This article was originally published in Granta 92.
How to Write About Africa
Always use the word ‘Africa’ or
‘Darkness’ or ‘Safari’ in your title. Subtitles may include the words
‘Zanzibar’, ‘Masai’, ‘Zulu’, ‘Zambezi’, ‘Congo’, ‘Nile’, ‘Big’, ‘Sky’,
‘Shadow’, ‘Drum’, ‘Sun’ or ‘Bygone’. Also useful are words such as
‘Guerrillas’, ‘Timeless’, ‘Primordial’ and ‘Tribal’. Note that ‘People’
means Africans who are not black, while ‘The People’ means black
Africans.
Never have a picture of a well-adjusted African on the cover of your
book, or in it, unless that African has won the Nobel Prize. An AK-47,
prominent ribs, naked breasts: use these. If you must include an
African, make sure you get one in Masai or Zulu or Dogon dress.
In your text, treat Africa as if it were one country. It is hot and
dusty with rolling grasslands and huge herds of animals and tall, thin
people who are starving. Or it is hot and steamy with very short people
who eat primates. Don’t get bogged down with precise descriptions.
Africa is big: fifty-four countries, 900 million people who are too busy
starving and dying and warring and emigrating to read your book. The
continent is full of deserts, jungles, highlands, savannahs and many
other things, but your reader doesn’t care about all that, so keep your
descriptions romantic and evocative and unparticular.
Make sure you show how Africans have music and rhythm deep in their
souls, and eat things no other humans eat. Do not mention rice and beef
and wheat; monkey-brain is an African's cuisine of choice, along with
goat, snake, worms and grubs and all manner of game meat. Make sure you
show that you are able to eat such food without flinching, and describe
how you learn to enjoy it—because you care.
Taboo subjects: ordinary domestic scenes, love between Africans
(unless a death is involved), references to African writers or
intellectuals, mention of school-going children who are not suffering
from yaws or Ebola fever or female genital mutilation.
Throughout the book, adopt a
sotto voice, in conspiracy with the reader, and a sad
I-expected-so-much
tone. Establish early on that your liberalism is impeccable, and
mention near the beginning how much you love Africa, how you fell in
love with the place and can’t live without her. Africa is the only
continent you can love—take advantage of this. If you are a man, thrust
yourself into her warm virgin forests. If you are a woman, treat Africa
as a man who wears a bush jacket and disappears off into the sunset.
Africa is to be pitied, worshipped or dominated. Whichever angle you
take, be sure to leave the strong impression that without your
intervention and your important book, Africa is doomed.
Your African characters may include naked warriors, loyal servants,
diviners and seers, ancient wise men living in hermitic splendour. Or
corrupt politicians, inept polygamous travel-guides, and prostitutes you
have slept with. The Loyal Servant always behaves like a seven-year-old
and needs a firm hand; he is scared of snakes, good with children, and
always involving you in his complex domestic dramas. The Ancient Wise
Man always comes from a noble tribe (not the money-grubbing tribes like
the Gikuyu, the Igbo or the Shona). He has rheumy eyes and is close to
the Earth. The Modern African is a fat man who steals and works in the
visa office, refusing to give work permits to qualified Westerners who
really care about Africa. He is an enemy of development, always using
his government job to make it difficult for pragmatic and good-hearted
expats to set up NGOs or Legal Conservation Areas. Or he is an
Oxford-educated intellectual turned serial-killing politician in a
Savile Row suit. He is a cannibal who likes Cristal champagne, and his
mother is a rich witch-doctor who really runs the country.
Among your characters you must always include The Starving African,
who wanders the refugee camp nearly naked, and waits for the benevolence
of the West. Her children have flies on their eyelids and pot bellies,
and her breasts are flat and empty. She must look utterly helpless. She
can have no past, no history; such diversions ruin the dramatic moment.
Moans are good. She must never say anything about herself in the
dialogue except to speak of her (unspeakable) suffering. Also be sure to
include a warm and motherly woman who has a rolling laugh and who is
concerned for your well-being. Just call her Mama. Her children are all
delinquent. These characters should buzz around your main hero, making
him look good. Your hero can teach them, bathe them, feed them; he
carries lots of babies and has seen Death. Your hero is you (if
reportage), or a beautiful, tragic international celebrity/aristocrat
who now cares for animals (if fiction).
Bad Western characters may include children of Tory cabinet
ministers, Afrikaners, employees of the World Bank. When talking about
exploitation by foreigners mention the Chinese and Indian traders. Blame
the West for Africa's situation. But do not be too specific.
Broad brushstrokes throughout are good. Avoid having the African
characters laugh, or struggle to educate their kids, or just make do in
mundane circumstances. Have them illuminate something about Europe or
America in Africa. African characters should be colourful, exotic,
larger than life—but empty inside, with no dialogue, no conflicts or
resolutions in their stories, no depth or quirks to confuse the cause.
Describe, in detail, naked breasts (young, old, conservative,
recently raped, big, small) or mutilated genitals, or enhanced genitals.
Or any kind of genitals. And dead bodies. Or, better, naked dead
bodies. And especially rotting naked dead bodies. Remember, any work you
submit in which people look filthy and miserable will be referred to as
the ‘real Africa’, and you want that on your dust jacket. Do not feel
queasy about this: you are trying to help them to get aid from the West.
The biggest taboo in writing about Africa is to describe or show dead
or suffering white people.
Animals, on the other hand, must be treated as well rounded, complex
characters. They speak (or grunt while tossing their manes proudly) and
have names, ambitions and desires. They also have family values:
see how lions teach their children?
Elephants are caring, and are good feminists or dignified patriarchs.
So are gorillas. Never, ever say anything negative about an elephant or a
gorilla. Elephants may attack people’s property, destroy their crops,
and even kill them. Always take the side of the elephant. Big cats have
public-school accents. Hyenas are fair game and have vaguely Middle
Eastern accents. Any short Africans who live in the jungle or desert may
be portrayed with good humour (unless they are in conflict with an
elephant or chimpanzee or gorilla, in which case they are pure evil).
After celebrity activists and aid workers, conservationists are
Africa’s most important people. Do not offend them. You need them to
invite you to their 30,000-acre game ranch or ‘conservation area’, and
this is the only way you will get to interview the celebrity activist.
Often a book cover with a heroic-looking conservationist on it works
magic for sales. Anybody white, tanned and wearing khaki who once had a
pet antelope or a farm is a conservationist, one who is preserving
Africa’s rich heritage. When interviewing him or her, do not ask how
much funding they have; do not ask how much money they make off their
game. Never ask how much they pay their employees.
Readers will be put off if you don’t mention the light in Africa. And
sunsets, the African sunset is a must. It is always big and red. There
is always a big sky. Wide empty spaces and game are critical—Africa is
the Land of Wide Empty Spaces. When writing about the plight of flora
and fauna, make sure you mention that Africa is overpopulated. When your
main character is in a desert or jungle living with indigenous peoples
(anybody short) it is okay to mention that Africa has been severely
depopulated by Aids and War (use caps).
You’ll also need a nightclub called Tropicana, where mercenaries,
evil nouveau riche Africans and prostitutes and guerrillas and expats
hang out.
Always end your book with Nelson Mandela saying something about rainbows or renaissances. Because you care. ■
