Considering converting Helytimes into just a summary of each week’s issue of The Economist. That would provide a public service.
From this week’s issue
- the President of Liberia, George Weah, a former striker for AC Milan, has recorded a song about Coronavirus. (Learning more about this story led me to the BBC Pidgin page, which will be bookmarked for future return). Meanwhile the Governor of Nairobi distributed mini bottles of Hennessey, which he calls “throat sanitizer”
- The price to book value of the German DAX Index fell below one? Must investigate. The S&P 500 by comparison fell to 2.35 at its lowest (March 23) of 2020. It was at 1.39 on its lowest day in the 2008-2009 crisis. Are German companies “cheap”? Paging Ben Graham!
- Flogging has been banned as a punishment in Saudi Arabia
- “Eating pangolins is illegal in China, but putting their scales into medical concoctions is not.”
- Good piece on the Toyota Hilux as a desired vehicle for warlords: “they can cram 30 people into one and can still climb a sand dune.” You can’t buy a Toyota Hilux in the USA, which pisses me off. Why wouldn’t you want a tougher, stronger, truck in a more compact form? It’s the warlord’s choice!
- Melissa Dell won the John Bates Clark Medal for economists under 40 for work showing that the colonial “mita” system, which between 1573 and 1812 forced indigenous men in Bolivia and Peru to work in silver mines, had negative effects that persist to this day (uh, no shit? just kidding Professor Dell)
- Most US states begin their fiscal year on July 1. Because they’re obligated by “a combination of constitutional requirement, statute and tradition” to balance their budgets, there are gonna have to be tax increases or layoffs. (Interesting that The Economist, a very Oxford publication, doesn’t use the Oxford comma).
- I didn’t know Samsung began as “a provincial vegetable and dried fish shop”
- Jair Bolsonaro of Brazil is in trouble. He too, like our president, has a shithead son who’s in the online fake-news business.
- The Economist puts Joe Biden up six points over Donald Trump
- Italy’s foreign minister is 33?
- An obituary for rock climber Joe Brown, who climbed the south side of the Old Man of Hoy
Also if any Helytimes readers are looking for work:
Can’t abandon my mandate to be the #1 source of Hely news on the Internet. There’s a lovely house on 24 Hely Road in Port Elizabeth, South Africa for sale. 2.2 mill rands (about $122,602 USD?)
Learned from Paul Theroux that safari in Swahili just means “journey.” When you drive to work in a way you’re on safari.
Learned from a guide that “mara” as in Masai Mara National Park means “spotted,” like spotted with thorn trees.
One thing we saw: a mother cheetah had killed an impala, minutes or so before. The mother cheetah crouched over the dead impala. Waiting. Scanning. Watching. She probably waited twenty minutes before she ripped into her breakfast. She’d expended a lot of energy, she was spent. And what if somebody else smelled the blood and came along to get in on it (and maybe you in the process)? I wondered if this pause before eating is at all connected to the idea of saying grace before meals. Primal need to have a pause and a lookaround before tucking in?
Then she chirped, and, eventually, found her six cubs and brought them over. You feel sad for the gazelle but to see the six cubs playing around and licking blood onto their faces is… cute?
A friend was having a 40th birthday party in Nairobi, an excuse to see what’s up in Africa.
Top down view
On the first morning I was in Nairobi I walked over to the KICC building and went up to the top, 33rd story I believe, where you can stand outside on the exposed helipad.
Going to the top of a tall building at the start of a trip is a tactic I got from Neomarxisme. He recommends this for first-timers in Tokyo. Go somewhere high, and take in the vastness of what you’re dealing with in Tokyo. Then you can begin to appreciate what’s going on.
Nairobi is not as vast as Tokyo. Nairobi’s population can be estimated at somewhere around 4.5 million people, higher or lower maybe, if we’re counting commuters and outlying areas. Roughly equivalent to LA.
From the top of the KICC you can see the grasslands of Nairobi National Park. For LA residents, imagine if Griffith Park had free-ranging giraffe and zebras wandering around.
There is also a dense forest in Nairobi, Karura Forest. On the fringes of this forest I saw two fairly chill monkeys lolling about. I believe they were Sykes monkeys. The embassies, the Muthaiga Country Club, impressive and secure houses are along the edges of this forest.
