Obeah

The term “Obeah” can be heard regularly in (older and new) Jamaican Reggae lyrics, often in combination with “man” (“obeah man”), and mostly with a negative connotation. It refers to a kind of magic or sorcery, involving casting spells (“working Obeah”).

This post essentially is about why that is: both the mentioning and the negativity of that mentioning.

ORIGINS

Historical sources on the origin of Obeah (also spelled: Obia(h)) within Jamaica are overall not entirely consistent or uniform, probably due to partly lacking reliable sources. Quite much is known, however. Against all odds, one can say, because in Jamaica’s colonial past, there is an evident bias from the White British ruling class perspective, and from the slave masters. The separate world of enslaved Africans of course preferred an own discourse, but was still influenced and framed by the oppressive colonial context, related to degrees of also mental slavery.

The origins are already controversial in the academic field. An Akan origin (from present-day Ghana, in West Africa) seems most probable, also related to the fact that a large percentage of enslaved Africans in Jamaica were brought from that region (estimated at a bit over 50%). Others, though, found sources – including linguistic ones - suggesting rather a Igbo origin (now SE Nigeria) of Obeah, as Igbo were also among the enslaved in Jamaica (a bit more concentrated in the West of the island), or a Calabar region (Efik) origin, from what is now the coastal border area between Nigeria and Cameroon.

IMAGE

Whatever its precise African origins, it developed in Jamaica in a direction that one can term negatively as a “caricature” or more neutrally (if cynically) as a “survival mechanism”. Most sources seem to confirm that Obeah actually before used to have a cosmology with deities, ancestors, and spirits that could be invoked according to certain norms and rules, part of a certain world view. This got reduced, one can say, to a more practical “spirit invocation” or “casting spells” to protect oneself, or poison or harm enemies. This vindictive, selfish image of Obeah, it more or less maintained among the Jamaican populace, up to today.

This image of Obeah was, by the way, not only maintained by self-interested White planters, fearing overt but also sneaky rebellion by their slaves, associating this subtle rebellion (including e.g. poisoning, or “bad spells”) also with particularly women. The famous female Maroon leader fighting British colonial rulers and masters, Queen Nanny, was also labeled a Obeah practitioner, using it in this case against colonial oppressors.

Not just Whites, but also other Afro-Caribbean faiths and spiritual systems/religion that developed, however, condemned the “trickery” and “withchcraft” of Obeah as “evil” or “devilish” , such as Myal adherents.

MYAL AND NATIVE BAPTISTS

Myal, also of African origin (assumed of Congo origin, with Akan elements), developed among Africans in Jamaica, and maintained clear African spiritual retentions (possession, “spirit” invoking), but made a connection to European Christianity, getting mixed with it, especially with nondominant Protestant churches that became popular in Jamaica, notably in what became known as Native Baptists. This Africanizing through Myal (including in interpretations of the holy ghost/spirit and water baptism as “rebirth” in the African tradition ) was frowned upon by White Baptist missionaries, but could not be stopped, giving rise to Native Baptists as Protestant variant among Afro-Jamaicans..

Yet, within this Afro-Christian Native Baptism (also known as Myalism), there grew also a distancing from other African practices, deemed backward or vile, notably Obeah, from which Myal/Native Baptist adherents distanced themselves, confirming thus its image of an evilous, selfish withchcraft.

Obeah was not presented as edifying or uplifting, only as doing harm within the community, though it was also known to have “healing” and “medicine” purpose that could be beneficial.

It seems that this negative characterization of Obeah among Jamaican Native Baptists (and similar Afro-Protestant beliefs), continued in the later Rastafari movement, indeed also Christian influenced, even if Afrocentric. In fact, some scholars point at influences from Native Baptism on aspects of the Rastafari movement, that arose in the 1930s in Jamaica, but of course not in a vacuum. Some early converts to Rastafari came from families where Spiritual Baptism was practiced.

WIDER CARIBBEAN

The same term Obeah with the same meaning (magic/sorcery/spells for personal, selfish goals) is also known elsewhere in what is known as the British Caribbean, such as in Trinidad, to which certain Calypso songs and lyrics attest, such as by Mighty Sparrow, Chalkdust, and Terri Lyons.

There are – taken broader – also interesting parallels elsewhere in the African Diaspora, such as on the neighbouring islands of Cuba and Haiti.

Santería is well-known as the Cuban variant of Vodou (very simply put), in this case mostly based on Yoruba (SW Nigeria, Benin) beliefs and spiritual ideas, translated in a Spanish colonial (Catholic) context. Like Vodou in Haiti, Santería is not just a “withchcraft” or magic practice, but includes a complex and ordered, spiritual cosmology with specific deities, spirits, world views, and rituals, involving rules and conditions. This sets it apart from how Obeah is now known: a magic practice or “withchcraft”.

Another, more Congo/Bantu-influenced Afro-Cuban faith in Cuba is known as Palo Mayombe (with variants in the Dominican Republic), which is known for spells (a bit like Obeah is known), but both positive and negative, and also praised for folk medicine and natural healing. Image-wise Palo Mayombe is thus somewhere between developed, sophisticated Santería and selfish practical magic as Obeah is known elsewhere in the Caribbean.

In Haiti, Vodou is likewise a complex, ordered world view and cosmology, with elaborate rituals, thus in contrast to its stereotypical, simplified “Hollywood” image of “casting spells” on enemies, through e.g. pins in dolls/puppets. This superficial, withchcraft image in fact resembles how Obeah is known in Jamaica.

There are differences between Afro-Haitian Vodou and Afro-Cuban Santería, of course, at first in relation to origins in Africa: Vodou has a strong Benin (Fon-Ewe) imprint, whereas Santería a strong Yoruba (SW Nigeria) one (geographically East of Fon-Ewe people).

Other differences relate to the colonial and political context. State communism in Cuba since the early 1960s was officially atheist, but also actively discouraged “religion” in public life, albeit not successfully. Privately it went on, and only later the State became more lenient openly, especially when Cuba needed tourism since the 1990s crisis period.

In Haiti, some dictatorships had semi-totalitarian traits too (under Duvalier for instance), but Vodou remained the main popular religion, partly mixed with popular Catholicism.

PROTESTANTISM OR RASTAFARI?

Jamaica, rather, kept up a Protestant Christian image, to which later half-heartedly - and after repression periods - Rastafari was added. Remnants of traditional African religions (Kumina, Burru, Myal, Obeah) were marginalized, and partly vilified. Kumina, however, maintained a more extensive cosmology (like Santería), only with more Congo roots.

Even among Afrocentric Jamaicans, such as those in the Rastafari movement, some expressions as Obeah were criticized, while Kumina was more or less respected as interesting connection to the African roots.

While some spiritual and musical aspects from Kumina even influenced Rastafari – “heart beat” drum rhythms, for instance - , on the other hand the “spirit possession”, “ancestor worship” or “trance” aspects from its rituals were eschewed for being “backwardish” or even “devilish”, and at most “translated “ to metaphors.

One explanation for this, besides a Biblical/Christian influence, is the focus on “naturality” and “reality” in the Rastafari worldview. Also, the emphasis on life, and eschewing everything “dead” (including dead bodies or spirits), which in turn can be a Biblical (Levitical/Nazarite) influence.

This type of (social) consciousness and natural livity does not seem to combine well with the “supernatural” or “magic” one can perceive in some traditional African faiths: such as when spirits (e.g. ancestral ones) take possession of a body when someone is in trance. It also seems at odds with the “sorcery” or “witchcraft” of casting spells for which Obeah and Obeah men are known.

What remains a bit unclear, however, is whether this negative image of Obeah is fully an independent, “own” Afrocentric, Rastafari conclusion, or in fact an indirect result of Western Christian colonialism. White Protestantism fought against such African “magic” ideas from the beginning, and likewise Catholicism (although “looser” Catholics tended to use it to their advance, at times too). In other words: it might be a Biblical and Protestant influence in which Rastafari was by necessity based, as Rastafari poet/thinker Mutabaruka pointed out: Rastafari arose in that (post)colonial Biblical/Protestant context: whether it wanted or not.

In Africa itself, “witchcraft” or “bad”, vindictive magic or spells are sometimes lambasted too, but there the same question applies as in Jamaica: really indigenous or due to Western Christian (colonial) influences?

In the article ‘The first chant: Leonard Howell’s ’The promised key’, with commentary by William David Spencer’, in the volume ‘Chanting Down Babylon: the Rastafari reader (1998, edited by: Nathaniel Samuel Murrell, William David Spencer, and Adrian Anthony McFarlan), this view on Obeah within Rastafari is discussed.

The article is also about early (some say the first) Rasta, Leonard Howell. Howell considered some aspects from African traditional religions useful, also for “healing” purposes, such as from Myal, but was more critical about Obeah sorcery, for having wrong intentions and negative (divisive) effects, even if more or less recognized among Rastas as also part of the African heritage, albeit a troubled (and probably corrupted) part of it.

Later Rastas still associate Obeah with wicked intentions and iniquity, and therefore lambast it. Similar – indeed – to how criminals and conmen are criticized, for dividing and disturbing the community.

This view of Obeah can be seen as a Christian influence, but not entirely. In light of the whole Rastafari worldview and values of positive living, Black/African pride, equality, and naturality – and its community sense – magic spells with bad intentions disturb this community and go against such values, causing divisions and conflicts within the community.

In the article about Leonard Howell mentioned – with quotes by reggae artists like Ziggy Marley or Black Uhuru -, but also in many Reggae lyrics, this is indeed the image of Obeah, even beyond Biblical influences: iniquity, wicked intentions.

CONCLUSION

The negative image of Obeah in Jamaica, including among Rastafari, cannot be so easily explained, and has in fact multiple dimensions and origins. An external Protestant/Western influence is there, but relegating it to this is too simplistic.

