moving refugees around.  There are 1000’s of these plying the African Great Lakes.  To enter, one has to climb over a small ladder and down another large one into the belly of the boat.  This one, unlike many, had long lines of padded seats under a large tarp suspended above with about a foot of space – a 5’10” person could just see over the edge in the middle when standing, but would have to climb to see over the side on either end.  There are no windows or toilets, but there are kids with chickens, a man selling drinks and big orange life vests for about 80% of the people on board.  Once the masses are done boarding and have found some compromise in the seating arrangement, the boat sets off with only a small change in noise and movement – on a calm day.  The success of the ‘three hour tour’, plus one hour for boarding, depends upon the weather, the waves and the state of well being of all of one’s newfound ‘close’ friends!  Luckily, our rides were relatively smooth and uneventful, with the exception of Amy not feeling great and the newlywed bride next to us with seasickness.  However, I could not help think, as we sat in the belly of the boat, lined up almost on top of each other in uncomfortable positions, with no decent toilet for four hours, that this would have been one of the easiest days imaginable for someone two hundred years ago chained aboard an old wooden ship on top of his/her newfound friends, again with no toilet…and nothing else in life.  I looked at my good friends next to me, black and white, and forgot for a moment that this was my first Christmas away from home in a looong time, and remembered what it was like to be thankful for just a few minutes – and I am thankful for that.