But, every few months we hear yet again how much we’re spending and how that money could add up to a vacation or home over the years. “Skip that $5 latté and save hundreds”. Listen, I am the last person you’ll meet who will tell you to skip the pleasure that comes with a great cup of coffee! But, as for skipping the daily trip to the coffee shop; well, the math makes sense. Let’s do a simple problem to see:

I’m using a conservative estimate of $4 per cup of latté or other gourmet coffee (many run more than $4). At that price though, your daily cup costs you $1460 per year! Once you have caught your breath, join me for the rest of my math homework… don’t worry, the rest is so much easier to swallow!

Making coffee at home on the other hand costs less than 1/4 the price:

• Coffee grinder: $15-$20
• Coffee maker: $30-50
• Incredible tasting fair trade coffee for a year: $312

_____________
$382 (using highest estimates)

So, you want a fancy latté or mocha? Add the following to your totals:

• Hand-held frother: $12-$15 (FREE if you sign up for our 6 month or 1 year coffee of the month club)
• Omanhene cocoa: $7.50 (per tin)

At the end of the day, your coffee cost stays the same annually and you only have to “invest” in the grinder, coffee maker and hand-held frother once.

Is it great to save so much money? Of course it is! But, money isn’t everything is it? Sure, it’s great that it only takes about 10 minutes a day (less than the time it takes to wait in line for your coffee). The best part of it all is: FLAVOR!! You will wonder why you waited so long.

Most companies have huge mark-ups on coffee and farmers see very little of the price that you pay. But, since all of our coffees are fair trade, you’ll have the bonus of knowing that you are supporting farmers who are being paid a fair price for their beans. Additionally, you’ll be helping African women and children through the donations that are made to the organizations we work with (a portion of all sales on MamaAfrika.com).

So here are my Top 3 reasons to join Mama’s Coffee of the Month Club:

1. High quality fresh-roasted coffees (mailed only days after roasting!).
2. Fair trade (and your built-in donation) means helping the poor live better lives.
3. You’ll save enough money to treat yourself to something else wonderful (a plane ticket, a couple of incredible dinners or whatever else makes you smile)

Our coop members will thank you (and so will your wallet!)

But, all of them have one thing I common: they overcame obstacles while walking the on the high road.  You see, it isn’t some angel that comes down from heaven and makes you a saint by decree.  These people were just that: people.

What makes us different in the end? It certainly isn’t our potential because we all have that.  I’d argue that it’s our choices. Let’s face it, it isn’t easy to act with patience or kindness when the person we have facing us is particularly difficult, crass or disrespectful.  We know the “right thing to do”; but we tend to be focused on our own goals, our own pride, our own needs and those daily struggles which seem to sometimes remove our ability to see the much greater picture.  It is part of being human after all.

Let me be very clear: I am not writing this in an attempt to convert you to a different religion or to burden you with guilt. What I want you to know though is that the reason that saints are so wonderfully important to me is that they show me what can be done… because they have done it.

Superheroes in their capes are great fun.  But because they are fictional characters, they are only that: fun.  We can dress up to look like them; but it doesn’t make us able to fly or shoot spider webs from our hands.

Saints though have done those things that we strive to do and they’ve done it under the harshest of circumstances.  The one thing they all have in common is that they didn’t let go of their belief of what is right.  So, whether you believe in literal saints or not and regardless of how or to whom you pray; isn’t this something that we can all agree on: Miracles are possible and regular people are the tools that make it happen.

Many of you have worked to improve the lives of others, some of whom you will never meet.  To those people, you were saints. Perhaps you (like me!) wouldn’t want people to know all of the errors you’ve committed in life. You might not want to have your mistakes printed in the local newspaper.  The thing is that is why you are human.  I know I’d never come close to passing even the most rudimentary stages of the scrutiny involved in attaining sainthood! But, I can say that I look to the perfect example of how to be and it inspires me to know that even I can be a concrete tool for the creation of good things in the life of someone else.