The latter becomes especially evident, when one realizes that the Rastafari movement was meant to restore African pride and to build community, i.e. unity. Obeah sorcery, magic, or other “trickery” (such as represented by the trickster spider Anansy sories from the Akan heritage) are too “sneaky” and therefore too dependent on the “powers that be”. For the same reason, Rastas prefer the “lion” as proud symbol, rather than the “trickster” spider symbol, even if from the African heritage. A better, more solid sense of purpose, one might say.

The trickster spider Anancy (from Akan culture) outsmarted on occasion powerful authorities in the stories (associated later with White masters), and likewise Obeah spells were used against White colonial authorities/masters too during slave rebellions. Not consequently though, and just as often the trickery or spells were used against one’s own people, fellow-slaves, fellow-sufferers, etcetera, only out of competition and for personal gain.

It is this divisive inconsistence and competition within the community that Rastafari, after all, also sought to overcome.

Traditional African religions of course have their own cultural complexity and beauty - and social/community functions! - too, as their relative intact remnants in the West also show (Santería, Vodou, Kumina, Candomblé, a.o.), including rich musical and percussive legacies, and keeping alive African, ancestral legacies. They, however, became corrupted too, in a cynical (slavery/colonial/exploitative) context of survival. Rastafari, rather, sought a more positive, assertive and unifying answer to this cynical colonial past, building on, yet going beyond - one might say: "repairing" - these African legacies.

Brazil and the world order

Brazil is the country with the highest number of people of African descent, outside of Africa itself.

The largest country of South America was once an important destination for the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Eventually, it outnumbered in number of imported slaves all other also major destinations in the Americas, numbering well in the millions.

In the course of time, Brazil became independent from Portugal, and in recent times even kind of an “economic power” of sorts. In these times, the BRIC countries, and more updated BRICS countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa), became a common term, representing a counterweight to the dominance of the US.

INFLUENCE

What’s interesting to me is how Brazil - as largest South American country and economy - influenced our lives, or, more personally, mine: my musical and cultural interests notably. How and why?

What is the Brazil that is presented to the world: the Amazon and its Amerindians, Afro-Brazilians (incl. Samba), football, carnival, or the white elite? Clichés and stereotypes, simplified images, or some of its complex reality?

How did this reach me? Growing up in the Netherlands since the 1980s, and with Latin-speaking, South European (Italian and Spanish) parents?

NEOLIBERALISM

In the Netherlands, because of economic might, but also due to linguistic reasons, the US was culturally much more influential, when I grew up. This was especially in mainstream culture and entertainment: pop music, cinema, television. This was in tandem with the US economic influence: companies and brands, neoliberal capitalism (of which I am NOT a fan), to which European countries adapted. Along with it came a commercial, pushy advertizing and "consumerism" we're supposed to take for granted, as Naomi Klein explained well in her work No Logo (1999), with as telling subtitle: 'taking aim at the brand bullies'.

Personally, I think that the type of capitalism, the “Chicago school”, called “neoliberalism” has been an underestimated, virulent evil in this world. Its materialist, “money shark” and pro-rich focus had spectacular effects, but at the same time mainly favoured the wealthy, increasing global inequality.

Its favouring of shareholders, replaced the once more “social” entrepreneurship (called “Rhineland model” by some) in parts of Europe, considering also employees’ well-being and rights to employment, the environment, i.e. a company’s wider social context. This was not all about the money, unlike this US-shaped neoliberalism, where harsh unsensitive firing of employees is stimulated rather than avoided.

Compared to this strong cultural and economic mainstream influence the US obtained in Europe, Brazil remained strongly behind. Even in “Latin” countries as Spain or Italy – and even erstwhile colonizer Portugal -, the US got a more dominant influence than Brazil. Brazil remained an exotic place of which most knew not much beyond football, carnival, samba, bossa nova, and perhaps favelas.

COMPARISON

The comparison between the US and Brazil I chose not randomly: they represent the largest countries in the Americas, the most numerous populations, yet a totally different position in international relations.

This has historical reasons, such as the different colonial patterns, the later date of independence, and all kinds of social and climatic reasons. The connection of the US to the Anglo-Saxon world, ensured its ties to industrialization, that started in Britain in the Late 18th c.

Yet, other countries reached that heightened degree of industrialization, outside of the West, notably Japan and South Korea, as well as China to a degree. Perhaps a tropical climate limits the “super power” potential in this capitalist, exploitative world, seeking control over “raw materials”.

Lula Da Silva apparently just won Brazil’s elections in Late 2022, as I write this. I remember that same Lula Da Silva said in a speech for an international audience, about 20 years ago, (during an earlier presidency, I reckon) that: “for all intents and purposes, Brazil belongs to the Western world”. For some reason, I remembered this. It seemed at odds with his “Left-wing” image, and I do not know if I agree with it fully, maybe only partly.

It is somehow disrespectful to the large African population in Brazil, as well as the original Amerindian population: the only cultural values that matter internationally are supposedly Euro-Western ones. There is however a strong cultural impact of Afro-Brazilians on Brazilian culture and society.

CUBA AND BRAZIL

In that sense, a comparison can be made between Cuba, a country I know better, and Brazil. Both were Iberian colonies and important destinations of African slaves.

For a large part these Africans in both colonies (Cuba and Brazil) were taken from roughly the same regions in Africa. “Roughly” because there are interesting differences regarding the Central African slaves ending up in Cuba and those in Brazil. Historical sources say that in Brazil more enslaved Africans came from is now Angola, and in the case of Cuba more from what is now DR Congo or Congo-Brazzaville, with the cultural differences this implies, even while sharing a Bantu heritage.

It is noticeable in main cultural exports of both countries: the Brazilian Capoeira “martial dance” has clearly precursors in present-day Angola, while Afro-Cuban music genres like Son and Rumba – in turn shaping what we know as Salsa – evidently show Congo region musical characteristics: straight rhythms, polyrhythms and clave, pelvic moves, dances, etcetera. Some of these Central African traits, though, are also found in Afro-Brazilian Samba

To both colonies, also relatively many slaves from Yorubaland (Nigeria, Benin) were brought, but from different parts of Yorubaland, again implying slight cultural differences.

PERCUSSION

As a percussionist, I focused on both cultures (Cuba and Brazil) and its instruments, noting that these instruments differ: partly attributable to different colonizers: the “Portuguese/Lusophone” world e.g. uses more tambourines than the Hispanic one, but also due to different places of origins of enslaved Africans, even if bordering. There are interesting, remarkable peculiarities, alongside partial similarities.

While a “conga-like” big drum can be found in Brazil too - and also like in Cuba several drum types -, there are differences. Tambourines are little used in Afro-Cuban music, but much in Afro-Brazilian music (Samba, capoeira music, carnival). Bongos (two attached small drums of different sizes) are not really found in Brazil, while on the other hand the Yoruba-derived Agogo bell in Brazil (with two connected different-sized bells) has no real equivalent in Cuba, where mostly single cowbells are used.

Friction, rubbed drums with the high “monkey-like” sound, called: “cuicas” are typically Brazilian, although friction drums are used in Cuba, though with a much lower sound.. perhaps more akin to the sound of lions or lionesses. Why that difference in sound? The origins are mostly in Central Africa.

Though as a percussionist I am overall more of the “Afro-Cuban” school and soon also of the Reggae and African schools, in time Brazilian instruments and music influenced me too, making myself even compositions based musically on Afro-Brazilian genres Samba or Afoxé.

Then there are other instruments, developed over time, that became unique to Afro-Brazilian culture, differing from e.g. Afro-Cuba.

Both Cuba and Brazil represent cultural “power houses”, also with regard to internationally spread percussion instruments, each with own characteristics. They influenced music and not least percussion worldwide.

In Cuba, guitars follow either Andalusian (South Spanish) or Canarian models, in Brazil smaller, Portuguese models, all used in Africanized contexts.

Song structures and singing styles came to differ too, in relation to different colonizers and African influences. In part, Brazil also has stronger Amerindian influences.

RACE RELATIONS

Through all these relative differences, within broader similarities (Iberian influences, Central African and Yoruba influences), a main similarity is the racial mixture.

The latter is much stronger in both Brazil and Cuba, when compared to the US, where races “stayed apart” more historically. The Black or White worlds one might distinguish in the US, are less clear-cut in Brazil (and Cuba), though not absent.

Political power, for example, remained – up to today! - for the largest part a Euro or White domain in both countries, in sharp contrast to “the street”. In Cuba, the Castro family (with roots in Galicia, Spain) shows this, but also most of the Communist Party’s leadership are White Cubans. Not representative racially, because in Cuba, about 60 % is either mixed or mostly African, with similar percentages in Brazil.

Also in Brazil, politics and parliament remained long almost “lilly-white”, dominated by people of European descent, thus hardly representative.

This “racial fluidity” – albeit with hypocrisy and inequality – did not reach Europe as much as influences from US-style Black-White dichotomies, echoing in US-style “minority” and "identity” discourses in some multicultural European countries (Britain, Netherlands, Belgium, France).

This again shows a stronger US influence in Europe. This also showed in the relative attention to police violence often targeting Blacks in the US. As I wrote in an earlier article/post, this also happens in Brazil, and in much higher numbers: police killings in the Rio de Janeiro state alone outnumbering those in the whole of US, and disproportionately affecting young Black men. We only hear less about it.

In fact, I think comparing Brazil and the US – as comparable regarding size - and its present position in the world, is useful to highlight some major historically grown inequalities in this world, stemming largely from colonialism.

Brazil is not really a “white" nation, but mostly mixed, with large minorities of mainly Africans or mainly Europeans - or Amerindians in some regions -, but mostly mixed, often also culturally. This is further complicated by migrations, such as the large Japanese community in the big city Sao Paolo, Italian and German migrants more in South Brazil. Nonetheless, Brazil has an image of “racial mixture”, including Africans.

