" I am a coloured?"

“SKIN” is a movie based on an extraordinary true story of a colored girl born to two Afrikaner South African parents during the apartheid era. In 1955 Abraham (Sam Neill) and Sannie Laing (Alice Krige) shocked the world when brought into the world a dark skinned baby with nappy hair named Sandra Laing. Shocked at the discovery, and unprepared for the battle ahead, the Laing family fought tooth and nail to have they daughter classified as a white person instead of a black person in order for her to receive better treatment.
Nothing could have prepared the family for the level of unfairness the white people showed to them. After being thrown out of school and isolated because of her skin colour, Sandra felt the weight of the world on her shoulders. She ran away from her own people into the arms of a black man who later became the father of two of her four children, and her husband.
Sandra, haunted by her past and struggling to define her sense of self, endured physical and mental abuse from the man who she thought was her warrior. She took off to a town where she now resides with her current husband and enjoys a new life that she doesn’t take for granted.
The movie, which stars British actor Sophie Okonedo, Sam Neil, Alice Kridge, Tony Kgoroge and Ella Ramangwane has been raising a big buzz and is already claiming titles under its belt including the Best Narrative Feature (AFI Dallas International Film Festivel 2009) and the winner of a Jury Award. This movie is a moving and very emotional window into South Africa’s past. (Jamati.com)

As I watched this preview to SKIN, I realized almost forgot it is based in the 1950's. This could have been shot in today's South Africa. Over the past few months, I have had several encounters with so called "coloreds" in South Africa and Swaziland. I have found the level of self hatred to be disturbingly high amongst people of color. I guess this is no shock considering the oppressive history of this region. When you ask them about there roots they simply and proudly state "I am a coloured". There also is a strong sense of pride amongst the coloured population. Many are very proud of the "lighter" side of their heritage if it is known. Some will proudly announce " I am Scottish".

Swaziland was a haven for many South Africans living under the apartheid regime. It was illegal to have sexual relationships with black women during this time. So many simply crossed the border into Swaziland to have sexual encounters with Swazi women. This largely resulted in many coloureds being produced and abandoned. Many Swazi coloureds were raised by their black "gogo" (grandmother) . After making these observations, I can't make a claim that the western world is any better. Sadly, I think there will always be color divide amongst Africans.

Manzini Nights

So enough already with the negative press about Africa! I just finished reading the NY Times and was appaled an all but dismal Africa Although I have touched on the host of problems Swaziland has, I am determined to also highlight it's majestic beauty. I find the simplest things beautiful here. From the Mozambican teenagers roasting maize on the corner, to the endless afro-house music. I consider myself to be a very liberal persom Last night, I discovered a disco called Cafe de Fleur. It is located about 25km from Mbabane, in Manzini ( affectionately termed "Manzi").

The Grass is Greener?

Finally feeling a bit settled after 7 days in Swaziland. I'm finally over a furious case of jet lag...lsing 6 hours will do anybody in. I guess the first couple out in Manzini didn't help either ;-) Its strange but it feels as if I never left this kingdom. If you talk to any foreigner in Swaziland they always speak of the instant comfort you feel here. But the feeling is bittersweet afetr hearing the sobering facts about the declining population.

With a population of a mere 1,123,913 people, population estimates explicitly take into account the effects of excess mortality due to AIDS; this can result in lower life expectancy, higher infant mortality, higher death rates, lower population growth rates, and changes in the distribution of population by age and sex than would otherwise be expected (July 2009 est.)

Autonomy for the Swazis of southern Africa was guaranteed by the British in the late 19th century; independence was granted in 1968. Student and labor unrest during the 1990s pressured King MSWATI III, the world's last absolute monarch, to grudgingly allow political reform and greater democracy, although he has backslid on these promises in recent years. A constitution came into effect in 2006, but political parties remain banned. The African United Democratic Party tried unsuccessfully to register as an official political party in mid 2006. Talks over the constitution broke down between the government and progressive groups in 2007. Swaziland recently surpassed Botswana as the country with the world's highest known HIV/AIDS prevalence rate.

READING, WATCHING, LISTENING...

I'm currently reading Dambisa Moyo's Dead Aid. It has stirred up quite a bit of controversy, due to her striking condemnation of developmental aid. I have long wondered how so much aid seems to have done little for infrastructure in developing countries. She does an excellent job of outlining various reason why Africans must look inward and not West or East! Great Read.


For the past week, WALSHY KILLA mixtape has been on heavy rotation on my i-pod. Check it out!

http://www.thefader.com/articles/2009/3/4/ghetto-palms-walshy-killa-notch-esco-collie-buddz-mavado-back-to-jamaica


Ok, my name name is Ama and I'm addicted to Nollywood movies...The first step in getting help is admitting you have a problem! Nigerians and Ghanaian are really beginning to step the production level up a couple of notches in entertainment.

