An interview in which Dr. Yusuf Bangura makes so many interesting
observations about Sierra Leone and his eight year stint at Ahmadu
Bello University in Nigeria. A little point of discrepancy though: He
reminisces, "one of my best friends, Ernest Williams, a fresh FBC
graduate at the time, who was also teaching at the same school, earned
63 Leones" This is difficult to fathom. I worked at Mathura a girls
secondary school in the North of Sierra Leone from mid August to 31st
December 1969 and earned something like 250 leones plus free housing
and a transport /car allowance. This was when Ms Jonah was the
principal.....63 leones? My memory is not playing tricks on me and
there could surely not have been such uneven salaries paid to Sierra
Leone graduate school teachers.?
http://www.thepatrioticvanguard.com/spip.php?article6557
Exclusive Interview: Dr. Yusuf Bangura Speaks on the Past, the Present
and the Future
- Friday 8 June 2012.
Sierra Leonean academic giant Dr. Yusuf Bangura (photo) lives in
Geneva, Switzerland. He has lived and worked in that city for quite a
long time as part of the UN establishment there. In this interview
with PV publisher Gibril Koroma, he talks about the past, the present
and the future in both Sierra Leone and Nigeria while sharing his own
personal experiences. Ladies and gentlemen, here is Dr. Bangura:
Patriotic Vanguard: Please briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
Yusuf Bangura: My name is Yusuf Bangura. I recently retired from the
United Nations Research Institute for Social Development in Geneva
after working for 22 years on a range of research projects. My last
major assignment was the coordination of the Institute's flagship
report Combating Poverty and Inequality: Structural Change, Social
Policy and Politics, which was published in 2010. I have worked on
diverse subjects in the field of development, covering numerous
countries and regions around the world. Before joining UNRISD in 1990,
I taught political science at the Ahmadu Bello University in Nigeria
for eight years and at Dalhousie University in Canada for a year. I
was also a visiting researcher at Uppsala University and Stockholm
University in Sweden from 1988-1989.
My basic training was in international political economy at the London
School of Economics and Political Science, where I did my
undergraduate and doctoral studies. I wrote my PhD dissertation on the
declining role of the pound sterling as an international currency and
the political economy of decolonization in Africa. I left Sierra Leone
in 1971 when I was 21 years old. I attended Samaria primary school and
Prince of Wales school in Freetown, and did my sixth form at the St.
Edward's Secondary School, also in Freetown. Before proceeding to the
LSE in 1971, I taught English and Geography for a year at the Services
Secondary School at Juba. I'm married to Kadiatu (formerly Mansaray),
and we have two children: Mariama, who is 29 years old, and Bangali,
who is 20.
PV: You grew up in Sierra Leone in the 50s, at a time when life was
not so bad, I guess. Please share with us how things were in Sierra
Leone in those days.
YB: I have very fond memories of life in Sierra Leone in the 1950s and
1960s. I grew up in an environment where hard work was admired and
rewarded; and the basic institutions for progress, such as schools,
hospitals, public utilities, and the bureaucracy functioned very well,
even though their social reach was limited. It was relatively easy for
children from poor backgrounds with access to these services to make
progress and eventually join the ranks of the middle class. Most of
the friends I grew up with believed that we had a bright future. We
also believed that we had a capable state that would help us realize
our dreams.
Let me give you one example that I believe changed the trajectory of
my life. During the 1960s and 1970s, the Sierra Leone government had
what was called a "National Scholarship" award for students with the
best grades at the GCE "A Level" examinations. Recipients of these
scholarships were entitled to study at any university in Britain or
any other country in the Commonwealth. This was a great incentive for
students to focus on their studies and travel abroad. The names of
successful students would be announced on the radio and the
newspapers, turning such students into celebrities among their peers.
I decided in my second year at sixth form that I should compete for
the award. I scaled down most of my social engagements, including my
participation in the very popular "Common Entrance Outing" organized
by Freetown's youth at the fabulous beaches of Lumley, Godrich, Laka
and Number Two River. And it paid off. It confirmed the argument in
one of the most fascinating non-fictional general books that I've read
Outlier: The Story of Success, by Malcolm Gladwell, about the value of
hard work, or what he called "the 10,000 hour rule", as opposed to
simple talent, to understand success.
The other interesting thing about the scholarship award was that the
Sierra Leone state had the infrastructure at the Ministry of Education
to help students handle their applications to foreign universities and
provide guidance about how to live in foreign countries. The ministry
handled all matters related to passports and visas and we were given
an allowance to help us settle down in the first month of our arrival
in Britain. There was an "Education Attaché" at the Sierra Leone High
Commission in London that handled student affairs. It paid our fees to
the universities and transferred our subsistence grants to our bank
accounts every month without any of us having to go to the High
Commission to pressure officials to make the payments. I was a
beneficiary of this caring and efficient state for seven years. If you
did well in your undergraduate studies, the state would extend the
scholarship even up to PhD level, which happened in my case. I recall
when in 1974, I applied for the M.Phil course, which was a condition
for admission to a PhD programme, my undergraduate tutor wanted me to
apply for a university scholarship. I told him that we should not
worry about finance, as I was confident that I would get a Sierra
Leone government scholarship. I was deeply nationalistic.
