The term "Black"

The term "Black" has historically been used in a pejorative, derogatory, or stigmatised manner in many Western contexts, particularly during the eras of colonisation, slavery, and segregation. During the 17th–19th centuries, the term was often coupled with a social identity as an enslaved person and associated with negative stereotypes regarding intelligence and human dignity.

The perception of the word shifted dramatically in the 1960s. Activists and leaders, such as Kwame Ture (Stokely Carmichael), reclaimed the term to promote racial pride, solidarity, and power, countering the long history of negative, racist associations, such that today, "Black" is widely accepted and used as a standard, often capitalised, term for people of African descent, though some still debate its historical, or political implications.

"While it was once used as a derogatory term for a "negative foil to 'white'," it has been successfully reclaimed, moving from a label of oppression to one of pride." MissionUS — I genuinely dispute this. 

If anything, the embrace of the term Black  only reinforces the notion of otherness. I have great difficulty in embracing and taking pride in a term that its very purpose was, (and continues to be, in the minds of today's racists) the diminishment my very humanity. 

The Arab World — In many historical and contemporary contexts, the term for "Black" (aswad) or specific terms used to describe Black people in the Arab world have been, and often still are, used as a pejorative. Anti-Blackness in the Arab world is rooted in a long history of slavery, environmental, and theological prejudices, leading to the use of racialised slurs. The Arabic word abeed (‘abd, plural: ‘abīd), which means "servant" or "slave," is commonly used as a derogatory slur for Black people. This usage is deeply connected to the legacy of the Arab slave trade. While aswad means Black, it has often been used in a negative or stereotypical context in both medieval and modern literature.

I wish to keep this debate alive. I do not want this to be a matter that is thought of as settled. To my mind, it would amount to a cop out, and the embracing of the diminishment of my own humanity to think of myself as Black. I am a human being, I am more than just a colour. 

Our aim should be to work towards the acknowledgement of the common humanity of all human beings. Race is merely incidental, it is just a natural attribute. 

Image: Taken from "Understanding the Lives of Black Tudor Women" An African Tudor woman in 16th–17th century England.

Meeting new people

Having been travelling around the African continent for the best part of twenty years, I want to take stock and reflect on the lasting impressions those experiences have had on me. I believe I can safely claim to be in a position where I am able fairly and objectively to compare the impressions I've had, one against the other, city by city, country by country, or even region by region. What I shall be comparing is how easy it has been, or not, to talk to people and form new friendships. 

Starting with the good, East Africa as a whole, for me, proved to be the most liveable region, and I have visited all five regions—North Africa, West Africa, Central Africa, Southern Africa, and East Africa. Both Kenya and Uganda have left positive impressions on my mind. I did not stay long enough in Rwanda to form a substantive impression, but there is nothing negative to be said from that short stay. I have found that in all of my travels on the continent, Kenyans, in particular, are the easiest to talk to, and to get along with. I always look forward to having a conversation with a Kenyan because you're almost guaranteed that they would be open and forthright, and be without restraint, even if they're not telling you the truth, which is rare. Ugandans too are easy to talk to, but to a somewhat lesser degree because they tend to be more formal and restrained.

In Southern Africa, the conviviality I saw—and I saw a lot of it—was not extended to me to the extent that I might have wished. This caused me to be constantly reminded of my status as an outsider. It was the same both in South Africa and Botswana, save for one exception, Mandla, the Zulu gentleman in Johannesburg with whom I engaged in lengthy conversations that I secretly wished would go on forever for being so delightful. Most other times the language spoken around me was not English, so I found myself almost always on the outside and not able to engage and participate, and for this reason was unable to make new friends. Nevertheless, my Motswana friend whom I had gone to visit in Botswana was outstanding. He saw to it that I did not have a single lonely moment.

Central Africa is represented here by the Republic of Congo, or Congo Brazzaville. It was here that the disadvantage of not being proficient in the main language(s) came into full effect. The predominant languages here are French, Lingala and Kikongo, and as an English speaker one might just as well be invisible. I did try to assert myself though by demonstrating my limited French language skills, but to no avail. I guess I was fortunate that my friend was keen to practice and improve on his English, so he took me under his wing, acting as a shield against the barrage of incomprehension that I had to confront. No, it was not easy meeting new people and making new friends here, but mainly because of the language barrier. In attitude, the people were just as convivial as any others, and had my French been that little bit more practiced, I might have fared better. 

