Dark Representation

It's SO late. So late, and I am exhausted. But I've been working on a paper, in fact my last for university, ever, and it's led to a million other questions that I can only raise here. And maybe, just maybe, this little brainstorming session will help me get to the end of my paper satisfactorily.

This is a question of representation. The course is the Anthropology of Africa, and it's fascinating. Some topics have had me squirming in my seat, documentaries have had me crying, debates have had me heated, but all the while, the question has loomed: what comes to mind when you think of Africa, and what do you think Africans would like you to think of when you think of Africa?

Now, this is a multi-faceted question with a multi-faceted answer. Of the 196 independent countries in the world (though not all are recognized, particularly by the UN) 54 of those countries are part of Africa. I don't think people realize the magnitude of that ratio. Africa is huge, and its countries diverse. But for some reason, they are often lumped together to make up what is seen as a primitive, underdeveloped, war-torn region. That may be overstating it a bit, but in reality, very few Westerners are aware of the reality of Africa's diversity, and the tragedy that is our current perception of it. Consider these three countries: Egypt, Mozambique and South Africa. The elements of their geography, history, climate, their political systems, economic systems, culture systems, religious systems and a whole lot of other systems could not differ more from one another.

My paper is on the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) or just, Congo. I'm analyzing newspaper articles on this region and examining the language that is being used to describe current events, statistics and imagery, and trying to determine the common focus of newspaper articles on Africa in general. What I see continuously are death tolls, horror stories of gang rape and mass murder, genocide and warfare, economic and political systems disintegrating, and in general, death, destruction and hopelessness. What I want to suggest, is not to turn a blind eye to the reality of pain and suffering, but rather to point to another way of representing people. Finding a balance between this dark representation, and uncovering the stories underneath the stories. Seeing a people, not just the people who have ceased to exist. As anthropologists, we're constantly told to at least make an attempt at objectivity, to peel through the layers of culture and provide a "thick description." We're told to spend at least 6 months in a particular area in order to give an acceptable representation of a people and what is occurring in their day-to-day lives. I realize that there is a shortage of people who are willing to invest that kind of time and effort into such a profession. I realize that anthropology is not for everyone. And I don't want to criticize journalism as a profession, but what I see is people being flown into a crisis for a few days, a week perhaps, and taking a few snapshots of people dressed in ragged clothes, crying in the street, and saying "look at how miserable this nation is." What does this representation do to that particular group of people? Does it help them? Does this whole concept of "creating awareness" make us Westerners feel as though our sympathy is some sort of contribution? Does it make those subjects of our study, the individuals who are the focus of our awareness, feel better about what is going on around them? I do not want to suggest that we ignore the atrocities taking place around the word, I simply want to stress the importance of telling the other stories as well, the ones that are comprised of the living. The ones that paint a culture, a people, and not only after it has been decimated.

I want to know what the purpose of this dark description truly is. What the motivations are. And maybe after I've turned in my paper on Thursday, I'll have something that looks like part of an answer.