Category: Africa

Trouble in Paradise: Island Love turns to Madness in Mauritius

12/28/2013

My next port of call takes me further out into the Indian Ocean, to the island nation of Mauritius. A former British colony, Mauritius declared independence in 1968, although it did not become a republic until twenty-four years later, in 1992. Whilst the Republic of Mauritius is almost the epitome of the ocean paradise (surrounded by over 150 kilometres of beaches and lagoons, as well as the third largest coral reef in the world), there are still social issues on the island. Despite its high economic ranking with then World Bank, poverty does exist here; with a divide between the haves and the have-nots being accentuated by a caste system inherited by the high proportion of the population of Indian descent. Indeed, it is these social divides that form the catalyst for the next book on my journey “Blue Bay Palace”, although the events that ensue are played out in terms of very personal tragedy.

“Blue Bay Palace” is narrated by Maya, a girl from the wrong side of the tracks in Mauritius. The idyllic tropical vacation spot is, she thinks, "a country in extremis" - and:

“Like this country, I am a child in extremis. That is why my parents named me Maya - illusion, the one whom we believe is, but who is not.”

Blue Bay sounds like it might be a decent place to grow up, but it's a poor little corner of this paradise, the side of the village where no one, for example has a car:

“When one can afford a car, one leaves Blue Bay.”

Maya had ambitions to get out, but a day after she turned sixteen she met Dave, the spoilt and rich son of a Brahman* family from Mahébourg ("It was only half an hour away from Blue Bay, but another world"). And so she too goes to work at Le Paradis, the resort where Dave works - the hotel where he is, in fact, Maya's father's boss.

They have a passionate and extended love affair, which blinds Maya to the reality of their situation. Dave seems like a confident, take-charge kind of guy when she describes the first years of their affair, but it turns out he has trouble standing up against certain kinds of tradition (and confrontation in general, apparently). And so one day Maya reads "a small report in the local paper" - and learns that Dave has gotten married:

“I didn't suspect a thing. Dave had told me he was tired and that he was going to rest at home for two weeks; he would be the one to call me.”

Maya is crushed, but their affair continues, Dave wanting both worlds - pleasing his family and living up to expectations, while also having the girl he (apparently) loves. Appanah nicely conveys the change in their relationship, and Maya's inability to let go.

Dave is an interesting character in that he is entirely frank about his weakness. Maya recognizes it, but can't let the bum go. And then there's the ominous moment when, talking about his bride: "he said those unfortunate words: 'Sometimes I wish she would die".

Maya does not seek out vengeance, but she remains caught up in her obsession. It embroils her in another relationship, and it does, ultimately, lead to tragedy.

A tale of young, messy love, where chance leads to fate, “Blue Bay Palace” is a bit thin to sustain all this raw emotion, passion, and hurt. The sketches - Maya's impressions of wealth and luxury, her father's struggles with the cacti around their house, dealing with the tourists -- are often very good, but the novel could have used a bit more substance.

Still, early on Maya seems to acknowledge that all this experience has not matured her, still describing herself as "a child", and the narrative voice retains a convincing childish quality that Appanah pulls off quite well and that works quite well for much of the story…

At just over 100 pages this is almost more of a novella, and one which I read in an afternoon, however it was an enjoyable read with a vibrant dash of local description amid the high drama.

Rather than travel on to another Indian Island nation, I take a detour for now and head to Kenya on the mainland. That is not to say that I have forgotten about Mauritius’ Indian Ocean neighbours and I shall be travelling to the Seychelles and the Comoros Islands following my trip to Kenya.

However, due to a mix up with my accommodation in Seychelles (all visitors must have proof of accommodation bookings before arrival), for now I take an Air Kenya flight to Nairobi. Therefore, I take an air-conditioned bus to the elaborately named Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam International Airport (Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam was a key figure in the Mauritian Independence Movement and the country’s first Prime Minister) at Plaisance in the southeast of the island.

