Ikhide:
I thought you were critiquing your own genealogy of perspectives on Nigeria (see the cut-and-paste below) and had to slap my forehead before realizing that it is actually your critique of Noo Saro-Wiwa's book Looking for Transwonderland! How nice!
Kwabena.
"Instead several chapters are devoted to narrating what the alert reader already knows about Nigeria, very little of which is good. The analysis is rushed and the condescension is cutting, with little compassion and reflection on why things are the way they are. Those who write from the vantage point of the West tend to look at Africa using Western civilization as an asymptote. Black Africa compares very unfavorably with the West for many reasons, including the rank ineptitude and thievery of many of the leaders that sent many of us, their children, abroad away from the unnecessary roughness that they have turned Black Africa into… There is this neediness, acertain desperation to link us to a preferred civilization, to assert our humanity, in a way that pleases the preferred civilization. It is an asymptote…So, without reading the book, you can imagine what Saro-Wiwa has to say about Nigeria: The dysfunction, the incompetence, the comedy of errors, the corruption, the violence, the patriarchy, the misogyny, the pathetic mimicry of everything Western, the new Christianity, the spiritual and physical decay, she records all in painstaking detail… Like many Diaspora writers, Saro-Wiwa's energies are devoted almost solely to whining about Africa's numerous failings and offering very little in terms of substantive analysis and solutions. When she does, her solutions are alarmingly simplistic. As an aside, Nigerian writers have to decide whether they want to be writers or armchair social activists. They have been saying the same things for too long, it gets old and exhausting.."
Date: Wed, 27 Jun 2012 14:17:06 -0700
From: xokigbo@yahoo.com
Subject: USA Africa Dialogue Series - Noo Saro-Wiwa: Peering into Nigeria ever so darkly
To: USAAfricaDialogue@googlegroups.com; Ederi@yahoogroups.com
"The plane broke through the clouds and swung low over a sea of palm trees that abruptly became endless tracts of metal rooftops. That vista still choked my heart with dread. I made my way through the airport's mustiness and out through the exit, where I was ambushed by the clammy aroma of gasoline, so familiar and potent."
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