When I imagine myself throwing a dinner party for a group of saints, I think of whom I’d like to have next to me for interesting dinner conversation and many of you would be invited. Among my guest list would be a few friends like Geoff, Nigel, Kathleen, Tomas, Ida, Paul, Dominic, Freweini… Hmm, now that I think about it: It would have to be a really large dinner table!

There are hundreds of people whose paths have crossed mine over the years who have made me strive to work harder, smarter and more faithfully to improve the lives of African women and children.  There are those who simply stopped to encourage me along my own journey.  Many others skipped one of life’s little pleasures in order to make a small donation to our cause.  I’ve met women who decided to offer their own child one less gift for their birthday or at Hanukkah or Christmas in order to donate so that one of our coop members could see her child receive a present or school supplies.  We have received orders for multiple gift baskets with a note that says that someone is committing to only offering fair and ethically traded gifts to their friends and family.  Some businesses decide to throw an office party using our larger gift baskets instead of offering small individual gifts to their employees.

Then there are those who pray for our women, fundraise for them or invite me to come speak so that we can spread the word about concrete and efficient ways to help. Every single person who acts is a piece of the puzzle. Every individual is a saint to us.

Happy All Saints Day everyone and thanks so much for each act, each purchase and each voice… we’d be nowhere without them!

Love,

Mama

One of those strange events in life is on the horizon… a baby will be born somewhere and without anyone knowing it, they will become the 7 billionth member of our collective family.

If you told that to a child, they’d expect some big party for the new tiny member of our family.  They’d probably envision balloons and cake or perhaps dancing and singing.  But, no; this child will instead enter the world without any special fanfare or cheering.  In fact, most of us won’t even know who they are.  The only real thing that can be guaranteed is that a woman will give birth in order for it to happen.

Beyond that, there is nothing that even assures that this baby will be welcomed with open arms into its own family, nor healthy, nor destined to be a world leader or cure cancer.  When all’s said and done, it will be another baby with the same potential as the others.

But for us, it will also be another chance.  You see, this child will be another chance for us to get it right.  Although this tiny boy or girl might be born on the other side of the world, you are connected to their happiness and success in life.  If it’s a girl child who will face discrimination, genital mutilation or other abuses during her lifetime because we didn’t act to ensure human rights; are we not partly to blame?  If it is a boy who will grow up watching his mother struggle to provide even the most basic needs for him or if he grows up without the most basic rights; are we not partially to blame?

At the end of the day though, this little one is no more or less precious than all of the other babies which will be born before or after her.  Being the 7 billionth doesn’t make them of any more or less inherent value than all of God’s children.  Your babies or mine, a Fulani child or a Quebecois child, they all deserve the same health, safety and freedoms.

So, as the news coverage begins in full swing about this little one’s birth turning our population figures from six billion to seven… remember all of those babies being born, no matter where they are and think of what future they will face at least in part due to our daily choices.

As for me, I will continue to speak the truth when and as I see it.  I will continue to be the voice of those little girls in India or China who might not survive their mother’s womb because they aren’t as desired as a little baby boy.  I will continue to speak out for freedom of speech so that children can one day grow up and speak from their hearts instead of speaking out of fear.  I’ll keep working each day so that mothers across the world can support African mothers as they try to provide food, education opportunities and basic care to their children.  Why don’t you join the fight for this 7 billionth baby’s future and for the future of those babies born both before and after him?

And as for you little one, wherever you are born, to whomever you are born… Mama Afrika loves you!

This is the first time that the international community has used the term “famine” since almost a million Ethiopians died of starvation in 1984.  And, as with that situation, we could see the lead-up and it was clearly predictable.

One issue is rarely discussed during the “panic stage” of the immediate crisis is bad land policy and goodness knows there is enough to talk about where that subject is concerned!  With better land policy, many governments could avoid facing the cyclical problem of starvation, food aid, starvation…  Instead, so many are content to defend the redistribution (forcibly) of the land of small family-owned farms giving millions of acres to foreign governments instead of investing in local farmers who will produce food not only for their own families; but for the nation at large.