I am booked on an Air Mauritius flight to Jomo Kenyatta airport at 08.40. It costs an eye-watering AUS$826 but at least it is direct, taking only four hours twenty minutes and arriving in the capital of Kenya at midday (allowing for the hour time difference). Furthermore the single aisle A319 plane that I travel on is comfortable and seems reassuringly airworthy, so I have no cause for complaint here (although be warned – the arrivals hall at Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam airport gets very congested in the morning as this is when most of the flights from Europe arrive. Immigration officers tend to be rather slow and the whole immigration process is a frustrating experience at this time of the day!)

My ongoing destination is an interesting, and rather strange one. Whilst this novel, “The Wizard of the Crow,” is by renowned Kenyan author-in-exile Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o (his first in twenty years), the story is set in the imaginary Free Republic of Aburiria, autocratically governed by one man, known only as the Ruler. However, it is obvious that this novel is a thinly disguised metaphor for – indeed, caricature of – the corrupt government of Kenya specifically, and many African leaderships generally:

“Aburiria is recognisable as Africa in all its splendour, squalor, economic malaise and venality, but it comes with more than a touch of magical realism.” The Economist.

As such, I felt that this was an important book, by an important author, to read at this stage. However in the interests of balance, given the metaphorical nature of this book, I will be following this read up with “A Small Town in Africa”, a more ‘realist’ depiction of life in the Kenyan town of Isiolo, by Daisy Waugh, of which more later...

* Brahman is the highest level in the Hindu caste system

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A Flickering Flame of Hope: One Mother's Faith in the Future Sheds Light on the Bleak Reality of Modern Zambia

12/14/2013

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The cover of “A Cowrie of Hope” states that the author, Binwell Sinyangwe, “captures the rhythms of a people whose poverty has not diminished their dignity, where hope can only be accompanied by small acts of courage, and where friendship has not lost its value”, these qualities are mainly encapsulated in the main character, Nasula:

Nasula (mother of Sula) is a young widow struggling to make ends meet for herself and her daughter. Her daughter who recently passed her grade 9 exams has been accepted into an all girls secondary school but she lacks the money required for fees, supplies, and other things required for Sula to continue with her education. Though illiterate herself, Nasula, understands the need for her daughter to be educated and she feels the burden acutely.

As a young bride, she and her husband live in Lusaka where he works as security guard. He’s shot to death by the police while trying to escape a crime scene, leaving his wife widowed with an infant daughter. After his funeral, Nasula is ordered by her father-in-law to marry his other son, Isaki. She refuses to marry Isaki on the grounds that he is a polygamist and known womaniser. In retribution the family disowns and dispossesses Nasula and her daughter all of their earthly goods but the clothes on their backs. Homeless and stranded in Lusaka, she spends many nights at the bus depot trying to find her way back to Swelini, her home village in Luapula.

She makes it home to Swelini with the help of a friend, where she appeals to the headman for land to cultivate and build a home for herself and her daughter. She toils on her plot of land and also does piece-work to supplement the meagre income from her crops. Sula is enrolled in school, where she excels, rising above the taunts and ridicule she experiences because of her poverty. "The child was a cowrie of hope. A great gift from the gods to one who was so poor and lowly to wear round one’s neck for inspiration, and, above all, hope”.

Faced with the dilemma of her daughter possibly dropping out of school because of lack of funds, Nasula faces a seemingly hopeless situation until an exuberant friend proposes a solution. If she sells her last bag of Mbala beans, which are on high demand in Lusaka, the money will more than adequately fund Sula’s schooling. Re-energised with this new hope, Nasula sets out to earn this money.

Lusaka immediately strikes her as a “place of madness” and Kamwala market, in particular, is a“mound inhabited by huge, hungry tribes of termites in search of a livelihood”. Nasula has single minded goal, and draws often from her spiritual strength to take her that extra step needed.

Her naïveté is touching, and her boldness inspiring – crucially, despite the desperate situations Nasula finds herself in, she loses neither her dignity nor her sight of goal.

“But a power she could not overcome, which was from a bleeding heart, told her not to listen to the whispers of discouragement, or give up when she had already suffered so much. It urged her on. To this power she yielded while at the same time allowing the ghost of defeat to haunt her. She struggled on, a thin valiant, invisible thread pulling her along in the direction of nowhere”.

