Awritingreader’s Weblog

Ngugi calls for the abolition of the English department based primarily on the conclusion that Eurocentrism and Western emphasis is largely a phantom “truth”. Ngugi states, “Underlying the suggestions is a basic assumption that the English tradition and the emergence of the modern west is the central of our consciousness and cultural heritage. Africa becomes an extension of the west“ (2091).

While I originally found myself championing alongside Ngugi’s argument (and fundamentally I still do), I’ve had to stop and pause to consider whether the ghost that is Western supremacy is actually a ghost, or if the idea might be founded.  Stick with me for a minute… Without wanting to perpetuate ideas of western supremacy at all, I find that it may be a legitimate consideration to examine on the basis of how history has played its hand. If we look at the position of the “western world” in comparison to the rest, we’d have to ask ourselves why, if not for some degree of betterness, the world looks to our nations to determine fashion, for example, or to be used as models of government. Why are our movies more highly valued or our music? Why are we looked to to solve the world’s problems?

Ngugi’s statement that “Africa becomes an extension of the west” has starting me to thinking exactly how the extension operates. If I were to really locate the root of my thought, I think I would realize that I rarely think of Africa except in terms of its relationship with the rest of the world.

So here I introduce the element of history and question whether the relatively recent obsession with documenting every occurrence has helped to form the ideas of western or euro-centrality. If our history books only tell the tales in forms that place Europe as the spring-off point for all other action, and if we learn our past through this history, what tangible other way is there to conceive of that relationship? Furthermore, the  reigns of power have constantly shifted in history, but widespread power the way we think of it, could not be without invention and technology that helped to shrink our world by growing our contact with it. It may be coincidental that the burst of technology took place at a prime time when the west was ripe for the seizing of the opportunity this allowed.

I admittedly don’t know enough about history or how the logistics of societal development occur, and I certainly do not believe that the west holds any iota of an inherent supremacy. But I consider the possibility that the way the world has unfolded, has allowed their dominance to be possible and for this reason, we only know how to conceive of Africa as an extension of the west, however illogical the connection may be.

*Oh, and I think the answers to the above questions, lie more in the fact that we took this coincidental unfolding and made ourselves super-powers for it, and because we all like to be best, we imposed this assumption on others to the point that the whole world may be under a colonizer effect and so choose their preferences for this injustice*

Today in class, while discussing Ngugi and his proposal to abolish the English department, I brought up the question as to whether or not Ngugi’s flip-flopper attitude regarding politics and social stances affects the validity of his arguments. In particular, I’m thinking about his decision to exclusively write in Gikuyu because this brought him closer to his people and preserved his culture far better than the colonizer’s English could do. Yet, despite his commitment (fueled by an unjust stint in prison) to only write works in Gikuyu, Ngugi went on to translate one of his most famous works Devil on the Cross, into English, only a few short years later. I have the advantage of being in Postcolonial Literature right now, and so I further know that despite his fervor for Kenya and his call to resistance, Ngugi lives comfortably in the U.S Capitalist society.

Powers commented on these concerns by saying that one of the benefits of literary criticism is that men like Barthes and Foucault allow us to grant the author permission to experience different phases in their life, i.e. to call for the abolition of the English Department, to decide only to write in Gikuyu, and then later to change his mind and write in English. But I couldn’t help thinking during class today that this appreciation of the author’s flexibility is only possible because you/we read it through the western lens of Barthes, Foucault, and others. Our own position in a society that encourages the study of such theories and furthermore grants them legitimacy affects the way we allow grace for Ngugi to change his position.

In actuality though, this very question has caused significant problems for Kenyans who looked to Ngugi as a hero for the nation. Not only did he appear to abandon some of his convictions, but his very  zeitgeist seems to have changed. For example, upon moving to the U.S, he divorced his first wife (very un-kenyan) and remarried. His first return to Kenya was to sponsor a political candidate, something he hadn’t done in the past, and a move that many Kenyans felt was out of line for his philosophies and beliefs that had hitherto transcended momentary politics. Among other things, these changes have been problematic for Ngugi’s Kenyan audience who no longer seem to know whether he should still stand as their iconic symbol, or if he has let down his people. You see, it isn’t as simple as a matter of phases in his life, and we only see it that way, because we have been taught to, and we don’t have to deal with  the ramifications of his actions.

I recently planned a trip to go to Philadelphia with my roommate and visit the Museum of Art. She politely offered her car as the means of transportation because she knew that I badly wanted to go, but had no economical and time efficient way to make it happen. I was excited to go because it is one of the only Frida Kahlo exhibitions to show in the United States in 15 years. My parents saw this same show while traveling in Puerto Rico two summers ago, and insisted that I find my way to Philly, because after all, she is one of my favorites.

So we soared along the Pennsylvania roads for a very short two hours and after a pretty extensive parking search, found a spot and walked to the museum. We payed entirely too much money (by college standards) and was admitted into the exhibition. In the exhaustive and yet too brief next two

hours, we strolled through over 40 of the artist’s paintings. We eventually got separated from one another (as always seems to happen at museums) and by the time we re-joined each other at the exit gift shop, we were both ready to offer our opinions. My roommate has never been a particularly big fan of Kahlo’s works, but offered up a critique that sounded something like this: “The subject matter is so depressing, but I love her vivid color palates and bold strokes that create interesting lines and contrast.”

As I listened to her offer this critique I couldn’t help but notice how her reaction to Kahlo’s works so typified Bourdieu’s notion that a scholar is better equipped to interpret a work because “the capacity to see (voir) is a function of the knowledge (savoir)” (1810). I agreed entirely with her judgment of the paintings, yet I couldn’t help admit that I would never have formed this sentence in response to her works. My roommate saw these things because she is trained in the craft of graphic and textile design. She sees almost everything through texture, lines, and colors.

What I saw when viewing Kahlo’s works was the influence of a multi-ethnic heritage on one’s own self-understanding. I saw the influence of Hispanic culture pervading themes and assumptions within the paintings, and I saw irrationality and fragmented logic in the representation of items. Of course, my parents are a bi-racial couple, I grew up with Hispanic culture, and I study (or perhaps more accurately) critique works as an English major, always looking for a way to judge and argue, specifically in faults of logical conclusions. It became utterly clear to me, that both my roommate and I were “seeing” only through the lens of which we “know”. Therefore, you might say that we were each scholars on different aspects of the works. Our personal economy has granted each of us specific tools for decoding, and they are both equally effective, while perhaps decoding different messages.