The only other sightseer on the top of the KICC was an African girl younger than me who had me take her picture on an Nikkon camera and also filmed several jubilant videos of herself talking into her phone. I say she was African because her skin was very dark and her English accented but maybe her home was France or the Netherlands for all I know. My guess would be she was a tourist or a student from somewhere else.
From the KICC you can see the railyards. Nairobi was originally a railway town, founded in 1899 to service the British-run Uganda Railway. The train still runs to Mombasa on the coast but I was told it wasn’t running to Uganda anymore. “We’re not there yet.”
The KICC building is near Kenya’s Senate and Supreme Court. In this area, near the CBD (Central Business District) you pass a lot of security checkpoints. To get near these buildings, you’ll have to talk to someone with a gun. But none of the people with the guns seemed too anxious. This is good, I guess? In Kenya they’re obsessed with having you write down your name in a ledger when you go anywhere. But supervision of this process always seems indifferent. What are they ever gonna do with these ledgers, I wonder, with scribbled signatures? I wonder if there’s some kind of witch doctor / voodoo priestess who would pay for books of signatures for use in rituals, perhaps burning them while drawing on the power of these spirits. Gotta look into that.
Kenya is in a sort of war with Al-Shabaab and stateless actors in neighboring Somalia (maybe even Somalia itself if we consider that a functioning state with that name). There have been several dramatic,, extreme acts of terrorism in Nairobi. The bombing of the US Embassy in 1998 killed two hundred and thirteen people. Osama bin Laden was in on that one, and maybe we shouldn’t have allowed him to keep living for thirteen more years? In 2013 four gunmen shot up the Westlands Mall, an upscale shopping place. Seventy-one people dead. Maybe ghastliest of all was the killing of one hundred forty eight mostly university students in 2015. That happened outside of Nairobi, at Garissa University.
This article, by Katherine Petrich, about how al-Shabaab and Kenyan slum-dwelling sex workers do business together, I found illuminating.
Given this deeply conservative position inside Somalia, its willingness to cooperate with and reward sex work in Nairobi, where the group is more constrained in its activities, suggests al-Shabaab is a limited, rational organization with concrete territorial aims. It is not a maximalist extremist group prioritizing ideological principles over tangible benefits, and because the group has a state-based goal, it is comfortable supporting or at least engaging with activities that contravene sharia law. An informant remarked wryly, “Al-Shabaab likes [that group of sex workers] very much. They are worth many sins.”
If you’re from the US, can you really criticize another country for its mass shootings? An Uber driver taunted me that Nairobi is safer than US cities like Chicago. Uber works well in Nairobi, the drivers were good and showed up when it said. There seemed to be pretty reliable 3G service to communicate with them.
The columnist / travel writer cliché of quoting the cab driver is well-documented. I’ve noticed even Paul Theroux does it. But what’re you gonna do, you know? These are the Kenyans I ended up spending the most time with. There we were, may as well get their story. Traffic can be horrific in Kenya. Coming into/out of the city in rhythm with regular work hours could leave you crawling for an hour or two. The grind of that life must be immiserating. It’s also a sign of a boom, I guess. Nairobi is exploding. My host explained to me that it is the NGO/government/development/banking/energy/international business capital for East Africa. If you’re doing business in Rwanda, Burundi, Tanzania, Ethiopia you might have an office in Nairobi.
From the KICC I could see a particularly crowded and chaotic street where it looked like the road itself was fully occupied by stalls and stopped minibuses. This was the area where Tom Mboya* Road meets Accra Street, and it was full of matutus, private competing independently operated (I think? maybe there’s some kind of informal union?) minibuses that might go as far as Mombasa, plus surrounding businesses. Around here I popped into a textbook store. The desire of learning in Kenya seemed intense to me, I went by many stalls selling books on business topics, and schools and colleges. Even in Kibera slum the kids are wearing school uniforms, and the desire to make money to pay school fees was several times expressed as one of life’s drives.
In Nairobi there’s a neighborhood called Karen, named after Karen Blixen, real name of author Isak Dinesen, who wrote Out of Africa. Meryl Streep played her in the movie.