Nasula’s exuberant friend from Lusaka, Nalukwi (mother of Lukwi), is also a great character. She and her husband live in three room shack with their eight children and dependents, and yet she opens both her home and heart to Nasula offering help and advice at every turn. She’s street smart, and yet she does not use this as a means of duping her young friend – in a way, she embodies the ‘hope’ of the title of this book.

The key message of this harrowing story is that despite the predicaments many face in the world today, hope still exists. There is also value in friendship, honesty, and community. It should be remembered that while this book is a work of fiction, it draws many parallels from real life situations that many Zambians still face such as property grabbing, school dropouts from lack of funding, crop failure, corruption, lack of markets in rural areas, poor access to financial products for small-scale farmers, etc.

Direct buses between Lusaka and Lilongwe, Malawi’s capital, are infrequent and slow, so I do this trip in stages. From the BP petrol station on the main street in Chipata (capital of Eastern Zambia), regular minibuses (US$2) run the 30km to the Zambian border. Once I pass through Zambian customs, it’s a few minutes’ walk to the Malawian entry post from where I get a shared taxi to Mchinji for US$1.50 followed by a minibus to Lilongwe (US$2). My ultimate destination in Malawi is Masitala; a small village in the Kasungu region.

To reach this place I decide to hire a car, and opt for a 4x4 from Apex Rent-a-Car, who are based in Lilongwe, for $80 per day. Compared to its neighbours, the main roads in Malawi are in surprisingly good shape: the volume of traffic is low and most people drive reasonably slowly. Also, like most other former British colonies, traffic moves on the left in Malawi with my car being right-hand drive, which is a bonus for me. However, road travel after dark is not advisable as road markings are poor to non-existent and not all cars have headlights.

I encounter a couple of police check points along the major roadways, but they just ask me where I am going and check my documentation (passport, driver's licence, permission to use the vehicle, etc.), and I am on my way without any issues.

And so, with a sense of hope I travel to Zambia’s diminutive neighbour Malawi and another story of hope against adversity – “The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind”: this time a true memoir by Malawian, William Kamkwamba.

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Purple Hibiscus: Hope Blooms in a Bittersweet Tale of Nigeria

7/12/2013

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Adichie’s debut novel is a thoroughly engaging and exquisitely crafted piece of work. As a first novel it is nothing short of astonishing. To the outside world, fifteen-year-old Kambili, her seventeen-year-old brother Jaja, and their self-effacing mother Beatrice, are living the dream life in Enugu, Nigeria.

However, behind the enviable gates of the estate, provided by their benevolent businessman, father, and husband, Eugene Achike, life is less than rosy. Eugene’s religious fanaticism and overbearing hand end up imprisoning and incapacitating those whom he professes to love the most. He metes out severe punishments for minor transgressions, leaving in his wake physical and emotional scars. As if the pressures of home life are not enough, the children must deal with the social and emotional ups and downs of adolescence, peer relations, and petty rivalries.

A ray of light enters this grim picture in the person of Eugene’s widowed sister, who invites the children to spend time with her family in the university town of Nsukka.The visit to Aunty Ifeoma’s modest home in the university apartments begins a series of life-changing experiences with far-reaching consequences for everyone in the Achike family. In the end, the most decisive actions come from the least expected sources.

'Purple Hibiscus' is a multi-dimensional novel. It is a tender first-person narrative of a teenage girl who finds her own voice, despite years of abuse and intimidation that have left her stuttering. It is a story of love, the strange love in her nuclear family that generates no laughter, the nurturing love that holds her extended family together, and the personal turmoil and excitement of her first crush. Kambili’s narrative voice is fresh and authentic, her English enriched with local Igbo expressions and peppered with Nigerianisms such as: “the girl is a ripe agbogho! Very soon a strong young man will bring us palm wine!”

Set in the Igbo region of eastern Nigeria, the story draws the reader into the environment and cultural experiences of a significant segment of Nigerian society. From the scenic hillsides of Enugu and Nsukka to the unpaved rural roads of Abba and Aokpe, each locale is essential to the main characters’ well-being, providing a much needed balance between the busy urban centres and the ancestral and kinship base of the countryside. The author, herself an Igbo, is obviously familiar with her terrain and the urban-rural balance. One gets a taste of the shades and nuances of contemporary Nigerian life: the rich diversity of its peoples and their traditions, their staple and snack foods, and the variety of their religious beliefs.