North Africa presented itself to me not as warm and friendly. Instead, the feeling was one that was cold, almost as if any friendliness from my direction was unneeded. I came away feeling that I would not be keen to return, and in fact that I would avoid this part of the continent.  

West Africa has more variation in character than can be described in a single paragraph. There is little similarity in establishing social contacts between for example in Togo and, The Gambia. Etiquette and temperament are different, as is language. Some societies are more tolerant and liberal than others; some are more overtly religious and downright conservative. It is not an easy landscape to navigate, a lesson I learned the hard way having arrived in The Gambia with expectations that later proved to be misplaced. 

In my experience though, it is West Africa that offers the warmest friendliest people, in Nigeria especially, but also in places like Benin and Liberia. The warm boisterous nature of the ordinary Nigerian makes him or her an easy friend to make. I could say the same for the Beninese and the Liberians except for them not being quite as direct and assertive as the average Nigerian, who normally are a pleasure to be around. Ivorians might possibly fall into this category as well,  but those not mentioned specifically here are those whom I have found to be somewhat complicated. In saying all this, I speak for myself alone, and am informed solely by own personal observations. Peace. 

Kalenjin sour milk

My friend described it to me as "sour milk", then he was surprised that I already knew that the real name of the drink is Mursik. 

Mursik is a traditional fermented milk variant of the Kalenjin people of Kenya. It can be made from cow or goat milk and is fermented in a specially made calabash gourd locally known as a "sotet". The gourd is lined with soot from specific trees, such as the African senna, which add flavour to the fermented milk. It is normally consumed with ugali or on its own and is served at room temperature or chilled.

Mursik has strong cultural significance for the Kalenjin both in terms of identity as well as socially. It is a common drink in the Rift Valley region and is available in urban areas of Kenya. It has over time become synonymous with Kenyan athletics. A significant majority of Kenyan athletic heroes are Kalenjin and scenes of them receiving a sip of mursik at the airport having returned from international duty form part of Kenya's cultural tapestry.

The drink is prepared primarily from cows' milk (but also less commonly goat's milk, or rarely sheep's milk) fermented in specially made seasoned milk gourds that are pre-treated with the smoke and charcoal of certain species of trees prior to each use. Fresh/raw milk (or, more commonly in modern times, milk that has been first boiled then cooled to ambient temperature) is poured into the specially prepared gourd. The gourd is then capped and placed in a cool dry place to undergo spontaneous fermentation for at least three to five days, through the action of lactic acid bacteria, yeast and mould species.

Prior, the gourds are smeared inside with special charcoal called "osek"; from this, gray lines can be seen when pouring the thick, sour milk.

In preparing the gourd, the Kalenjin women make a brush (sosiot) from a branch of cycad tree used to clean the inside. Brushes made from this tree are hardy and may last for up to two years before replacement.

Charcoal "osek", formed from the smouldering embers of branches from the Ite or Itet tree (African senna) is used as a milk preservative. Women use the embers to coat the inside of the cleaned gourd. The charcoal has various effects. It lines the inside of the gourd, reducing its porosity rendering it airtight. The smoke from the embers also has a preservative effect which prevents undesired bacterial multiplication that causes spoilage, while allowing natural souring. The charcoal smoke imparts a special flavour to the milk, and a bluish colour which is of high aesthetic value to the consumer. Having prepared the gourd, women pasteurise the milk by boiling. The pasteurised milk is left to cool before pouring into the gourd. Finally the gourd is corked to render it airtight, making it possible for the milk to be preserved for up to a month.

Another variant of mursik is called "rotik". This variant contains blood mixed with milk, let to ferment, and has a slightly pink colouration. This variant is rare to come by as the practice of drawing blood from cattle is no longer being practiced widely. This variant is believed to be rich in iron and protein and was given to women who had just delivered or warriors who were wounded in battle. 

Mursik offers probiotic benefits like improved gut health and digestion due to beneficial bacteria, with added advantages from charcoal (detoxification, preservation) but carries potential risks, including high acetaldehyde levels linked to esophageal cancer, alcohol content, and potential digestive upset (bloating, gas) in some individuals, necessitating caution, especially with high consumption.

Racialism

Racialism is a term used to describe differences between races. Racism, by contrast, is a belief that some races are inherently superior, and that others are inferior and those races therefore require different treatment. 

Baffled by human diversity, confused 17th-century Europeans argued that human groups were separately created, a precursor to racist thought today.