The US, despite its quite large African American minority, has the image of a “White”, European/Anglo-Saxon country, presenting itself to the world as such. With this, it gained power and influence and maintained it, showing – as much more - the colonial legacy of white supremacy today.

Neoliberalist capitalism is largely a “US” invention, but another “economic model”, for instance developed in Brazil, would not be so influential and popular. We are stuck with the “hard”, shareholder-biased capitalism of neoliberalism, bearing a clear WASP (White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) system of values. A bit more popular or looser, Third World or “Latino” minded approach to economic life would actually be refreshing, but has little chance to influence European or global affairs.

NEW WORLD ORDER

The recent lockdown policies and alignment with Big Pharma and Business of most Western countries, only showed that this neoliberal capitalism only became “harder”, until reaching totalitarian, Fascist characteristics.

The term Fascist I chose specifically, because the alignment of Big State and Big Business we now see, has a precursor in Mussolini’s Fascist policies in Italy since the 1920s: this was called Corporatism, sharing the same principle: big money is big power.

The former President of Brazil Jair Bolsanoro was not perfect, said some nonsensical things probably, but at least was to a degree justly critical of such lockdown/fascist directions and of Big Pharma’s and WHO’s influence. He differed in this from more compliant leaders, also in Latin America, and in the West.

Some Brazil experts I know here in the Netherlands, told me that Bolsonaro – while White and Middle-Class - did not come from the traditional elite (with its dubious links to the historical plantocracy), and as an outsider was more independent.

That the newly elected President of Brazil, Lula Da Silva, once said – as mentioned - that “for all intents and purposes, Brazil is part of the West”, does not seem promising for an own course, though some commentators say he wants to go an own way. It will be merely “neoliberalism with a social face”, Dutch scholar Kees Van Der Pijl said.

I can only hope that his election does not represent a “putting in line” of Brazil’s government policies with global governance – present neoliberal fascism -, or any Agenda the UN has (2030), which do not benefit the poor people of this world (only in name).

That’s another thing, when comparing the US and Brazil: Brazil has (overall) still a much higher poverty rate than the USA, including predictable racial disparities.

Lula Da Silva must know this too. Would he sell his soul to this globalist capitalist elite at the cost of his multiracial people?

Time will tell, and will show whether the elections were indeed fraudulent, or that corruption/bribing is hidden from sight.

If this is the case, the vague yet outdated image of Lula Da Silva as anti-elite Left-wing is precisely that: an outdated memory, past and gone, fake and false, in this negatively changing, corrupted world of politics, shaped by a global, Western-led capitalist elite.

Unfortunately, Brazil is then indeed part of this exploitative Western world, and more compliantly so. Such as it became since colonialism.

Melisma

“Melisma” is an interesting word. While its meaning might be relatively unknown among many, it describes a phenomenon that is somehow known and encountered by many, yet not mentally or rationally “named” as such.. perhaps because there was not really a need to “name” it.

Simply put: melisma is a singing style stretching one syllable over several notes. Often resulting in one “vocal run” across notes (but of one syllable). This can thus be contrasted to “syllabic” singing, with each syllable representing a note. The latter, syllabic singing, is much more common in large parts of the world, including in Western pop music.

On the other extreme, though, are regions in this world where “melismatic” singing is very common, even close to “the norm” and have a long tradition: the Middle East, North Africa, parts of Eastern Africa, India, but also the Greek Orthodox world, and the South of Spain, with Flamenco as known "folk music"/world music example.

Its origins is dated at least to 3.000 years back.

In these regions melismatic singing has a century-long tradition, with dominance in certain (sub)genres, especially more “religious” singing or “free” singing, less bound to certain rhythmic patterns. Within Flamenco, some subgenres have a fixed, faster rhythm and therefore allow less melismatic singing, though some skilled singers still can pull it off. Outside of these regions and influences, it has somewhat of a tradition in singing in the Celtic and Slavic world, in some aspects and song forms.

To most people’s ears, in its rough form, though, melisma reminds of North African and Arabic music, though it is also found in Jewish singing, and in Ethiopia, which has a long Christian tradition. There is thus no specific religious connection, also as it became common in European Gregorian chanting as well, though with different “feels” (more intense in North Africa).

TOWARD POP

Global Spanish influence, and Islamic influence, might have helped spread melisma wider, though often mixed with local precedents. After all: it does not seem so strange a thought to “lengthen” vocally a syllable or word over several notes, for an effect of “intensity” for instance.

This effect of “intensity” made it common in Black music in the Americas as well. From religious Gospel to secular Soul and R&B, and related genres. Again, like in Flamenco, more in the “slower”, less rhythmically bound genres, with “freer” singing.

Melismatic singing can thus be found here and there in songs by Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, and Aretha Franklin, and even more in songs by Whitney Houston, Deniece Williams, Mariah Carey, Luther Vandross, as it entered more the Western pop mainstream. Whitney Houston’s mass global hit ‘I will always love you’ is said to be the song that popularized “melismatic” singing most.. even among people who did not know the word “melisma”.

Houston’s song is a good example, becoming especially powerful with actually good singers with extraordinary vocal reach: like Whitney Houston, but also Mariah Carey, or Luther Vandross, to name some known ones, using melisma.

In this Black “soul” music, it is often associated with the more-or-less spiritual concept of “soul” itself, due to its intense feel, though not the only component – of course – of “soulful” singing, but an important one.

Even more structurally, also in secular “pop” music in e.g. Ethiopia – Ethio-pop - melisma is used, as in Spain (even in “flamenco pop”), in Hindustani Pop or in modernized pop-like music in North Africa (like Rai) and the Arab world.

I myself tried to sing melimatically too, of course (e.g. in the chorus of my song "Mañana Mañana"). I found it was - as so often - not as easy as it seemed: a skill requiring both experience and commitment, really only learned within a culture itself. Others only can (maybe) come close.

In other contexts, the “trance-like” feel of melisma and multi-notes syllable has a kind of religious function, in spiritual contexts, such as in the Islamic world (think of the mosques’ Muezzin chanter calling for prayer), Jewish services, or Gregorian chants. Also in the Hindu world of India there are examples of this.

RHYTHM

Though I like all music, I consider myself a “rhythm man” (I play percussion, for one). An interesting question I therefore find is in how far melisma in singing can be combined well with a groovy rhythm. Vaguely I know this to be the case, finding the challenge of fitting melisma in the rhythm of singers intriguing.

Good examples I know from Stevie Wonder, Reggae songs by soulful singers like Alton Ellis, Dennis Brown, Don Carlos, and Ijahman Levi (example: song Moulding), but in fact Ijahman Levi uses melisma in several songs.

Also other singing styles found within Reggae “echo” melismatic traits, certainly the “Waterhouse style” (named after a ghetto area in Kingston, Jamaica) “wailing” chant, with some hints towards “yodeling”, but likewise to soulful melisma, by singers like Michael Rose and Yami Bolo, and in the band Black Uhuru (where Michael Rose long sang)

In Flamenco, it is common to restrain/keep from melisma in faster, more rhythmically bound subgenres of Flamenco – sticking there more to syllabic note-per-syllable singing, although very skilled singers, such as Arcángel, are revered for “fitting” melisma in the rhythm/beat (“compás” in Spanish). In Flamenco this skill is praised as “velocidad” (literal: “velocity/speed”): fitting melismatic singing in faster rhythms.

Several already mentioned Reggae artists proved as well that melismatic singing can be "fitted" well in a good Reggae groove (Black Uhuru!), as did Soul or R&B singers.

Also Ethiopian music genres with strong rhythms often combine successfully with variants of melismatic singing, often faster types.

It is thus not restricted to “ballad”-like songs, or slow Soul or R&B. Some Soul singers made upbeat, “dance” song using melisma, such as Beyoncé and Leona Lewis.

So, interesting from the musical perspective is its link with “rhythm”. In fact, one can argue that melisma relates more to relatively “rhythmic” music, as also Spanish folk music is known (compared to the rest of Europe). Melisma and flexible rhythms seemed made for each other.

“Straighter” rhythms as in the Sub-Saharan African tradition, i.e. clave-based polyrhythmic pieces, with its rhythmic “tight complexity” and call-and-response, allows less melismatic singing, or extended notes.

Cuba inherited that tradition through its African-descended population, mainly from that “clave-based” polyrhythmic cultural region (Congo region, Yorubaland, Calabar), while singing more similar to melisma can be found in the (guitar-based) “Punto” or "Punto Guajiro" genre in rural Cuba, which is said to represent influences from other historical heritages in Cuba: of the Canary islands and South Spain, including Flamenco-like vocal influences.

To a lesser degree, these also show in vocal parts in Son and Salsa, mixed in with African (esp. Congo) influences.

Part of the variation in singing – of say: a lead singer between the chorus - is also covered as African languages are mostly tonal, so “up and down” movements are inherent to the languages, whereas in languages like Arab and Spanish this should be deliberately searched by own intonation.

COMPENSATION

That is also an interesting way to look at it, and I think an interesting conclusion: melisma as musical/vocal “compensation” for speaking a non-tonal language, like e.g. Arab, Hindi, English, or Spanish, thus adding desired vocal variety and fluctuation. Bantu languages, for instance, have that inherently, but this vocal varying is sought by in other languages too, apparently.

Always pleasant to notice that there’s more that unites humanity worldwide than divides it, which at the same time – as a nice irony - translates in quite different cultures and music styles.. This only makes this world more varied and interesting.

We’re not the same, but we’re equally creative. Something like that..

Reggae music lovers (in the Netherlands): Mystic Tammy

How people got to be reggae music lovers or fans has always fascinated me. Maybe partly because reggae still is off/outside the mainstream, also in the Netherlands. It is not found that easily, let’s just say. It requires (to a degree) an extraordinary life path: that is, different from copying the masses, or simply following what’s commonly on television or the radio.