Karen is around where Karen Blixen’s farm was (in fact I sometimes heard the neighborhood called Karenblixenfarm). It’s funny to me that there’s a neighborhood called Karen, partly becomes of the meme-ing of the name, partly that it’s just cool that a neighborhood is somebody’s first name. How great would it be if after I’m dead my neighborhood is called Steve? I remembered reading somewhere that late in life Karen Blixen ate nothing but oysters and champagne, but she also died of malnutrition. Karen’s farm can be visited, a guide will sit you down and recite some of her biography, and then they’ll show you things like her old wooden toilet. They don’t let you use that toilet.
The first line of Out of Africa the book, intoned in the movie by Meryl, is “I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.” The Ngong Hills where Karen tried to grow her coffee are now spotted with windmills.
Karen Blixen’s farm was one of the sites on a little tour a Stanley Hotel-recommended driver took me on. The elephant orphanage was next. Be advised you can only see the elephants between 11am and noon, unless you pay extra to adopt one I believe. It’s kind of fun to see young elephants doing their thing but the idea of an elephant orphanage is so sad, and the crowded circle of humans around them kind of unpleasant, so I bailed pretty fast on that.
Next is the giraffe center, where they give you a little bag of molasses-based giraffe treats and you can feed them and feel their rough tongue. But you can do that in San Diego too. Across the grass of the giraffe center is Giraffe Manor, where you can stay (pricey) and the giraffes will poke their heads in the window apparently.
Last stop was some kind of depressing zoo where they did have some good venomous snakes but the vibe isn’t very cheery, it’s next to a dreary, unused amusement park. The girl leading me around, Valentine, asked me if I wanted to hold a snake. No thanks. Had she ever used the anti-venom? Yes, once. On a snake-handler.
It was about three in the afternoon. I asked my driver what was next and he said “that’s it.”
The City Outside
On the streets of Nairobi I encountered no more people asking for money than I would in downtown Los Angeles or West Hollywood. Surprised, before I went, not to find a Tyler Cowen snapshot/bleg for Nairobi. There’s an active street market scene at most busy corners. You will find vendors selling boiled eggs served with salsa and small chicken sausages. None of the street food looked too appealing to me, but around the Nairobi Railway Museum there were some makeshift restaurants that looked like they served goat stews and stuff that I might’ve liked to try if I’d had more time. Always a challenge when traveling and especially in non-Western places is like figuring out the system, how you order, what the deal is with the line, etc. This can be kind of fun and always interesting but when you’re traveling you’re often pressed for time or you find yourself kind of exhausted and suddenly very hungry, the cognitive and sensory overload is too high and the fuse is too short to deal. There’s rarely a time I pass a McDonald’s in a busy foreign city and am not at least a LITTLE tempted by the freedom and temporary mental break offered by the dependability there.
Buying, selling, marketing, cooking, eating, sitting, life being lived outside is a striking part of Nairobi, if you’re coming from an American city. But I can’t declare this especially African or Kenyan, you see this in the cities of Central and South America too.
For two of the nights I was in Nairobi I was in the care of a friend, an American semi-resident. We ate a dinner at a Peruvian Japanese kind of fusion place on a high floor of shopping structure catering to expats and wealthy Africans. The following night I was part of a group dinner at 45 Degrees, which my host said made a strong case for being the best restaurant in Nairobi. The roast pumpkin soup was excellent, and the setting, in what I was told was the owner/proprietor’s own house in an almost country-seeming neighborhood was pleasing. On the one night I was on my own I ate at Nyama Mama, now a chain with a few locations. Chicken stew with chapati, totally fine, if I were in Nairobi again I might try Wasp & Sprout.
Got a lot out of Vogue’s Kenyan Cool Girls Guide to Nairobi:
Local style: “It’s in our culture to dress up on Friday, not knowing what kind of party we’ll go to, but the whole crew has to look fresh.”
Go explore: “My favorite part of the city is downtown. I am lucky as a majority of the stone merchants and gold smiths I work with are based there. There is lots of quirky buildings and you see the real hustlers of Nairobi. Watching them go about their work inspires anyone.”
Muthoni Drummer Queen recommends:
Her spot: “The Nairobi Railway Museum. It’s smack in the middle of downtown. All the old trains no longer in use transport me back to an imaginary time. Its also super cool that a lot of these carriages are now occupied by visual artists with great studios and galleries.”
