THE MEANING OF AFRICAN LIBERATION DAY — WALTER RODNEY SPEAKS IN SAN FRANCISCO (1972)



I was born in a place that used to be called British Guyana. I happened to have been educated in Jamaica, to have lived among Black people in England and on the Continent. I have met brothers and sisters who say that their mother-tongue is, quote-un-quote, “French, Spanish, Dutch, Portuguese,” as well as English which we speak. And because of this, we have a problem of identification: we do not know who we are! And that is why this gathering is of great symbolic importance, because it is an act of identification. We are saying that we identify with the African people of the African continent. We are saying that we are an African people. And when we make this identification, have no illusions about the fact that this a very revolutionary initiative; it is a rejection of every other form of identification which the white society has asked us to accept. Let me draw your attention to something which white universities and white libraries practice; and this is a university community; numerous universities lie around this land (Bay Area): go into their libraries and check the Library of Congress cards under Europe or European, you will find all entries listed concerning the Continent of Europe; you will also find entries listed about Europeans in East Africa; Europeans in Asia and Australia. Look under the Chinese, you will find entries listed not only for Mainland China, but for Chinese in Malaysia, and for Chinese North America, but look under Africa and Africans — the only entry under Africans relates to the Continent itself — there are not entries under Africans overseas — there is no such category. Africans who have been raped from the Continent mysteriously disappear and become “Negroes”!

So when we reject the very term “negro”, it is not playing with words; negro is a conception — when we reject the term negro it is a rejection of a whole historical interpretation because (get it very clear) negro is a thing! a negro is not a person! Historically, when we were taken as slaves, we were dehumanized, we were converted from people into things! In the literature of slavery, a slave is referred to, an African is referred to as apiece. The Portuguese will say, “We have thousands of pieces, hundreds of pieces” — those are Africans to whom they referred. We were brought to this section of the world and we were auctioned; and auction is something reserved for antique furniture. We were brought to this section of the world and in Washington and in Virginia and in Maryland (my God, in Maryland a cracker was shot the other day); in places like that, we were bred as slaves, they were slave breeding grounds. Now breeding of that sort is reserved for stud animals, so the negro was a thing — at best and animate object in the category of cattle, horses and sheep. So when we break with that and say we are an African people, that is a revolutionary identification.

I do not say to understand who we are is the be all and end all — on the contrary, it is merely a very short step forward in the struggle, because freedom is a long road — freedom is the road which the Vietnamese people travel on the Ho Chi Minh trail; each man and woman carrying 60 pounds weight. Freedom is the long road which the Brothers from Angola, in which the Movement of the Popular Liberation of Angola, that is the road which they take week after week, crossing Eastern Angola, indeed, crossing Zambia, crossing the plains, crossing the flooded rivers, crossing the swamps, to engage with the enemy — that is the road of freedom. Freedom is the road which carried in Guinea (Bissau), along the creeks and the rivers, the Brother take the canoes to engage the enemy. Therefore, I am not saying that the identification is all — it is a process of struggle — and when we support Africa today, let no one have the impression that we are supporting a passive people. Because the news media has either been silent or deliberately mis-informative as is their want. They have not told you the level which the struggle has reached in Southern Africa. They have not told you the amount of territory which has been liberated from the Portuguese in Angola, Guinea (Bissau), and Mozambique. They have not told you that in 1970 there was a massive campaign by the Portuguese, a campaign to end all campaigns in Mozambique. It was designed to eliminate the liberated zones. It had massive array of armaments, 50,000 troops, American advisers; they went to the United States and had one of their generals trained on the assumption that the United States are the world experts on counter-guerilla warfare. But even if I had to fight the counter-guerilla war, I would be reluctant to ask the advice of the Americans, because they are only experts in losing! It turned out that they lost that struggle — the people of the Mozambique today have a greater liberated area, have produced an intensification, not only of their military program, but of their socio-economic and political program. The same applies in Angola, the same in Guinea (Bissau). And, furthermore, when we look at Southern Africa, although it is true that there are certain areas when the armed struggle, the highest level of struggle, has not yet been reached, we must not, for a movement deprecate the energies, the courage, and the activities of our Brothers and Sisters in that part of the world.

Let me say a brief word about South Africa. The people of South Africa are not cheap as some would have you believe. The people of South Africa have a long history of struggle, longer than in many other parts of the African continent. In the period after the first World War, there was in South Africa the strongest Black trade union on the Continent and in most parts of the world. The trade union known as the I.C.U., led by an African giant, Clement Sdale, was one of the greatest trade unions of its time. It failed! Why did it fail? Let me tell you a secret, it failed because it was betrayed by the white working class of South Africa.

