Two sides of a coin

How do we approach the writing and understanding of another culture’s history? I was talking to a senior diplomat a little while ago about how so many texts on the First World War in Africa although trying to include the African (or more specifically, Black) perspective remain Eurocentric. This is something that I’ve been quite conscious of for many years, coming from a background which is mixed in so many ways. For various reasons, since about 2009, how we see the same thing so differently has started to be revealed thereby opening up alternative options to understanding the past (and the current memory).

1. Death

A few years ago now, we were in Tanzania when news of my brother-in-law’s sudden and unexpected death came through. We’d just survived a most incredible and terrifying bus journey (see religion below) when the call from South Africa came through. A close Black Tanzanian friend who we were with, very quickly followed up her ‘Pole Sana’ (I’m sorry for your loss) with ‘But now you have a little bit of them with you all the time.’ A discussion naturally ensued and it was revealed that the person was not actually dead until the very last person who remembered/knew them was dead too. What a very different way of looking at the next stage of life – compared to the person has gone to heaven (or elsewhere) or the open-ended wonder of what happens if a person doesn’t believe in an after-life… Related to this too are the accounts I’ve told of the Massai women we met at the bottom of Salaita Hill wanting to know what interest these White people had in a dusty hill that they thought was only good for goats to scavenge on.

Another difference which is linked, is the naming of things. It’s a very Euro-centric thing to do to name animals and babies (almost as soon as they are born). I fell into this trap whilst visiting Tunisia many years ago and wanted to know the name of the camel I had become attached to in the Sahara Desert. The owner looked at me condescendingly and said ‘Monica’. However, a little later on the same trip, I discovered that they have a standard name for people like me who ask the question. For the owner of ‘Monica’, she was a beast of burden, an asset who helped him earn a living which was challenging enough without an emotional attachment to the tool of his trade. The same explanation was given to me when a friend in Tanzania was showing me her cows (of which she was very proud). The issue was that if she named them, she would find it more difficult to sell them later on and their purpose was to earn her a return on her investment in them. And in some cultures still today, the late naming of children can be linked to the age after which a child is more likely to survive – forming a personal attachment too soon can be too distressing but what a fine balance to manage…

2. “Laziness

Some memoirs I’m currently working on mention an area in southern Tanzania as having ‘the biggest concentration of serpentine life’ known. This made me recall Cherry Kearton’s comment in Adventures with animals and men about the ‘laziness’ of his porters. He’d instructed some porters to clear away debris from a camp and was shocked to see the porters slowly moving the debris using sticks. He quickly realised the reason why, when he set out to demonstrate how to clear the area quickly, as a puffadder emerged from the pile of debris in his arms. Kearton left the porters to carry on using their sticks.

On a more personal note, the simple past-time of walking seems to be differently regarded. As an African I don’t tend to ‘go for a walk’ unless I’m with a British friend. Any other walking I do, and I do like to walk, has got to have a fixed purpose or goal at the end of it. Watch most Africans, who often walk for miles and ages, and you’ll note that they’re doing so to get somewhere or for some tangible output. Africans do not tend to go for a walk to look at the scenery or for exercise. This sense of purpose to walking has clearly had an impact on those, including myself, I know who grew up in Africa.

3. Religion, Nationality, Loyalty

This is an incredibly complex area and to make assumptions about a person’s loyalty or stance on war because of their religious background is asking for trouble. We know that on both sides in the East African campaign there were Christians, Muslims, Sikhs, Jews, Animalists and a range of other religious affiliations. The Governor of German East Africa even tried declaring a jihad against the British but it failed. All these groups fought alongside and against each other for reasons which only the individual may know (cf David Mannall in Battle of the Lomba). The chaplains in the armed forces recognised this and I was astounded to see in the WW1 War Diaries for the East African Chaplaincy how diverse a service these men offered. It reminded me of the episode in M.A.S.H where Catholic Father Mulcahy presides over a Jewish circumcision (Life with Father).

Similarly, making assumptions around nationality is bound to lead to sticky situations. In the East Africa Campaign, nationality is a thorny issue. Black askari quite happily (?) changed sides depending on which leader they felt would be strongest and who paid, fed and clothed them. The disbanded KAR unit from before WW1 joined the German forces as they were recruiting and later, during the war when the Germans were losing ground and moving into Portuguese East Africa, some of these same men returned to the British force. Reading through memoirs and diaries, individuals classed themselves as South African, British, Canadian, American etc despite being born in another country. Technically, all those born in the Dominions and Colonies etc were ‘British’ until after 1926 yet there are clear distinctions in unit names. An attempt is being made on the Great War in Africa site to see how many national groupings can be identified, see for example East Africa.

So, where does this leave us?

For myself, the above is a synopsis of my discoveries concerning the ‘two sides of the coin’ – there are many more to be considered and to take into account, and no doubt I’ll be writing more about this in future too –  and is a reminder not to assume that someone else is behaving the way they do just because it’s how I would do naturally. It sets the challenge to continue exploring and uncovering why and how other forces, units and individuals participated in the Great War in Africa. Thanks to all who have helped, and continue to help, me on this voyage of discovery – our frank and open discussions have been most revealing and is testimony to the values of open-mindedness and mutual respect.

Building bridges

A bridge I regularly cross in Tanzania is Himo Bridge near the Tanzania-Kenya border. This is the new Himo Bridge, an older one can be seen to the left if you are heading towards Kenya and a little further on is the original bridge/crossing  where a battle, or rather skirmish, was fought in 1916 when the British forces led by Jan Smuts pushed the Germans back on Moshi.

Bridges played a very important part in the campaign in East Africa as there were many ravines and rivers to cross. Apart from the bridges such as the one at Himo, the four major railway lines in East Africa at the time were feats of engineering as can be discovered in The man-eaters of Tsavo by JH Patterson. Harry Fecitt discusses some of the early struggles around bridges in his article The advance into German East Africa.

For the advance party, destroying a bridge once they were across meant that those chasing were delayed as they would either have to rebuild the bridge or find another way across. The other way across water usually meant wading across which was not something you did light-heartedly knowing crocodiles and hippos frequented the waters. Otherwise it was rope-type constructions.

On other occasions, such as with the Lake Tanganyika Naval Expedition, there was no option but to build bridges to get the motor boats across the dry ravines. Seeing some of the photos of bridges, I often wonder what they would have done today as the number of trees which had to be cut down to fill the ravine was astronomical – and some 200 ravines, of different depths and widths, had to be constructed. Apart from the trees being cut, the number of men and man-hours it would have taken is beyond comprehension (as far as I am concerned). Yet, they did it and within a record time too. The best told story of this expedition is that by Giles Foden, Mimi and Toutou go forth, although a more contextualised account can be found in Ed Paice’s Tip and run.

I think I’m rather pleased I’m able to travel on the bridges we can today, although they do have their own challenges, as many who travel in East Africa are aware.