The biggest losers in this continually bad decision making process are women and children.  Women produce 80% to 90% of Africa’s food and that means that no one eats if African women aren’t given the tools that they need to be successful.  Land is the most basic of those needs.  Unfortunately, only 5% of all titled land belongs to women in Africa and the same percentage applies to women in training and extended services.  So, the numbers are simply turned on their heads: 90% of food production by women; yet more than 90% of the time, they are not who governments look to help.  This is bad math, plain and simple.

So, understanding that women are the backbone of domestic food production, one wonders why there is little or no technical support for these women farmers.  It is even more worrisome once you learn that in places where women are targeted through even small pilot programs which encourage (and train) women to have small plots of land called “city gardens”; food production increases.  This is a huge benefit for their children who then have access to more nutrition.  Many of us who work in development in Africa can tell you that investing in women produces real and lasting results.  It is a sad shame that so many international organizations and government don’t seem to get the point!

I’m certainly not an expert on the subject; but I think that the most important things to address if we really want to solve the problem in the long-term are these:

• Women must have independent access to land if we want to eradicate poverty.  With ownership, they will gain the ability to make decisions and get loans among other things.
• Lack of human rights, women’s rights among them, is an issue that might not come to mind immediately when thinking about famine; but it is certainly a relevant topic.  Consider the following:
  • Currently, even amid one of the worst famines in decades, the Islamist group, Al-Shabaab of Somalia is refusing to allow food to be delivered to the starving, considering aid agencies as “infidels”.  Many governmental organizations (in the U.S. and elsewhere) are concerned (legitimately, in my view)
  • Flashback to the past:  This problem isn’t anything new or original.  Using the poor as a weapon is done more often than you may know.  During the terrible famine in the Horn of Africa, the Ethiopian government refused to allow aid through to Eritrea (before Eritrea got independence.) arguing that it could fall into the hands of “the enemy”.
  • Acts such as burning trees, crops, etc. in order to prevent people from supporting rebel or government forces is an all too common “weapon” used during conflicts.  Act such as these can even cause or exacerbate famine, even more so if there is a drought.
• It is simply not possible to have food security without general security.  How can we expect crop returns to matter in areas where people are fleeing from conflict or being chased out of their homes and villages? The lists of countries is a long one; but one need look no further than the Horn of Africa for starters.  But the same has been true in many parts of the continent.
• The lack of long-term planning creates strong, powerful “aid” agencies.  But, who is ultimately being aided?  It seems a fair assessment to state that the creation of hundreds of high-paying jobs in the humanitarian sector is not what will aid the development of Africa and improve the lives of women or their families.
• Rural credit access must be available to women as well as training and information concerning markets, etc.
• High global food prices are making (and will continue to make) buying food aid even more difficult.  We keep hearing about this; but isn’t it even more important to ask ourselves why on earth food aid is being brought in from countries like the United States when there are African countries able to export food instead?  It seems like a pretty common sense solution after all: Let the women of one African nation provide food for others who need it.  Even in urgent situations where food aid is needed; why aren’t international organizations supporting regional African farmers so that they can further prevent poverty for Africans?
• Development policies which consider the specific needs of women (versus men).  Policies crafted around men’s needs are not always the most efficient or helpful for women; so why aren’t women being consulted at local, national and international levels when policy is being developed?

This is an old problem and we are in need of new thinking.  We must stop repeating the errors of the past and expected new results.  That is after all, the very definition of insanity, right?

OK, so now is the most important part: Tell me YOUR viewpoint!  As I always say: “Everyone has something to add to the discussion! Let us talk, then, get to work on the long-term solutions”
Love,

Mama

You see, ever since I starting selling fair trade (and often organic) African coffees… I fell in love. I had no earthly idea what I was missing all of those years! Once I learned “the basics” from my coffee roaster, my life was changed.  I’m talking night and day here!  I still remember that first shipment of freshly roasted African coffee: I didn’t even have to open the box to smell it: incredible to the senses!  I ground a batch immediately and put it into my regular old Mr. Coffee, adjusting the setting to “strong”.  With those few little bits of advice from our roaster… my life transformed.