Nevertheless, the struggle continues in South Africa. What happens in Southwest Africa (Namibia)? Few people know of Namibia. Namibia is the diamond mine of the world, that is where the Oppenheimers, the Goldfingers, the later Englehart, that is where the Rockefellers draft gem diamonds and industrial diamonds out of the ground by the tons every year. And in Namibia, the people have had to face the brutality of the Germans in the last part of the 19th century and in the present century. Germany leaned to practice fascism in Africa before it practiced it in Germany. It was against the heroic people of Namibia that the Germans unleashed a policy of genocide. Nevertheless, enough of the people, and this is a constant wonder — that we have managed to survive — to survive and to multiply — which amazed them (white people). The people of Namibia last year staged a tremendous strike against the mining companies — out of the blue — no one expected it — the people of Namibia said to the mining companies, the white race’s international monopoly capitalist — they said, “We are still here! We are still here! And we will strike when the hour comes.” And this is true throughout Southern Africa.

Journal of Black Poetry 16 (Summer 1972). Published in San Francisco.

 
In Zimbabwe, the whites thought they had a good thing going; they have banned Z.A.N.U., they banned Z.A.P.U. They have some in prison, the rest are exiled. They brought in the South African police and military. They have the support of the British government, they have the support of international monopoly capital, and they said, “We are going to stage a mock referendum which will draw the wool over the eyes of the world because we have intimidated the African sufficiently that we will get them to accept our domination by means of a referendum,” and then they attempted to count this referendum, they sent the British commission, and what happened? The people of Zimbabwe came out unarmed, unarmed mind you, to face the guns and they said, “no! no!” in a very loud voice; it was heard everywhere, it was unmistakable that they would not accept white minority rule in Zimbabwe.

And when you talk about struggle, furthermore, again it is to be remembered that there are governments in Africa today, who are putting their integrity, putting their existence out on the limb in order to support the struggle in South Africa. Governments like Tanzania, Zambia, Guinea, Algeria, and even the U.A.R., although it is fighting a war against the Zionists, they all have the time and resources to devote to the struggle of African unity and African liberation.

These are things to bear in mind when we say we are giving our support, because the world is full of many people who are claiming their rights but doing nothing else about it. We will support those who are claiming their rights and backing it up with what is necessary to demand and grasp one’s rights.

There is another illusion which must be squashed, and that is that when we support Africa, we are supporting a foreign entity, we are escaping from the struggle here, but the support of Africa is merely an extension from the struggle here. The struggle is universal because the system of oppression is universal. The struggle is international — and black unity must be international because we are the world’s most authentic international people. We live on every continent, through no choice of our own. But when the enemy has created a system of production and a system of exploitation which rests upon our physical presence in the Americas, in Europe, and in Africa, we will use that dispersed presence to mount a tremendous international campaign to liquidate the struggle that has reduced us to the position which we are in now.

Let me move toward a conclusion, Brothers and Sister, a conclusion which asks you to bear in mind what this gathering symbolizes. It symbolizes a “no” to Nixon, a “no” to the murderous policies in Vietnam, a “no” to the United States companies which are investing and exploiting on the African continent; a “no” to N.A.T.O. which provides Portugal with the wherewithal to bomb and blast our African Brother who are struggling for their rights in their own land. That must be an explicit “no”! It is also a “yes” — it is an affirmation, we are saying yes to the line which was developed by people like Marcus Garvey, W.E.B. DuBois, George Padmore, Kwame Nkrumah, Patrice Lumumba, Frantz Fanon. We are saying “yes” to the struggle in Africa today which is led by such giants as Ahmed Sekou Toure, Julius Nyerere … And we are saying “yes” to people like the Soledad Brothers and the martyrs of Attica.

This time is a symbolic act of coming together. This is also a time for self analysis and self-criticism and rededication. So we will go from here with a new strength. We will reconsider the nature of the domestic struggle and its relation to the international struggle, moving toward the realization that the system must fall — it all must fall! Have no illusions about it, the system that was created within this country as it extends throughout the world is so immoral, so vicious that there is no compromise, there is no remedying — except to banish it!

So, we will move out, to contemplate in our various ways how to arrive at its destruction. As we move out, bear in mind a slogan which the Brothers in Southern Africa use. They say, “Victory or Death! Victory is Certain.” Victory or death because they are placing their lives on the line — the highest form of struggle! But they are saying “Victory is Certain” because we are the future, we are the repositories of the truth, we are the most exploited and the most oppressed _ and must, of necessity, by the repository of freedom. So let us join and reiterate that slogan of Southern Africa, “Victory or Death — Victory is Certain!” (Crowd repeats: “Victory or Death — Victory is Certain!”). Power!

Walter Rodney, “The Meaning of African Liberation Day (a speech delivered May 27, 1972 in San Francisco, California),” transcribed and edited by Marvin X, Journal of Black Poetry 16 (Summer 1972), 5-9. Thanks to @public_archive for the ref.    