I always tell my children that those of us who were born between 1940
and 1970 were very lucky to enjoy Sierra Leone's heritage of sound
human capital. We had a university that was one hundred and twenty
years older than the next generation of universities that the British
built in Ibadan in Nigeria, Legon in Ghana, and Makerere in Uganda in
the 1940s. Indeed, many of the early post-colonial elites in these and
other African countries were largely trained in Sierra Leone. And our
primary and secondary schools were truly first rate. I will always
remember our Economics and Government teacher at sixth form, Denis
Williams, who taught us how to get at the heart of an issue, develop
complex arguments and question everything.
I would like to highlight one other point about the 1950s and 1960s:
the standard of living for the growing elite, including the lower
middle class of teachers, nurses and clerks was good. I earned 36
Leones a month as a secondary school teacher at Juba, and one of my
best friends, Ernest Williams, a fresh FBC graduate at the time, who
was also teaching at the same school, earned 63 Leones. The school
gave every teacher a generous monthly transport allowance of 20
Leones. Ernest and I were able to hire a taxi on a contract basis to
take us to Juba every morning, and collect us from school in the
afternoon and take us home at Campbell Street every school day for a
whole year.
PV: You taught at universities in Nigeria the 80s during the oil boom
in the midst of military rule.What were your experiences as a
university lecturer at the time?
YB: I went to Nigeria in 1980, at the tail end of the oil boom, which
began to show signs of decline by 1982. I stayed until 1988, when the
crisis became deep and the military government was fighting various
groups on the campuses and the wider society in its efforts to impose
an IMF-inspired austerity programme. Much of my research focused on
trying to understand the origins and dynamics of the crisis, the
highly mismanaged and unpopular structural adjustment programme, and
the contestation between unions and the state in managing the crisis
and adjustment programme. I immersed myself fully in the Nigerian
social science community and network of groups advocating progressive
social change. I was warmly embraced by colleagues, students and
social activists. Even today, many Nigerians who have not met me
believe that I'm a Nigerian. Some of my closest friends are Nigerian.
Indeed, Nigeria is another home. I try to keep abreast of developments
there.
Three things stand out for me in my engagement with Nigeria. The first
is the sheer size of the informed middle class and social movements.
There are more than 100 universities and 40 big towns with a fair
amount of public provisions and civic life, making citizens less
dependent on Lagos or Abuja. Nigeria in this sense is not like Sierra
Leone (or indeed, most African countries), where you have to be in the
capital to access basic services or engage in serious debate. Public
debate is vibrant; and even under military rule, it was difficult to
control dissent even as popular resistance was weakened and
organizations were banned.
The second amazing thing about Nigeria is that there is a radical or
Left-wing tendency in most of the associations and movements that
engage the state or advocate change. This is particularly evident in
the trade union movement, the academic staff union of universities,
the students movement, the Bar association, the association of
journalists, the medical association, and the women's movement. The
party system also had a strong radical tendency, especially in the
North, before the two party system was imposed by the military. Even
then, a labour party with strong ties to the trade unions is fully
registered and governs one of the 36 states.
The third point about Nigeria is what I will call a seemingly strong
belief among the intellectual and political elite that their country
is destined to lead Africa. Sierra Leone has been a big beneficiary of
this pan-African disposition. Nigeria spent millions of dollars and
lost thousands of its soldiers through the West African force, ECOMOG,
to end our brutal war. It is one of the few African countries that is
not easily cowed by foreign powers. Indeed, it always resists foreign
dictation, even though transnational enterprises dominate its economy
and the political elite messes things up when they make their own
choices. Part of this autonomy in the foreign policy field is due to
its lack of dependence on foreign aid and access to massive oil
revenues, which unfortunately benefit the political and business elite
much more than the masses.
PV: Coming back to Sierra Leone, the ugly spectre of ethnocentrism
(known as tribalism in the country) is once again rearing its head. As
somebody who has done extensive work on ethnicity please share with us
your thoughts on this problem in Sierra Leonean politcs.
YB: Ethnic diversity is not pathological. Indeed, it should be seen as
a virtue, as it enriches the social life of a nation. As the saying
goes "variety is the spice of life". The problem is when diversity is
transformed into a discourse of "us" versus "them", with gate keepers
who can pronounce on membership, making it difficult for individuals
to straddle different groups. This can lead to a polarized environment
that can plunge societies into conflict. If a country's ethnic
structure is such that two or three large groups are numerically
dominant and inequalities assume ethnic lines, the political elite is
likely to have a field day in manipulating ethnic divisions,
especially during the electoral cycle. Sierra Leone's ethnic structure
is bipolar, which unfortunately has produced two dominant parties that
are highly ethno-regional in character. Voting patterns under
multiparty rule have largely been ethno-regional, except in 2002 when
most voters wanted the tenuous peace they were enjoying to be
consolidated and 70 percent of them decided to vote for the incumbent.
