Nkrumah and the Ghana Revolution

In my perhaps foolish quest to gradually read every book ever written by C.L.R. James, I finally tackled Nkrumah and the Ghana Revolution. Focusing on the movement for Ghanaian independence and the relationship between the masses and leadership (as embodied in Nkrumah), the relatively short work provides an interesting avenue to consider The Black Jacobins and the role of colonial peoples in shaping world revolution. Like Toussaint Louverture, Nkrumah emerges as a leader made by the masses, absorbing the best of the West and applying it to the particular conditions of the underdeveloped colony of the Gold Coast. Moreover, Nkrumah would, like Toussaint, make some of his own mistakes once in power to protect the revolution. 

While the appendix material makes one perhaps wonder to what extent James was taken in by charismatic post-independence leaders, there is undeniably much of use to be learned from the experience of the Ghana independence movement, especially in consideration of the all-pervasive myth of African incapacity for self-government. Even the so-called backwards colonial peoples who suffer from illiteracy and allegedly primitive social organizations (tribe and chiefs in the villages) are capable of the most remarkable organization, taking advantage of new technology to demolish every argument of the West against African self-rule. This shows, like the enslaved Africans of Saint Domingue, the capacity of the masses to usher in revolutionary change and shape the course of history.

Unfortunately, the text does not fully analyze the fall of Nkrumah's administration, but it points to the larger structural impediments to the African state (especially the political economy of corruption as intimately linked to the prominence of the state in the control of the economy, unlike the West where corruption could flourish in their more developed private sectors). So, all things considered, Nkrumah and the Ghana Revolution is an interesting work in terms of the larger political significance of The Black Jacobins, which foresaw African independence. Now I must read what James had to say about party politics in the West Indies and more of his analysis of the Russian Revolution. 

Black Spartacus

I recently perused Sudhir Hazareesingh's Toussaint Louverture book and found it very worthwhile. It is a welcome change from some of the more reactionary and questionable interpretations of Toussaint Louverture, as Hazareesingh seems to be more aligned with C.L.R. James. Of course, like many liberals, Hazareesingh seems most comfortable when stressing the revolutionary republicanism of Toussaint, particularly its promise of a multiracial fraternity that never really or deeply materialized. To his credit, he also stresses the various African and Creole (or "Caribbean") elements in Toussaint Louverture's politics, kinship practices, spirituality, and social relations, so he cannot really be accused of overly Westernizing Toussaint. However, one could do without the unfounded claims of "Amerindian" influences on Haitian Vodou. Perhaps the growing contradiction between the masses of ex-slaves and Toussaint's emerging elite could have also been more worthy of scrutiny, even though external threats probably made it increasingly difficult for the revolutionary leadership to imagine a world of peasant proprietorship. But overall a fine synthesis of the latest scholarship on the Haitian Revolution and provocative work on the legacy of Toussaint Louverture for Haiti and the rest of humanity. 

Blue Nile

Although Alice Coltrane's music has never been one of my favorites in jazz, her early solo albums contain some wondrous materials and interesting uses of the harp in the jazz idiom. Like John Coltrane and others of the late 1960s and 1970s, her music was immersed in alternative spirituality and aesthetics drawn from Africa, India, and the avant-garde. However, I found Coltrane's later music to have become too heavily invested in the Indian influences. Her early compositions, like the alluring "Blue Nile," capture that "Eastern" aesthetic and droning bass and rollicking drums with a catchy horn line and bluesy roots with provocative harp-playing. This is the best period in Alice's music, in this blogger's humble opinion. 

Having Our Say: The Delany Sisters' First 100 Years

Reading the biography of the two centenarian aunts of Samuel R. Delany was a completely charming experience. Told in their voice to Amy Hill Hearth, their wisdom, experience and life stories across over a century of life in the US was simultaneously uplifting, challenging, heart-warming, and amusing. Born the children of a former slave and a free black woman of mixed-race origins, the Delany sisters lived through everything from Jim Crow to WWII, from the Civil Rights Movement to the AIDS crisis. Their experience as pioneers in the history of New York City, and the prominent place their respected family held in Harlem during the 1920s and 1930s exemplified the ways in which class and status among African Americans operated. But the "lift as we climb" ethos of their family and the fiery attitudes they display on the condition of African Americans past, present, and future manage to convey something of the great dignity of an oppressed people. Even when recounting humiliating or dangerous encounters with "rebby" white racists, the Klan, or bigoted neighbors, Bessie and Sadie come out of it as confident, assured, and proud. 

Moreover, despite their famous science fiction writer nephew never appearing by name in the text, one cannot help but feel that Delany the writer and the person is a bit more understandable. The family history of the Delanys, the very recent past of slavery, and their struggles to gain an education and enter the professions must have inspired Samuel R. Delany. While I know nothing about his mother's family, there is something quite inspirational and uplifting about the family narrative of his Delany forebears. Moreover, it helps explain why he was attracted to literature, writing and intellectual pursuits, as his grandfather was not only a bishop but a teacher. One of his aunts was a teacher, and his other was one of the early black woman dentists in New York City. His uncles included lawyers, dentists, doctors, and other educated people with connections to the NAACP and well-known black historical figures. Clearly, Delany only had to look to his own family past to see the themes of slavery, segregation and uplift whilst struggling in a racist, unequal society. It's somehow mind-boggling to think that he only had to look to his grandfather to see the history of slavery in America. One of these days, I'll have to read Delany's nonfiction to see what he has to say about his past in light of the biography of Bessie and Sadie. 