I still don’t feel that “eyes wide open” feeling that many of you get from coffee.  But, I smile a little bit less in the morning when I don’t have my “cup of Africa” as we call it in my house.  You see, I am in love with African coffees now.  In love with the deep rich flavor that comes with freshly ground beans that wree roasted just days before.  I’m going to share with you the tips that I’ve learned over the years.  Some seem elementary; but if you are used to that “other stuff”; many of these steps aren’t worth the time they take.  After all, if you are using coffee that was ground months ago… the type of water might not make much difference!  Try these steps though… all of them… and you might just find out what I did: Coffee is magical. It’s a way to enjoy travel: Every morning, I feel like I’m sitting with a dear friend in Ethiopia, Kenya, Zambia or Zimbabwe and drinking in the sounds and sights of Africa while sipping that simple pleasure called coffee.  Join me!

10 Steps to a Great Cup of Coffee

1. Believe it or not, you really don’t need an expensive espresso machine to make a great cup of coffee.
2. Always use freshly roasted beans.  Coffee loses flavor over time; so freshly roasted beans are always your best bet.
3. Clean your grinder and coffee brewer regularly to prevent build-up of oils which can alter the flavor of your coffee and eventually give it a rancid flavor.
4. Grind your coffee beans immediately before brewing. Exposure to air slowly makes coffee grounds taste stale.
5. Use the right setting on your grinder (depending on your brew method).
6. Don’t be afraid of making mistakes: start with 2 tablespoons of coffee per 6 ounces of water.  Adjust based on your personal taste.
7. The higher the quality of the water, the better the quality of your coffee.
8. When making drip coffee, it is best to stir or swirl the pot when finished to thoroughly mix the coffee because the coffee toward the bottom will be stronger since it was brewed first.
9. If you are making your coffee in advance; don’t leave your coffee on the burner or warmer or it can scorch and change the flavor.  Use a thermos instead.
10. If you want to remember only one phrase I’ve written, make it this one: Freshly roasted, freshly ground, freshly brewed… and fair trade of course!

Where does the time go? Despite spending the past few months getting ready for our 10th anniversary celebration; I still can’t seem to believe that I’ve been doing this for 10 years already! It sounds completely cliché I’m sure; but it is still true: It feels like yesterday that I got my first sample of baskets in the mail from Africa! 10 years… it’s crazy!

One of the 1st cooperatives Mama started working with (Ghana)

So, where has the time gone? Well, over the years, we’ve managed to rebuild houses, invest in tree planting, pay for the training of new cooperative members, send eyeglasses, school supplies and textbooks to countries across the continent. We’ve made donations to the elderly, the sick and to many schools. We have added new product categories and made so very many new friends.

I’ve been invited to speak and teach in local schools, international festivals and to groups like the Rotary Club. I’ve hugged cooperative members and dear friends like Paul from Uganda, Elizabeth from South Africa and been blessed with the cheerful attitude of now world-renowned artist Janet Akii-Bua of Uganda.

Over the years, I have answered questions such as “What is a dictator?” and yes, even offered help to the occasional German, Canadian or American high school or college student when they were stumped on their homework. I’ve listened to people’s excitement about their recent trip to Africa and heard tales of a passing conversation about an issue related to African women.

I’ve sold our products online, in a shop, at a booth on a military base, and yes once even from the trunk of my car (desperate times call for desperate measures… and this lady was desperate for a gift!).

We’ve increased our product lines and the number of countries we trade with. We’ve sold hundreds of baskets, pounds of chocolate, dozens and dozens of carvings and you know what? We are just getting started!

I’ve learned many lessons, made many great connections and even more dear friends. Yes, 10 years seems like such a long time… but I’m in this for the long haul. One woman at a time, one product at a time… we are going to relieve poverty and increase opportunity for African families.

Join me and our cooperatives for another 10 years of smiles, great African art, coffees, teas and chocolates. I promise you that you haven’t seen anything yet! We’re just getting warmed up!

Remember we can help African women live better lives: one sale at a time!

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so very much for your support over the last 10 years,

Love,

Mama

** This post was originally written for MamaAfrika.com ‘s Grand Re-Opening.  Be sure to stop by and see what else is new on the site!