THE HINDI ZIWAYA OF DAMASCUS


The National Archives, UK.

For students of anti-colonialism the time between the first and second world wars, commonly referred to simply as the interwar period, evokes images of revolutionary nationalism, unprecedented internationalism, and clandestine exile in London, Paris, Berlin and Moscow. In the Middle East, alongside the proliferation of anti-colonial ideas and the organization of anti-colonial movements, a new form of colonial administration was introduced, the League of Nations’ Mandate system. In sixteen Mandates across the Middle East, Africa, and the South Pacific, the European victors of World War I maintained a racist system of colonial rule alongside a fictive rhetoric of native independence.¹ The formal abrogation of Ottoman authority in the Levantine Mandates, even as many forms of Ottoman law and rule remained in place, meant that those who resided or otherwise found themselves in the Mandates had to negotiate overlapping and contradictory imperial systems. And for the British and French colonial administrations, the previous “Turkish” regime was an easy scapegoat in sticky situations.

The end of one empire and the ascendance of others posed problems for their subjects generally. But for more precarious, mobile populations, whether refugees or pilgrims, who straddled several jurisdictions and pasts, problems were multiplied. 

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In addition to laying bare the assumptions of the state and their methods of corruption, concealment, co-option, and fabrication, official archives, colonial and otherwise, contain rich accounts of subaltern pasts. Histories from below have demonstrated that unheeded petitions often reveal the aspirations of the governed and that court records can expose strategies of subversion. It is now commonly understood that histories, not just of labor, but of sexuality or ideas can be uncovered out the state’s records of surveillance, incarceration, and censorship.

The National Archives, UK.

The various state archives of Egypt and Syria used to be huge centers of historical research, but the present circumstances have made their collections increasingly inaccessible (a very minor tragedy in the face of overwhelming horror). The Israeli archives, huge stores of the Palestinian and Arab past, are open to very few (and certainly not very many Palestinians). The relative openness of the Ottoman archives in Istanbul has occasioned a major boom in Ottoman historiography. But the imperial archives of Nantes, London, and Washington D.C. remain major repositories of modern Middle Eastern history. That’s why I’ve found myself many times making the trek out to the London suburb of Kew in search of the Arab past. The town is home to two repositories of imperial wealth, the first, which is far better known to non-historians, are the Royal Botanic Gardens.¹ The second are The National Archives.   

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The British National Archives are full of letters of people dwelling beyond the the King and Queen’s realm requesting the services—often the documents—of the British Empire. Countless letters requesting passports or other proof of their subjecthood for the purposes of protection or property. In the records of the Foreign Office is a file detailing a dispute over the a waqf (pious endowment) in Damascus, that of Sufi lodge, the Hindi Ziwaya (the Indian Ziwaya, ziwayat al-Hinud, or sometimes, the Sindi Ziwaya, ziwayat al-Sinud). Its story offers a glimpse into the transnational life of empire and the history of people out of place.

The Hindi Ziwaya of Damascus is not a unique institution, though it’s history, unlike the better known Hindi Ziwaya of Jerusalem for example, is largely unknown.³ The history of pilgrims, of Indians and other Muslims who traveled to shrines in the Middle East and to Mecca, is one of the long-term relationships which connects West Asia to South Asia and beyond. In his thorough study of two “Hindi” lodges in Istanbul during the long eighteenth century, Rishad Choudhury notes how the “Hindis” of those lodges weren’t always necessarily Indians, but could be Southeast or Central Asians.⁴ The history of pilgrims in Damascus is also long. It was a key stop on the caravan route to Mecca until the steamship began to threaten the landlocked city’s position.⁵ For many hundreds of years, Damascus was no stranger to visitors.

Thierry V. Zarcone, Sufi Pilgrims from India and Central Asia in Jerusalem 

In the Spring of 1934, Gilbert Mackereth—his Majesty’s Consul for the Sanjaks of Damascus, Homs, Hama, and of the Hauran, and the Governorate of the Djebel Druze, as he was known—began to receive letters from Damascus’ Indian denizens.⁶ The authors, some claiming to be the “notable” Indians of Damascus, all shared the same complaints to the British consul: the Hindi Ziwaya was in dire straits. The waqf was nearly out of funds. A salary was needed for a mutwalli, or trustee. The building was in disrepair. Days before Eid al-Adha, there were insufficient funds for the usual feast. We’ve asked the Ministry of Awqaf for assistance, the Indians wrote, but they have done nothing.
 
The National Archives, UK.
The letters came in the wake of a petition issued by Sheik Mahmoud Hamza al-Sindhi a few months earlier. Writing from Beirut, al-Sindhi accused the Director of Awqaf of selling half of the Hindi Ziwaya’s rooms off. As a consequence of their complaints to the authorities, the Indians of the Ziwaya were driven out of their homes and “instructed by the Director of Public Security to leave Damascus.”

