| Why Africa Has So Few Heroines |
First Published on Somali Watch Online. March 05 2000. Author Unknown
Nairobi (The Nation, March 5, 2000) - Ali Mazrui revisits Africa 's super-heroes and super-martyrs of the past and present,
and examines why there are hardly any women among them. Kwame Nkrumah once quoted William Wordsworth, the
English poet, very aptly:
"Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive But to be young was very heaven."
Wordsworth was talking about the youth during the era of the French Revolution (1789). Nkrumah was talking about the
youth in the struggle to regain Africa 's sovereignty (1950s). Those were the years of super-ideas and super-heroes. Does
the dawn of the new millennium promise Africa any new heroes?
From Heroes to Martyrs
Since independence, where have all the super-heroes gone? Great liberation fighters were not necessarily great
nation-builders. The lustre has often faded from our super-heroes for two main reasons. First, most of the leaders were not
as impressive in dealing with problems of independence as they had been in fighting for that independence.
Secondly, we (their youthful fans) grew older and lost that sense of wonderment and adoration as we "matured".
"Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?" (Wordsworth, Intimations of Immortality,
Ibid).
After independence, Africa produced a whole generation of young people deprived of super-heroes in the political domain.
Africa has had heroes, but fewer and fewer super-heroes since the last years of colonial struggle. Figures much larger than
life were more common then than now.
The one single towering political super-hero of the last years of the 20th Century has been Nelson Mandela, who has been
in a class almost by himself. Will the new millennium produce new Nelson Mandelas?
What Africa has produced instead of super-heroes in the last few decades of the 20th Century have been super-martyrs.
Heroes are symbols of achievement -- martyrs are symbols of anguish. Heroes are ultimate victors; martyrs are ultimate
victims. Steve Biko was a victim; Nelson Mandela survived to be a victor. Biko was a symbol of anguish; Mandela became
a symbol of achievement.
Kenya 's Tom Mboya was first a hero, then a martyr. On the other hand, Jomo Kenyatta was first a martyr in prison and
then a hero in power.
Eduardo Mondlane of Mozambique was, in our sense, more a martyr than a hero. Augustinho Neto of Angola was more a
hero than a martyr. Samora Machel of Mozambique was definitely a hero. But was he also a martyr? Was his plane shot
down by apartheid South Africa who then crushed him? Or did he survive the air crash and was murdered on the ground
while awaiting medical attention?
Many of the martyrs elsewhere in Africa recently have suffered at the hands of African dictators. They have been made
martyrs by fellow Africans. Ken- Sarowiwa in Nigeria was a champion of the Ogoni people and a crusader for
environmental protection. He and a number of others were brutally executed by the Abacha regime in Nigeria in 1995.
My friend and benefactor, Chief Moshood Abiola, died in 1998 on the eve of his being released from military detention. The
military regime in Nigeria may not have poisoned him, but it is virtually certain that the Abacha regime shortened his life by
five to 15 years through ruthless neglect.
Chief Abiola's last words to me were in 1974 when he called me at home in Binghamton, New York, and then at Lincoln
University in Pennsylvania, to tell me that he was going home to Nigeria to become President. When I asked for further
explanation, he simply said confidently before hanging up: "See you at the Inauguration."
I did go to see the late Gen Abacha personally to plead for Chief Abiola's release. I even used to President Abacha the
argument concerning Chief Abiola's health. But the general pooh-poohed the health arguments as a mere ruse.
Two years later, Chief Abiola died. Was it a case of heroism or martyrdom? Sometimes martyrdom can escalate to heroism
if the impact of the martyrdom leads on to new achievements -- as was the case of Nelson Mandela's own martyrdom in
prison.
But with Moshood Abiola we are still at a stage of a super-martyr rather than a super hero -- though Abiola was heroic in
non-political ways long before he was locked up. For example, he was a self-made millionaire who also became Nigeria 's
leading private philanthropist.
As a former President of the African Studies Association (ASA) of the United States , I once wrote to Chief Abiola to help
the largest African Studies body in the world which acts as a major institutional friend of Africa in the United States . I
asked Abiola for $50,000.
Within 24 hours of receiving my fax, Abiola phoned my home in Binghamton , New York , and asked for my bank account
number. I got the money and gave it to the association at a time when another donor was prepared to raise the value of
every dollar the ASA raised.
The association decided to name its annual distinguished lecture after Chief Moshood Abiola. This tradition continues every
time the association holds its annual convention. The donation was one of Abiola's many contributions to the academic
world. But he also helped the poorer sectors of Nigeria -- and often came to the rescue of the most vulnerable, especially
the children.
Just as some martyrs become bigger and bigger heroes (as in the case of Nelson Mandela), some heroes later become
bigger and bigger martyrs (as in the case of John F. Kennedy). Mandela's prison-martyrdom propelled him towards greater
and greater heroism. Kennedy's assassination propelled his memory towards greater and greater martyrdom.
Sylvanus Olympio of Togo was Africa 's first presidential martyr. He was assassinated in January 1963. Since then other
great African leaders who have been assassinated include Patrice Lumumba of Congo , Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia ,
Hendrik Verwoerd of South Africa , Murtalla Muhammad of Nigeria , Thomas Sankara of Burkina Faso , Eduardo
Mondlane of Mozambique , Anwar Sadat of Egypt , and Muhammad Farrah Aideed of Somalia .