In telling the story of Kambili and the extraordinary events that transform her world, Adichie manages to present and explore a number of important issues rather intricately. Her characters are complex and credible. On the question of domestic abuse, for instance, Eugene is at once the most courageous, generous, and compassionate citizen - receiving recognition from locals as well as world organizations - and the most unforgiving tyrant. His loved ones - ironically, his victims - are dazzled by his enormous persona, thus perpetuating the cycle. Adichie courageously raises other poignant questions without ever resorting to preaching. Mandatory celibacy in the Catholic clergy is a logical issue when a young priest becomes the object of romantic affection; the legitimacy of Igbo traditional religion is obvious when observed close to Catholic ritual.

She captures the resilience of the citizens faced with political instability and series of military coups; the struggle to maintain intellectual freedom and autonomy in higher education; and most of all, the preponderance of poverty and want in the midst of so much national wealth. Bright intellectuals and educators flee the country to avoid rising autocratic rule, intimidation, and deteriorating social services.

One minor criticism is the absence of a glossary for this novel. Adichie does a good job of placing most Igbo expressions in comprehensible context, but this leads to frustration with the reader wanting to find the translation of a term, the meaning of which is, at best, ambiguous, for instance: “’Will the fuel make it, Mom?’ Obiora asked. “Amarom, we can try”’.

This is, however, a very minor criticism of what is a wonderful debut novel.

Citation: Ruby A. Bell-Gam. Review of Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi, Purple Hibiscus. H-AfrTeach, H-Net Reviews. December, 2004.

My next destination is the neighbouring country of Chad, linked to Nigeria by a narrow border in the north east, alongside Lake Chad. Despite its proximity however, this is no simple journey, starting with the need for a single-entry visa costing US$100 for 1 month.

Worse still, however, decades of civil war following independence from France in 1960, along with more recent rebellions and rebel incursions from neighbouring countries, have left Chad’s transport infrastructure in tatters.

Rail travel into the country is impossible, and roads are in disrepair and are typically unpaved. Equally perilous on the roads are the coupeurs de route (road bandits). Ex-pats were attacked in two separate incidents in 2005 on one major stretch, resulting in the death of one Catholic nun. The rickety and poorly maintained buses are scarcely less of a danger on these roads... and it is equally impossible to reach Chad by boat from Nigeria unless crossing illegally through Lake Chad.

However, I am keen not to rely too much on anonymous air travel (itself a circuitous route between these countries) so I take my life into my hands and go by road... Although there are no official border crossings between the two countries, it’s possible to make a quickish – if hair-raising - transit across Cameroon.

In Nigeria, I take a bush taxi from Maiduguri in north-eastern Nigeria to the border crossing into Cameroon at Ngala. On the Cameroon side I ask for a laissez-passer whichs to allows me to make the two-hour traverse of Cameroon (where I will be returning soon).

We head to Maroua (the capital of the Far North Region of Cameroon) where I pick up a rickety minibus to the Chad border point at Kousséri. Here I pick up a motorcycle taxi over the bridge into the border town of Nguelé, stopping once more to catch an even more rickety minibus to N’Djamena, the capital of Chad. Finally, I take one of the eregular buses in the capital on a bumpy six hour journey to Moundou. Thus I arrive, tired, dusty, shaken and relieved, in the second largest city in Chad, and the next leg of my journey 'The Plagues of Friendship' a novel by native author Sem Miantoloum Beasnael, a tale of childhood friendship that goes tragically sour...

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Outside Looking In: Letters From Togo

7/2/2013

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Susan Blake's essays — her “Letters from Togo” — are based on the letters she wrote to her friends from Lomé, the West African capital where she spent a Fulbright year teaching American literature from 1983 to 1984, with return trips in 1990 and 1991. As Blake begins the process of making sense out of a vibrant, seeming anarchy, we are pulled along with her into the heart of Togo—a tiny dry strip of a country sandwiched between Ghana and Benin.

