Transnational Research Associates

In an article outlining mounting tensions developing within the Central Command of Saddam Hussein's government, a Globe Staff Writer quoting Ilana Kass, professor of military strategy, alludes to the growing sense of desperation which may be developing in Baghdad's ruling circles.

As women related either by blood or marriage to Saddam begin to defect to the West, both the Staff Writer and Professor Kass, herself a woman, postulate that, because Iraqi traditions are focused on male-dominance of all social functions, inclusive of government, business and industry, Saddam may be psychologically poised to embark on proof of his virility, control and dominance.

The writer further asserts that Iraq's dictator must demonstrate to his people that, although he cannot apparently control his women, he can, in fact, continue to rule through despotism and assertive demonstrations of strength. At all costs, the article concludes, he must fend off humiliation in the eyes of his people, in order to survive militarily, politically and socio-culturally.

Probing more deeply into the subtleties of this article and its principal thrust, the astute reader can detect the influence of Orientalist characteristics underlying certain assumptions.

Firstly, there seems to be a built-in Western bias in this blatantly pretentious style of reporting which would dare to classify all Iraqis as accepting certain premises. While the author's approach represents an obvious over-simplification of reality, it pleases the Occidental mind to identify, as if from a position of superiority, the "weaknesses" inherent in another, this time Oriental, society. In Said's terms, this assumption of a "constant" cultural attribute (i.e. women's second-class standing in Iraqi society) would constitute a latent bias or unconsciously accepted premise. It is patently obvious that, while there may be some degree of truth to the assertions published, Westerners are lending credence to a pre-established notion which may or may not be entirely valid in either Islamic or Iraqi terms.

The assertion highlighted in the article that the defections of (subordinate) women are humiliating to the male ruler is still another indication of unfounded, somewhat prejudiced and heavily saturated Orientalist thinking, reflective of the latent mode.

The journalistically projected aura of mystery and intrigue in Saddam's household seems, in the minds of the military expert, and the reporter, indicative of an Orientalist perspective.

Indeed, many characteristics identified by Said are present in this Globe article, and in the underlying premises upon which it is predicated: implicit sensuality, despotic potential, aberrational thinking, inferiority or backwardness.

The mere fact that the article centers on male-dominance and aggression, even potential and subtle, would place it in the Orientalist classification. Certain cliches, beliefs and stereotypical remarks leap before the eyes, notably, the notion that Saddam's daughters' defections are a sure indication of trouble in the offing.

In short, the "reportage" itself draws substantially on both manifest Orientalism (for example, the concrete sociological implications of these defections) and latent Orientalism (to wit, the untouchable aspects of unspoken, but implicit biases and assumptions, perhaps invalid).

Indeed, Occidental minds must take great care to avoid overly judgmental, evaluative and fundamentally flawed conclusions about Cultures they fail to comprehend in depth. Human society, like the human mind, is complex and diverse beyond our ability to fathom.

It is somewhat disturbing to note that specialists like Ilana Kass, at the National War College, may be advancing hypotheses on the basis of tainted cross-cultural, perhaps Orientalist thinking.

A number of salient points would seem to warrant comment due to their topicality, applicability and accuracy.

Historically, the African continent, with specific reference to Sub-Saharan regions, developed sophisticated empires and civilizations, notably the Ashanti, Kongo and Song'hai nations throughout times, in fact, when Europe was in chaos and decay. Yet, for all of their past glory, eighteenth, nineteenth and early twentieth century African colonies and, more recently, nations, have not achieved linguistic integrity on their own initiative. Missionaries, settlers, conquerors endowed many nation-colonies with written versions, phonetically transcribed, of their own languages. Indeed, Portuguese and French Missionaries, for example, compiled a lexicon of Lingala, Kikongo, Tshiluba and Kiswahili languages, all of which had no written form of expression prior to Missionary incursions.

Owomoyela alludes to this state of affairs in his introductory remarks which address the issue of treating Africa differently, primarily in contrast to European languages and literatures. He traces the history of discrimination, white supremacist thinking and the resultant enslavement of African peoples for several hundred years. A major break-through was achieved, he notes, with the formulation of French policy (assimilation) and of British policy (indirect rule), both systems, while flawed in some respects, providing a semblance of order and balance throughout the colonial period, from a socio-cultural standpoint, if not politically.

The writer proceeds to describe a number of accomplishments and approaches which gained a modicum of respectability in the 60's and 70's among writers, pointing with pride to the 1962 Kampala Writers Conference during which, on the threshold of Pan-African Independence, many English-speaking nations attempted to define the "African Identity." It might be useful to point out, however, that with 52 nations, 2000 languages, and many emerging social systems in internal strife and unrest, such a definition might have been difficult to achieve in Kampala at that juncture!

Nonetheless, it was agreed that the former colonial language (mainly the three obvious tongues) could viably serve as unifying factors in bringing together authentic African "thought" and the small, but growing intelligentsia of the continent.

l. The remarks addressing linkage between language and culture are well taken (p. 357). Languages can be culture-neutral.

2. Ijo syntax with English lexis produces a calqued effect (p. 359), much like Jamaican creole and other gullah-based forms of expression.

3. Soyinka's vehement opposition to Senghor's Negritude is of some note. African nationalism was at the root of these feelings; assimilationists want nothing to do with nationalism, whereas Negritude writers featured it as a central theme. (p. 361) This idea would seem to run counter, however, to Senghor's main orientation which was, if I'm not mistaken, toward tacit assimilation; he did, however, distance the African from the Frenchman in many dramatic ways.

4. Swahili is generally viewed as a viable vehicle for serious writers. (p.365) Due to the inclusion of Arabic terminology (25%) and for a variety of historical factors which enriched Swahili, this widely spoken East African language (with dialectal forms spreading deep into Central African regions) has become a virtual lingua franca, providing a market for potential books, magazines and periodicals.

1. Senghor, a statesman of considerable distinction, has formulated a philosophy which embraces the very essence of the Black Peoples of Africa. It speaks eloquently of soul, heart, mind, rhythm, man and the universe.

2. He recognizes the universal qualities of his race and quotes Langston Hughes who recognizes the Black Man's need to project his personality without shame or fear.

3. Quoting European philosophers and politicians, he draws a clear distinction between their ways and the ways of his own people.

4. He speaks of Harmony and Synthesis, of Mobile Life Forces and Human Order. His philosophy fits into the mold of humanism, stemming from the Euro-thinking of the Renaissance.

5. Heaven and Earth are joined in Senghor's world view or perspective, much like the Dogon universe portraying this unity (p. 33). Ancestors, spirits and traditional customs form an integral part of the Black experience within the context of Negritude.

6. Some controversy was generated by this philosophy which distanced itself from European thinking in a number of critical ways; but, it has gained wide respect as being "authentic." Others, of course, have criticized Senghor for his failure to assimilate French views. "Racialism" was also a sensitive point in the critiques of many, some observers feeling that his descriptions of Black Peoples were stereotypical and trite.