Their later 19th-century racialist ideas, often termed "scientific racism" or biological determinism, are widely rejected by modern science, anthropology, and ethics. These ideologies, which proposed that humanity is divided into biologically distinct, hierarchical "races" with innate differences in intelligence or morality, have no valid place in modern society.

Key reasons why 19th-century racialist ideas have no place in the modern world:

No Biological Basis: Modern genetics has shown that "race" is a social construct rather than a biological reality. There is no DNA or genetic basis that corresponds with the racial categories developed in the 19th century, and genetic variation within so-called "races" is greater than between them. 

For example, genetic diversity within the so-called "Black people" is greater than the diversity between any one of those Black people and that of any other "race". Africa possesses the highest level of genetic diversity in the world, with populations containing more variation than those on any other continent. Due to being the origin of modern humans, African populations have had more time to accumulate genetic variation, with an average genome having nearly a million more variants than non-African genomes. To then categorise this entire subset of diverse humans as a single category, namely "Black people" is completely inaccurate. 

Contemporary science finds no biological basis for race; no single gene or trait is exclusive to any one group. Race in humans is a scientific, biological continuum of genetic and physical variation, not a set of discrete, fixed categories. It is a socially constructed concept, with human DNA 99.9% similar across all groups.

Scientific Consensus: The scientific community officially recognises that scientific racism is pseudoscientific. It was originally used to justify slavery, imperialism, and eugenics, and modern research has debunked the craniometry and early anthropology that supported these views.

Ethical and Human Rights Impact: 19th-century racialism directly fostered genocidal policies, including the Holocaust, the atrocities of the colonial era, and the creation of segregation laws like the apartheid laws in South Africa and the Jim Crow laws in the Southern United States that enforced racial segregation. 

Persistence of Harmful Legacies: While scientifically invalid, these ideas still exist, leading to "new racism" or "cultural racism," which subtly continues to drive systemic inequalities in education, healthcare, and criminal justice. 

Despite their lack of scientific credibility, these ideas are often revived in modern "race science" to justify discriminatory policies, necessitating active, ongoing, and critical engagement to ensure they do not inform contemporary social or scientific discourse.

The idea that biological races underlie intellectual or moral character is false. Genetic research confirms that all humans belong to a single species, Homo sapiens.

The physical exploitation of colonialism was underpinned by an entire system of beliefs, prejudices and stereotypes built around the idea of white superiority over people of colour. Many of these beliefs persist. It’s called racism, one of colonialism’s most enduring and pernicious legacies.

Ancestral Africans generally did not hold modern, skin-colour-based racialist ideologies, but, like many ancient societies, they practiced intense ethnic, tribal, and cultural discrimination. While tribalism and xenophobia existed—often involving "othering" based on caste, clan or region—the systematic, hierarchical ideology of racism as defined today was not prevalent until later interactions. Similar to other ancient civilisations worldwide, early African societies had conflicts and prejudices, but they did not operate within the same rigid racial hierarchy that developed during the colonial era. In many African contexts, tribalism or ethnic discrimination served as a primary form of prejudice, creating divisions similar to racism but based on kinship, language, or culture rather than skin colour.

The modern concept of racism, particularly anti-Black racism, is often tied to the development of 15th-19th century European colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade.

A brief take on the impacts of European imperialism on Africa

European imperialism was the downfall of Africa. The continent and its people could have modernised in their own way, at their own pace, while retaining their own values, ideologies, value systems, and philosophies. The tragedy was in abandoning what was originally theirs, which had evolved organically over millennia to embrace that which was foreign, European or Arabian. On this latter trajectory, the continent and its people were always going to struggle, in striving to become what they had not originally evolved to be.

Traditional African societies were generally well-ordered and well-organised, characterised by diverse, sophisticated systems of governance, economics, and social structure long before colonial intervention. While often falsely portrayed as primitive, these societies ranged from large, centralised empires (such as Mali, Songhai, and Great Zimbabwe) to decentralised "stateless" societies, all of which maintained social order through established customs, kinship, and, in many cases, complex administrative hierarchies.

Key aspects of order and organisation in traditional African society included:

Political Structure: Governance varied widely, from monarchies with divine kings to council-led systems that relied on consensus, such as the "interminable palaver" (discussions) mentioned by Julius Nyerere. Authority was often decentralised among lineage elders, age-sets, and clan leaders, with some areas operating as "ordered anarchies" based on strong social norms rather than rigid, coercive governments.

Social Order and Kinship: The core of social organisation was the extended family and clan, which provided social security, regulated land use, and defined moral behaviour. Respect for elders, community solidarity, and adherence to tradition were paramount in maintaining harmony.