Let's Try this again....

So admittedly I did a really bad job of keeping up with my post when I departed for Ghana back in 07. I really got caught up in all the campaigning excitement. To update you all...my sister ran for parliament in Ghana and won last year. She is a constant source of inspiration for me. I learned so much from the campaigning experience in Ghana. Politics is such a dirty game. I became a bit disillusioned after having the insider view of Ghanaian politics. Many of the systems ills are perpetuated through politicians personal and professional actions. (I will go into further detail in a series of upcoming post)

As I get ready to embark on another journey, I am fully committed to documenting life's happenings! I am heading to Swaziland on April 14th to begin work. I am full of the typical jitters before a major life change. However, this time I have a profound sense of clarity about my future.

Off we go!

I have limited excess to the Internet, so I’ve been writing on word and posting in clumps when I get to a web café…enjoy!

So today began with a jolt! My sister woke me at 6:00am so that I could come with her to METRO TV, a local news station. She appeared with an opponent in the upcoming election. As always it was spirited debate! I have gotten an in depth look at the Ghanaian political landscape. In the coastal town of Axim, where my sister is running for MP (Member of Parliament), one of her opponents is running a smear campaign against her. The tactics politicians use here is just like those used in the states. Rather than commercials, there is strong use of the newspaper and radio. It is interesting to see how information is transmitted in this developing country. The newspaper headlines are VERY sensationalist and fickle.
Weather
The weather between December and May is considered the dry season ie hot!

Religion
Everywhere I turn there are signs that Christianity has gripped its hands all over Africa and its people. There is even a strong mormon presence here? I personally believe in spirituality and think religion, especially in areas where there poverty and low education levels, is used to take control.

Food
When people travel to Africa for history and for scenery but never the food. I don't get it.I have found that Africa, with thousands of languages and cultures, each with its own cuisine, always rewards an adventurous eater.

Maybe the problem most travelers have is that finding good African food isn't always easy. Tourists are usually advised to stick to the hotel buffet. While a few countries, especially French-speaking ones like Ivory Coast and Togo, have developed an indigenous take on restaurant culture, many Africans prefer to eat at home. Barring that, they'd rather grab a bite on the fly. Even as a correspondent based in Africa, I am not always lucky enough to snag an invitation to eat at someone's house, so my main source of authentic African food is on the street.

And few countries reward the sidewalk chowhound as well as Ghana. From rough-hewn sheds, women sell sharp wedges of starchy yam, perfectly fried in splendorously saturated palm oil and slathered with a fiery sauce of pulverized Scotch bonnet peppers and garlic. From stainless steel bowls perched atop their heads, women dish out hearty bowls of perfectly spiced stew and rice, endlessly customizable with a plethora of condiments, from crunchy vegetables to a hard-boiled egg.

I sought out some of my old favorites and discovered some new ones. In both cases, to find good street food you have to go where people eat on the run: bus stations, markets, busy intersections, construction sites.

"You have to look where people stop and rest a minute," said Eddie Nelson, a Ghanaian businessman and fellow street food devotee I met over a fistful of kelewele, a delicious snack of cubes of ripe plantain tossed in hot pepper, ginger and other spices, then fried until the sugar in the plantain caramelizes along the squared edges.

We were standing on a busy street just after sunset in Osu, a shopping district in Accra, next to Rosemary Nutsungah's kelewele shack. Ms. Nutsungah explained the secret to perfect kelewele.

"You got to have hot oil, that is No. 1," she said. "Then the plantain, it can't be too soft. It will drink the oil and become too oily. Also, you have to have very fresh ginger so it be sweet."

Mr. Nelson nodded approvingly, tossing cubes of plantain into his mouth from the crumpled newspaper in his hand. He then explained to me the finer points of selecting the right street food vendor.

"You have to look at the whole person," he said. "First, is her hair braided in neat rows, or does it go every which way? If it is neat, you are safe."

I put this wisdom to the test the next day on a trip to Kwame Nkrumah Circle, a roundabout at the heart of the city where thousands of minibuses converge, bringing commuters from across the sprawling metropolis.

Even in the chaos of honking horns and swirls of dust, it was evident that the street food business has a clear hierarchy and well-defined gender roles. At the top are the kebab sellers, always male, who sell a relatively high-end product because it contains meat, a prized addition to any meal. Ghanaian kebabs are a particular treat, called kyinkyinga. They are made of small, tender chunks of beef dusted with a spicy rub of peanut flour and hot pepper, dabbed with oil and then grilled over charcoal

Dairy products have similar status — cool bags of frozen yogurt and ice cream are sold exclusively by men.

Women sell any food that requires extensive preparation, usually from a container perched atop their heads. Fried yams, cassava and sweet potato all require slaving over a hot stove and skillful timing to get just right. Selling rice and stew from a basin perched on your cranium means rising early to make the food, carefully wrapping it in layers of plastic bags as a kind of homemade insulation, then carrying it all the way to the bus station and serving it up in banana leaves to hungry commuters.