I missed this gallery area, if it’s still there, though there is a lot of rich street art around the area. What I found at the Nairobi Railway Museum was rooms full of old train lanterns and the chair Queen Elizabeth sat in, and then old engines parked outside.
Several times in my life I’ve found myself, as I did at the Nairobi Railway Museum, the only customer at the place, sort of dragging out my time and staying longer than my interest would hold because I don’t want to offend the guy who took my ticket by bailing after five minutes without really inspecting the old printed out articles about the man-eaters of Tsavo.
If you have time for a day trip out of Nairobi, you can pretty quickly be at a vantage point where you can see the Rift Valley. Something like 35 million years ago the continent of Africa nearly ripped apart along here**. The African Great Lakes are along this continental cut, and some of the oldest fossil humans and pre-human ancestral primates have been found here too.
One problem I have as a casual iPhone photographer is capturing depth of field, I’m not saying I’m satisfied with this photo, but maybe you can see how quickly and dramatically and how across a vast area the elevation drops along this part of Kenya.
My driver, Samuel, took us out to Hell’s Gate National Park, where you can see zebras and so on. What was most impressive to Samuel is the immense geothermal workings at Hell’s Gate. Jonathan Franzen seems sad about the “green” (quotation marks his) energy in Kenya’s national parks in his latest New Yorker piece. But to Samuel this construction was a miracle. Samuel kept saying that “they should feature the power plant!” He several times recalled that he’d once taken around an engineer who could explain all the different parts of the geothermal plant. Maybe he was disappointed that I couldn’t explain anything about it. It appears I didn’t even take any pictures of it.
In Hell’s Gate there are chunks of obsidian rock lying around everywhere, blown out by the eruptions of Mount Longonot (last one was apparently in the 1860s). Couldn’t help wondering if our millions-ago ancestors used this stuff for tools. Made me think of 2001.
On the shores of Lake Naivasha we got some fish. Samuel told us he’d once been out on a boat on the lake. You have to pay more if you want a guy with a gun to protect you from hippos. I passed on a boat ride.
It’s well-known in Kenya that people of Obama’s tribe, the Luo, are very smart because they live on the shore of the lake and eat so much fish.
Here is a roadside vegetable market. I was told this is called Foolish Market, because the prices are so low. A bag of potatoes seemed to cost about 100 Ks (a dollar or so).
If I’d had the time to get all the way out to Lake Victoria, would’ve really enjoyed that. Would’ve required about eight hours of driving. Instead I lounged by the pool of the Muthaiga Country Club and then took a guided tour of Kibera.
Kibera is an enormous slum, supposedly the largest in Africa, a sprawling ramshackle area of shared toilets and tin houses, originally given as a kind of grant by the British to Nubian soldiers in their army. This might be where you end up if you move to Nairobi from a rural area, renting a small room with a tin roof for $30 a month.
Moses was my guide there, by way of Experience Kibera. He suggested I bring two bags of rice or sugar as a donation to local single moms, many of whom are HIV positive.
Was sorta bracing myself for this experience, the trash and open sewer scene, leaky roofs, survival-level subsistence is pretty tough but there did seem to be a positive kind of community spirit to be seen in Kibera. Moses’ sense of potential for the future and improvement over a past noted for election-related violence, sexual assault and general bad times was contagious.
Kibera is the largest slum in Nairobi, and the largest urban slum in Africa. The 2009 Kenya Population and Housing Census reports Kibera’s population as 170,070, contrary to previous estimates of one or two million people.
says Wikipedia. No one seemed to think in a white guy walking through with his guide was worth staring at, although quite a few kids wanted to say “howareyou” — I asked Moses about this and he said various NGO type people come through all the time, it’s not much of a novelty.
When I’ve been describing Nairobi to Americans they often seem interested to hear there’s a Cold Stone Creamery in one of the malls.
Kenyan English, like the English in India, is full of suprisingly rich phrases and constructions. I noted a few down:
- re: some bikers who’d died in a flash flood in Hell’s Gate: “these young chaps were still taking selfies”
- Samuel suggesting that Chinese road loans could be predatory, always qualified with “according to my observation.”
- Churches called “First Born Of The Holy Spirit” and “Bride of the Messiah”
With the signs of growth everywhere, and the potential for the region, I think real estate in Nairobi would not be a crazy investment, although I don’t think I myself will bother getting involved. There was much talk of oil discovery in the remote Turkana region, where many of the early man fossils were found. There are huge gains, it would appear to me, to be made in infrastructure and transportation development both in Nairobi and around the countryside.