I returned from my European trip about a week ago and am still looking forward to sharing part of my experiences there with you.  I know that this blog post is not “African” per se; but this post is about people, food and culture.  Some of the things that interest and endear me most about Africa are those same three things: people, food and culture.  So, here is my perspective on a wedding I had the privilege of attending last month.

Anyone who has travelled at all knows what role food plays in culture.  I’ve eaten food from a fair number of countries and am always interested in how foods are eaten.  Some are finger foods by design; with others one asks how anyone could manage to eat it with their hands and not a utensil.

As an Eritrean, I’ve often enjoyed seeing Westerners eat at our table for the first time.  Awkwardly posing the question in their head of how on earth they are going to manage to get a meat sauce to their mouths without making a disastrous mess of the whole thing.

This brings me to the recent experience I had at a French table.  I was reminded of something that foodies around the world have always known: Food is culture.

Sitting at the table with friends laughing, drinking and eating is something that we all do whether in Nigeria, Lesotho, Canada or France.  I’ve lived in a few countries and travelled a bit over my lifetime and that is something that never changes: food connects people.

Actually, I should start at the beginning: last month, I attended the wedding of one of my favorite French cousins. We were invited to the wedding many months ago and were really looking forward to it.  I could talk to you about the horse-drawn carriage, her beautiful gown or the 11^th century chapel. But if you know me at all, you know that my brain often revolves around a couple of things: food being one of them!

I sat looking around at the sumptuous spread on the buffet table and came to an unusual conclusion.  They could have been serving lunch meat sandwiches and people would have been just as happy.  You see, ironically: it’s the people; not the food.  Sure, great food is a bonus; but it’s only that: a bonus.  Those people were so happy to be there so celebrate love and the union of two families that they would have gathered around the table together to simply break bread of any sort. (Granted, the bread in France is fabulous; but you get my point!)

In fact, the food was classically Southern French: fois gras, pâté, couscous salad, an incredible array of cheeses… the list goes on.  And that isn’t to mention the wedding cake: a beautiful Croquembouche and macarons in a “piece monté”.

This wedding, in the small village reception hall was unmistakably French.  It wasn’t a snobbish affair mind you; it was a simply elegant and stylish event.  The bride was stunning, the people well-dressed.  But, that slightly loud conversation which is so common in Southern Europe, the smell of anise on people’s breath (after a few glasses of Pastis, bien sûr!), the vision of grandmothers and little children dancing together until all hours of the night… all served as typical signs that we were in the South of France in the summertime.

Upon hearing of my upcoming trip, one of my dear friends, Geoff told me that he was hoping that me blogging about my time in France would help shed some light on the French for him, especially since he is from the U.K.  Most of us know that the two cultures have never really managed to “get” each other.  OK, fine, there is also a bit of history involved; but you probably understand what he meant.

That wedding can’t be called the real France.  After all, culture is complex.  Expensive handbags, chic stores, the Eiffel Tower and sweet smelling perfumeries in Paris are a part of France.  But for me, this charming wedding reception was my France, the France I love so much.  It was family, friends, great local wine and delicious food.  It was those same 20 songs that you hear at all of the village festivals that no one can help but sing out-loud while dancing until the wee hours of the morning.  It was great quality local ingredients, prepared so simply that they maintain their integrity.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that if you changed the menu a bit and everyone spoke another language, that wedding could have easily been Spanish, Italian or yes…  African.  Unpretentious, people-centered and always about great food! Not fancy, overly complicated dishes; just great food and good wine.  Alright, in some parts of Africa it’d be palm wine instead of Syrah; but the goal of having more people and less complicated food would have been the same.

When I was young, I remember having food from all over the world.  For me, the spicy, rich dishes of Eritrean cuisine often meant hearing my family chatter-on in Tigrinya.  Hearty Italian meals usually meant that my dad was sipping a beer or some wine while teaching me why basil was a better option than oregano.  Our Korean neighbor popped in from time to time and left wonderful Yaki-Mandu (triangular-shaped Korean egg rolls) on our kitchen table when we were away at school or work. (Remember when we didn’t even have to lock our doors?). To this day, I feel a special affinity for South Korea because I spent so many years eating Korean food with friends. It’s rather similar to Eritrean dishes in fact and somehow, learning that made me feel closer to its people too.  Odd perhaps; but true.

