I am currently reading an excellent, yet profoundly depressing,
history book called The Kaiser's Holocaust.*
I was reading with wonder the description of the European
justifications for
colonialism from divine superiority of the white people over other
races to social Darwinism whereby the very ability of the Europeans
to savagely annihilate peoples
with their superior
fire-power was seen as evidence of the unfitness of such peoples to
survive and the justification
of their destruction by stronger people, more fit to rule and
populate the earth.
Then I came across a description of
a phenomenon that startled me. It was not that “freak shows” and
“human zoos” were in
themselves new to
me. We've all heard of the
history of shows in European
and American cities in the 19th
century where captured people were paraded, sometimes even in a fake
setting of their “natural habitat”, for white city-dwellers to
ogle at and wonder about their “exoticism”. But this time it
created an association that pierced
the moral superiority that
I'd been feeling while reading.
I
had recently watched a documentary called “Milking the Rhino”**,
which “examines the relationship
between the indigenous African wildlife, the villagers who live
amongst this wildlife and conservationists who look to keep tourism
dollars coming in.”***
Part of the movie is filmed at a Himba conservancy in the
Marienfluss valley in Namibia. There is no denying the fact that the
traditional
Himba lifestyle
will seem exotic to a Westener, even the modern, world-travelled
generations.
One
particular scene in this fascinating film had totally irked me. It
was a discussion between a local conservationist and the owner (or
manager) of an eco-tourism lodge that had been set up in the
conservancy. The owner (a white woman, of course) was telling the
conservationist that he should tell the locals not to whip out their
merchandise as soon as they see the jeeps carrying the tourists
arriving, but to act more normal, going about their daily business,
and interact with the tourists first on a non-commercial basis. She
was basically telling him (and the camera) that the white wealthy
tourists were coming to ogle at the exotic Himba in their natural
habitat, and they should behave like good zoo creatures and succumb
to the gaze, rather than try to benefit from these strangers that
invaded their village by offering souvenirs to sell to them.
The era of white people wanting to
look not just at a lion but also a “Hottentot”**** in
their zoos is not over. Now we are just illuminated enough to think
that zoos are cruel and wealthy
enough to be able to travel
to see the lions as well as the Hottentots in Africa
for ourselves.
I thought I recognised (and
resisted) this tendency in the past. I have always condemned misery
tourism to
places like
North Korea and I was disdainful of the tours that were organised in
Windhoek to Katutura, the biggest township, considering them poverty
porn. I knew this was not
the way to do things, but was I so innocent myself? Are my own
interactions with or attitudes towards different cultures any less
racist?
It is hard to know what is
acceptable
these days. On the one hand misery tourism or treating tribespeople
as zoo animals is obviously wrong. But on the other hand, we can't
be too eagerly embracing other people's cultures either, or we get
accused of cultural appropriation. I recently heard that accusation
levelled at Western yoga enthusiasts.
I don't think just sticking to our
own culture and shutting the doors can be the answer either – and
I'm not just saying this as someone who loves her nachos, curry,
pad thai, falafels and pizzas and shudders at the thought of a life
without the offerings of world cuisine. Understanding
others helps us get along, respect others and critically evaluate and
sometimes improve our own way of doing things.
So my tentative conclusion is that
the key has to be engagement, respect and understanding. I'm not
sure I need to know the historical and culinary roots of my nachos in
order to enjoy them (hell, I don't know the historical or culinary
roots of most of Finnish food), but if I don't love the food for the
taste of it or the music for the sound of it or the painting for the
look of it – if it rather tastes or sounds or looks exotic to me –
then I should investigate further, but in a careful way. I am
reminded of the time we visited the hurly-burly of the massive meat
market in Katutura in Windhoek and I was watching with a mixture of
fascination and horror the way the butchers just hacked up entire
animals there, in the open air market, cutting up pieces that were
then tossed on the braai and sold to hungry people waiting. I may
even have snapped a photo of the forlorn cow head dumped in the
corner of the market for flies to feast upon. But I made zero effort
to engage or understand why this was the way it was done and what the
local people thought of it. I was just another tourists ogling at
the exotic customs of the Namibians. Maybe
I'll be a bit more aware next time.
*David Olusoga and Casper W. Erichsen, Faber & Faber, 2010.
**David E. Simpson, Kartemquin Films, 2009.
****A
very derogatory term that actually originally referred to the Nama
people of Central/Southern
Namibia, I have also just learnt.
