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, Abstract . In this piece of writing l have tried to compress the impressions l had while living and working in Africa for three years. The result is a series of sketches organised into four thematic sections. The sketches are designed not only to portray aspects of life in Africa, but also to give a feeling of how a unique experience acted upon my conception of myself and the west. A Quartet of Sketches From an African Experience Joseph Lurie Department of English M.A. A Quartet of Sketches ~ An African Experience by Joseph Lurie Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts Department of English McGill University March 25; 1970 J ~ Joseph Lurie 1970 f CONTENTS Preface .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 1 Icitial Bncounters .. .. .. .. .. 1 Reflections from African Landscapes . .. .. .. .. 26 Missionaries .. .. .. .. 56 Culture and Race Motifs .. 78 Selected Bibliography .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 103 i Preface It was my original intention to keep a journal of my experiences in Africa. But the more l wrote the more apparent it became that my writing did not constitute a chronological record. l found instead that l had a series of vignettes and anecdotes which cou1d be organized into four thematic groups. The sketches are meant to capture the essence of my experiences which not on1y taught me about Africa, but also enabled me to see myse1f and the west in a different light. New York March 20, 1970 Joseph Lurie Initial Encounters l Illusions l was to teach secondary school English and History in some rural area of Kenya, and the prospect set my mind aflame with exotic visions. l knew nothing of Kenya, so the visions were partly fanciful, partly the result of sub­ conscious accumulations picked up here and there from the most stereotyped remarks about Africa. 'Kenyatta' and 'Mau Mau' were epithets that spontaneously evoked notions of strange tribal rites. The mere mention of cities such as Mombasa or Nairobi for no apparent reason acted upon my mind like mysterious herbs, and my imagination bubbled away from me in anticipation of the journey. Despite three months of studying the history, culture and language of the area, romantic visions persisted, for academic knowledge rarely captures the imagination until rooted in experience. It is often a deception of life that our observation of a new reality is coloured by what we imagined it to be, so reluctant are we to admit the fallibility of our ideas. l can remember, for example, getting off the plane in Entebbe en"'route to Nairobi, breathing in' the thick African night air, being convinced that that was African air, permeated, l thought, with the scent of lion. My mind tried to hide 2 shame from myself when months later l learned that there are no lions in that vicinity; and l did not come to recognize until much later, living at a much higher altitude than that of Entebbe, that there is no particular type of air that monopolizes the African atmosphere. From the plane l walked into a small reception lounge whose wicker chairs and sluggish overhead fans conjured visions of Humphrey Bogart and 'The African Queen'. * The deep black- ness of the bartender's skin convinced me that he was a pure African, that here was no product of intermarriage which Americans tend to think of when they see lighter American Negroes. l was soon to learn, however, that blackness is not necessarily a standard for racial purity, that those ancient men of Africa, the Bushmen, are broWD; and l was to live among the Kikuyu who, in describing a person they could not name, often referred to him as being 'that very black man' as if to distinguish him from the more usual Kikuyu of lighter hue. This kind of description startles the white man, as the term 'black' has for him lost its literal mean- ing. To many white people, anyone who has African blood is * The decor of the lounge has changed considerably since my first visite 3 black, but there are those who have tried to be less lin­ guistically inexact by uSing the word 'coloured', though· it could amusingly enough te applied to all of us. Now the American Negro, however light he may be, takes pride in calling himself 'black' to offset the humil­ iation that whites have attached to the word. Yet the men­ tal shack1es of the Negro have yet to be fully broken, for though he now refuses to accept the negative connotation of the word, he does not realize that in his use of 'black' to describe people of African ancestry, he has accepted the initial misnomer promulgated by the white man -- that all Africans are black. At the Nairobi airport in the middle of the night l again sensed lion in the air; and this time, though l had never had the good fortune of smelling a lion at close range, l might not have been mistaken since the Nairobi game park was near-by. Traveling by bus from the airport to Nairobi l strained for a view of game, but was disappointed when, soon after, the appearance of modern highway lighting and neon signs heralded the outskirts of the city. It was three in the morning when l finally got to bed in a comfortable hotel. But my sleep was restless, as l was anxious to expaore the city the next day. 4 The modern buildings, supermarkets, cinemas, fancy shops and well-cared-for parks made me wonder at the ignor­ ance about Africa that was prevalent in North America. This is not to say that wild animals, bush, mud huts, and tradi­ tional people don't existe They do, but it was now clear to me that too few people in America knew of this other Africa which isn't depicted in Tarzan films. l remembered to send a picture post card of Nairobi home to my mother as she was MOSt anxious about my safety. There was a wide assortment of people walking the streets., and l found the turbaned or sari-draped Indians and Pakistanis (here commonly called Asians) the MOSt colour­ fuI. They had initially came to East Africa as labourers to help the British build the railway, but had eventually become a bourgeouis group which virtually controlled busi­ ness throughout East Africa. Their monopoly on trade and often misused commercial acumen are greatly resented by the Africans, so that they are gradually being pushed out of Kenya by the government. There were also~lot of tourists milling in the streets, Many of whom fidgeted with cameras and wore khaki bush clothing anticipating or returning from a safari; of course there were others who dressed that way because it was comfortable and no doubt gave them the feeling 5 of being in Africa. Then there were the indigenous whites, many of whom owned and worked farms that their grandfathers had developed in the colonial period, and there were Many young expatriates who helped the government with various development projects. Except for government workers and those fortunate enought to get into business, the Africans were poorly dressed, and it vas sad to see so many crippled beggars, in a country that was supposed to be theirs, ob­ sequiously greeting people of other races. A few miles outside of Nairobi are the Ngong Hills, a small cluster of four hills, where Isak Dinesen once lived and wrote her poetic book, Out of Africa. From the distance the hills look like a magnificent solitary wave. The Kikuyus have a very apt explanation for the small summits that gently rise one after the other above the saall valleys between them. According to a legend, the Kikuyus had angered their god, Ngai; in his wrath the deity shot his fist to the earth, his huge knuckles leaving the lovely depressions and rises that l saw silhouetted against the skye It was a beautiful clear day when l hiked in those green hills with a group of teachers. Arriving at the first summit, we looked down into the valley and beheld a jet black buffalo quietly grazing. l was hesitant to continue 6 the journey, but recovered sorne confidence as the beast presently ambled off into some bush. When we reached the spot where the animal had originally appeared we were all quiet and there was a noticeable increase in our pace as we mounted the next summit. To the left, still at a high altitude, were rolling Kikuyu farmlands that looked like a cOllage that ran the gamut of green. There were banana plantations that resembled frightened crowds of people, the closely bunched multitude of their deep green to emerald leaves rising, imploringly, as if panic stricken, to the sky; and set against this confusion were stately rows of grass-green maize and spinach-green coffee here·and there shaded by various varieties of trees and becalmed by puffs of smoke emanating from scattered thatched huts. To the right, far below, were the dry plains of the nomadic Masai specked with dying bush, and groggily aroused from time to time by slowly moving herds of cattle. It was a testament to man's ability to make sense out of nothingness, that in this mass expanse of barrenness there were neatly arranged circular Masai villages where life went on as if ob­ livious to the ubiquitous dry plains that bespoke death. l wore no hat on that day as the coolness in those high hills belied the effect of the sun. Another illusion was 7. thus to be dispelled when the next day l awoke with my face the colour of red pepper: its blistering sting told me that l had encountered the African sun.

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