The next time you are deciding how to share who you are with someone, share your food.  The next time you want to learn more about a group of people or their culture share their food.  The most fun I’ve ever had while traveling has been at the dinner table. It is inevitably accompanied by laughter, jokes and sometimes even serious discussions of politics or religion.  When the people bring their smiles to the table, the food always binds them to each other… no matter what is on the plate.

Bon appétit et bon santé !

Love,

Mama

So, I’ll start by discussing the terms.  I don’t buy into “racism”.  It is only logical, since I don’t buy into the concept of race.  I don’t say this in that politically correct way; but I only believe in the human race.  I am bright enough to understand distinctions in ethnicity, culture and even skin color or other physical attributes.  Is the skin of an ethnic Yoruba darker than that of a native Austrian whose roots are Germanic?  Of course!  Yet, given the fact that they can have children together, donate body organs to each other, etc.  The differences are really only on the surface.  In my view, the visual is so much less important than ethnicity: language, culture and yes, even food.

We are one race; but we have many ethnic and cultural groupings.  After hundreds of years of staying (relatively) within our own regions; or after specific migrations or conquests which have added to our ethnic make-up… we look a certain way. Lighter skin, darker hair, brown or blue eyes, broader or thinner noses.  But we are wholly and completely human.  All God’s children, regardless of the way we speak, if we are literate or not, if we eat kangaroo or chicken in our stew.

Race is an outdated term which breaks all of humankind down into 5 groups, none of which have anything to do with skin color; but instead bone structure.  For example, Ethiopians and Eritreans are both considered “Caucasoid” under this system, which has since been re-termed “White”.  Although I do have a great-grandmother who was “white” where skin color is concerned; the vast majority of Eritreans are not so light. Race is now commonly used to mean ethnicity, skin color, hair texture, religion… the list seems endless.  But, until we use the correct terms, we can’t have serious dialog. If we want to debate the merits (or risks) of a religious belief, the cultural practices that put women at risk, our preference for narrow noses over wide ones… let’s do so.  But for goodness sake, let’s do so honestly, openly and without throwing the term “racist” at everyone who disagrees with us.

Incorrect concepts and terms like “race” are in part what caused things like the genocide in Rwanda, Hitler’s murder of millions and the belief that Africans are not intelligent simply because they “look more like monkeys than Europeans do”.  Race is no longer discussed outside of a small portion of physical anthropology.  Thus, it seems only right to leave the term behind us.  Let’s talk about ethnicity, culture, language, immigration, xenophobia, clan warfare, national pride… whatever the term, let’s choose the right one.

So, I am willing to have the dialog of ethnic strife.  I am also willing to discuss the problems caused by xenophobia or hatred some have toward people who look different from them.  But, I will not discuss racism because I find that the very term divides us in ways that are false.  If we are wise enough to coin different (and more accurate) terms; we will make a giant leap toward the solution to the very problems that we discuss.

This is not to say that the problems don’t exist.  I am a dreamer.  I’d love to see a day when we judge one another on our actions and choices as opposed to what village we are from, what shade of brown we are, etc.  But, I am realistic enough to know that there are some major and life-altering problems throughout the world today that act as major barriers to us dealing with our real problems: poverty, access to clean water, education, etc.

But, for me, it is dishonest to begin with terms that aren’t true.  We will be better suited to have honest, direct dialog even when it hurts us to do so.  Then, we can find the similarities in issues that we thus far don’t see as being related.

For example, I overheard a discussion many years ago where a member of my (in-law) family said that he wished my husband hadn’t “brought a nigger into the family”.  I was insulted and as the years passed, this person has never taken the time to know me, who I am or what I stand for.  In the end, it is easy to say that it’s “his loss”.  But, the most ridiculous part of it all is that he’s gone out of his way to make things so uncomfortable (never knowing that I ever heard his words) and distantly cold that he never will know me.  He’s instead opted to view me from his little closed corner of the world: where even my best and kindest of actions towards others are viewed through suspicious glasses.