1. Fully one third of the students did not show up. Jill passed me in the hallway and, perhaps coincidentally, declined to enter class. Gabriel was not there today; and a half-dozen others were missing, including Desiree. Two new Black Women, one of whom had been married to a Chadian, were present; class registration seems to be fluctuating dramatically.

2. The discussion was, frankly, lamentable: Dr. Wolf asked leading questions relating to the tenor of the two articles to be read, but students (with one or two exceptions) did not dare respond to what they may have felt were baited inquiries.

3. We discussed the presentation at 7pm tomorrow of Guierrmo Gomez-Pena, an activist/artist from the San Diego Border Area. Quasi-absurd statements were made regarding the applicability of his work to that of French Colonial Africa.

4. Slow discussion ensued concerning African languages, with potentially loaded issues under analysis: the scope and sophistication of various African tongues. Yoruba, Swahili, Hausa, Amharic and Kikuyu were thought to be reasonable vehicles for the transmission of thought; the 1,995 others were dismissed as a bit underdeveloped. Arabic, of course, is in a different category, Dr. Wolf acknowledged, although students seemed nonplussed!

5. Nobel Laureat Soyinka was mentioned, of course, as were sub-themes related to his controversy with Senghor, et al.

6. Discussion was only luke-warm and the class bogged down in detail that was not entirely relevant to the PRIMARY points which could have been discussed. Senghor, Picasso, Braque...the class failed to pick up on the main theme, one girl timidly suggesting that Senghor was favorably critiquing these painters (which was the case). Henri Bergson, the forerunner of modern psychoanalysis, and an opponent of Cartesian Reason, was unknown to these students, who had apparently been steeped in their own specialities, never experiencing French thought or culture.

Teilhard de Chardin was timidly broached.

7. My contributions included, among others, the following remarks:

a) Arabic and Farsi are exponentially more complex languages than any African tongue, quoting Ha'fiz and the poets of Chiraz, et al. (Suf'ism)

b) Senghor was more than a 1930's habitue of Afro-Parisian Literary Salons (Leon Damas, etc.), he was a philosopher-poet, a member of the French Academy, a complex man of a Black Nationalist orientation who wrote moving, stirring poetry and verse.

c) Lingala has only 2000 words, with 6 tonal inflexions each. Plays are typically mimeographed and circulated within a 10 mile radius. Publishing, as such, is reserved for the State, or sent to Europe where it becomes, in the eyes of the regime, a "literature of political opposition."

d) A prolonged comment about Soyinka's Nobel Prize, emphasizing the fact that he received it for writing in English; peripheral remarks about the Kikuyu Author.

e) Rendered pronunciation assistance (West African Bantu Intonation).

f) Referred briefly to "assimilation vs. indirect rule" [colonial policies].

General Impressions of Camara Laye's L'ENFANT NOIR, read in English Translation on Sept. 10, 1995, in preparation for tomorrow's class.

In the first 92 pages of this brief novel, the author, born in Guinea during the colonial era, sets forth, in relatively simple prose, descriptive episodes and anecdotes relating to his upbringing in West Africa.

Strongly emphasized, on the surface, seem to be traditional African values built on family relations, spiritualism, discipline, artistic concerns, humor, pathos and a wide variety of emotional issues (motherhood, fatherhood, perception of evil, introspective insights). Additionally, of course, the young boy's interaction with his peers seems to occupy a primordial place in this book. Indeed, anecdotal accounts of realistic scenarios are presented in somewhat lengthy sequences, most of which are fairly sophisticated and can be interpreted in a number of ways.

The authentic African ambience is well reflected. The father-son relationship is properly presented, largely because of the depth of insight afforded the reader and the authentic emotional attachment between the blacksmith and his eldest boy, which provides an obvious focal point for the reader's attention.

At times, the author lapses into analysis of interpersonal relations and describes the boy-girl, mother-son, man-woman aspects of Guinean or, by extension, Senegalese society during this period of time.

The depth of devotion, of pride, of intrinsic bonding which occurs between this boy and his father, however, is the overwhelming factor to be analyzed, in the absence of other meaningful relationships. Indeed, the cruelty of his schoolmates, the distance between boys and girls generally in Guinean society, and, by contrast, the overriding affection and love of the father for his boy are realities which cannot be denied. Father provides protection, nurturance, guidance, love, and direction for his son, during the opening sequences of the book (through Chapter Six).

Culminating in the confrontation between school director and father, the first half of this novel can be said to attain its "catharsis of vindication", so to speak, placing the emphasis on the crucial nature of protection from exploitation by society-at- large.

The little black snake, representing the guiding spirit of the Father, might be at first approached by the reader, particularly in view of the "tremor" produced upon stroking it, in psychosexual terms. Yet, as the sequence progresses, it becomes apparent that there may be an authentically sincere and genuine spiritual aspect to the father's devotion to this reptile. In fact, Father, during the dramatic gold-bracelet producing episode, requires the snake's presence, and, curiously, mention is made of sexual abstinence during the handing of gold, undermining, perhaps only partially, what might have been construed earlier as a psychosexual symbol.

On balance, this novel, the "first" emerging from Colonial Africa by an indigenous author, exudes authenticity, yet possesses some qualities reminiscent of European symbolism and psychodynamic introspective analysis, as evidenced by narrative tone and content.

A complete reading of this novel results in the following inescapable observations, based on considerable insight into the West and Central African mentality, extending over a period of some seven years:

l. I emerged from this reading with an all-embracing impression of authenticity, of genuinely accurate descriptive prose passages portraying an interconnected series of archi-typical vignettes.

2. A surge of emotion, intended doubtless by the author, characterized the final passages, as son is torn from mother, from Africa, from traditional roots and from all that is familiar to him.

3. The portrayal of love, school, rites of passage, fear, social norms, travel, intellectual prowess, and the process of maturation is well executed.

4. Because of perhaps arguably distorted translation patterns, the exact intent of Camara in certain passages is unclear. If the French term "frisson" is used to describe, for example, the snake's "tremor" upon being stroked, the Freudian overtones could be marred: "frisson" could be translated - shiver, chill, tingle, as well as tremor, altering the tone of the passage, largely because the operative word within this specific context would be "tremor".

5. While the translation appears to be of high quality, throughout the text, the reader must be aware that the lilting sweetness of much of this text is due, in part, to the rendering of West African French, which may have subtly absorbed a good deal of, in this instance, Malinke syntax.

6. This is a literature of transition, moving for the first time from an oral tradition (referred to quite often, directly and indirectly, as praise singers, griots, and wandering, itinerant troubadouresque figures) to a written tradition, adopting the Content of the Mother Tongue, but the Modalities of French.

7. Treatment of passages such as "the village chief transforming himself into a noctural swallow placing white threads on the roofs of village huts" is delicate, authentic and refreshing. It is precisely this quality of innocence and charm which lends Camara's novel an air of eminent acceptability in the eyes of Westerners. (pp. 104-105)

8. Deeper, the reader can discern stylistic traits which are influenced by European thinking, such as foreshadowing, premonitions, character development (Camara excels at this), psychological and introspective angles, et al.