In the course of her letters Blake introduces us to Mahouna, her housekeeper, who runs a cold drink business from his refrigerator in a country where electricity is unreliable; to American Lee Ann and her Togolese family, who works at the American school to earn the fees for a private education for her children; and to the suave René, with whom a relationship briefly flourishes and who teeters on the edge of the Togolese and expatriate worlds.

Since Lomé is both an overgrown village and a cosmopolitan city, Blake's often humorous experiences range from buying a car to attending a traditional tom-tom funeral, from visiting people who hunt with bows and arrows to enduring faculty meetings, from negotiating the politics of buying produce to lecturing on Afro-American literature at the English Club. Together, her letters trace the pattern of adjusting to a foreign environment and probe the connections between Africa and this curious, energetic American. Not "out of Africa" but within it, they take advantage of time and perspective to penetrate the universal experience of being a stranger in a strange land...

All in all an engaging memoir of an engaging country, but one which – as Blake herself acknowledges – is written very much from an outsiders perspective.

From Togo I leapfrog neighbouring Benin (where I have already visited) and head to Nigeria.

Passenger trains into Nigeria being virtually non-existent I am forced to part with the best part of £350 for a flight ticket. I make my way to the nearby Lomé-Tokoin airport and catch a flight on Togolese airline Asky, leaving at 13.30 and arriving an hour later in Lagos’ Murtala Muhammad airport at 15.30 (allowing for the time difference).

There is a rather inconvenient fifteen hour stopover (compared to just two hours flight time in total between destinations!) so I spend a night in a nearby hotel, the Deskyline Hotel. It is just a couple of minutes around the corner from the airport, and there is a restaurant where I am able to grab a beer and a meal of local fare. However, my room (which sets me back $100) is basic to say the least, still it is a bed for the night...

The next morning I catch the onward Arik Air International flight at 7.20. Again, this flight lasts just one hour before I am landing at my next destination – Enugu in Nigeria and the novel "Purple Hisbiscus" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

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Murder in Ghana: An Ideal Marriage of Suspense and Location with the ‘Wife of the Gods’

6/4/2013

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Kwei Quartey's compelling debut mystery, 'Wife of the Gods', introduces Ghanian Detective Inspector Darko Dawson investigating the murder of a medical student in a village some distance from his home (and jurisdiction) in the country's capital of Accra.

The crime is unusual and the government authorities have requested help from the capital, whose forensic knowledge far exceeds that of the local police force. The victim has no obvious injuries and is found posed as if sleeping in the woods. Dawson, however, has mixed feelings about accepting the assignment and returning to the village of Ketanu. He has been there only once, over 25 years ago, to visit his aunt and uncle. On a later visit, when just his mother went, she disappeared on returning home. Whether she is alive or dead, no one knows. Still, the case interests him and he's certain that the young man, who has been arrested for the crime, is innocent. He's equally certain that another popular sentiment in the village is also not true, that a purported witch living nearby struck her down using herbal magic.

'Wife of the Gods' is written with a quiet elegance, often lyrical in its narrative. Sound actually plays an important part of the story, Dawson having a particular affinity for distinguishing subtle variations in speech patterns. Consider this passage from early in the book:

Darko felt the silken quality and the musical lilt of Auntie's voice. He had always had a peculiarly heightened sensitivity to speech. Not only did he hear it but he often perceived it, as though physically touching it. He had on occasion told [his brother] Cairo or Mama that he could feel "bumps" in a person's voice, or that it was prickly or wet. They were mystified by this, but Darko could not explain it any better than he could describe the process of sight or smell.

The mystery itself is rather intricate, made so in part by the customs and beliefs of the villagers. The author incorporates these cultural references into the story in a seamless, natural manner; they are a part of Dawson's investigation without necessarily being the cause of it. Furthermore, their very being is not a hinderance and Dawson's knowledge of them may help him find the solution to the young woman's murder.

There are a number of familiar elements to the story including the wise mentor to Dawson. At one point he says to Darko, "You remember what I told you about solving mysteries?", to which Dawson replies, "That it's a matter of making a few of the connections and the rest will fall in place." And that is really what 'Wife of the Gods' is all about.