Female Succession to Male Martyrdom
The martyrdom of male heroes in Asia has sometimes led to a phenomenon which might be called female succession to
male martyrdom. It started in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka ) when Mr. Solomon Bandaranaike was assassinated. His wife,
Sirimavo Bandaranaike, succeeded as leader of the party and eventually as Prime Minister. Their daughter many years later
seized the reins of power.
In India , Jawaharlal Nehru was not really martyred except metaphorically through his military humiliation at the hands of
the Chinese. After Nehru died in 1964 there was a brief succession by Shastri -- and then Nehru's daughter, Indira, entered
the scene. She turned out to be even tougher as a politician than her father.
In Pakistan, Zulkifar Ali Bhutto is widely regarded to have been judicially martyred by an alliance between the military and
the judiciary in Pakistan in 1977. His daughter, Benazir Bhutto, lived to fight another day and to become Prime Minister of
Pakistan twice. She is still a powerful force in Pakistan, though under siege and sometimes in exile.
In neighbouring Bangladesh, Begum Khaleda Zia and Hassina Rahman Waleda have both been Prime Ministers -- female
successors to martyred husband and to martyred father respectively. In the Philippines there was Corazon Aquino as a
female successor to her martyred husband, Benigno Aquino. In Burma (Myanmar), the Nobel Peace Laureate Aung San Suu
Kyi is a kind of female successor to a martyred father.
But what about Africa in the new millennium? So far in Africa there has not been much female succession to male
martyrdom. Although the son of Sylvanus Olympio of Togo has tried to succeed him as President, none of Olympio's
female relatives were in the running for succession.
Not many have heard of the widow of Congo's Patrice Lumumba or the widow of Nigeria's Murtalla Muhammad -- let
alone vote for their succession. Mrs Anwar Sadat of Egypt had been highly visible as First Lady -- but rapidly retreated into
obscurity after Sadat's assassination.
Neither the widow of Thomas Sankara nor that of Thomas Mboya became politically significant. If South and South-East
Asia have had such a striking series of female successors to male martyrs, why has Africa lagged behind so abysmally?
Some good things in Africa have adverse consequences for female empowerment.
For one thing, African cultures are less dynastic than most Asian cultures. Therefore, the power of heroic succession in
Africa is weaker because there is less of a dynastic pull. A related problem is that African traditional systems of inheritance
are often lateral rather than vertical. In Africa, nephews sometimes have stronger rights than sons and daughters; uncles
may have more authority than parents. This makes political succession less neat.
Thirdly, African rulers and even African presidents are more likely to leave behind children by several different mothers than
Asian heads of state are likely to do. Big men in Africa are, on the whole, more polygamous than big men in Asia.
Indeed, Chief Moshood Abiola, widely regarded to have been elected President of Nigeria in June 1993, left behind several
widows upon his death in July 1998. When he took me to his home in Lagos once, he introduced me to two vastly different
wives -- one was relatively traditionalist and the other was a professional with a doctorate degree.
Yet, paradoxically, it is Moshood Abiola's family that has come closest so far to producing potential female successors to
male martyrs in the Asian sense. When Moshood was still in jail, one of his wives got increasingly politicised -- so much so
that Kudirat Abiola was herself martyred. She was assassinated in 1996.
Abiola's children are getting increasingly politicised. Kudirat's daughter, Hafisat, a Harvard graduate, has already revealed
considerable leadership and eloquence skills as a youth-leader in the United States. She is a potential female successor to the
martyrdom of both her father and mother. In the 1980s in Southern Africa, Winnie Mandela was a different kind of female
successor to her husband's (Nelson Mandela's) martyrdom in jail. She did become a symbol of the anti-apartheid struggle in
her own right.
But apart from the Abiolas and the Mandelas, Africa has not been a fertile ground for this kind of female empowerment.
And even in the case of the Abiolas and the Mandelas, the women have yet to attain the kind of pinnacles of power
(super-heroes?) attained by such Asian women as Benazir Bhutto, Seremavo Bandaranaike and Indira Gandhi.
The golden age of more authentic super-heroes in 20th Century African history was indeed the age of the struggle for
independence and the struggle against white-minority rule. The unsung super-heroes were often women who took great
risks.
In the 1980s, Winnie Mandela became the most famous African woman of the decade. She was harassed, banned, detained
and humiliated by the apartheid regime -- but she kept the flame of the struggle alive. Winnie was by no means an unsung
hero but her heroism was often celebrated more abroad than at home.
More clearly unsung were most of the women of Zimbabwe. In the bushes and forests of Zimbabwe during the struggle
against Ian Smith's regime, there were many women liberation fighters. They did not pass unnoticed -- but they often
passed unsung.
More recognised than Zimbabwe fighters, but less visible than Winnie Mandela, was Nontsikelelo Albertina Sisulu, who
became President of the Federation of South African Women in 1983, and President of the United Democratic Front in the
same year. She was married both to the super-hero Walter Sisulu and to the liberation struggle. She still managed to bring
up five children. It is no wonder that many observers feel that whether or not women are heroes or heroines, the gender
injustices of this world always ensure that women are indeed martyrs.
In the 21st Century, we need once again to reverse the trend from martyrdom back to super-heroism among both men and
women in Africa