9. How can we relate this novel to the discourse analysis of Foucault, or to the deconstructionism of Derrida? Its tenor and pre-independence timing might well disqualifiy it from being considered validly in terms of Foucault or Derrida.

10. Can we dare speak of applying this novel, in any way, to the literature of decolonization? It clearly precedes the downfall of the French, and actually lends credence and support to the French presence, casting French Culture in a positive light.

1. The class broke up into small discussion groups to consider a "green sheet" of questions proposed by the Professor.

Most of the questions focused on the first half of Camara Laye's The Dark Child which wew had been assigned.

2. The three snake references on pages 17, 21, 24:

Our group felt that the snake was a metaphor for life, the principal themes of which were reflected later in the book. The child's innate sense of innocence in the presence of danger might be reflective of some adult attitudes; or it might reflect favorably on Camara's having been able to discern his attitudes as a child, casting back a glance at his childhood naivete.

The concept of protection by elders is central to this sequence, and reflects African communal values of trust and unity.

The narrative style is revealing in that it provides insight into the child's thought process, couched in authentically stirring tones.

3. How does the last paragraph of Chapter One relate to the novel's ending? We felt it mirrored the son's departure for France, picking up on the nostalgic separation theme.

4. Note the art of the griot, the blacksmith, the novelist:

All three are forging, in a sense, a commonality of professional interests. The novelist, however, is a new addition to the African Pantheon of creative lifestyles.

5. What central beliefs of the narrator are challenged in the chapters about Tindican? We felt that the child was exploring a new universe, a different environment, a world of wonders unrelated to his native village. The caste system in the city came to his attention, for example, as did the layout of the streets (later in Conakry, as well), and the expanded, more complex social structure of a semi-urban enviironment.

6. "I do not wish to say more..." The narrator insists on maintaining some sense of secrecy, a private world of tradition and cultural identity. Many persons, even professional, relish the notion of having something special to conceal from the rest of the population, as Dr. Wolf pointed out in passing through our group, citing a Guatemalan author who did precisely that.

7. The totem is a complex notion identified with its possessor, providing protection from danger, in this case, when fishing in the Niger River. But elsewhere, as well. It becomes a symbol of Camara's ties to his ancestral past, to his spirituality, both themes being developed quite nicely in this novel.

8. Konden Diara: The notion of fear, of fright, of terror and, conversely, of courage. The Rites of Passage represent a deeply meaningful phase in the life of a young boy in Guinea. Several complex concepts were discussed: ceremony, dance, secrecy, ancestral values, initiatory psychology, ad infinitem.

9. Assimilation: As Camara matures, he assimilates the values of the Colonizer, drawing closer to France, and, arguably, farther from his village training. The mother's tears become quite poignant within this context. And the father's final embrace...

Major thematic emphasis. [End of Green Sheet]

10. Prof. Wolf spoke briefly about nationalism. RENAN/FANON.

"On Nationalism" Franz Fanon was truly in a category with Che Guevara, with James Baldwin and with Stokely Carmichael. Of course, he towers above these exponents of "minority thought" in a number of distinct ways. Firstly, he was revolutionary, as was Che, but he was also a writer of deep poetic and literary talent, one who dared to express his abstract concerns, and his dreams for the oppressed of the earth. He did so in creative and innovative treatises, and lived a life which mirrored his beliefs. He preferred hunger to slavery and principle to cowardice. Che was all of these things, of course, and we loved him deeply for his ideals; yet, the theoretical and literary underpinnings of his writings did not achieve the stature of Fanon's insights. In fairness, Che may not have had the opportunity to reflect, torn from his roots and surroundings periodically, as he was, to take part in tangible resistance. Ultimately, of course, he perished, assassinated and martyred.

While Baldwin had the literary courage to speak out, to paint and portray, he did not have the fiber and backbone of Fanon. In fact, he repaired to Southern France, avoiding discrimination in the U.S., where he died surrounded by literary admirers.

Stokely, in the 1960s, was an inspiration to all wings of the Black Movement. His organization, SNCC, rallied hundreds of thousands of persons around a cause. He vocalized and threatened, rampaged and raved. Ultimately, he was forced into exile in Conakry as he steered his organization to the Radical Left. Meriam Makeba mellowed his thinking, and he began to write, expanding his influence on the theoretical plane. He fell short, still, of Fanon.

Perhaps of all those mentioned, Stokely was truly closest to the ideals of Fanon; yet, his having sprung from the foment and confusion of the 60s in America limited his international appeal. Fanon, on the contrary, had a broad following throughout the French-speaking world, representing dozens of countries struggling toward freedom, against the colonial oppressor.

Fanon speaks courageously of the "native intellectual" describing how colonial oppression limited the role of the indigenous thinker. He waxes eloquent on theses and themes relating to the annihilation of culture by the colonizer and the psychological impact of an invading, foreign power. He cries out for Blacks to recognize the validity of their specific forms of expression, but differs from Senghor in that his cry is for LIBERATION and NATIONALISM. He acknowledges, on page 174, that every culture is "first and foremost" national.

Man must have a purpose, a direction, an anchor and a concept of self within a clearly defined context, such as his new nation, Fanon asserts. This is accomplished by "tearing away", probably in French the term "dechirure" is used, denoting a ripping or separation by force from the colonizer's culture.

He, like Stokely, rejects passive resistance and realistically accepts the notion of armed struggle, at some juncture, to achieve the ends of independence (page 180). His thoughts are well developed and reasoned, rising to rhetorical heights,and, indeed, he quote passages from poets who embrace traditional and ancestral themes, implying that their poetry is just as valid as that of Valery, Lamartine or Madame de Stael.

What's more, of course, the colonized peoples who read the poems quoted, one by Keita Fodeba, will recognize more than ancestral themes; they will also take due note of both the violence and indignity heaped upon the Guineans, the Senegalese and the Ivoriens by the colonizer.

Fanon's call is for casting off of the values imposed by the foreigner; the thrust of his arguments is virile and forceful.

Storytellers must be restored to their just place in society, in Algeria and elsewhere, he notes. They represent the quintessence of culture and the identity of a people, he confirms at length.

Fanon, a psychologist, turns to more subtle themes asking rhetorically if "the battle for freedom is a negation of culture?", paraphrased from page 197. He discusses this concept of struggle and post-struggle. Building a nation's culture after "the battle" is crucial, he asserts, citing a number of strategies for doing so. For a writer as widely respected in revolutionary circles to be relegated to essentially "begging money" from the then nascent Algerian Government to pursue his professional goals at the BLIDA NEURO-PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTE is tantamount to admitting that his work was not appreciated by his newly adopted country.

And yet, no greater mistake could be made than to assume that, Doctor, Revolutionary, Theorist and Humanist, he is not loved.

There is a clear-cut body of dichotomous material separating Senghor rather clearly from the thinking of Fanon. In fact, the final note in Fanon's article definitely belittles the entire notion of Negritude. Fanon's approach is for revolt, rejection of foreign domination, not the apparent willingness of Senghor to embrace a fair portion of French thinking.