An outstanding effort overall to be sure, but there are a couple of minor points that may resonate with readers. Darko Dawson is given to occasional, violent outbursts which seem at odds to the intellectual character that he seems most comfortable being. These scenes don't really add much depth or interest to his character, and seem discordant in a somewhat disturbing way. And the investigation seems to conveniently ignore a person's cell phone, and not the throwaway kind, that is the preferred way of communicating within the country — not surprising given the lack of infrastructure for wired service. Yet no one thinks to check cell phone records to determine where people (read suspects) might have been at any given time. Finally, the title, which rates a special author note, is not terribly relevant to the crime or its solution, and serves more as an introduction to a tangential subplot. These comments, however, are at most quibbles for this truly remarkable mystery that unfolds in a most unusual setting.

Review Copyright © 2009 — Hidden Staircase Mystery Books

Before setting out on my journey to neighbouring Togo, i make a relatively painless trip to the Togolese embassy in Accra for my entry visa (10,000CFA for a single entry 30 day visa).

Actually getting to my next destination is also fairly straight forward as there are bush taxis everywhere in Accra. These are basically four door cars, with four people in the back, and two sharing the front.

These are mainly reconstituted European cars with the seats stripped out and benches added in. I select a battered Peogeut 505 which still retains its back seats, and negotiate with the driver to have the taxi to myself for a reasonable $20 (it is usually $5 per person).

From Accra we head straight to Lomé, capital of Togo, on the pleasantly paved and un-bumpy Trans African Coastal Highway that crosses Togo, connecting it to Benin and Nigeria to the east, and Ghana and Côte d'Ivoire to the west.

Thus I arrive fairly un-dishevelled for my stopover courtesy of ‘Letters From Togo’ by Susan Blake...

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Meeting the Invisible Man: Secrets and Magic in West Africa

11/26/2012

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For the next leg of my journey, I will be exploring Guinea-Bissau, officially the Republic of Guinea-Bissau. This West African nation is bordered by Senegal to the north and Guinea to the south and east, with the Atlantic Ocean to its west and has an estimated population of 1,600,000.

Guinea-Bissau was once part of the kingdom of Gabu, as well as part of the Mali Empire. Parts of this kingdom persisted until the eighteenth century, while a few others were under some rule by the Portuguese Empire since the sixteenth century. In the nineteenth century, it was colonised as Portuguese Guinea. Upon independence, declared in 1973 and recognised in 1974, the name of its capital, Bissau, was added to the country's name to prevent confusion with Guinea (formerly French Guinea). Guinea-Bissau has a history of political instability since independence, and no elected president has successfully served a full five-year term.

On the evening of 12 April 2012, members of the country's military staged a coup d'état and arrested the interim president and a leading presidential candidate. Former vice chief of staff, General Mamadu Ture Kuruma, assumed control of the country in the transitional period and started negotiations with opposition parties.

The main religions are African traditional religions and Islam, although there is a Christian (mostly Roman Catholic) minority; however the next part of my journey also reveals that beliefs in traditional magic have not died out in this part of the world…

“Meeting the Invisible Man: Secrets and Magic in West Africa” by Toby Green is an account of the author's travels in West Africa - specifically Senegal, Guinea-Bissau, and Guinea-Conakry (officially known simply as Guinea, in West Africa it is widely called Guinea-Conakry to avoid confusion with Guinea-Bissau) - in search of authentic African magic. In 1995 Green became friends with a Senegalese photographer by the name of El Hadji (a devout Muslim), a man who swore that mystics known as Marabouts (pronounced ‘Maraboo’, magical holy men with connections to Islam) possessed the ability to bestow invisibility and invulnerability upon people. Intrigued, Green returned four years later, met his friend, and undertook a journey of several months through these three nations to test these magical claims himself. Seeking Marabouts in the cities and in remote villages deep in the countryside, Green sought to verify if such magic could indeed exist.