Here is a bus themed after Dr. Ben Carson.
* Tom Mboya‘s work with JFK allowed African students in the ’50s and ’60s to study in the US — without him, would Barry Obama have been born?
** this statement not strictly geologically accurate, or at least a geologist would quibble, but for our purposes it’s approximately right I think
The King [Dingaan, of the Zulus] loved display. He surrounded himself with plump women, jesters and dwarfs. He liked to show off his famous glutton Menyosi, who could eat a whole goat in a single meal
which I’m finding highly entertaining and informative. Jan Morris, what a boss.
The Fooled By Randomness author and deadlifter describes going to Africa and seeing lots of giraffes and impalas but only one lion:
It turned out that I had squarely made the error that I warn against, of mistaking the lurid for the empirical: there are very, very few predators compared to what one can call collaborative animals. The camp in the wild reserve was next to a watering hole, and in the afternoon it got crowded with hundreds of animals of different species who apparently got along rather well with one another. But of the thousands of animals that I spotted cumulatively, the image of the lion in a state of majestic calm dominates my memory. It may make sense from a risk-management point of view to overestimate the role of the lion — but not in our interpretation of world affairs.
If the “law of the jungle” means anything, it means collaboration for the most part, with a few perceptional distortions caused by our otherwise well-functioning risk management intuitions. Even predators end up in some type of arrangement with their prey.
via Tyler Cowen I learn about Nigerian artist Prince Twins Seven Seven
or more formally Prince Taiwo Olaniyi Wyewale-Toyeje Oyekale Osuntoki. He received his nickname because he was the only surviving child from seven distinct sets of twins.
He came to the United States in the late 1980s and settled in the Philadelphia area, although he traveled abroad frequently. His life entered a turbulent period, filled with drinking and gambling, he said. Destitute, he found work as a parking-lot attendant for Material Culture, a large Philadelphia store that sells antiquities, furnishings and carpets.
When the owner learned that Prince Twins Seven-Seven was an artist, he had him decorate the store’s wrapping paper. Later, he was given a small room to use as a studio.
from his obituary
This woman’s name is Thuli Madonsela, and she just ended her seven year term in the job of Public Protector in South Africa.
The ancient al-Qarawiyyin Library in Fez isn’t just the oldest library in Africa. Founded in 859, it’s the oldest working library in the world, holding ancient manuscripts that date as far back as 12 centuries.
so I learn from this interesting thing linked by Tyler Cowen.
The al-Qarawiyyin Library was created by a woman, challenging commonly held assumptions about the contribution of women in Muslim civilization. The al-Qarawiyyin, which includes a mosque, library, and university, was founded by Fatima El-Fihriya, the daughter of a rich immigrant from al-Qayrawan (Tunisia today). Well educated and devout, she vowed to spend her entire inheritance on building a mosque and knowledge center for her community.
Among the library hounds was Ibn Khaldun who wrote Muqaddim, The Introduction, which is full of interesting ideas:
Topics dealt with in this work include politics, urban life, economics, and knowledge. The work is based around Ibn Khaldun’s central concept of ‘‘aṣabiyyah, which has been translated as “social cohesion“, “group solidarity”, or “tribalism“. This social cohesion arises spontaneously in tribes and other small kinship groups; it can be intensified and enlarged by a religious ideology. Ibn Khaldun’s analysis looks at how this cohesion carries groups to power but contains within itself the seeds – psychological, sociological, economic, political – of the group’s downfall, to be replaced by a new group, dynasty or empire bound by a stronger (or at least younger and more vigorous) cohesion.
Perhaps the most frequently cited observation drawn from Ibn Khaldūn’s work is the notion that when a society becomes a great civilization (and, presumably, the dominant culture in its region), its high point is followed by a period of decay. This means that the next cohesive group that conquers the diminished civilization is, by comparison, a group of barbarians. Once the barbarians solidify their control over the conquered society, however, they become attracted to its more refined aspects, such as literacy and arts, and either assimilate into or appropriate such cultural practices. Then, eventually, the former barbarians will be conquered by a new set of barbarians, who will repeat the process. Some contemporary readers of Khaldun have read this as an early business cycle theory, though set in the historical circumstances of the mature Islamic empire.