Renan, clearly a product of Nineteenth Centry thinking, traces the development of civilizations, societies, and the concept of nationhood from the virtual origins of the "European presence", consisting, in part, of nomadic conquerors from the steppes of Russia, Scandinavia and elsewhere, sweeping down into what is today Modern Europe. Renan's tone is dramatic, all-encompassing and self-assured. His seeming grasp of demographic and social patterns is, on first reading, quite impressive. Unfortunately, some of what he asserts has been debunked by modern scholarship and more recent findings.

Much of his material on the development of mankind, in the anthropological sense, is dramatically outdated and, by contemporary standards, virtually laughable. We refer notably to page 15, where Renan speaks of "Aryan groups."

He seems to feel a need to specify that man differs from felines and rodents...specifically, at the bottom of page 15, rambling on in archaic language (in French, as well), which seems both ponderous and weighty.

As he moves through his text, however, we note, on page 19, that he develops a definition of a nation in terms we might accept as reasonable. He asserts that it is a "spiritual principle", though does not link it to God, as such, in any straightforward way. He prefers to lend credence to the "cult of ancestors", calling this the most legitimate direction a "nation" can take. Some of his argumentation is, of course, debatable.

Further, he elaborates on the concept of "sacrifice" binding a people in suffering, work and dedication. This is a concept somewhat reminiscent of several major writers from his Period (Zola Balzac, Dickens, for example, who addressed social issues in these terms, directly or indirectly).

The interwoven relationship of liberty and nationhood is somewhat tenuous, as set forth in his article. One looks for elements of causality, without finding anything tremendously convincing. The mere existence of a nation, I would argue, does not guarantee freedom for its occupants... Contemporary dictatorships, while well-defined geo-politically, are often ruthless exercises in man's inhumanity to man. Surely, this was an operative concept in Renan's day. Why does he seem to argue speciously? (p. 20) Of course, there is much subtlety here.

Lastly, he implies that waves of ideas occur throughout history. If we are outmoded today, we shan't be tomorrow...

1. The Professor introduced Renan's article, placing it in historical perspective, explaining that France had just lost the Franco-Prussian War and with it a good piece of Alsace-Lorraine. Renan was a Positivist (along with Auguste Compte) which meant, essentially, that he believed that Science would solve all problems and that worrying about ethics was not at all germane. Renan discusses the notion of "ethnographic race", positing the concept that a nation, as such, can be born of many "races", as long as there is a unifying, thematic factor bringing the country together.

2. Discussion turned on questions of: What is nationalism? What is patriotism? How do we define the relationship between culture and nationhood? Class discussion was brisk and insightful, with reference being made to both articles under discussion (Fanon and Renan). Do we negate our culture in fighting for the nation?

3. Terms such as "Nativism" were defined (in this case, a desire to return nostalgically to the authentic roots of ancestral tradition) within the context of Fanon's thinking, and within the framework proposed under Senghor's doctrine, Negritude. Fanon and Senghor do not agree on much...

4. "The discourse of a nation rises out of a need to forget." (Renan) Whereas the thinking of Fanon would counter this premise, suggesting that one needs to remember one's roots, one's ancestral values and forge a nation and an identity on the basis of a non-assimilationist approach. Avoid all that is French; concentrate on the essence of sovereign nationhood embracing traditional values, to wit poetry, storytelling and custom.

5. More attention was focused on the Fanon article, by virtue of its topicality and resurging appeal. Animated discussion ensued.

In spite of the delightful portrayal of "death's shadow", the reader is initially shocked by the severity of tone and harshness of style in the recounting of these narrative sequences. There is essentially no underpinning theoretical material of an abstract nature to soothe the sophisticated Western Reader. Nonetheless, there seems to be a recurrent narrative approach known as "free-indirect style", reminiscent of Flaubert to some degree, wherein the reader is treated to exclamatory or descriptive remarks, a stepping back into the story, and then a repetition of the same tactic with "direct address" as a feature in the third phase. Sometimes in mid-sentence this style is employed to create dramatic effect.

What tangible wisdom is imparted comes from the aphoristic, proverbial sayings and witticisms offered by Fama, Bamba and other figures throughout the primitively developed, but colorful accounts of "indigineous happenings", rivalries, cultural events and spiritual occurrences.

There is definitely a sense of complexity to these interwoven sequences. Character development is not lacking; plot lines, while geared to Malinké values, are richly rendered; a mélange of the "animistic" and the "psychologically modern" is a feature worth noting. While the praise-singer, for example, is tied to the past; Fama is more a man of "aggressive contemporary values", finding fault with the inadequacies of the praise-singer, and with virtually everything.

Fama is reflective, clearly, of the furor Guineans, Ivoirians and other Francophonic Africans, must have felt at the time of independence, i.e. loss of security, of comfort, of so many values not interferred with by the French occupier. In this sense, Fama is specifically concerned with the fact that his princely status has not been upheld and reconfirmed by the newly independent government. Mention is made, of course, of the hundreds of thousands of uprooted men, seeking work, roaming aimlessly throughout the streets of the capital. This, incidentally, was a universal factor in the 1960s throughout French-speaking Africa.

Deeper issues are addressed here, as well. Class, stature, authenticity, hostility, and "perspective." This last involves the narrator's mode of description, recounted in detached fashion, but with elements of free indirect style interwoven, change of "person" and use of imagery to complete the effect. "Free indirect style", as such, is largely the combining of grammar and tense with indirect speech, and then interjecting the expressivity of direct speech. The net effect is to assail the reader with a barrage of verbal and euphonic fireworks which intensify the narrative, at least in theory.

The issues of the "abuse of women" in African society must be addressed by the class openly. Kourouma's text is, of course, savagely worded, producing an unpleasant effect on the reader. The issues involved are quite complex (rape, excision, alienation...) and require some reflective insights prior to "open" analysis.

Miscellaneous observations concerning Africa and La Francophonie:

1. Hofstra University (Hampstead, NY) will be holding its interdisciplinary annual conference in October; this year it is sponsoring a number of colloquia and seminars on aspects of African literature, culture, trade, economics and sociological topics.

2. See the Dialogical Principle by TODOROV, for more information about free, indirect style.

3. "A panther totem in a hyena pack", and similar imagery is of note in the style of Kououma. See underscored lines in packet.

4. Ms. BA, a Senegalese writer, was the first woman of note, in the years after 1970, to emerge as an African literary figure. Prior to the 1970s, all authors were men.

5. Le Prix de la Francité was awarded to Kourouma by Canada for his novel, The Suns of Independence.

6. Kourouma wrote in "French", but used his Malinké-based thoughts and syntax. He felt tradtional French was an "iron collar".

7. Focus next week on how the author introduces the "wife" concept to the reader. Look at cultural differences, perspective, literary techniques for character development, et al. Read to p. 60 or so.

8. Refer to class hand-out (bilingual) relative to the concept of Francophonie. Basic information and feelings presented by Senghor and Kourouma. They differ to some degree, as would their writings. Determine in what ways, as a point of information.