Reggae has of course since decades gone international and widened its fan base, but I have known individually quite different reggae fans within the Netherlands. Black and white (and Asian, or mixed etc.). Males and females. Old and young. Some with little education, some highly educated. Of different class backgrounds. Some combine liking reggae quite equally with other genres (e.g.: some with African, funk, soul, some with hip-hop, some even with non-black music genres), while others on the other hand adhere almost “strictly” to reggae music, and do not get into much else. Some like roots reggae more than dancehall or vice versa. There are even reggae fans – believe it or not - who do not smoke the “ganja herb”.

Furthermore, some have an interest or sympathy for the related subject of Rastafari, some do not, or even despise it. The latter, despise, I find somewhat odd since Rastafari is not the same as reggae, but is nonetheless connected to it.

These differences (and similarities) between and among reggae fans/lovers intrigue me, also in relation to personal backgrounds. That’s the reason why I would like to interview specific individuals who love reggae.

Before this I have interviewed 11 persons – reggae lovers I know, “breddas” (meaning “brothers”, or "friends" in Jamaican parlance) of mine – here in the Netherlands.

I started the series on this blog with a post of June 2012, when I interviewed Abenet. In April of 2013 I interviewed Bill. After this I interviewed Manjah Fyah, in May 2014. For my blog post of August 2015, I interviewed, somewhat more extensively, (DJ) Rowstone (Rowald). In August 2016, then, I interviewed Vega Selecta. In October 2017, I interviewed DJ Ewa. Then, for my post of September 2018, I interviewed for the first time a woman, namely Empress Messenjah or Empress Donna Lee. In August 2019 I interviewed another woman, namely Sound Cista. For my blog post of September 2020 I interviewed another Reggae-loving woman, French but living in the Netherlands, Selectress Aur'El. For my blog post of September 2021 I interviewed again a "bloke" (fun way to say" "man") selecta Hobbol Backawall.

MYSTIC TAMMY

This time, I interview a woman again, namely a female selecta/selectress (deejay) residing in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, called Mystic Tammy. Besides selecta, she is also a Reggae-oriented radio host for Razo (a local Amsterdam SE station), under the title Mystic Royal Selections. She is known as Mystic Tammy, and her real name is Tamara Wijngaarde.

I personally know her from the Reggae scene since around 2012, as Reggae selecta in some Reggae-minded clubs, or concert venues, in Amsterdam and around, such as Café the Zen, or at other events and locations in the country. I tended to like her selections. I noticed how she made quite a name for herself, also as a radio host for Razo Amsterdam (https://razoamsterdam.nl/), interviewing many local artists, and also several internationally known (Jamaican) Reggae artists like Bushman, by phone live during broadcast. Lately, her show was Sundays starting at 15:00 CET, meaning that it was (6 hours earlier) in Jamaica, often in the morning, but I remember nice and informative interviews with Bushman, Nature Ellis, and many other well-known artists on her show, as well as with local, Netherlands-based artists, like Samora and Zed I, in the studio. Her (after all: online) show seems to have an international audience.

Kind of true to her "nickname" or "moniker" Mystic, I did not know that much more of her, though on occasion she spoke quite openly with me. Still some mysteries about Tammy are left to unfold, also for me, haha. That's why I asked her the questions underneath, as she responded them, also in person with me in an open conversation. We met among other things in the Reggae-minded (duh!) bar named Jamaica Lounge in Amsterdam (West).

(Photo above: me (L.) with Mystic Tammy)

QUESTIONS

Where were you born, and did you grow up?

In Suriname, born in 1975. Grew up in the Netherlands, from around my 4th year. Lived in different places in the Netherlands: a.o. Lelystad, Groningen, Purmerend, the South, before now (last 10 years) in Amsterdam..

In Groningen (North Netherlands) I lived around 17 years.

Since what age did/do you listen Reggae music?

I first heard Reggae as a child, because my father had quite some records, incl. some Lovers Rock Reggae.. He gave me a cassette of Prince and UB40, which was played at my house, incl. Dennis Brown, Peter Tosh, Bob Marley at times.. More often as genre I heard the Surinamese genre Kaseko, growing up.

At home also a lot of Gospel, as my parents were active Christians for the Evangelische Broeder Gemeente - EBG - (Moravian Brethren), a Protestant Church (of German origin) historically adhered to among Creoles in Surinam, and they were quite religious. So Gospel, and other Black music too, like Soul, Motown.. Further, even some Dutch "crooners" like André Hazes were played, haha.. So quite varied.. With that music I grew up.

When I was grounded as punishment to my room at home, I listened also secretly to alternative “pirate” radio stations..

As I got older, I also started listening to House music more. For some reason I chose that.. I don’t even feel any shame for it, haha.

Alongside this, though, Reggae, I always kept in mind, as I appreciated the messages in Reggae, and the “tranquility” it somehow gave me. It always stayed with me, even during that House period.

As I was a teenager, Early Dancehall (Reggae) was in vogue, and I chose to listen that too: Shabba Ranks and others, such as that found on those Strictly The Best compilation albums, my father had. I encountered that in my high school period: I started smoking weed then too, so that Reggae was connected to it.

What attracted you to Reggae then?

As said, the messages, and tranquility I found in Reggae.. Life lessons too, as girl/young woman growing up.

More or less from my 23th year of age, I got more into Reggae, after an uncle of my gave – or left - me a lot of Reggae records (vinyl). I delved into it, and in Groningen then (I lived there 17 years), went to Reggae concerts and parties, incl. in Oosterpoort and elsewhere.. Also played as vinyl deejay in bars. From then on I played mostly Roots Reggae, as from that vinyl collection inherited from my uncle: LKJ, Ijahman Levi, Dennis Brown, Israel Vibration, Desmond Dekker, and many more.

Through this scene, I got into contact with people from the Forward Sound Movement – a Reggae sound system - in Groningen. Steely from Round Beat HiFi approached me first as I was Selecting/deejaying, and got me into the Groningen-based Forward Sound Movement, training me further in Reggae “selecting” (from vinyl).

As deejay, they called me Mystic Tammy.. That moniker with “Mystic” came from that time in the Forward Roots Movement: they called me that, don’t know exactly why: maybe they thought I was kind of mysterious, as I indeed can be.. Or because of the type of songs I played/selected..

We continued with the Groningen-based dj/selecta collective Forward Sound Movement (sometimes cooperating with Jah Sound), with other dj’s like Fabulous D, Jah Jenco, Peacemaker, and Broer Hazekamp. In places/bars in Groningen, but also played at Reggae Sundance in 2005 (South Netherlands), but even travelled internationally to Germany, Tyrol, and got even mentioned in the Riddim magazine. We saw a lot.

This was all when I lived in Groningen: I only live now in Amsterdam since about 10 years (since around 2012).

Have your musical preferences changed, since then?

Now I am mostly a Roots Reggae lover, but like to listen Motown music too, quite a lot.

Also, I am really into Afrobeat now, some nice female artists in in it!

Do you have preferences within the broad Reggae genre? Does e.g. Digital Dancehall appeal to you as much as Roots Reggae?

Roots Reggae mostly, only once so often Digital Dancehall.. I tried to play Dancehall as selecta early on, as part of the Forward Sound Movement, but we concluded it was too “slack” (sexually explicit/violent).. I stuck then to my Roots Reggae, and was glad to: gave me more tranquility. The positive message is also important for me: reason why I focus on the chorus with the main message: mixing Reggae also like this (from Chorus to other Chorus lyrics on riddims), to get the message across..

Messages are after all important for me, and I don’t want to play slackness.

Within Reggae, it is hard for me to say whether I am more a fan of some artists than of others. I enjoyed the Burning Spear concert, and I love Roots concerts, but really am not selective as fan.. Reggae is so broad. Sometimes I listen more to that artist, other times to others..

There are some songs, though, that are important, for me personally.. An example is: I Am That I Am by Peter Tosh, or Pick Myself Up by Peter Tosh.

There was also a period that I listened a lot to Lucky Dube, but at a given moment it made my kind of sad, because of its heaviness. It all depends on my phase or mood, I guess..

Since when are you a radio host?

I am a radio host since about 10 years, started at Razo (local South East Amsterdam radio station) around 2012.. I like it there: I can do my thing..

Actually, I started out with Esta Selecta, taking me under her wings. Kind of..because she wanted to make me into another Esta Selecta, but I wanted to become more “Tammy”, do my own thing, and could do that at the Razo station.

Recently I try to put variety in my shows, Roots, but occasionally also Dancehall. Since I am host, I get a lot of music sent, digitally, from (local and Jamaican) artists who want their music to be played in my show. I keep most of it, but I really have to like it, “feel” something with it, to play it on my show. Some don’t like that, but it’s my show.

Do you have a (format) preference for Vinyl or digital/cd? As selecta/dj or listener.

I started out as said as a vinyl deejay/selecta, involving a lot of carrying and lifting of boxes with records .. With my back problems, digital formats became easier: all music on a USB stick.. I still prefer the sound of vinyl, though: it makes the sound more real, even if slightly “scratchy”..

Do you play musical instruments, or are you in other ways active musically?

I play some percussion and sing sometimes. I have three djembe’s of different sizes, I play them sometimes on music at home. I would love to learn to play the bass guitar too, do more with guitar playing.

Did you have any special experiences of encounters in the course of time (with artists or producers)?

Several.. One very special one was with Burning Spear, at Reggae Sundance (festival near Eindhoven, Netherlands) in 2005, - before the “selfie” and smartphone age -, but very memorable.. Just being there, reasoning with such a great artist. Turbulence I met also there. I had many special and memorable meetings with artists, such as with Bushman. Backstage contact is sometimes difficult, because more people want attention of that same artist..

Very nice was also my meeting of Junior Kelly during a concert he did with Jahbar I in P60 (Amstelveen), not long ago in 2019: he was very kind and open..