I tried to follow Mr. Nelson's rules, but after a few minutes I was not looking at hair, because I was distracted by the endless array of food. There were fritters made of plantain just this side of too ripe, mushed up with some hot pepper and then fried. There were balls of fried dough spiced with a bit of nutmeg, crunchy on the outside and tender on the inside. I had to stop after the fried wedges of cassava served with a pepper sauce called shito, made of tiny shrimp ground with hot pepper and oil.

Then there are some sidewalk meals you can't buy at any price. I found one such feast one day in Elmina, a coastal city west of Accra, where the oldest slave fort in the country bristles on a peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic Ocean, the portal through which countless Africans were shipped off as chattel to the New World.

Wandering the old fish market as the sun set, I stumbled upon Aba Theresa Mensah, a fish seller who was winding down a long day of hawking octopus, snapper and prawns by making a little dinner for herself and the other market women.

The customary "you are invited," was uttered as I eyed her glowing charcoal stove, and I eagerly plopped down on a simple wooden stool. I spoke only English and she mostly Fante, but we managed. On a stone she ground plum tomatoes and Scotch bonnet peppers, which she stirred into bubbling pot of blood-red palm oil. In went some bits of seafood culled from the catch of the day — a bit of octopus, a couple of plump red snapper fillets, a handful of prawns and, finally, the secret ingredient — a scoop of saltwater from the Atlantic.

"We go chop now," she said with some satisfaction, using the pidgin word for eat. She motioned to a young girl carrying kenkey, fermented gobs of cornmeal wrapped in leaves, a sort of African take on polenta that is the staple starch in this part of Ghana, and purchased a few balls.

She sliced the kenkey onto a plate, then ladled on the juicy bits of fish and octopus swimming in a fragrant bath of spicy stew.

"Chop," she commanded. I dug in, the kenkey sticking to my fingers and the sharp heat of the peppers warming my skin. It is called Fanti Fanti, and it is as simple and delicious a fisherman's stew as anything the Mediterranean has produced.

"It be sweet?" Ms. Mensah asked.

"Yes," I replied. "It be sweet."

Thursday December 13, 2007
Accra Press Tour

Friday December 14, 2007
Accra Press Tour
Drive to Axim-past Cape Coast
We began our journey to Axim in the middle of rush hour traffic, which seems to be all day! The roadways are always very congested


Saturday December 15, 2007
My sister was up at 5:00am preparing for a campaign rally in her district. Her constitutes began to file in droves. I was really excited to meet the people of Axim after all this is where my father and half-siblings grew up. I notice the cultural similarities in the Caribbean and US; it all comes off the coast of West Africa. The Rastafarian culture is all over the coast. The sounds of reggae fill the street all day here!

Sunday December 16, 2007
The day started out really chill. Something I miss in the states is the constant sense of community that is present here. Catherine went to church this morning with one of her campaign managers, while Seth and I stayed with the kids. They played football (soccer) with bottle tops, screaming “GOAL” at the top of their lungs! After she returned we headed to Ankroba Beach; by one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. It is frequently home to authors and artist in search of inspiration. There is one hotel that serves beach patrons. Although there is need for economic development in the area, I hope this beach remains sparsely populated. The fishing boats come to the beach and locals come to buy them to either sell or eat.
I had the best fish of my life today! We bought some from the fisherman and the restaurant fried them. It was served with rice, salad, lime, and STAR lager (beer). After we stuffed ourselves I took my nephews for a walk down the beach. We then drove the 2km home. On the way I spotted KANTIOUS (local Rasta/radio jockey). He gave me a CD of his music and riddims.

Monday December 17, 2007
We left for Accra at 4:00am this morning. It was about a 3-hour drive minus traffic. I was exhausted from the beach yesterday.

Just Touched Down!

So I'm finally here! My layover in London was not as long as I thought it would be. The gate was filled with expatriates, families, but mostly tourist., which is great to see. I sat beside a British women who works for a publishing and her sales territory is West Africa. We had an interesting conversation during the flight and hopefully will meet for drinks during the week. As soon as we landed I felt the heat! It is very humid but it is a welcomed change from the snow and ice in Philly. My sister, brother in law, and nephews greeted me at at the exit of the airport. They laughed immediately began to joke about my sweater and boots exclaiming "there are no sweaters here Amadwo, this is not America!"

We drove to my fathers home in Accra, where my aunt and cousins were there to greet me. We went through the traditional meet and greet where I had to say why I had come to visit . We then drank palm wine and poured libations for the ancestors I never met. This was particularly moving for me as an African-American. After we concluded the meet and greet I went straight to bed, dreaming about what tomorrow brings. Till then....