Missing Babylon 5

 

I finally finished the incomplete and flawed Crusade, and am overwhelmed by the sad conclusion of great science fiction television set in the Babylon 5 universe. While the fifth season of Babylon 5 and Crusade were far from great, the first four seasons are masterpieces in science fiction story arcs dealing with diplomacy, war, conflict, authoritarianism, and character development. I did not think I would fall in love with the kooky alien characters and their human counterparts on Babylon 5, but it has quickly become one of my favorite shows. Unfortunately, it continued for a rather disjointed and meandering fifth season which was completely unnecessary because of season 4's finale. Crusade, another disappointment, was wrecked by its network and never given a proper chance to develop into a good or even great program. Gideon and crew on the Excalibur were beginning to grow on me, and I was looking forward for adventures on a spaceship set in the same universe as Babylon 5. Perhaps someone should reboot Crusade. Done properly with better music and without the constant interference of a network, we could experience another great science fiction show that explores the impact of Shadow technology in a post-First Ones world and new conspiracies. What science fiction show shall I pursue next to escape these harrowing times?

Original Jelly Roll Blues

Listening to an interpretation of Jelly Roll Morton's composition by a white band from 1923 immediately brought me back to the definitive 1926 recording by Morton and his band. While the Original Memphis Five recording is not bad, it certainly sounds more like the late 1910s/early 1920s white bands rather than the hard-swinging Morton recording from a few years later. Morton's band sounds not only jazzier but employs his characteristic breaks and the irrepressible joy of the New Orleans sound.  

The Funj Sultanate and Earlier Nubian History?

Although originally published in the 1970s, O'Fahey and Spaulding's study of Darfur and the Funj Sultanate contains some interesting arguments about the nature of the state and Islam in the Sudan from the 16th century through 19th centuries. Part One, covering the Funj state, relies on much richer textual sources while the study of Darfur under the Keira dynasty in the second section relies, necessarily, on oral traditions. It is in the first part of the book where one finds some rather intriguing suggestions and ideas about changes in the "Sudanic state" wrought by further Islamization and commerce. 

Some of the changes noted by the authors for the Funj state, which took over lands once ruled by Christian Makuria and Alodia along the Nile (and parts of the Kordofan to the west), are particularly intriguing because they seem to follow similar patterns observed in other parts of the "Sudanic" belt of Africa, especially Borno. Here, I mean specifically, the role of Islam and Sufi brotherhoods, the weakening of central authority, and the creation of autonomous areas under the rule of spiritual leaders which further eroded centralized authority. The perception of the king as corrupt or powerless, I believe, and receiving criticism of Muslim holy men, was also occurring in other parts of the Sudanic region, especially by the the time of the jihadist movements in parts of the "Western Sudan" in the 18th century.

However, I am particularly interested in how the Funj state may have followed earlier Nubian political and social practices. While Spalding states the Funj were a southern Nubian people, I am still unsure what the scholarly consensus is about who the Funj actually were. It's possible their first king, Amara Dunqas in the early 16th century, was a Christian before the Funj kings converted to Islam. If true, then perhaps the Funj truly were a Nubian group or subject population of Christian Nubia. The description of the matrilineal descent system and rituals of kingship also bear an uncanny resemblance to earlier, perhaps deeply ancient, Nubian traditions of kingship. Even the double-horned cap worn by Funj kings and provincial rulers seem to resemble "Christian" Nubian two-horned caps. 

And if the Funj gradually came to power in most of Nubia after the political fragmentation of the region into a plethora of captaincies ruled by minor princes with associated "castles" and churches, one wonders if the breakdown of Meroitic authority was also a similar process (of course, minus the influence of Islam and Arab or Mamluk invasions) to that of the fall of Christian Nubia. One could see an analogy of sorts to the conflicts of the Nobadia and Blemmyes (Beja?) in Lower Nubia during Late Antiquity and the gradual dissolution of centralized authority over the vast Middle Nile. Similarly, perhaps, conflicts over trade routes to the east (Red Sea) and south also played a role, with "Beja" rulers asserting themselves in the Nile Valley. But Meroitic civilization lived on to a certain degree among the Nuba/Noba and Blemmyes along the Nile, who appear to have retained a knowledge of Meroitic literacy and royal symbolism.

Moving on, the Funj state may, despite already being somewhat decentralized by recognizing the autonomy of the northern area of its kingdom after the rebellion of Ajib of Qarri, have represented the last of the ancient structure of Nubian or Nubian-like kingship. It is interesting to see how peripheral Islamization was to the early Funj state, too, only becoming more significant by the 1600s and 1700s. According to Spalding, Islam led to the changes in the nature of kingship and provided an ideology for a rising class of indigenous Sudanese merchants, which further eroded the king's authority. Foreign and local merchants began to undermine the king's control of commerce and led to social conflict between peasants and merchants (the latter engaged in grain hoarding and extortion). As the king's authority dwindled and local rulers acted autonomously, the rising "bourgeoisie" turned to orthodox Islam and commerce. 

While Spaulding's theory of the decline of state-controlled commerce and rising social conflict with an indigenous merchant class in formation by the 18th century is provocative and interesting, it is not entirely clear how or why local merchants were drawn to Islam. If Islam became a "Protestant work ethic" of sorts to local traders who would resist the peasantry's lifestyle and the excesses of the nobility, why did such a dynamic not seem to weaken other states in the Sudanic belt? If the "Sudanic" state was partly based on royal control of long-distance trade, which certainly seems to be true in more than a few cases, why were other states able to persist while only securing trade routes and stability? What was the nature of trade and merchant classes prior to the Funj state? Were traders active in medieval Nubia mostly Muslim and/or state-sponsored? What about during Meroitic times or, even earlier, in the kingdom of Kush or Kerma? Was there ever any sort of "Christian" work ethic and proto-capitalist sentiment among Nubian traders and middleman during the pre-Funj "medieval" period? I have much to learn about Nubia.