I met the artiste Jah Mason in Jamaica, also very special: seeing how he was really active with farming. Saw a nice show in Ocho Rios (Jamaican North coast) of Iba Mahr and others, Twelve Tribe people were there, Lutan Fyah came there, and other artists. So we were with them.

Does the Rastafari message in much Reggae appeal to you? How does this relate to your background, and views?

My parents and family belonged, as already mentioned, to the EBG (Moravian Brethren) , a Protestant Christian Church, and were quite religious. I had to go to Sunday school, was in a church choir.. Yet, I have always been a rebel.. at one point I did not want to go anymore to that Sunday school.

In time, when I grew my dreadlocks, my parents were at first “not amused”, I becoming kind of a “black sheep”, but they accepted it over time, we worked it out, and I now have good bond with my parents.. They do their thing, I do mine..

I do not really present myself just as Rasta, even though they call me that.. I am just Tamara.. I try to do/enact “my own way” of Livity within Rastafari, progressing well in that sense..

I am mostly looking at the “pureness” of myself as person. However, I certainly feel there is more to all this materiality, more between heaven and earth. Some kind of divinity within us..

Most of all, I believe in “eternal love”..

How do you judge/evaluate the present-day position of women within the Reggae scene?

As a woman I do find it kind of hard.. I encountered a lot of prejudice and negative assumptions, such as the presumption that I only reached some positions or achieve things by “opening my legs” to some men. I don’t like that judgmental attitude. Accept people as they are, and let people do their own thing, I would say.

In the Forward Sound Movement back then, I was the only female deejay/selecta, but that was a fun time with oneness among us..

In the course of the years, however, I certainly fought my way through all this machismo.. if I wanted to stop, I would have stopped a 10.000 times. I just fought on and hung in there. Sometimes you need to be “tough” too and firmly defend yourself.

As a woman (deejay), men tend to “expect” more of you, want something or start flirting. When you don’t go along or refuse, they even call you arrogant or bitchy.

In my mailbox, I even get certain sexual ”pictures” or “wishes”.. Of course, I block these then..

Despite the number of female deejays/selecta’s having increased in recent times, we still have it hard in this world.. Women still have to be firm and stand their ground in this business.

Also the number of Reggae artistes have increased, recently, like Queen Ifrica, Black Omolo, and Lila Ike is blossoming now. Furthermore, here are also icons like Rita Marley and Marcia Griffiths, still performing.

I do not think Reggae is worse in this male bias/machismo than other genres, though.

What Reggae artists do you listen to now, any specific artists? Any new “discoveries” you would like to mention?

I kept up to date with all Reggae developments, and appreciate the “new school” of New Roots (Chronixx, Richie Spice, Etana, etc.), and artists playing on Reggae Jam and other festivals, such as Nkulee Dube, but even an artist like Mavado I got to appreciate more..

With regard to “new” Reggae artists I think some are good and somewhat underrated, such as Mortimer, Stranjah Miller, Jahbar I, Micah Shemaiah is also very good, and Samory I. Also, Etana – although not really “new” anymore – does good things. Yeza, a good female artist who sang with Sizzla, is also worthy of mention.

REFLECTION AND COMPARISON

This was a very informative interview for me, and indeed some mysteries were "resolved" about Mystic Tammy - Tamara -, at least for me.

Interesting how the "route to Reggae" could differ somewhat between the different people I interviewed for this blog section (Reggae lovers in the Netherlands) over the years, from parents to siblings, or in other cases, via friends or media, and the relationship to other music genres around them when growing up. Reggae has gone international and has spread widely, but some heard it already at their parental house.

Some parents were religious, such as Tammy's, influencing music played (e.g. Gospel) or the ease of acceptance of Rastafari encountered in life.

As some other female interviewees already mentioned: it is not always easy for a woman in a male-dominated music industry, as selecta, or otherwise, though they also found support. Moreover, I personally doubt whether the Reggae scene is more male-biased or macho than other music genre scenes, including Western pop, or genres like Country, where certain roles are expected from women, when they are accepted as equal at all. So that is a wider problem. Mystic Tammy did point out that it still is kind of a struggle, also within the Reggae scene, with challenges and botherations men might meet less.

As a child I liked Stevie Wonder, not long before I got into Reggae in my Early Teens, so that is some "Motown" similarity with what Tammy mentioned. My parents were loosely, socialist-minded "free" Catholics, and Italian and Spanish, so I did not hear much "religious" music (Gospel, church songs) at my house, but more "Latin" music. Other interviewees heard yet other music first (and even lacked a "Caribbean region" background, like Tammy, and other interviewed before) - or listen still alternately to other music too (Punk, Rock, African, Soul, Pop, Hip Hop, even House) - to differing degrees -, but we all ended up in beautiful and varied Reggae music, haha. Each with, as is natural, own personal preferences within it. I share with Tammy, and with other interviewees, a preference for Roots Reggae, from artists like Burning Spear, as well as for New Roots (Iba Mahr, Samory I, Lutan Fyah, a.o.).

The Netherlands is a relatively small country - if densely populated and wealthy -, but strange enough I was not fully aware that the city of Groningen (w. around 200.000 inhabitants), in the North of the Netherlands, also had an active Reggae scene, by the 1990s, just like Amsterdam has, with various selecta's/deejay's and sound systems.. but why wouldn't it? International reggae artists often performed also in Groningen's Oosterpoort venue regularly, after all.

All in all, very insightful!

Bongo: an etymological journey

I admit: I like to play with language. I even am intrigued by the intricacies, the history and adaptability of different languages. It’s not the same, but this attitude helps when you want to study different languages: you stay interested, even through boring and technical (grammar) parts. Language has for me, though, to be connected to history, and actual meaning, since history and culture interest me even more. Language as such is the result and instrument of history and culture, you can say.

LANGUAGE AND CULTURE

Basic anthropology lessons also taught me that there is a direct link between language and culture, in the history of mankind. Not everyone might be aware of that. One notable fact is that the use of “double meanings” or “metaphor” through language, is how culture – and cultural differences – took shape. A conscious linguistic creation, or “word power”, less so the other way around (first culture then words?).

POSSIBILITY AND REFLECTION

Because of all this I always was interested in etymology: the origins of certain terms or words, in the own or other languages, the historical origins and changes. “What’s in a name?”, Shakespeare wrote. He meant of course that in itself is not “truth”.. good to remember. Words are certainly not necessarily “truth” , I even argue that words conceal more “truth” than they reveal. What words always are, however: possibility, as well as reflections. Also in light of its role in cultural formation.

BONGO

From this last angle (possibility and reflection), I am going to focus in the remainder of this post on the etymology of a word I studied, with relevance for my personal interests and passions: the word “bongo”.

For this blog I wrote a lot about Cuban and Jamaican music, as well as other interests of mine, such as Africa, and international developments. Of course I discussed already on some posts the Afro-Cuban musical instrument, the drum the Bongos, more correctly in Cuban Spanish, the singular: Bongó (for both attached drums). That might be internationally the best known meaning of Bongo, among most people.

Yet there’s more to it.

DRUMS

Bongó as term for the small attached drums appeared in the mountainous East of Cuba, the regions of Guantanamo and Santiago de Cuba, first around the Late 19th c.. Local music forms, such as the Son Changüí and the Son, used initially a combination of instruments, including guitars, a thumb piano as bass (marimbula), shakers, and the bongo drums. Earliest drums called “bongó” go back to the late 19th c., and were called “del monte” (from the hills).

A bit later, as Son developed (from Changüí, around Santiago de Cuba), the Bongó changed somewhat in playing style (small drum on other site, tuning pegs). This adapted “son” form of Bongó travelled later to Havana (and beyond).

(Photo above: a photo I took of a local (Son-style) Bongó player in Los Dos Abuelos, a patio-based music club in Santiago de Cuba.)

There is a strong Congo/Central African influence among the Afro-Cubans in Eastern Cuba, and the instrument the Bongó (as well as the marimbula) shows this Bantu influence (open bottoms, e.g.). Also the name, according to some historians. Cuban anthropologist Fernando Ortiz traces it back to a few words in the Bantu and Congo area in Africa, such as “Mgombo”, simply meaning drum, but probably mixed with other words meaning something like “cultural”.

Ortiz also noted that similar early "bongó-like" drums had another name in the province Holguín, in the NE of Cuba (and North of Guantanamo and Santiago), namely "Tahona". This sounds more European than bongó, and indeed the province Holguín is ethnically much more "Whiter" than Santiago de Cuba and Guantanamo, as I also noticed when I once travelled from Holguín to friends in Santiago de Cuba. Incidentally, I also passed by Birán in Holguín where Fidel Castro (indeed also a White Cuban) came from. His Galician (N-Spain)-born father had a plantation there, employing a.o. Haitians. But I digress, haha.

Historian Farris-Thompson concluded that the African origins of slaves in the Americas did differ from region to region, but that the “Congo” area united them almost all, as slaves from Central Africa were relatively widespread throughout the whole Americas. Indeed, culturally it left legacies in various countries and folk traditions. From Argentina to the US South.

Relatively much in Cuba and Brazil (where an estimated 40% of the enslaved Africans were from Congo/Central Africa). Interestingly, historians points at some difference between these once Iberian colonies, as to Brazil went more slaves from the Angola area, and to Cuba more from what is now DR Congo.

Yet, in several colonies “Congo” or “Bantu” slaves made up quite a percentage among the Africans. In Jamaica, about 20%.

JAMAICA

In Jamaican speech, especially the local Creole (Patois) or variants of Jamaican English, the word “bongo” is used regularly, and not just for drums.

Bongo is used for drums in Jamaica too, to be sure, not even always the mentioned Cuban drums, but often as a colloquial term for all drums, even if more correctly having own names (conga, kete, djembe, etc.). Culturally more intriguing is its other uses in Jamaica, notably among some spiritual movements, including the Rastafari. While vague, it is deeply cultural.