1. During her recollection of the excision march, Salimata is kicked in bed by Fama, in an aside to the reader meant perhaps to break the "mounting tension" of her memories. The reader, naturally, is also relieved to note that Salimata is not actually undergoing the ceremony, of course, just recalling its painful, cruel impact retrospectively, years later. (pp. 21,22)

2. The graphic description of blood, pain, violence, and vultures is almost gothic in its impact on the reader. What psychological effect do these passages have on the European reader? What seems to be Kourouma's intent in portraying this agony? Beyond all of this, the compounding element of the "spiritual" rape seems excessive.

3. The emphasis in these readings on odors, stenches, nausea and fear can be shocking to the Western Reader, but are a normal outgrowth of daily realities and life in African society. The notion of "force and marriage" in the same breath is very West African. A woman is there to be "taken."

4. On p. 28, we note that it is God's will that women be submissive to their husbands. This mentality is, of course, pervasive throughout all of the anglophone, lusophone and francophone nations of Africa. Only in upper-class circles of South African society, and then rarely, have "women of color" achieved any noteworthy status. In Tanzania, professional women are tolerated, but smiled at, by men who clearly and irrevocably control the purse strings. Elsewhere, tolerance varies from nil to moderate, never higher.

5. Salimata's change of tone toward Fama, at the bottom of page 30, is noteworthy.

6. The spirit impregnates Salimata, p. 33. "Virgin birth" never takes place...perhaps a touch of anti-Christian irony on the part of Kourouma.

7. "His nose and eyes filthy with snot..." p. 35. Fancy writing, Kourouma. Are we witnessing the rebirth of "French Naturalism" á la Guinéenne?

8. Excellent description of African market place, where rice...and tens of thousands of other items are sold daily. Yet, sex is never far from Kourouma's virtually depraved mind. (p. 39)

9. The starving children, page 40. (Reminiscent of Kinshasa, particularly the Zones of: Barumbu, Ngiri-Ngiri, Kingabwa, Matété, Ngafula...

10. "Too much open-handedness causes evil deeds." p. 41. Her desire to give is authentically motivated; examine psychological factors involved.

11. Note the weaver-birds; they are all over West and Equatorial Africa. Primeval beauty, p. 42, bottom; and they recur as a leit-motif.

12. Does Kourouma enjoy writing? "Her buttocks contracted and stiffened...", p. 45. Again, p. 46, top of 47. Same lascivious tone. He seems to thrive on the explicit and shocking.

13. Again, the emphasis on the "cloth slipping, the breasts, her thighs...", p. 48. Recollection of the rape; reliving of the horror of excision, a recurring theme here. (p. 49)

14. Examine: the role of the marabout (very Dahomey/Benin); her obsession with sterility, et al. Resurgence of memories of Chekura, with the hernia.

15. Apparently (pp. 51-52), there exists no code of ethics governing marabout-client relations! Dramatic attack, knife-wielding scene. Flight; fear; depression.

16. Final description on p. 52, quite well done. The marabout didn't help her infertility, just practiced his customary nonsense and attacked her! Examine psychological development of this passage.

The class broke up into groups of five persons each. The professor asked us to discuss several key points in the referenced text.

The question sheet dated appropriately outlines the questions surveyed.

1. Salimata's narrative takeover is prepared by a gradual transition in the Mosque, p. 18, in which Fama's feelings give way to the presence of his wife, through adept handling of the narrator's role; once again, the use of free-indirect style is featured, although to a minimal degree in this passage.

The actual sentence where the consciousness of Salimata dominates the text is on p. 19, specifically, the sentence reading: "Then began..."

2. Salimata, the woman, is looking back retrospectively at the excision ceremony, wondering why her mother said she should look forward to the day of the ritual. Salimata never accepted or understood, quite obviously, the ritual which was barbaric and cruel. Beyond that, of course, this painful experience dominates her entire psychic life, negatively, and the curiously benign statement of her mother, almost soothing in its initial impact, makes no sense to her years later. There is a triple level effect developing here.

3. The Camara Laye ritual was portrayed with a sense of safety, of control, of relative decency. Whereas the female rite portrayed by Kourouma is brutal, vivid, cruel, out of control...resulting in death, bloodshed and suffering virtually beyond endurance. The styles reflect this tonal variation dramatically. Little doubt is left in the minds of both readers that these are very different books: one, a soft and nostalgic drift into the past, the other, a violent surge into the mind of a man and a woman thrust into the chaos of Political Independence, Animistic Belief-Systems and Islam, all converging and creating confusion, divided loyalties and explosive tension, replete with knife-wielding scenes, rapes and marketplace riots.

4. Reality demands compromise among the diverse forces shaping The Newly Independent Malinke Society. Linking the "upside-down world" (p. 48) concept to the marabout episode would tend to call for an understanding of the dynamics of post-independence Ivory Coast; but, basically, Salimata's violence, urged upon her by the marabout, can be perceived as the quintessence of her anger, her frunstration, her disenchantment and her revolt against the injustices she perceives (social, obstetrical, etc.) in her immediate environment.

5. We did not discuss the remaining two questions due to lack of time.

Prepare a Second Journal Assignment for Wednesday (pages 92-95). A portrait of Babou, Master of Speech and Persuasion.

(The First Journal Assignment was Latent/Manifest Orientalism)

Kourouma elects to insert the segment pertaining to Babou (a) on the heels of Fama's bereavement related to the death of his father, and (b) immediately after recounting Fama's thoughts dealing with Mariam's potential sensual qualities.

He ties the divergent notions of Mariam's sensuality and the confrontation with Babou together, actually, with a simple, but effective device dealing with the use of time. Two days per week are reserved for the serious socio-political "palaver", or community dialogue, and the remaining time is for pleasant days and nights with Mariam, we are led to believe, with special reference to "spreading and caressing" her.

The narrator informs us that the village Political Committee President, Babou, intends to question Fama regarding his allegiance to the single-party concept, and to the newly evolved sovereign, post-colonial government. We recall that Fama is a princely figure, descended from a long line of nobility in the "customary and tribal" sense.

Throughout all of Post-Colonial Africa during this period, i.e. the 1960s and 1970s particularly, there was on-going tension between governmental political figures and village chiefs, princes, feticheurs and tribal leaders in the ancestral sense. The latter group was reluctant to relinquish power or authority, and compromises were ultimately negotiated in most countries.

Kourouma exploits this dichotomoous theme expertly and with considerable authenticity.

Deck-chairs set the scene, granting power and stature to those occupying them; the twelve committee members (Babou and 11 others) represent the new governing coalition, most of them, including Babou, sons of slaves and lower caste members from a tribal viewpoint, but now hierarchical figures politically under the New Independence. We note the presence of the sous-prefet, pointing up Official Governmental Representation (Le Parti Unique).

Babou is described as "wily and conciliatory". The son of a slave, he is nonetheless the village and committee chairperson. He seeks the approval of those listening to his eloquent presentation,

although he hesitates and proceeds merely one step at a time. The Committee Chairman, at the outset, portrays Fama as a great fighter, bestowing status on him and recognizing his aristocratic upbringing and role in traditional society. He obviously expects some sense of approbation from Fama, a bit later, but does not receive it.