But, if I am to be honest, I must say that I’ve had equally hateful things said by family members on the other side. Once, I was cornered by two female cousins and told that I was a sell-out to my Eritrean culture because I married a Frenchman. They quickly added: I guess it isn’t your fault though; after all, you are just like your mother (who married an Italian-American).  These same two women went on to tell me that they would not only marry Eritreans; but would marry someone from the village if at all possible.

At the end of the day, they don’t see who I am either.  I am an African.  I love Africa and have spent the past 10 years working to help improve the lives of my sisters across the continent.  I am an Eritrean who has gone to great lengths to be open and honest about the pride I have for my birth-nation.  But, above all, I have also been an advocate for what Africa can be… should be.  Mine is not blind pride because of skin color or blood.  It is a sincere desire that any African girl born today have the same chance and opportunity in life that I had as a child.

At the end of the day, I know that skin color means nothing. My father was a dark-haired Mediterranean looking man of Italian heritage.  And I can still remember seeing tears in his eyes when he spoke of Eritrea.  He spent years hoping that peace would come so that he could retire and buy a little bar in Massawa. He loved Africa more than many of my African brothers who have the blood; but don’t have the passion.

I know that 90% of those who have purchased a basket, only drink our fair trade African coffee, or stop their day to say a prayer for our coop members have white skin and have never been to Africa.  For some, I am the first African they have ever met.  Their hearts though, are like many of you: open to the world around them and ready to do what they can.

Every group has its good and it’s bad.  Every culture has its faults and its strongpoints.  I cannot be honest about the dialog if I refuse to use the right terms.  There is as much corruption and evil in the heart of Africa as there is in the West.  Let us not forget that slavery existed because WE sold one another. It existed later on such a grand scale because the Portuguese learned the tricks of the trade from the Arab slave traders.  But, because they aren’t part of the West, we don’t even discuss it.

Power has a tendency to corrupt, it’s true.  But those who hold power and wield it without responsibility are no more the representatives of the average European country, than that ignorant mean man was the representative of my husband’s family.  He might have been the most vocal initially.  But, if I’d judged the whole group on his behavior; I’d have missed out on knowing some of the most loving, kind and generous of spirit people I’ve ever been proud enough to include in my family.

And the reverse is also true: If someone had overheard those two cousins of mine talking; they would certainly have come to the wrong conclusion.  You see, my father was loved by everyone and respected highly.  He learned to cook our traditional dishes (not very common for men to do in our culture; much less a “foreigner”!). He showed me through example that love comes above all; color is a detail.

I’ve lived on 3 continents, both coasts of the U.S and I can tell you one thing with complete certainty: Life boils down to just a few important things regardless of who you are: family and friends, the ability to earn a living and sharing great food… ethnicity, language nor the color of your skin have anything to do with any of that at all.

Love one another and search to find the common ground through open, honest dialog. And always… always… find the words that fit.

Mama

I found this SUPER interesting video (actually a 3 part series) today and want to share it with you all.  It mentions some things that many people don’t know about Eritrean history… especially the ancient history of both the nation and the region.  Best of all, it cites all of its sources in each slide so that you can either confirm the information or decide to dig deeper if you read something of particular interest.

I must admit that its a little clunky as videos go (not always enough time between slides to read and digest all of the information).  But I found that over all, it was definitely worth the patience needed. I was interested to learn some more details concerning the Eritrea-Europe connection.  We often hear much about the colonial period (both Italian and later English influences); but learning more concerning the connection to ancient empires such as Greece, Rome and the more recent Russian link were fascinating.

Click through to Part Two and Part Three

Love,

Mama

When most of us think of Africa in Europe, Spain isn’t the first country to pop into mind.  True, those who have a fair knowledge of Africa know about their early colonization of what is now the Western Sahara, Equatorial Guinea and part of Morocco. But, there is so much more to Spain’s connection with Africa; sometimes direct, sometimes less so.