In Jamaican speech a “bongo” is even a word for, simply, a “black man” or a “dark-skinned African” ("backra" is then white man, "coolie" an East Indian), but goes beyond appearance. Among the Rastafari, “Bongo” is a kind of honorary title for an elder: someone with a long, founding history among the Rastas, keeping the culture alive. A term of “authenticity”, you might say. Rastafari elders (older men) - or other "key" tradition keepers, are thus often called “Bongo”, as in Bongo Joe, Bongo Jerry, or Bongo Herman (a well-known Reggae percussionist). Often there is a link with their drumming (Nyabinghi or otherwise).

An intriguing use, also because of how Jamaican historians define it, such as in the Dictionary of Jamaican English (ed. By F.G. Cassidy and R.B. Le Page). “Bongo” or also “bungo”’s original meaning, also in some Bantu languages (around Cameroon and Congo) partly “country bumpkin”, is asserted in this dictionary. Actually, they mention a non-Bantu language, N-Nigerian Hausa where “bongo” is used for “country bumpkin”. Thus somewhat derogatory as “backward” peasants, named as such by more urban, modernized people, in some parts of Africa.

This odd mix of uses, further mixed with the inferiority complex due to Jamaica’s colonial past, as “bongo” was often used derogatory for “country” people, but also for someone looking very Black or African, thereby upholding European, rather than own beauty standards.

This makes the positive use and meanings among the Rastafari adherents of “Bongo” – i.e. a true, “cultural” Rastaman, a wise elder, cultural safeguard of tradition -, rebellious and assertive. A proud reaffirmation of the African cultural heritage. Language, - here the term “Bongo” -, as “possibility” or “word power”.

KUMINA

There is another spiritual tradition in Jamaica, though, where Bongo is used, one of largely African (Congo) origin: Kumina. Kumina is especially found in Eastern Jamaica, the mountainous parish of St Thomas and around. It originated among Africans of mainly Congo origin, becoming in time a bit more pan-African, with references to Yoruba, Igbo, or Akan cultures, also present among African slaves. The main cosmology and vocabulary of Kumina remained Congo/Bantu, however. Spirit possession dances, aimed at ancestors passing knowledge, or on “healing”, form core rituals whereby good drumming and chants – with even remnants of the Congo language – invoke the right spirits. This relates to chants and drum patterns.

Well now, these Kumina-initiated families get the title ‘Bongo’. So also honorary as name/title in that sense, with special “safeguarding” functions in the Kumina tradition.

In the collective volume ‘Chanting down Babylon: the Rastafari reader’ (several authors, ed. by N.s. Murrell, W.D. Spencer, and A.A. McFarlane, 1998), authors point out that in fact Rastafari was partly influenced by Kumina, as early Rastas knew about Kumina and had connections with them. In percussion there is a direct influence, such as through known percussionists like Count Ossie, said to be connected to Kumina. The “heartbeat” rhythm of the big drums in Congo-based Kumina influenced Rastafari Nyabinghi drum patterns, though somewhat simplified and slowed when compared to Kumina.

In the above volume, the term “bongo” is mostly used when referring to Kumina terminology, but thus with an influence on Rastafari. Kumina has a longer history (19th c., while Rastafari as such since the 1930s).

SPIRITUAL

The term Bongó in Eastern Cuba for the drums, seemed more practical, though not meaningless. It might on some level denote “African” as Bongo in Jamaican colloquial speech, distinguishing it from other instruments from other continents (Spanish/Canarian guitars, notably) in Cuban Son music, while partly also meaning, simply: drum.

Interestingly, originally the Bongó in earliest forms of Son and Changüí were called “bongó de monte” (bongo from the hills/mountains), referring to a rural origin, and the rural reference the term Bongo has in some African languages.

While many well-known early Bongo players in Cuba, also after it spread to Havana, had links with Afro-Cuban spirituality and faiths (Santería, Abakuá, or Palo), the Bongos themselves became part of popular music, first in the rural East.

When the Son genre moved to Western Cuba, the White colonial establishment at first discouraged and even forbade such “African” drums – yet in time, the Bongos joined the increased acceptance of Afro-Cuban music, later also internationally, finding a way in US-developed Salsa and other Latin genres, as may be more known.

The “spiritual” got somewhere in the back behind amusement, it seems, in the Cuban case, but not lost. Several of the early pioneers of Bongo playing in Cuba incorporated Afro-Cuban spiritual drumming aspects (from e.g. Yoruba-based Santería), but translated them for popular music. It therefore cannot be separated fully.

In Jamaica, the very word “Bongo” came to mean both “earthly” as “spiritual”. This fitted with the “natural livity” part of the Rastafari faith. Spirit possession was accepted less, due to the Christian influence on Rastafari, but some aspects of Kumina and similar African traditions found a way – as said - in Rastafari. The relationship between drumming and “spirituality” (healing, community) is shown more abstractly in Nyabinghi sessions, where often the word “bongo” is used too, though the drums have own names (kete, fundeh, repeater), from yet other (Akan) African traditions. So, like in Cuba, there were (reworked) pan-African influences at play.

BANTU

The connection to specifically the Bantu-speaking area and the Congo region of the word “Bongo” was never questioned, though. The term’s early appearance in Eastern Cuba and Kumina confirm that Congo origin, even beyond the superficial fact that the word just “sounds” Bantu: such as more words, like the “mb” and “ng” combination, but that is no guarantee.

Some words with “ng” or “mb” sound and are Bantu/Congo in origin, also in the African diaspora (“mambo” in Cuban music, “makamba” for White man in Curaçao, some even say "tango"), but more African language groups have e.g. the “ng” sound (from the Kwa and Mande languages), or even have “bongo”-like words that have another origin. Just coincidence, as in some Mande-languages (Guinea area), “kongo” means “hunger”, but has nothing to do with the river or territory in Central Africa.

It is true, though, that “ng” and “mb” are common sounds in several Bantu languages, and many retained African words in Caribbean creole languages with “mb” and “ng” are indeed of Bantu/Congo origin , also in Jamaican and other English-based creoles (“gunga” for pea, for instance).

Also the word “Kaya” (for marijuana/weed) in Jamaican patois, known from the Bob Marley & Wailers album and song, is of Congo/Bantu origin, meaning something like “ leaves” or “plants”. This is significant as Africans of Congo region origin tended in several parts of the Americas be relatively knowledgeable about “healing plants” or herbs, probably due to the(rain) forested character of the Congo basin of their African roots. Slaves from the Guinea are came from more Savanna or steppe/Sahel environments, and those from Southern Nigeria, Ghana etc. somewhere in between (partly forested too, savannah’s).

In Jamaica, therefore, the term “Bongo” is at times also used for a natural healer through plants, often at the same time an authentic Rasta man. Also, colloquially, I heard the mentioning of “Bongo” locks, apparently in reference to specific, thick dreadlocks on a Rasta man. So the term “Bongo” has gotten quite some use in Jamaican speech. A broad use, as well: used to refer to drums, as well as “a black man/African” or “Rasta man”.

This translates in several Reggae lyrics of course: by Bob Marley and many others, often in combination with Natty (Bongo Natty).

This use is also found in other English Creole languages, such as in Trinidad.

In Cuba, the term Bongó refers mostly – also in lyrics – to the well-known instrument (other terms exist to denote very Black or African people), although a similar word is found for another drum, in the Abakuá tradition: the Bonkó Enchemiya. This drum is a lot longer (and more conical) than the bongo drums – sounds therefore deeper -, but the name (as general term for “drum) might be related, the Abakuá tradition in Cuba stemming mostly from the Calabar region (border area Nigeria/Cameroun), close to Bantu-speaking areas.

NAMES IN AFRICA

“Bongo”, thus, refers to Africa, but how concretely? The name of drums in Bantu languages (even if adapted), okay, but also ethnically and geographically?

In fact, there are several geographic or ethnographic names of “Bongo” in Africa, in different countries. Sometimes a town and region, in N-Ghana, Ivory Coast, Angola, or a mountain range (CAR), and even a people in South Sudan, called the Bongo, speaking – you guessed it -the Bongo language. Again, this can be coincidence.

Studies are as yet inconclusive, so it is hard to prove a direct link between, say, the provincial town Bongo (or Mbongo, but so pronounced) in Angola – unfortunately a main “ slave source” for especially the Portuguese and Dutch. It is probable, anyway.

Bongo, a town and region in the far NE of Ghana - or the Bongo commune in SE Ivory Coast - could maybe have influenced its use in Jamaica, where many Akan/Ghanaian slaves ended up, though the enslaved Akan came from more to the South in Ghana, and had a different language family.

Even the remaining possible origins are less improbable than one would think: stories and legends can travel far away between peoples, so possibly also about the Bongo people, related to Sudanic-speaking people like the Sara and Dinka, in South Sudan and Uganda, but not far from the DR Congo. Their culture is clearly African, and drum-rich.

Sadly, the Bongo are as a culture and nation presently “endangered”.

Likewise, a Pygmy-related people in Gabon is also called Bongo, and are surrounded by Bantu. Bongo in Gabon are known as “forest people”, and speak the Bantu languages of their neighbours. They are also knowns as BaBongo, but the Ba-prefix means “people” in Bantu, similar to BaKongo.

Fittingly, the BaBongo have a percussion-rich culture, and extra remarkable for this post, know instruments comparable to those known traditionally in Cuba, such as a clay jug blown within (a wind instrument), a lamellophone (like the marímbula in Cuba) and a friction instrument similar but lower than the Brazilian cuica (also rubbed from within the drum, as the cuica), similar in sound to one known historically among Afro-Cubans of Congo descent and in Palo, as well as to the Ekue in Abakuá.

Thus, while descending from original “pre-Bantu” pygmy Africans – and not known whether some of them were enslaved and brought to the West, like their Bantu neighbours (not impossible), the Babongo culture surely is part of the Bantu cultural complex, also influential in Eastern Cuba.