The narrator informs us that Babou is light-skinned; his complexion is dry and finely lined. It is curious to note that many Mulatto or arguably Mixed Race persons in Song'hai and Mande society, as in many other Bantu societies, tend to rise to positions of temporal authority in the eyes of fellow Africans, although Kourouma does not textually mention this phenomenon. Babou's features are sharply defined, ears, nose and eyes possessing distinctly prominent qualities.

Returning to primary themes highlighted in Babou's speech to the village, we note that humanism and fraternity are prominently and objectively covered. He speaks of "divine mercy", as well, belying a certain taint of ancestral values, in lieu of a pure political approach. The notion of "talking for talking's sake" is brought up, indicating, perhaps, that the narrator, the reader and the villagers are all finding the rhetoric of Babou's monologue a bit tiresome. Nonetheless, Babou's command of language is inspiring and even "eloquent."

Fama, in direct contrast to the glib Committee Chairman, does not condescend to speak to "son's of slaves." The convention of the "praise-singer" comes to his defense, much like an advocate might, and negotiates the ultimate compromise and sharing of authority. Indeed, when the Committee insists that Fama kneel at the feet of the former slave Babou, now the politically empowered authority-figure, the "praise-singer" intervenes and leads them all to the cemetary to consult the ancestors. A solution is arranged, Fama is invited to become a member of the Committee and he turns over, bitten alive by bed-bugs, proclaiming that Babou and the Committee did not prevail.

With the scenario at an end, it might be wise to look more closely at the way Babou handled his new "political" role in the face of ancestral and tribal values to which he, also, must have been sensitive. We may conclude with a question, perhaps open to speculative discussion: What qualities within Babou lead us to conclude that he might not have been entirely comfortable with his Party Identity and Newly Independent Stature?

Incidentally, this conflictual dichotomy was typical of Zaire, formerly the Belgian Congo, in the 70s & 80s, and was readily apparent in virtually all of the Newly Independent African States. While Civil Wars, such as the fratricidal Congolese Revolution between 1960 and 1965, were fought over many issues, in this case territory, power and tribal primacy, there was so much uncertainty in the presence of this newfound freedom that many psychological factors entered the picture, among them the type of dichotomous thinking reflected in Babou's ambivalence.

1. Fama is subjected to prison for contrived political reasons; Kourouma capitalizes on the vivid imagery of tropical Africa, its squalor and filth, to impress the reader with the often nauseating sights and sounds of an Ivoirian prison scene. Actually, the descriptions are quite realistic; Kinshasa's Makala Prison, for example, was a hell-hole of torture, starvation, excrement and certain death. Fama seems to have enjoyed a reasonably decent sojourn in the cell where he was incarcerated, having been allowed to exercise, eat and fraternize to some degree. Of course, his health deteriorated and his mind began to drift into dream-like, semi-torpid states; yet, upon his release, he seems dazed but marginally functional.

2. The President's speech, typical of Boigny's occasional benevolence, is a chef d'oeuvre of " dictatorial rhetoric", reminiscent of Mobutu's speeches to the population, which resulted in a "volte-face" within weeks.

3. The recounting of Mariam's infidelity is amusing in some ways; although there is, clearly, a bitter-sweet air about the entire post-prison phase of this story.

4. The death of the fetish-priest, Balla, seems properly portrayed, digging into lore and tradition to provide the aura of authenticity required for this sequence.

5. Again, right through these final sections of his book, Kourouma's prose style is incisive and biting. We are treated to a barrage of sights, sounds, smells and traumatic events which reflect the realities of life and death in West Africa during the post-colonial period of transition. Truly, little has changed.

The final 40 pages of the Suns of Independence revealed a good number of literary techniques, some new and others previously discussed. The following fragmentary comments were forthcoming:

1. Kourouma's notion of the Reader was broached.

2. Can a sentence be found in which the Malinke are not included?

3. Seek, when reading, "gestures of inclusion."

4. The concept of the omniscient narrator was reinforced.

5. On page 102, was the journey really necessary? Not at all, the professor asserted.

6. Ethno-centric comments abound in the text...p. 116, et al.

7. "Who cares what went on in his mind?" Esther inquired (p. 118).

8. The notion of Boigny's "dialogue permanent" was defined. Essentially, it was the need for a leader to communicate regularly with his people, at all levels of society.

9. In summing up the novel, we surveyed a number of students who discussed the arbitrary nature of boundaries, the artificial "squashing" of ethnic groups within borders, etc. The Renan and Fanon articles provided a backdrop for brief discussion of the pitfalls of nationalism.

10. A slide show ensued during which the professor provided a running commentary of her tour of Togo and Ivory Coast, incorporating many comments on the status of women (generally low) in African Society and Local Customs.

Man's inability to recognize the chaos and anarchy he has sown universally throughout all time and all places is central to Kourouma's thought. Offering his central character, Fama, the last of a Dynasty, as a microcosmic figure mirroring the annihilation of perhaps an entire continent's ancestral values by the colonial presence, Kourouma underscores his position that mankind seems incapable of resisting a tendency toward entropy, contamination and decay. When we finally recognize the consequences of our actions, the last of a race has already expired, "the bellow and the gunshot" having wreaked unspeakable havoc.

It is not entirely without meaning that the impact of Fama's demise was first grasped by the "wild animals" of Horodugu. Blinded by the trappings of office, the legacy of the colonial bureaucracy as well as the exercise of new-found power and authority, the sons of slaves who now ruled the nation were less capable of seeing the significance of this princely death than the "vultures, hawks, weavers, doves" which sensed the import and irreversibility of this auspicious moment. As if in protest at the loss of an imperial throne, they "swooped down upon the land animals and men", both cast together, in the eyes of Kourouma, in the inferior position of terrestrial imprisonment.

Yet, the author, whose experience with Metropolitan France was as profound as it was troubling to him, is not blithely condemning pre-independence European domination of his continent. Indeed, Kourouma is far too sophisticated, and intrinsically hostile to forceful French imposition of a foreign value-system, to resort to a simplistic assault. On the contrary, he seems to prefer recording the excruciating trauma inflicted on Fama (hence, by extension, on Africa, as well), and does so in considerable detail, providing an insightful glimpse into the utter "shattering of the morning peace," with implications for all of time.

Additionally, the narrator's imagery of birds and animals raises the greater issue of stratification of society, whether colonial or post-colonial. In fact, ancestral Dumbuya dealt with matters of class and social structure in certain, pre-defined, naturally ordained ways, much like the hierarchical order in the kingdom of beast and fowl. So, too, might it have been more fitting for the Newly Independent Nation to adopt the "natural order", rather than the imposed, colonial structure which ultimately destroys Fama on the microcosmic scale and, symbolically, African Tradition, as a whole.