Al-Sindhi's message was not well received. The British consul in Damascus wrote that the sheikh “is, in fact, a rascal who from time to time has given everyone a lot of bother by intimidating the present wakil and by removing old padlocks on doors of pilgrims rooms and replacing them by others to everyone’s inconvenience. He is more than a little ‘batty’ and discussion with him is painful.” “Like you,” the British Consul in Beirut responded, “we should be very glad to see him deported.” 

But once the letters came streaming in from Damascus itself, Mackereth began making inquiries to the Awqaf Department. Muhammad Adib, the director of the Department, responded: “according to the archives, the Indian Ziwaya consists of a mosque for the five prayers, and rooms for the lodging of the Indian pilgrims who pass through here on pilgrimage.” Adib apologised that they would be unable to nominate a mutawalli or sheik for the Ziwaya. Moreover, most of the records were lost.  
  
In Baghdad, the newspaper al-Istiqlal covered the Indians’ concerns. As did, reportedly, other Arab newspapers, leading the British to make further inquiries into the matter. The administration of Muslim institutions by colonial authorities was a major point of contention. The awqaf department in Damascus was in French hands. The Syrian ‘ulema, Philip Khoury has contended, feared “that forces of secularization and modernization were progressively undermining their position in Syrian society.”⁷ Eager to resolve the dispute, the British reached out to the rulers of Sindh to see if they would be able to raise the needed funds for rehabilitating the ziwaya. Seth Haji Abdullah Haroon wrote from Karachi saying he had heard about the problems at the waqf for years: “I received certain complaints from Sindhi residents of that place, alleging that wakf properties entrusted to them by Turkish Government was being sold by French Government, thereby causing their expulsion.” Nevertheless, he couldn’t offer any funds for the waqf.

A frustrated Mackereth, being asked by his hire-ups why this matter could not be easily sorted, wrote that during the war “our [Intelligence] branch was too busy chasing the ignis fatuus of Arab politics to bother about the lot of British subjects in distress after the hostilities…. Now; the Turks having taken off most of the records (the rest were burnt in a fire afterwards); it is impossible to saddle responsibilities on to anyone.” With no one willing to fund the Hindi Ziwaya, not the government of Sindh or the French Mandate authority or the British Empire whose subjects’ it houses, it’s not clear what happened to those souls who relied on the ziwaya. Were they deported as some claimed? Did they return to India or go on to other shrines and other lodges?


The British records offer no conclusions. Perhaps there are answers in the Arab press or deep within the Ministry of Awqaf in Damascus or at the archives nationales d'outre-mer or in some letters in someone's home in Sindh. Ziwayat al-Hinud still exists at Bab al-Jibayah in Damascus. It is still recorded on the website of the Syrian Government’s Ministry of Awqaf. In 2016, a Facebook page—another archive—documenting Damascus’ many mosques posted what is purportedly a picture of the Hindi Ziwaya’s mosque and saying it was renovated in 2012.




¹. On the imperial history of the Kew Gardens and botany generally see: Lucile H. Brockway, Science and Colonial Expansion: The Role of the British Royal Botanic Gardens (New York: Academic Press, 1979) and Richard Drayton, Nature’s Government: Science, Imperial Britain, and the ‘Improvement’ of the World (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000). 
². For a critical appraisal of the Mandate system and recent attempts to rehabilitate it in the historiography, see: Priya Satia, “Guarding The Guardians: Payoffs and Perils,” Humanity: An International Journal of Human Rights, Humanitarianism, and Development 7:3 (Winter 2016) pp. 481-498.   
³. See, for example: Omar Khalidi, “Indian Muslims and Palestinian Awqaf,” Jerusalem Quarterly 40 (2009) pp. 52-58 and Thierry V. Zarcone, Sufi Pilgrims from India and Central Asia in Jerusalem (Kyoto: Center for Islamic Area Studies at Kyoto University, 2009).  
⁴. Rishad Choudhury, “The Hajj and the Hindi: The Ascent of the Indian Sufi Lodge in the Ottoman Empire,” Modern Asian Studies 50:6 (2016) 1899. 
⁵. Abdul-Karim Rafeq, “Damascus and the Pilgrim Caravan,” in Leila Fawaz and C.A. Bayly, eds., Modernity and Culture from the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean (New York: Columbia University Press, 2002). 
⁶. On Mackereth see, though I don’t recommend it: Michael Fry and Itamar Rabinovich, Despatches from Damascus: Gilbert Mackereth & British Policy in the Levant, 1933-1939 (Tel Aviv: Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies, 1985). 
⁷.Philip Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate: The Politics of Arab Nationalism, 1920-1945 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987), 84.