Economic Organisation: Economies were organised around agriculture, animal husbandry, and trade. Complex systems were in place, such as the osusu (cooperative, rotating savings) and trade networks that stretched across the Sahara.

Justice and Administration: Many societies had sophisticated judicial mechanisms to resolve disputes, managed by councils of elders or, in some cases, centralised officials.

Cultural and Ethical Values: A common ethos of communalism—often summed up by the philosophy of "I am because we are"—guided daily life, ensuring that individual actions were aligned with the well-being of the collective."

AI has this to say, as a first response when queried about the impacts of European imperialism on Africa:

"European imperialism in Africa (roughly 1870s–1960s) caused profound, lasting devastation by exploiting resources, imposing arbitrary borders, and disrupting social systems. It resulted in widespread forced labour, violent atrocities (e.g., in the Congo), economic dependency, and cultural suppression, which created deeply ingrained cycles of poverty, ethnic conflict, and political instability that persist today."

It is clear from this that the negative impacts of European imperialism in Africa far outweigh whatever positive impacts there might be from such foreign interventions into the continent. Arabian culture on its part, completely erased indigenous African cultures in the areas where it prevailed, supplanting itself as the alternative, such that much of the indigenous cultures and belief systems that it supplanted are lost to us today.

A cartoon, uncredited, in the French magazine L'illustration dated January 3, 1885, on page 17, presents a critical view of the Berlin Conference of 1884-1885. It depicts Otto von Bismarck, the then Chancellor of Germany, cutting a cake labelled 'Africa' with a knife, symbolizing the division of the continent. The other delegates at the conference are shown sitting around the table, watching the scene in shock.

Rio de Janeiro

It was in February of the year 1992 that I embarked on my first foreign trip by myself. Travelling from Lagos, Nigeria, we flew to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, on Varig, the Brazilian airline that at the time maintained the air bridge between South America and the African continent.

The flight was full, with lots of Igbo traders from Nigeria travelling to Brazil to purchase merchandise, with most of them travelling onward from Rio to the commercial capital Sao Paolo. There was a whole troupe of Yoruba Orisha practitioners in full traditional ceremonial regalia, which highlighted for me the deep connections between Nigeria and Brazil. Orisha, the traditional religion of the Yoruba people, is Candomble or Santeria in Brazil, versions of the same religion practiced by Afro-Brazilians with Yoruba ancestry. The two sides have maintained links across the Atlantic, I had heard that visits between them are common. Yemoja the Yoruba sea goddess is known as Yemanja or Iemanja in Brazil. There were several others too on this flight who seemed like tourists or diplomats or whatever.

This was the first time I was travelling abroad alone, but there were other firsts. It was the first time I was to cross the Atlantic ocean, the first time I would visit a country where they spoke a language I did not know. It was the first time I was to see with my own eyes the delights of the city of Rio de Janeiro, about which, through the tourism promotion programme 'Fantastico O Show da Vida' the Brazilian authorities had bombarded us from our TV screens for years. It was also the first time I would be visiting a country where I knew no one.

This was an adventure. I was excited, even as I anticipated the challenges that all those firsts could pose. There might have been some nervousness too, but I was curious, and adventurous. I might have even desired the challenge.

As it turned out, this visit to Rio de Janeiro was to become, among other things, the most enjoyable, most exciting, and the most frenetic two weeks of my life. An 'unforgettable experience' in every sense of that much used term. That I am writing about this three decades later is testament to this.

My trip coincided with the preparations for the annual Rio Carnival or Carnaval, which was set to commence in the week of my departure from the city. This seeming coincidence was not intentional, it was a genuine coincidence, but it was auspicious. It made for a vibrance in the city that was consistent, all day and all night, throughout my stay there; a vitality and exuberance that defines my entire memory of this brief visit to Rio, and, which made it an extremely pleasurable experience.

During the day there was the sightseeing and the wandering around town, the shopping for souvenirs, sampling street food; getting mistaken for an American by very friendly Brazilian people because I spoke English, enjoying the looks of surprise when they learned that I'm in fact Nigerian; having them practice on me what English they knew as they then tried to impress me by showing how much they knew about the Nigerian national football team.