Rather than passively awaiting their demise, Kourouma implies, post-colonial peoples must militantly agitate for preservation of these tribal systems. The concept of natural order, borne out by the extension of the metaphor to include the "forests" which "multiplied the echoes, and created winds..." is reinforced in the reader's mind, binding the ancestral values of the Dumbuya to the purely natural scheme of things, so unlike the artificial world of politically contrived lines of demarcation.

While there may be a sense of unity among the worlds of the Dumbuya and the creatures of the earth, inordinately sensitive to the plight of the languishing Prince, there are other messages imparted in these brief lines. There exists, in this excerpt, an aura of the unnatural or the surreal, as well, which permeates both tone and content. In portraying the unanticipated behavior of the beasts, Kourouma seems to underscore, almost as if these phenomena were aberrant, the magnitude and potential impact which Fama's death may have on the sense of continuity and transferral of the Dumbuya culture which has prevailed for millennia. The dramatic notification by echoes and winds of the "deepest graves" emphasizes the horror and scale of the cultural loss; that ancestors should take note of this poignant occurrence, that is of the "cry of the last Dumbuya", is proof enough of the scope and significance of this loss anthropologically, yes, but socio-culturally as well.

The underlying cause of this irreplaceable loss is, of course, the series of unseemly events, over which Fama had little personal control, leading to this point in the drama. So, too, did the history of Ivory Coast, and twenty-two other Francophone African Nations, hinge on events over which they had little control for at least one hundred and fifty years. Newly released, previously colonized peoples, surprised, "astonished" and, as Kourouma states, in the throes of "panic" are likely to bolt like "wild beasts...towards the village compounds," or act like "crocodiles (rushing) from the water and "fleeing" into the forest." Man does strange things when motivated by a sense of confusion, loss and doom.

The legacy of the French in West and Equatorial Africa was, in the eyes of Kourouma, who sought to utilize their very language as a weapon, something clearly less than a mixed blessing. It was a curse, a source of shame and a millstone to be flung far from the villages and graves of ancestral Dumbuya whose recent and final loss, Fama, was a burden already too onerous to bear.

"As always in such circumstances in Horodugu, the wild animals were the first to realize the historical significance of the man's cry, the beast's bellow and the gunshot that had just shattered the morning peace. They showed it by behaving strangely. The birds: vultures, hawks, weavers, doves, uttering strange cries, took flight from the trees, but instead of soaring they swooped down upon the land animals and men. Startled by this unusual attack, the wild beasts charged towards the village compounds, the crocodiles rushed from the water and fled into the forest, while men and dogs amid infernal shouting and barking, scattered and fled into the bush. The forests multiplied the echoes, and created winds to carry to the furthest villages and deepest graves the cry of the last Dumbuya. Throughout all Horodugu the echoes of the cry, the bellow and the gunshot created the same astonishment, the same panic." -- A. Kourouma

-----------------------------

[His first work of consequence, somewhat before the flare up of hostilities in Algeria, yet on the cusp of eruption.]

General Comments:

This work straddles two disciplines, and remains at the intersection of both throughout the text, i.e. psychoanalysis and anti-imperialism. It focuses largely on the psychodynamics of colonization, exposing the rationale and the exploitative underpinning of the French presence.

Background:

Although Fanon is from Martinique, his revolutionary zeal took form in France and Algeria; yet, it can be applied to all colonized entities, crossing language and geographic lines.

We recall that Edward Said posited the notion, in Orientalism, that the orient had been defined "monolithically" by Europeans in terms of fantasy and projection. The imagination was fertile, exotically inclined and creatively active, he postulated, leading to enhanced interest in the foreign cultures and societies of the Near and Far East. This type of mentality led to the perpetuation of colonialism and extended the French, Spanish, British, and Portuguese presence in their respective parts of the world.

BASIC CHARACTERISTICS AND PREMISES OF FANON'S BLACK SKIN, WHITE MASKS:

1. It objectively explores the convergence of "subject formation", dealing with the creation of an identity, and "post-colonialism." 2. Rather than dealing principally with issues of gender, it focuses on the polemics of race.

3. Relatively recent attention has placed Fanon in the center of dialogue particularly in Henry Lewis Gates' work entitled Critical Fanonism.

4. Fanon asks, "How are sexuality and language inflected by race?" and, "How does psycho-sexuality 'construct' categories of race?" He utilizes the vocabulary and jargon of psychoanalysis, and the powerful dynamics associated with them, to connect psychoanalysis with "social-analysis."

5. Refer to Marcuse and Manoni for relevant material dealing with sex and society.

6. Fanon inquires emphatically, "How do we extricate ourselves..." from the black/white dichotomy? ... from our precarious condition? ...from our existential dilemma?

7. The "cause", in response to a student's question, is socialism, revolution, unity, adapted to Third World socio-dynamics.

8. Fanon in relation to feminist theory was broached. We referred to Homi Bhabha's article, specifically the Note on page 123. We record, in passing: Of the woman of colour he has very little to say. "I know nothing about her," he writes in Black Skin, White Masks. Fanon would be taken to task today by most modern feminists for "quasi-ignoring", or "de-emphasizing" the state of women in the Third World; actually, he groups them together with oppressed men, as well. (This, incidentally, is a sufficient approach for many theorists, and admirers of Fanon.)

a. Consult, if practical, Jacqueline Rose, feminist.

b. Unresolved tension as it affects: relationships, desire, production and splitting (see Bhabha, p. 117).

c. Fanon, like Freud, and psychoanalytic theory in general, is patriarchal, perhaps even phallocratic.

9. Fanon is dialectical in the Hegelian sense: thesis, antithesis, synthesis.

10. Essentialism was defined by our classroom student of philosophy as incorporating the notion that "you assume something is true and necessary." But Webster's ends with the phrase: it focuses on the "...essence embodied in a thing perceptible to the senses. Actually, it deals with the emphasis placed on essence over existence, in contrast with Sartrian existentialism. Fanon's work is largely anti-essentialistic.

11. Unrelated Catch-phrases mentioned: Arsenal of complexes developed by the Colonist; "you must be like me, but you can't be like me..."; assimilationist; évolué; non-unified subject that has been colonized; white women desire sex...; he leaves gender unexplored; homo-social commodity; what does the Black Man want?; What does woman want?; Fanon talks about VISION; One Pivotal Perception, Ripples of Resistance, epistemic violence in language, etc.

12. Freud analyzes the one who sees; whereas Fanon analyzes the one who is seen.

13. The Ontology of Lacan was introduced in lecture format. (Footnote on today's single-sheet hand-out is excellent, p. 161, Black Skin...).

Some of the main points and key-phrases which surfaced, but require proper reconstruction, include the following fragmentary concepts:

a. the imaginary is pre-symbolic;

b. identity is constructed around fantasy;

c. an ideal self is formed;

d. the symbolic sphere deals with the rules of society, the "naming process", acquisition of language, i.e. identity.

e. Lacan envisages two spheres, as implied above: the imaginary and the symbolic. The former is that of the "infant."

14. Simone de Beauvoir, Sartre and Lacan were briefly compared within the context of their respective outlooks and theoretical models.