Spain’s connection with Africa started way before colonialism.  In fact, as early as the 7^th century, there were “close ties between Africa and the Iberian peninsula. Many African monks fleeing the wars or the persecutions traveled to Spain with their manuscripts, where they organized centers of monastic learning, which were important for intellectual activity in the kingdom of the Visigoths. Africa contributed much to the preservation of ancient learning, even though the region itself was seized early from the people of the West.” (Manuel pratique de latin médiéval by Dag Norberg, Paris, 1980, English translation by R.H.Johnson).

Another lesser known connection between the region of Catalonia and Africa comes through Peter Claver , born in 1581 who later became known as “Slave of the Blacks” and “Slave of the Slaves.” A farmer’s son from Verdu in Catalonia, Claver studied at the University of Barcelona and at age 20, he became a Jesuit priest. Claver went to South America as a missionary where he ministered to African slaves physically and spiritually when they arrived in Cartegena, Colombia. It is estimated by some that Claver converted 300,000 African slaves to Christianity. For 40 years he worked for humane treatment on the plantations. Claver organized charitable societies among the Spanish in America.  Claver said of the slaves, “We must speak to them with our hands by giving before we try to speak to them with our lips.” (http://home.snu.edu/~HCULBERT/black.htm)

Now, let’s move on to today’s Barcelona:

I only spent part of the day in Barcelona; but I thought you might like to share what I saw during my visit:

My major point of interest in Barcelona was the Sagrada Familia, an immense cathedral that was designed “in 1877 by architect Francisco de Paula del Villar who also led the construction which has been in progress since 1882.  Just a year later, Antoni Gaudí, (born June 25, 1852), took over as the lead architect and drastically changed the original neo gothic style. The neo gothic style made way for Gaudí’s trademark modernist style, which was based on forms found in nature. When he died in 1926 only one facade (the nativity facade), one tower, the apse and the crypt were finished. Because Gaudí was constantly improvising and changing the design while construction was going on, he left few designs and models. And most of these were destroyed during the civil war in 1936.” (AViewonCities.com)

Gaudí dedicated the last 12 years of his life totally to the construction of the Sagrada Familia. In his personal life he seems to turn his back more and more on the earthly world and turns more to the spiritual world which is clearly visible in the building activities at the cathedral. On June, 7th 1926, he died and the work on the cathedral is still ongoing based in large part on his vision and sketches.

Even for me, an amateur of architecture, it was apparent that Gaudí, like many of his contemporaries (of the modernist period), was heavily influenced by African art. From the Moorish influence in the interior to the pivot-like towers, Africa is present in the incredible architecture of the Sagrada Familia.  I also learned that that in 1892 Gaudí made a design for the catholic mission at Tanger where the pivot-like towers appear for the first time.  Yes, another African connection.

But, Barcelona is more than the Sagrada Familia (even if a major focus of tourism in the city). What about day to day life in Spain today?  I have some Spanish friends who return home regularly from the United States.  Over the years, I have heard more and more about the influx of immigrants from former colonies in South America and their influence on modern Spanish culture.  But, I didn’t hear much about African immigrants to the country.  In previous visits to Spain, we’ve spent more time in the countryside than in the city and that is probably why I was so surprised to see so many African faces in Barcelona.

From the metro to the city streets, there were young African faces everywhere.

While entering the metro, I saw a group of young African men carrying large plastic bags of items that they were selling on the street somewhere.  I instantly got the images of young men with similar faces doing the same thing in cities like New York, Paris and Vienna…

When driving to find a parking space, I spotted two young African men crossing the street.  One of them noticed me looking with a smile and stopped to wave hello.  He was almost hit by a car, which he rapidly proceeded to hit the top of and yell something in Spanish to.  I couldn’t help but laugh and think of the fact that it’s often the same wherever I travel: When two Africans spot one another in a place they don’t expect to… we often smile and communicate to each other, without speaking a single word… how happy we are to have found “family” among the crowd of passers-by.  It is something I’ve noticed in every country I’ve ever visited, large city or small town alike.  My French husband says that it’s the advantage of being able to so easily recognize one’s own people.  I think he’s right.

So, whether you are heading to Spain on vacation or you are interested in teaching your children about African influences on European culture… know that Spain in general and Barcelona in particular is a great place to look for clues about the historical and current Africa-Europe connection.

¡Viva España! And may God bless Africa!