Getting myself lost in the city afterwards, and in the process see places and things I might not otherwise have seen; venturing into the less well trodden parts, areas certainly not often visited by tourists, yea, I even strayed into a favela, one of the city's lively shanty towns. (We had been warned during the flight not to drink the tap water, to avoid the favelas, to beware of the many street kids in the tourist areas, and not to display any cash). But in the favela I visited on my own, it felt as if I fit right in so long as I kept my mouth shut, and didn't betray myself as just another nosey tourist. I felt very brave, even as my credentials as a Lagosian came to bear. Or maybe it was just the fearlessness of youth? Today I might act rather more cautiously,

Then having to navigate my way back to the rented apartment, using public transport. I shared the apartment with two others, Nigeria Airways pilots who had come to Brazil for their mandatory flight simulator training exercises. We were on the 6th floor in an apartment block on the Avenida Atlantica, on the Copacabana beachfront. My flatmates would attend for their flight simulator training at night, so I was always alone in the apartment at night-time. During the day, as my flatmates rested, I was out in town on my own. So, basically, this whole adventure was one that I undertook and experienced all by myself. 

That is, until Mateo came along. 

There were samba groups out on the streets at night, the various samba schools practicing their samba song-and-dance routines in preparation tor the upcoming Carnaval. This especially on the Avenida Atlantica (where my apartment was), and the Praia de Copacabana (Copacabana Beach), which together with Praia Ipanema and the adjoining boulevards and avenues was where everything happened. Or so it seemed to me.

In the evenings the usually busy avenue in front of my apartment building would be closed to traffic and then shortly fill up again with people on foot, many of them in carnival costumes. The loud music and the drumming, singing, and dancing on the street, would begin; and on the beach itself across the road, the beach volleyball that is played all day never really stops. It surprised me to see people still playing volleyball at midnight.

Observing all this from the apartment's 6th floor balcony in the middle of the night, the sights and sounds were overpowering. I was drawn down from the apartment to street level again and again, each night, as if on autopilot. The street and beach were flood lit, the atmosphere was electric. It was impossible not to join in with the crowd on the street while spontaneously swaying to the heady Brazilian samba rhythm, even as I wondered what the actual carnival would feel like seeing as this was just a practice session.

After a couple of times of this, as I joined the crowd again, capoeristas appeared before me one night. I was mesmerised. I was seeing Capoeira this uniquely Afro-Brazilian phenomenon for the first time. I had never before even heard of this unique blend of martial art and dance choreography that originated from Brazilian slaves. One particular capoerista caught my attention, his charcoal skin glistening in the night light as he twisted, vaulted, kicked and cavorted to the music, gracefully, effortlessly, in an expert demonstration of Capoeira. I must have been transfixed, like a rabbit caught in headlights, because, he, the capoerista, could not but notice that someone was staring intently at him. Then his performance ended.

Mateo acknowledged me with a nod and in that friendly Brazilian way came forward and greeted me, saying words to me that I assumed was him saying hello and introducing himself, but in Portuguese. Responding warmly, I asked in English "what's your name?". Of course, he didn't understand, and I too had not understood a word he had said at first.

In the Portuguese language, "What's your name?" is "Qual o seu nome", so after repeating my question a few times in English, he recognised the name/nome similarity in the two languages, understood what I had meant, and responded, "Aah, nome", and with that huge Brazilian smile, replied, "Meu nome e Mateo". I then told him my name, painstakingly telling him how to pronounce it, something I've often had to do.

This was how I met Mateo. I wanted so much to tell him that I thought he was magnificent, and that he was the best among the capoeristas in the group; that I myself wanted to know more about Capoeira, and that I wanted him to be the one to teach me. 

Though I didn't know how to say all these sentences to him in a language he understood, I needn't have worried, because he seemed to catch on. We both shortly realised that in this brand new friendship smooth conversation would be difficult, but it didn't seem to matter, and it didn't deter us.

Communication was achieved, and even if less than seamless, it wasn't too difficult in the end, because we both wanted it, worked at, and both shared the will and desire to achieve it. It came naturally.

Meeting Mateo made Rio for me doubly more enjoyable. I learned then that when visiting a place, there's not much that is better than seeing that place from the perspective of, or through the eyes and mind of a person who is local to the place, During this visit I was privileged to see and experience a hard-core side of Rio that a tourist would not ordinarily see or experience. And for this reason, being in Rio became that much more of an enriching experience for me. As I was leaving, I promised to return to this city as soon as it was possible to do so, but I have not been able to fulfil this promise, even up till now more that thirty years later, Yet the longing today is just as raw, almost the same as it was on that day when I departed, a feeling that is as if I had left a part of me behind in Rio de Janeiro. 💔