Further possible links, are the common ancestor name Mbongo in the oral tradition in (Bantu) Cameroon Sawa peoples, as well as a toponym in northern inland DR Congo.

If these are direct links is unsure, the ones about the Mbongo town in central Angola (Huambo), or the ancestor name in Cameroon, seem somewhat more plausible, but regardless, the fact that the term Bongo recurs as name throughout Central Africa is telling. It is a very African word in sound, haha.

Not surprisingly, the surname or family name “Bongo” or very similar ones (like Mbongo) are common in some African countries as well (Angola, DR Congo,Congo-Brazzaville, Gabon a.o.).

AFRICAN LANGUAGES

Looking at linguistic use, apart from names, it becomes even more doubtful. There it is much more coincidence in certain cases, and maybe some historical/language family connection in other cases.

The Bongo people in South Sudan call themselves that, with “Bongo” meaning simply “people” or “men”. They speak a Sudanic – not a Bantu language.

Regarding the latter, that “bongo” means in Swahili – a widespread language mixing Bantu and Arab – “the brain”, is interesting. Again: an eventual link with the African Diaspora in the West is hard to tell, however, though not impossible. The new Tanzanian music genre Bongo Flava – actually a mix of local and international influences - is named after this, as Dar Es Salaam urban residents are known as “clever”, and the city as Ubongo: “brainland”. Some outside Tanzania call even the country as a whole (U)bongo, all from the Swahili for “brain”. Ubongo or Bongo thus became a kind of nickname among some for Tanzania.

A link with drumming seems not apparent. Among the Yoruba people of SW Nigeria/Benin, also influential culturally through enslavement in Cuba, in music the “head” is associated with bell sounds, not drums. The latter represent “bodies”, perhaps due to the skin. The Bongó was, on the other hand, used musically as time-keeper in early Son in Eastern Cuba (the counting head?).

In a relevant Bantu language, Lingala (DR Congo) , “bongo” means “exact”, which also raises questions, since Lingala is spoken in areas of Congo where many slaves came from.

Perhaps relatedly, the meaning of “Bongo” in the Zulu language (a southern Bantu language) is "that’s it”.

ANTELOPE

Finally, there is another known meaning of Bongo, even internationally, also prominent in Wikipedia, but here not mentioned yet. “Bongo” is the name for an animal, an African antelope (in Central, West, and parts of East Africa). Again, this can be a coincidence, but the name came supposedly from the Kele language in Gabon, a Bantu language.

A possible quite indirect link is with the fact that antelope skin was and is used for drums in surrounding African cultures, but also skin of other animals. I have played an antelope-skinned drum once (the Kpanlogo drum from Ghana is an example), but these are thinner - with a softer sound - than those used for Bongos. For bongos the skin was originally calf or goat, donkey, later water buffalo (German bongo manufacturer Meinl uses buffalo skin, for instance), producing a different (harder) sound than possible with antelope skin.

So at most there is just an indirect link with e.g. the Cuban bongó.

Even if these were mainly indirect links - but still links! - with the African Diaspora uses, the common, widespread use of the “bongo” term in Africa, makes it as term distinctly and typically African, and thereby proving the point of its use in Cuba, Jamaica, or elsewhere. Asserting an own cultural identity, through word power.

At the same time, it reflects the struggle against colonial indoctrination as well as historical – and current! – Eurocentric ideological and technological dominance.

Long Walk To Freedom

Despite its pollution by the pushy commercial nonsense now all too “bon ton” in the modern Western world, the term “must read” does – I think – apply to some books also genuinely and morally.

HISTORICAL IMPORTANCE

I am referring to historical importance. Books that even would improve mankind if more people had read them. One of those “must read” book in my opinion is the autobiography 'Long Walk To Freedom', by Nelson Mandela (pubished in 1994). A well-known historical figure, of international – perhaps even universal – appeal –, Mandela as subject goes way beyond activist “niche” markets with particular interests, for, say, Africa, or “the Black struggle”.

Both these themes – Africa and the Black struggle – are of course more than “niche” interests, and in fact important to learn about global and human history for people of all races – in my opinion -, but are rather ignored compared to other themes. The white/European guilt complex about the colonial and slavery past explains this disinterest partly, as well as remaining racist and colonial notions. And material interests. Simply said: the US, Europe, but also Chinese, Japanese, or Arabs are economically too powerful to ignore (and just exploit). Africa unfortunately not yet so.

ANACHRONISM

Still, despite this bias among some white or non-African people, the person Nelson Mandela breaks in a sense through barriers, even of relatively closed minds. The blatantly racist Apartheid system in South Africa lasted up the early 1990s, and was met with moral indignation more and more throughout the world, including among liberal whites. Seemingly a remnant of Europe’s colonial past, the harsh discrimination and violence seemed an immoral anachronism, as Western powers claimed to have become more civilized.

In a superficial sense, Nelson Mandela became over time a welcome figurehead for the anti-Apartheid struggle for people worldwide, due to Mandela’s firm stance, yet also thoughtful, nonviolent, and dignified image.

Leaving all this - superficial “images”, white guilt, and liberal self-congratulations – aside, I just considered it time for me to finally read this autobiography by Nelson Mandela. I knew about these memoirs before, but did not have the time to read them yet. I also thought I had learned over time roughly enough about South Africa from different sources: books and articles, but also first-hand accounts by a white friend, who told me he had to leave South Africa during Apartheid, for his relationship with a Black African woman. I saw some good documentaries about it too,.. and some not so good ones too. Likewise, some good movies, and some bad (read: “too Hollywood”) movies too.

KNOWLEDGE GAPS

Still, there still were here subtle “knowledge gaps”. I am interested in persons, their life stories, especially of influential heroes and intriguing personalities like Nelson Mandela. Yet, admittedly, there were also some questions about that whole Apartheid period in South Africa I still had. I am relatively knowledgeable about colonial history – and African history - , but lack some knowledge about especially the recent history in South Africa. I thought this book could give me some answers.

To start with: the book was a very good and pleasant read. I even forgot soon it was relatively voluminous (over 750 pages). There’s a Dutch expression that translates as “it reads like a train”, meaning: an easy, good read. These memoirs by Mandela did indeed “read like a train”.

So did I learn new things? Yes, I did. Obviously about Nelson Mandela’s life story. I knew he was from the Xhosa ethnic group (some people might not even know that), speaking a pretty southern Bantu language (with clicks). He became more and more an opponent of racist colonialism forced upon his country South Africa by the British and other White colonizers, but first became a lawyer, also to help his people. Like with other people – and as is simply human -, his consciousness about the injustices grew over time.

What I learned most from this autobiography were the political changes in South Africa itself.

NAZISM

There is a protest song by African Reggae singer Alpha Blondy (hailing from Ivory Coast) titled Apartheid Is Nazism. This book taught me that this is not just metaphorical. Apparently, as Mandela explained, there was support and sympathy among the Afrikaners or Boers (White South Africans of mainly Dutch, Protestant descent) for Hitler’s Nazi regime in Germany in the 1930s/1940s. This went even beyond tensions between South African Whites of British or Boer/Afrikaner descent. South Africa was a British colony, in the commonwealth, and when Britain joined the allies in declaring war against Hitler Germany, South Africa automatically went along.

Yet, there was an opposing movement among some White Boers or Afrikaners in South Africa pleading for at least neutrality. Wars between Britain and the Boers have been fought, and this related to this, alongside conservative views. Well now, the Nasionale Partij (National Party) that established and expanded Apartheid in South Africa fully in 1948, was led by White Boers and Afrikaners, with leaders once openly supporting Nazi Germany, such as later prime-minister Vorster, who even went to prison for this stance.

Another main architect of Apartheid and segregation, the Amsterdam-born Hendrik Verwoerd, also seemed to have such Nazi sympathies, and chose to study in then Nazi-influenced Germany.

Links between Nazism and Apartheid continued, an example being the father of the now influential German billionaire Klaus Schwab, founder of the WEF, whose father was member of the Nazi party, and later worked with the Apartheid government/regime in South Africa. Some even note much similarities in the methods of Apartheid, especially “petty” daily-level policies – in the covid 19/corona pass “new normal” since 2020 – son Klaus Schwab seeks to promote, albeit now discriminating more on supposed medical grounds, than on racial grounds. Also, “lockdowns” became normalized since 2020, and are similar to control methods used by the Apartheid regime.

Since Hendrik Verwoerd – known as the architect of Apartheid - was thus an Amsterdam-born Dutchman, this Nazi sympathy cannot be explained by the fact that the Boers/Afrikaners were also partly of German descent (besides mainly of Dutch, and some French Huguenot descent). Presumably, the racial hierarchy fitted the time, and colonial culture and interests.

Identity and even more “ideology” after all almost always relate to “interests”, in my opinion. Delusional ideas about racial superiority and inferiority – and primitive ethnic pride – exist, but get mixed with colonial interests and properties, resulting in migrant whites treating indigenous Africans as burdens in their own country: insane, even psychopathic, but from this viewpoint explainable. They also defended their material interests and wealth.

FIGHT AGAINST APARTHEID

Mandela relates it well and balanced, though. Though the strict Protestant Boers of mainly Dutch descent were largely to blame for the National Party’s Apartheid policy since 1948 (though tacitly supported by White Britons), the White British were before this also racist and colonialist, - and exploitative - as elsewhere in Africa, but more indirectly and subtly. The way the Boers-led National Party operated with its Apartheid policy had indeed strongly Fascist elements, with “democracy” (e.g. voting) only reserved for a minority of “superior” White people. The majority Black population was since around 1950 openly made second-class citizens, stripped of most human rights, and made dependent on White people.. Indeed, in their own country. They were segregated into separate Bantustans, with in name self-rule.