As the November elections approach, politicians and their media
supporters have been trying to exploit ethnic divisions for electoral
gain. This applies to both parties. They operate on a simple logic:
protect your ethno-regional terrain and divide the ethno-regional
terrain of your opponent. When the APC started to make inroads in
Kailahun, commentators that were sympathetic to the party wrote
articles that pitted the Kisi against the Mende. Recently,
commentators with links to the SLPP have been trying to set up the
Temne against the Loko and Limba in the North. The most ridiculous
assertion is that the president has been fooling the Temne all along
that he is Temne when in actual fact he is a Loko, having revealed his
Loko identity in a public rally at the national stadium. Those who
make this statement do not ask whether it is wrong for a Loko to be
president, or indeed whether someone cannot belong to more than one
ethnic group, and whether the Loko are the main beneficiaries of
government appointments and development programmes.
Ethnic identity is a very complex issue. It is not fixed in stone. It
evolves continuously, and can be highly situational, making it
difficult to pin someone down to a single identity that transcends
time. The situation is even more complex for large groups as the Temne
and Mende. Take the Temne, for instance. Their growth as the dominant
group in the North has been achieved by incorporating individuals from
smaller ethnic groups. The main influences are the Soso, Yalunka,
Madingo, Limba, Loko and Fula. This is why most Temne carry the
surnames of these smaller ethnic groups. Surnames like Bangura and
Kamara originate from the Soso. I recall when I first came to the UN
at the Palais des Nations, there were quite a few Guineans of Soso
ethnicity who thought I was Soso, because the Banguras in Guinea are
Soso. They were shocked when I told them I could only speak Temne, not
Soso, even though I could trace my lineage to Soso. My father spoke
both Soso and Temne, and my mother spoke only Temne even though she
told us that her father was Loko. They were born and raised at Mange
Bureh where most people have either Bangura or Kamara as surnames. No
one at Mange speaks Soso anymore. My parents raised us as Temne in
Freetown. Similarly, the Fula at Gbinti have been converted to Temne.
One of my mother's best friends in Freetown, Jamilatu Jalloh, who was
from Gbinti, spoke only Temne. Surnames such as Conteh, Sesay and
Koroma that many Temne carry are from the Madingo; and Kanu can be
traced to the Loko. I think that the original Temne surnames that have
survived are Gbla, Kaloko, Kabia (probably from the Madingo Kabba),
Sankoh (probably from the Madingo Saccoh) and Taqi.
PV: As an academic and former top diplomat, we assume, now that you
have some time for yourself, that you would use some of that time to
help your native country, Sierra Leone, as she struggles with
development issues. If our assumption is correct, in what way do you
plan to do this?
YB: My plan is to relocate to Sierra Leone at some point and
contribute to the development that is underway. The current
development agenda on infrastructure, energy, health and agriculture
seems focused, even though there are major difficulties that need to
be overcome. My contribution will be in the field that I know best---
education. I would like to work on the supply side of development---
training young people at the university, developing their research and
analytical capacity, building educational infrastructure, and
contributing to development policy discussion. No development is
sustainable without good universities. The countries that have been
able to transform their economies –those in East Asia---place a high
premium on education. Their universities are now ranked highly in the
global ranking of universities. There is no reason why our premier
university, which will be 200 years old in 2027, cannot achieve the
same.
As a beneficiary of state educational grants in the 1970s, I have a
very strong urge to pay back my debt. I can do this in three ways.
First, I can tap into my large global research network in the field of
development to improve on the curricula in the social science faculty,
link students and other faculty members to research and study
opportunities overseas, and encouraging Sierra Leonean Diaspora
academics and scholars from other countries and regions to spend some
time in our national universities. Second, funding can be sought from
various sources to promote large faculty-wide research programmes.
This will help tip the balance in favour of domestic research and away
from consultancies that usually respond to the short term needs of
donors. It can lead to the establishment of a centre for development
research at the university that will not only conduct primary
research, but will be able to engage government and the wider society
on public policy issues. Sierra Leone is one of the few countries
without a research and public policy think tank on development. Third,
the visibility of young scholars can be raised by encouraging and
working with them to publish books with established publishers and
articles in reputable journals.
I would also like to use my retirement to do a lot of writing, and
maintain my research contacts at the sub-region and globally.
PV: Thank you very much, Doc. We wish you a pleasant retirement and
look forward to more articles from you whenever you find the time.
--
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