A brief overview of Deconstructionism, defined relatively simply for purposes of introducing undergraduate students to contemporary literary critique:

1. Jacques Derrida, basing his initial assumptions on the precepts of Ferdinand de Saussure, initiated this school of thought or movement of literary criticism.

2. He published a series of books addressing the subject in the late 1960s.

3. Deconstruction is essentially an examination of methodology, relying on the notion that the verbal sign is arbitrary. Building on this concept, the tenets of post-modernism, especially text analysis and poststructural literary theory, are an integral part of Derrida's model.

4. Key principles relating to the relationship of cause and effect, presence and absence, speech and writing are refined in Derrida's work to undermine the entire system of Western Metaphysical Thought, with reference to underlying assumptions.

5. The term "deconstruction" refers specifically to the dismantling of the logic on which language rests. Derrida posits the controversial notion that what an author says, may not be what he/she either (1) wants to say or (2) believes.

6. Words are not adequate to express, he argues, truth, certainty or identity. Focusing on the word, logocentrism, is antithetical to the belief-system of deconstructionism.

7. Yale Univ. accepted Derrida's system, believing that it was a logical outgrowth of New Criticism (which emphasized text).

8. Now, [based on my casual conversations with renowned linguists over coffee in 1993], at Stanford University, and elsewhere there MAY be emerging a tendency to reject some of the fundamental, and highly questionable, premises on which deconstructionism rests, notably (a) the disassembly of logic and (b) the inability of words to actually say what they intend, on the surface, to convey.

9. The movement away from deconstructionism, of course, needs to be explored more profoundly; the transistion from New Criticism to Derrida's model and now away from Derrida requires reference to other theorists such as Shoshana Felman, Jonathan Culler & Foucault.

Visit of Jim Lesueur, Lecturer in History, working on his Ph.D. in Franco-Algerian Relations. (Office No. 646-4612) Wednesday, October 11, 1995. (The class had viewed "The Battle of Algiers", i.e. "La Bataille d'Alger", on the previous Monday, 10/9).

Discussion with Professor Lesueur ranged over a wide variety of subject matter, commencing with the history of the French Presence in Algeria, from 1827 through the Algerian War of Independence and the Accords d'Evian.

Names of Importance:

• Beaugeaud
• Benjamin Stora
• Abdel Kadir
• Mouloud Feraoun
• Massali Hadj
• André Malraux
• Gerroudj
• Franz Fanon
• Hussein Dey
• Ben Bella
• Jean Matthieu
• Servan-Shriver
• General Salan
• Verges
• Abdel Giroud
• Henri Alley
• Jacques Soustelle
• Maurice Audin
• Albert Camus
• Abdelaziz Bouteflika
• Charles DeGaulle
• Napoléan III
• Charles X

Terms of Some Relevance:

Les Centres Sociaux Kabyle, Berber, Touareg, Ouled Naïl

FLN, MNA, ENA, Habus Land

Bureaux Arabes, March 2, 1830

Incident at Marignane

"Violence determines who wins."

Un Nouvel Homme , OAS

"Day of the Jackal", "Les Paras"

"I love my mother more than justice." -- Camus

Nota Bene: The class was left with an impression of uncertainty with respect to certain crucial aspects of the Algerian Revolution due partly to lack of time, but also due to the youthful inexperience and narrow knowledge-base of the Lecturer, whose "research" had been based principally on secondary and tertiary sources.

This was, in the true sense of the term, an "authentic" film from India, featuring all of the beauty, violence, savagery and profundity of the Sub-Continent, interwoven with magnificent cinematographic effects, camera angles, contrasting of color, montage, flashback, indeed, virtually every technique known to experimental Western Film; yet, the production displayed a special flair for the unexpected, the radical and the shocking.

Based on an actual story of banditry in Southern India in 1981, nearly bringing down the State Government due to problems of insecurity and the dynamics of voting, this film portrayed the customary practices of the lower castes in India: child weddings, fealty to patriarchal values, bowing in humility to authority, and the day-to-day struggle of survival.

Specifically, it dealt with the life of a young girl wedded by force to an older man (not too unattractive, on balance) who compelled her to have intercourse with him, at age 11, shortly after their marriage.

The girl escapes, runs wild throughout the countryside attempting to affiliate with one village after another, but is rejected by village elders as a "temptation" and as an "evil omen". Ultimately, now a grown woman, she resorts to banditry, in the company of a gang of thieves and ruffians, who display, again on balance, a sort of rustic appeal.

Camera techniques, excellent production strategies and good dialogue win over the viewer's sympathies with the male hero, Vareem, a rough-hewn, but humanistically oriented bandit, who dies in a dramatic scene, which could easily pass for the cathartic release of the entire film.

Embarked on a life of revenge and violence, raped multiply in brutal scenes, stripped naked in front of entire villages, regaining her dignity and authority, the heroine, the "Goddess/ Bandit Queen" is honored at a public ceremony when she acknowledges, finally, after a vengeful massacre involving the slaughter of 32 arguably innocent villagers, that perhaps the State is a legitimate authority. She is pardoned by the Governor and passes into legend.

The film is severely lacking in verisimilitude from a psycho-dynamic viewpoint, interpreted by Western Standards. In the Western World, fortunately, modern psychotherapeutic intervention calls for rehabilitation of rape, incest and molestation victims and condemns the outrageous notion that sexual offenses should be punishable by death, or even ostracism. The "collateral damage" caused by Phoolan, i.e. the death of 32 by-standers who may or may not have participated in the initial assaults on her, however reprehensible, was clearly disproportionate to the harm done the young lady, whose make-up and hairdo, we might add parenthetically, seemed to recover miraculously after each animalistic episode of "group-invagination."

Subtle themes and messages abound. Among them are issues of feminism, of social structure, of authority and self-empowerment.

Yet, the brutality of force, within the sexual context, is, only once, offset by the film's wildly enrapturing sequence of what could pass as "real love" between Phoolan, the Bandit Queen, and her charismatic hero, Vareem, who dies in her arms, a victim of three shattering bullets fired by an arch-rival, angered by Phoolan's having spurned him earlier in the film.

Sophomoric as this may seem, the whole notion of caste is powerfully portrayed: rights are minimal for those of low caste; and, conversely, those of upper caste enjoy lives of privilege and power.

Tender and lightly humorous scenes between Phoolan and her cousin do, on occasion, provide a modicum of relief for the spell-bound viewer.

Emerging from this film, one is assuredly a little queasy, but enlightened. The poverty and misery of India are clearly compounded by social customs not extant in Equatorial Africa or in Latin America.

Viewed as an anthropological document, this production portrays the "condition of humanity" as pointedly retrograde.

N.B. Dr. Wolf: A draft version of this film review was given, upon request, as a courtesy, to one of your graduate students, Julie, who expressed an interest in my assessment of the themes broached.

Needless to state, she and I differed on many points, as might you and I.

However, I reiterate:

We cannot validly equate the attitudes and social conditions of Southern India with those prevailing in Suburban America.