by Zahra Baitie:
This is really long, but indulge me.
When I first read reviews about classes, and would read comments like “this class changed my life” or people would talk about the profound impact particular classes had had on their view of the world and their role in it, I used to read it with a sense of disillusionment. They were just clichés, with little meaning and the phrases to me were just a string of empty words. Perhaps this disenchantment is because we don’t live in an era of revolutions (at least in most parts of the world) where by virtue of the literature that surrounds us we are spurred to action. The American revolution was inspired by Locke, the French revolution by Rousseau, the sea of Red that swept over much of Europe, and engulfed Asia and Latin America into its violent embrace to the chagrin of America was inspired by the Marxist doctrine. These revolutions had their foundation in the literature of the era – doctrines and principles that either elucidated man’s right to liberty or urged an awakening and a resistance to systems of exploitation that dominated over the proletariat. In relation to today’s world, those revolutionary leaders were schooled in the art of revolution, in a sense they took “life changing classes”. My point is perhaps those phrase aren’t as much of a cliché as it sounds and perhaps have some truth. So, indulge me if I myself fall prey to the cliché and say a class has changed my life or perhaps more accurately is in the process of redefining my conceptions of the world and my role within it.
The class to which all this hullabaloo is owed, and due to which I am writing this note is called the “Two Congos: It’s Literature and its Culture”. I was drawn to the class in part because I realized I knew very little about the Congo – of its people and culture. What I knew about it was that it was blessed (or some would say cursed) with vast resources buried and tucked under the vast expanse of rainforest and rocky mountains but these resources in part had been the source of conflict for many years and had left over 5 million people dead and perhaps left hundreds of thousands who wished for the same fate due to the carnage that has come to define the country. When I thought of the Congo, I thought of the despot and American supported, Mobutu, at one point one of the richest men in the world, with $4 billion to his name, who out of a deep sense of philanthropy and utter love for his country made personal “loans” to his crumbling and poverty- stricken country. So I thought, it might be interesting to take a class where I might gain insight into another side of the Congo – a light refreshing one. But as literature and culture are as much reflections of the times in which they were born as they are of artists’ imagination, the literature and culture of the Congo is like the history of the Congo. Sordid. I don’t mean to suggest its music isn’t lyrical or jovial but in that rumba, in the percussion, the downbeat of the drums, the history of the Congo, one of despair, cruelty, of shattered hopes and dreams, of suffering and torment is carried through. In its literature, even those that take on a light air and humorous story lines there is an underpinning struggle to find joy and happiness amidst a world of chaos and adversity. This class has made me aware of the realities of the Congo, how its heart-breaking history is very much its present.
The history of the Congo is a horrible history. It is the kind of history that begs your conscience and jolts you to the realities of the ugliness of humanity. Yes, “ugliness” because that’s what’s humanity’s trail on earth has been marked by. It’s a history of conquest and defeat, bloodshed and carnage, domination and exploitation and always and everywhere, of injustice. In the case of the Congo, humanity has displayed and is continuing to display a galvanized capacity to supersede all prior displays of wickedness and cruelty. Under King Leopold II, 10 million people died in the pursuit of Rubber, that rubber and the wealth from it built Belgium, gave its schools, roads etc and helped turn that small, insignificant country into an oasis of peace and prosperity. What were the costs of “the philanthropic acts of Leopold” since he so “lovingly and “generously” took it upon himself to bring civilization to the blacks? He left behind a population where maimed limbs were ubiquitous, a trail of tortuous deaths, a system of forced labor and his agents introduced and grounded the concept of rape as a tool to conquer and destroy.
What is most disturbing about the Congo is that its past is very much its present. Several other countries have gone through somewhat similar tumultuous time but they have found prosperity and if not prosperity at least they have found peace. But a century or so after the rule of Leopold, the Congo is very much the same. It is still being torn apart, people are dying everywhere, nameless victims, whose histories are not being recorded, whose accounts are not being given. Why does the Congo not have a holocaust museum? 10 million people died there under Leopold! 5 million or so have died in recent times. After the Rwandan genocide, the world screamed no, no, no NEVER again! Well, reality check! It’s happening again! And its worse!! But, where there is disorder and chaos exploitation is easy! No accountability! So, the phones and computers we use run on coltan from the labor camps of the Congo. No country wants to act because, well, we profit from this, it’s easier to remove yourself from this carnage by just denying what’s happening. Countries refuse to acknowledge that genocide occurred under Leopold or that one is happening now, because it makes more sense strategically and from an economic standpoint to have troops in Iraq or Afghanistan. So long as the “G” word isn’t ascribed, hey, we cool! So chances are we can’t wait for the world leaders to act. We have to ourselves. We unknowingly help perpetuate this system of exploitation and carnage. I am not saying throw away your phones or anything like that but we do have to wake up and act. History has been defined in some epochs by the acts of great men and women, individual leaders but its also been shaken by the force of the masses, by movements, by people waking up and saying, “No, not under my watch.”
We take the peace and order in our lives for granted. We undervalue it. It s by accident of birth I wasn’t born in the Congo. If I was born in the Congo, at least in the Eastern part, what would be my story? Chances are I would only know a life of fear, where the threat of rape constantly looms over my life, where every shadow is a reason to jump, for it may be the long-cast shadow of a gun. My life would be one where I could not walk freely – walking isn’t a liberty, neither is speaking, I would cower and I would hide. But luckily that isn’t my story and neither is it yours. So we have to act. We enjoy the peace of our nation we find ourselves in, by partying, celebrating and that’s a good thing in itself. Let’s celebrate our lives because we are LUCKY to have it. But we can’t turn a blind eye to the injustices that surround us. We can’t continue to wait for someone else to make a difference. I know this may sound idealistic, but it isn’t really. If your school has a Save the Congo chapter, join it, if not, start one. If you feel, your country has pertinent issues to deal with and you would rather make a difference in your immediate community as opposed to miles away, then do that. But basically, we can’t continue to use our privileged circumstances selfishly, only concerned with our futures and successes. We have to heed the call to action.