Sorry I haven’t been posting more. Trying to finish my book and get Great Debates Live organized (get your tickets by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org. We are legit almost sold out). Honestly it’s a LITTLE unfair to be mad at me for not producing enough free content.
A few items too good to ignore came across our desk:
1) Reader Robert P. in Los Angeles sends us this item:
Thought you might enjoy this wiki. There’s a great part about a riddle and another great part about conducting a trial. http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Numbers_Gang
Gotta say, this is one of the most intriguing Wikipedia pages I can remember. I love when Wikipedia takes myth at face value.
2) Re: our recent post about Tanya Tucker, reader Bobby M. writes:
Saw that Tanya Tucker’s Delta Dawn popped up. Love that one. We like to joke that the lyrics are a conversation wherein some jerk is taunting an insanse person. “Oh, and, Delta? Did I hear you say he was meeting you here today? And (aside to chittering friend: ‘get a load of this’) did I also hear you say he’d be taking you to his mansion. In the sky? Yeah, that’s what I thought you said, Delta. Nice flower you have on.” Midler’s version blows.
Bobby M. is one of the contributors to Lost Almanac, a truly funny print and online comedy mag.
3) We ran into reader Leila S. in New York City. She was reading the letters of F. Scott Fitzgerald, and sends in some highlights:
to John Peale Bishop, March, 1925, he wrote “I am quite drunk” at the top of the paper above the date, then later in the letter: “I have lost my pen so I will have to continue in pencil. It turned up– I was writing with it all the time and hadn’t noticed.”to H.L. Mencken, May 4, 1925, re: Great Gatsby:
“You say, ‘the story is fundamentally trivial.'”
to Gertrude Stein, June 1925, after a long letter kissing her ass:
“Like Gatsby, I have only hope.” Dude quoted his own book he just wrote!to Mrs. Bayard Turnbull, May 31, 1934, after a long apology about his embarrassing behavior at a tea party:
“P.S. I’m sorry this is typed but I seem to have contracted Scottie’s poison ivy and my hands are swathed in bandages.”
to Joseph Hergesheimer, Fall 1935, re: Tender Is The Night“I could tell in the Stafford Bar that afternoon when you said that it was ‘almost impossible to write a book about an actress’ that you hadn’t read it thru because the actress fades out of it in the first third and is only a catalytic agent.”to Arnold Gingrich, March 20, 1936:“In my ‘Ant’ satire, the phrase ‘Lebanon School for the Blind’ should be changed to ‘New Jersey School for Drug Addicts.'” [The letter continues about other things, then at the very end, emphasis his] “Please don’t forget this change in ‘Ants.'”
to Ernest Hemingway, August, 1936
“Please lay off me in print.”
As always you can reach helytimes at helphely at gmail.com
Egyptologists have been pumped for this moment ever since the discovery of the Kahun Papyri.
That’s of course in the collection of Flinders Petrie.
He described Egypt as “a house on fire, so rapid was the destruction” and felt his duty to be that of a “salvage man, to get all I could, as quickly as possible and then, when I was 60, I would sit and write it all.”
And what happened to Flinders’ head, you wonder?
When he died in 1942, Petrie donated his head (and thus his brain) to the Royal College of Surgeons of London while his body was interred in the Protestant Cemetery on Mt. Zion. World War II was then at its height, and the head was delayed in transit. After being stored in a jar in the college basement, its label fell off and no one knew who the head belonged to. It was identified however, and is now stored, but not displayed, at the Royal College of Surgeons of London.
Was Flinders related to Australia explorer Captain Matthew Flinders, you wonder? Yes, is the answer, he was his grandson.
Please please Wikipedia tell me Flinders was an unambiguous hero I can get behind without reservations:
Petrie remains a controversial figure for his pro-eugenics views and opinions on other social topics…
Petrie was a dedicated follower of eugenics, believing that there was no such thing as cultural or social innovation in human society, but rather that all social change is the result of biological change, such as migration and foreign conquest resulting in interbreeding. Petrie claimed that his “Dynastic Race”, in which he never ceased to believe, was a “fine” Caucasian race that entered Egypt from the south in latepredynastic times, conquered the “inferior” and “exhausted” “mulatto” race then inhabiting Egypt, and slowly introduced the finer Dynastic civilization as they interbred with the inferior indigenous people. Petrie, who was also affiliated with a variety of far right-wing groups and anti-democratic thought in England and was a dedicated believer in the superiority of the Northern peoples over the Latinate and Southern peoples, derided Budge’s belief that the ancient Egyptians were an African people with roots in eastern Africa as impossible and “unscientific”, as did his followers.