These men didn't cast spells it seems but created magical charms or amulets known as gris-gris (pronounced ‘gree-gree’), items that might contain such items as a piece of burial shroud, the skin of a black cat, cloth once owned by a mute, or verses from the Koran written many times on parchment or paper. These items were generally constructed in secret away from the eyes of Green and El Hadji, often taking days to finish and coming complete with a number of verbal instructions that must be followed (lest either bad things happen to the wearer or the charm be rendered in effective); not wearing a gris-gris during sex was a common rule, as was not using one for evil. If the rules were followed and the owner wore the gris-gris (generally on their waists, attached to the belt, or on their arms), depending upon what the amulet was constructed for, it might bestow invulnerability to knife attacks, gunfire, or even make one invisible (or wealthy, as Green visits a moderately prosperous village that believed it owed its great fortune to the powerful Marabout resident there).

Green makes an interesting point that many Muslims in West Africa believe in Marabouts and in gris-gris. El Hadji and others claim that there is nothing in the Qu'ran that forbids visiting a Marabout (though a sorcerer is apparently an altogether different type of individual). Additionally, a number of people Green talks to, including Marabouts, claim to possess secret knowledge or secret verses from the Qu'ran itself. The author notes that many Muslims outside the region and some in the region firmly believe that gris-gris is not acceptable in orthodox Islam, though Marabouts have a long history in the region, arriving simultaneously in West Africa with Islam in the eleventh century.

Green begins the journey convinced that gris-gris simply could not work, but once he spends time in Africa he seems to waver some. Once he becomes immersed in the culture and the people, he begins to appreciate the often radically different worldview of many of the locals. He often feels that he and they inhabit completely different worlds: his technological, rational, and materialistic; theirs a world largely alien to him, one that the locals see populated by devils and spirits, a "place where magic and undiluted faith were so important," where "djinns hang in the air with the heat, and the fear and the illness."

Green also fears that he will be exploited by unscrupulous people. A foolish tubab (white person, whom just about everyone in that part of Africa at least assumed was of course rich) would easily find many Marabouts who would gladly write gris-gris for him for money of course. At first quite a bit on guard against this, Green is at pains to point out that in his travels he meets Marabouts who care little about money and genuinely believe in what they do.

The author does provide an interesting portrait of the countries, the people, their rituals, their way of life, good descriptions of the terrain and flora, and a sense of the area's problems. He and his companion are quite glad to leave Guinea-Conakry for instance, a place “redolent with fear and despair," an often deeply unpleasant place, its citizens with almost nothing, with what little they had stolen by a corrupt state. He also recounts some of the terrible wars and wretched conditions faced by the refugees in the region (whose plight the West was largely ignorant of), many of whom vanish in the various conflicts, their fate unknown. Though he is approached for bribes by corrupt border guards and police, a great many people are quite kind to him, welcoming him into their homes with little explanation from him as to why he is there, offering what little food they had and even allowing him to sleep in their beds, their owners choosing to sleep on the floor while they have guests. He has a number of memorable West African experiences, many of them good, such as listening to griots (pronounced ‘gree-oh,’ praise singers whose lineage goes back to the old West African empires, still important as repositories of oral history and in performing ceremonies), hearing the kora (a West African harp with 21 strings), and riding in pirogues (the dugout canoes of the region), some bad (such as a bout with malaria).

So did Green find any gris-gris that worked? Was he successful? I won’t spoil the book for you by revealing that, however I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed accompanying Green on his quest. Though he includes a helpful glossary and an appendix listing important historical figures from the region, it would have been good to have had a bit more history in the text. Still, I enjoyed his often amusing interactions with El Hadji and I appreciated the detailed map and the colour photographs that were included in the book.

My onward journey is an easy one in this instance as, in his travels in search of African magic, Toby Green travels through Guinea-Bissau via Senegal and on to Guinea. Thus I find I am already in the country of my next stopover, courtesy of “In Search of Africa” by Manthia Diawara; a distinguished professor of film and literature in New York City, who returns to Guinea thirty-two years after he and his family were expelled from the newly liberated country.

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Trouble in Paradise: Island Love turns to Madness in Mauritius

A Flickering Flame of Hope: One Mother's Faith in the Future Sheds Light on the Bleak Reality of Modern Zambia

Purple Hibiscus: Hope Blooms in a Bittersweet Tale of Nigeria

Outside Looking In: Letters From Togo

Murder in Ghana: An Ideal Marriage of Suspense and Location with the ‘Wife of the Gods’

Meeting the Invisible Man: Secrets and Magic in West Africa

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