Before 1950, discrimination of Africans was already there, including a “pass-system” restricting their free movement (not required for Whites), and an European bias in education and economy.

This harshly racist Apartheid is what Mandela fought against, with the African National Congress (ANC) organization – already founded in 1912 -, in which he became a leading figure. Predictably – as he narrates in this book -, repression, harassment, oppression, and persecution of him by the White authorities ensued (bans, censorship, limited movement, arrests, spells of incarceration), ending up in the (well-known) long incarceration at Robben Island (near Cape Town) of Mandela, as a political prisoner, lasting from 1964 up to the 1980s. Since the late 1980s, Mandela was transferred to another, more comfortable prison on the mainland, as political changes seemed somehow to be on the horizon. International condemnation has increased by the Late 1987. Very hesitantly, by the way: and the hesitance of powers like the US under Reagan and the UK under Thatcher to condemn Apartheid more strongly was morally dubious.

Indeed, the National Party government became by them more open for negotiations – especially as international sanctions were put in place (supported now by the US and the UK) -, which Mandela initiated on behalf of the ANC, toward his goal of multiracial democratization.

This is “in a nutshell” the context of these memoirs, but I recommend people to read it fully, for it is very insightful, precisely because of the details and how Mandela relates it. It gives insight about an oppressive political system in South Africa, as well as human psychology. It also shows Mandela’s intelligence and open mind.

HUMANITY

I noted through this book that Mandela indeed had an open mind, and was a good judge of character, placing humanity first. He commented on when white authoritative figures treated him rough and rude, but also when there were more reasonable or “kinder” people among them, only brainwashed too much in the system. He still kept hope due to the “glimmer of humanity” he even saw in guards in grim prisons he was in under Apartheid.

In the final, more reflective part of this book, Mandela says it eloquently: “Man’s goodness is a flame that can be hidden but never extinguished”..

In a way, that’s the ultimate rebellion. Despite harsh personalized aggression and oppression keeping your sane mind and composure, allowing even compassion. Maintaining good sense, reason, and your “cool”, even when instability (“losing your mind”) seems understandable. That stability and firmness of character of course also makes a good leader. Not one to be easily blown away or weakened. Neither easily corrupted or bribed.

Furthermore, Mandela maintained a love for all humanity, his account shows, which seemed sincere, and quite remarkable. Imprisoned since 1964 for decades until 1990, he states in this book that he through those years he learned to hate evil systems more than people.. even those working for/in it. Remarkable, as the cynical route of “I’ll be hard: after all, the world is against me..”, could be the choice of a lesser, less compassionate soul.

More things I learned I can mention – without spoiling or giving a way too much of this very readable book – is the lying propaganda of the National Party, and how it claimed to fight “Communists”. It mainly used this label to “frame” opponents to their (Apartheid) policy, mostly unjustly, as dangerous rebels or terrorists. This included Mandela and the ANC. This proved effective to gain support of the then anti-Communist USA.

Again the strength of character and wisdom of Mandela showed here. He did not consider himself a Communist, and above all certainly not opposed the National party on that ground: it was their racist Apartheid system he fought. Yet, Mandela explains how he studied aspects of Communism to examine its workability or possible usefulness, with an open mind. Never really embracing it, but neither excluding it in advance. He determined his own values.

ROBBEN ISLAND

Mandela’s account on prison life at Robben island since 1964 was fascinating and educational. In broad lines, summarizing what being there does to a man – not always detailed – but evident nonetheless.

Not everyone can imagine being for years locked up and at the mercy of guards, wardens and state, and throughout this unjust solitude, it seemed Mandela’s “hope” and firm stance kept his spirits up.. against all odds.

Prison for political prisoners under Apartheid South Africa – and on Robben island - was meant not just to “lock away”, but rather to make an intimidating political “fascist” point as well. Much of the behaviour of wardens, such as strict rules, limited favours, and structural discrimination and humiliation, can also be described as “extreme bullying”.

This could take “calculated” forms: easing of bans or prohibitions, extra favours granted (somewhat better food, study time, books, allowed to talk, a bit less work) were mostly conditional or temporary, and often wickedly compensated with new bothersome rules and limits.

The discriminatory Apartheid system translated by the way on the small scale as well: Black Africans got lesser food in prison, compared to Coloureds (mixed-raced), or Indians. Wisely, Mandela could see through all these evil games over the years, and somehow rise above it, keeping his focus on his ideals and principles, and a better future.

These ideals were essentially positive, inclusive and antiracist: it emphasized equal individual rights for all South Africans (of all races), and the One Man One Vote principle. A far cry from the segregated racial inequality the Apartheid policy upheld, aimed at Black Africans’ dependence on Whites.

The “Socialist-leaning” focus of the ANC was also multiracial, which conflicted a bit with other Black African resistance movements in South Africa at the time. In these memoirs, Mandela speaks for the ANC, while explaining how its “pro-Black, yet multiracial policy” would according to him be better than of the pro-ethnic African movements, such as the Pan-Africanist Congress (the PAC), that broke away from the ANC in 1959, having a more exclusionary Black Power stance.

This PAC objected to ANC’s tight connections to Communists and White and Indian people (even if against Apartheid), they considered too undermining of the Black liberation and authorhisp. Mandela considered such stances immature, while being not much less radical.

Radical, in that he never gave up violent resistance against the White apartheid regime. He thought this rebellion necessary for the time being, while preferring where possible peaceful means to overthrow it.

STRATEGY

These memoirs are thus – largely – about socio-political “strategy”: how Mandela endured the oppression and incarceration only to keep his values and goals of a free, democratic, nonracial South Africa intact. This I find quite admirable: he gave his life for his nation and people.

Being this “freedom fighter” – he resumes in the final part of the book – almost inevitably is at odds with a “common” stable private family life: a steady job, a present father, loyal husband, etcetera. He saw his children much less than he wanted when imprisoned, and though his love for Winnie Mandela was strong and guiding him, a practical “harmonious love life under one roof” hardly could develop with his life. He really gave his life for the struggle.

“It seems the destiny of freedom fighters to have unstable personal lives”, as Mandela summarizes it in this book.

FINAL PART

The final, more reflective part follows on Nelson Mandela’s final release from prison, and the victory since 1990, when Apartheid ended, and South Africa democratized since then, resulting in an electoral victory of the ANC. These include beautiful reflections full of wisdom, captured in some brilliant citations. Mandela e.g. writes (on the way forward after Apartheid): “to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others”..

The problem of violence among Africans (Zulu versus others) was a problem in South Africa regaining freedom, and Mandela relates how he assumed the National Party regime’s involvement, hoping to derail the changes through destabilization, and holding on to “White power” as long as possible. Again, through "divide and conquer".

South Africa – while becoming free and democratic - all in all thus had a lot of crime and violence problems - along with remaining poverty among the masses - in the Early 1990s, when this book ends.

I can add that I also learned through this book about other important individuals in the struggle against Apartheid, such as Oliver Tambo, longtime and respected leader of the African National Congress (when the ANC was banned after 1964, he was in exile in Lusaka). Mandela had a deep love and respect for this long-time friend and companion Tambo, resulting in deep grief at his quite sudden death, after a stroke, in 1993. This was not long after Mandela’s release. “It’s like I myself died a little bit”, he writes emotionally, also in this final part of the book. I felt that.

Though these memoirs are about politics, they are thus certainly not “cold”.

The only mild critique I can give is that “culture” does get much less attention than politics (strategy, freedom fighter) in this book. The differences between Zulu, Xhosa, and Sotho among the native Africans, or among the Whites (English or Afrikaans speaking) get less attention.

I guess freedom fighters like Mandela cannot escape the Black-White dichotomy the Apartheid regime after all was based on – however nonsensical it is - , and that makes it understandable.

Overall a must – or politer: “recommendable” - read, one can learn a lot from.

FINAL REFLECTIONS

Though Amsterdam has a progressive image, the birthplace of Apartheid’s architect Hendrik Verwoerd – of who some say he “raped” South Africa – still has street names named after Boers/Afrikaners, recalling the British-Boer wars, and other parts of South Africa where the White Boers ruled and had wars. This was due to the historical Dutch-Afrikaner connection.

The Transvaal is such a part of South Africa, and the neighbourhood with those street names is in Eastern Amsterdam therefore called “the Transvaalbuurt”, and before as “Afrikanerbuurt”. Maybe by today’s standards morally dubious and politically incorrect, but some streets have since been renamed after Black African freedom fighters: there is a Steve Bikoplein – plein is Dutch for “square” - there (which replaced the name Pretoriusplein), in that same part of Amsterdam, and an Albert Luthulistraat, however alongside several street names named after prominent Boers/Afrikaners, like Kruger. Besides this also more neutral South African geographical references, often related to Boer wars. No, like I said, not really politically correct in these times.

Amsterdam is hardly alone in this, of course, with streets named after colonial figures in several European countries, and slaveowners on dollar bills in the US, or seeing the large monument to Columbus in a city like Barcelona (and his birthplace Genua, Italy), and many other statues of colonial “conquerors” in Spain, Portugal, Britain, and elsewhere. Not politically correct, and meeting occasional objections, but often still remaining.

Interestingly – and symbolically -, there later came a Nelson Mandelaplein (square) in Amsterdam, but more to the South East: significantly a quarter with a majority of people of African descent (mainly Creoles from the former Dutch colony Suriname, and communities of Ghanaians and Nigerians).

I think, however, that these memoirs show that Nelson Mandela was a moral model for all people, of whatever race, believing genuinely in equality, of all races, but also between sexes. As an example: his breaking up with Winnie Mandela in the final part of the book, he worded in respectful terms toward her.

Above all: his wisdom and strategic, in essence positive and humanitarian, approach remains truly exemplary for all freedom fighters. This book showed that.

“Long walk to freedom: the autobiography of Nelson Mandela” (Abacus, 1994). – 768 p. – ill.