Oh well. I doubt Sobekhotep was a peach either.
Thursday I went to meet somebody for lunch at a restaurant here in Los Angeles. I got there a little early, it was a sunny day, and this restaurant has a very pleasant outdoor bar. So I sat down at the bar and ordered an iced tea.
The bartender was a friendly dude. We joked around a little. When he came back with my iced tea I was staring at my phone.
“Would you like to hear some world news?” I said.
“Well, Nelson Mandela died.”
He thought about this.
“Hasta luego, brother,” the bartender said.
He went back to work for a bit.
I kept reading my phone. A little while later he came back.
“What else are they saying about Mandela?”
“Well, it says here he was 95.”
“Huh,” said the bartender. “So he kicked it for a long time.”
(photo: “Long lines of people outside the polling station in the black township of Soweto, a southwest suburb of Johannesburg, South Africa, on April 27, 1994. Photograph by Denis Farrell/AP.”)
Excitement about how terrific John Jeremiah Sullivan is reached me long ago but it took me awhile to get to this book and believe it for myself. Now I’m a JJS belieber.
Enjoyed the book on a plane, a fine setting in all regards but one:
after you’ve finished reading the essay “Unknown Bards” – about certain mysterious bluesmen whose lives are vanished to history except for one recording – you have no way of listening to any of the songs mentioned, let alone the entire album Pre-War Revenants.
The collection’s only delimiting criteria would be that nothing biographical could be known regarding any of the artists involved, and that every recording must be phenomenal, in a sense almost strict: something that happened once in front of a microphone and can never be imitated, merely reexperienced.
On return to California a listening party was organized (thanks to Chennai office).
While listening to this amazing thing the question came up of: whether any people were alive in the American South at the time of these recordings (1910-1940, let’s say) who were born in Africa and brought over to the United States as slaves.
My expensive education paid off because I knew that the Atlantic slave trade was abolished in 1808, the first year that the U. S. Constitution allowed it to be abolished. (Never hurts to remind your strict constructionists how much of what ‘the framers intended’ was “being allowed to own people.” See Article 1, Section 9).
BUT the story’s more interesting.
Cudjoe Kazoola Lewis, or Cudjo Lewis (ca. 1840 – 1935), is considered the last person born on African soil to have been enslaved in the United States when slavery was still lawful.
Together with more than a hundred other captured Africans, he was brought on the ship Clotilde to Mobile, Alabama, in the United States in 1860 during an illegal slave-trading venture.
Cudjoe was the longest-lived survivor of all those who were brought aboard the Clotilde. He was believed to be the last slave born in Africa and brought to the United States by the transatlantic slave trade. Before he died, he gave several interviews on his experiences, including one to the writer Zora Neale Hurston. During that interview in 1928, Hurston made a short film of Cudjoe, the only moving image that exists in the Western hemisphere of an African transported through the transatlantic slave trade.
Hurston named the last eight of the Clothilde’s survivors as: “Abache (Clara Turner), Monachee (Kitty Cooper), Shamber, Kanko (who married Jim Dennison), Zooma (of Togo Tribe), Polute, Cudjo, and Orsey, or Orsta Keeby. Cudjo is the only one alive at present, a dignified, lovable, intelligent man.”
He died in 1935 at the age of 94, in Plateau (Africa Town), Alabama.
Could explore this forever. Was he named after this man?*
The Library of Congress has audio recordings of slave interviews.
* alert reader “DS” calls my attention to a more likely explanation: Lewis was born on a Monday
In Kimberley, South Africa, there’s the largest hand-dug excavation on earth: the Big Hole.
I’ve always been enthusiastic about holes.
A: crossectional mineral map of kimberlite rock in South Africa.
It was this issue.
That cover is “Mercenaries mop up a Red-armed rebel position in the Congo”
Here’s his friend.