“New high-speed, ultrasound imaging of the human tongue potentially could change how linguists describe ‘click languages’ and help speech scientists understand the physics of speech production. Here, Ouma Hannie Koerant, a speaker of N|uu, a severely endangered click language spoken by fewer than 10 people in the Northern Cape Province of South Africa, prepares to have her mouth and tongue imaged as she pronounces N|uu words.” Hats off to this brave woman and her scientific collaborators in a bittersweet act of last-gasp culture-keeping. Incidentally, the | in N|uu is a dental click (written as c in major South African languages like Zulu and Xhosa; the sound is “comparable to a sucking of teeth”). Those so inclined can also practice their alveolar clicks (q or !), “comperable to a bottle top ‘pop’”, and their laterals (x or ǁ), “comparable to a click one may do for a walking horse”. There are also lip-smacking bilabial clicks (ʘ), and flat-tongued palatals (ǂ). I did my best to learn basic Xhosa click pronunciation a few years ago when I was reading Zakes Mda’s fine novel The Heart of Redness, to make sense of names like Qolorha, Ximiya, and Nongqawuse. Less esoterically, most of us are familiar with the name and San-language voice of N!xau, the late star of the film The Gods Must Be Crazy and its four (!) sequels.
Man on Flying Machine, by Yinka Shonibare
The Nigerian-British artist Yinka Shonibare has made a whole fascinating series of race/class remix sculptures featuring mannequins of 18th-century European dandies dressed in period clothing cut from “African” Dutch-wax fabrics (made in Manchester and the Netherlands, purchased by the artist in Brixton Market, London). He’s currently got a big exhibition up at the Brooklyn Museum.
Originally published at culture-making.com.
Into the scrum
The world-changing potential of new technologies is often best realized not by people whose initial goal was to change the world, but by those who dove into smaller passion projects, put in their hours and honed their craft without an eye on earth-shattering outcomes.
From his experience as a founder of Global Voices, an aggregator of citizen media from around the world, Mr. Zuckerman says he has learned to value the roots laid down by a community of bloggers.
In Kenya, he said, bloggers were important commentators and reporters in 2007-8 on a disputed election, and people would ask why there were so many bloggers in Kenya.
It turned out, he said, that “Kenya has the second-most bloggers in Africa and that mostly they are not writing about politics; many are writing about rugby.” There was, he said, “a fascinating latent capacity — people who knew how to use the tools, knew how to write well, to tell a story with words and pictures.”
The Russia-Georgia war, he said, offered a contrast.
“Suddenly a bunch of people flocked to blogging tools,” he said. “We had never heard about of lot of those people. A number of people were manufacturing blogs from whole cloth for propaganda purposes. It was hard to know who they were, if they were credible. In Kenya, we knew who they were; we knew their favorite rugby team.”
Originally published at culture-making.com.
West African teddies, by Glenna Gordon
Great photo-essay on the popularity of second-hand stuffed animals—all locally called teddies, no matter the species—in Monrovia, Liberia. “They are popular gifts for birthdays, graduations, even weddings.”
Originally published at culture-making.com.
47 kinds of greens
Ironically, this article was written by the mother of one of my very-widely-traveled friends. I especially love the string of starchy verbs in the third paragraph.
There’s a profound yet simple proverb about ethnocentrism in many African societies (e.g., the Baganda, Akamba, Kikuyu, Bemba, Haya, Igbo, and Yoruba). Translated, it means “The one who has not traveled widely thinks his/her mother is the best cook.“
This proverb often comes to mind when I hear Americans talking about African food, especially Sub-Saharan African food, in a patronizing, superior way, and also lumping a whole continent together in a way they would never dream of doing for other global locations. A missionary in Ghana once sniffed and said to me disparagingly “They eat grass,” when referring to the greens cooked in stews. In Pennsylvania we carefully distinguish among varieties of apples (Rome, Gala, Granny Smith, Red or Golden Delicious, Macintosh, Pink Lady, Ginger Gold, Braeburn, Crispin, Cameo, etc., etc.). In Ghana that discrimination applies to greens, of which it’s documented that people savor 47 different kinds. Just because our palates haven’t been trained to detect the textures, degrees of bitterness, saltiness, etc. doesn’t mean that the food is inferior.
Similarly, people often say that Africans eat some kind of starch, but they lump them all together, without detecting the differences among, say, types of yams, rice, plantains, millets, sorghum, corn, sweet potatoes, potatoes, cassava, taro (cocoyams), even wheat, along with very different methods of preparation (fermented, unfermented, pounded, dried, fresh, boiled, fried, roasted, steamed, stirred, etc.).
Originally published at culture-making.com.
Beehives, cones, hips, and domes
AfricaMap is an effort by several Harvard University departments to make geographical data about the continent easier for researchers access and use. They’ve got lots of modern and historical cartography, with overlay maps showing all sorts of topographic and cultural features. This screenshot shows regional architectural styles, using data from George Murdock’s 1959 book Africa: Its Peoples and their Culture History. As with any color-coded map, this is probably better at showing general trends than it is at ruling things out in a given region. Still, it is a little odd that there are three different color codes for “unknown.”
Originally published at culture-making.com.
“The Boy in the Bubble,” live from Zimbabwe, by Paul Simon
Paul Simon’s “The Boy in the Bubble” is probably my favorite of the many timeless tracks from his Graceland album; its timelessness is even more jaw-dropping considering that it’s essentially a song about the culture-changing effects of modern technology, one of whose central lines—”the way the camera follows us in slow-mo” refers not even to cutting-edge 1980s tech but rather the 1963 Zapruder Film of John F. Kennedy’s assassination. Indeed, it seems like the main dated aspect of this performance (excepting, perhaps, “the boy in the bubble and the baby with the babboon heart,” which are very 80s but almost seem more futuristic today) is the reversal of the political and human rights situations in South Africa and Zimbabwe during the intervening decades—those billboards of Robert Mugabe now signify something entirely different.
from “Graceland: The African Concert,” by Paul Simon with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, Miriam Makeba, et al., recorded live in Zimbabwe, 1987
Originally published at culture-making.com.
Obey

Though he’s now more known for his earnest interpretations of old-school political posters, designer Shepard Fairey first, of course, gained noteriety with his ironic/absurdist interpretations of authoritarian propaganda, with his Obey Giant viral campaign. Ironic and cool, in a particularly American sense that I both find attractive and uncomfortable, kind of the way I feel about ironic t-shirts after travelling in Africa and seeing them everywhere, courtesy bales of donated and resold used American clothing (shirt on a kid begging from me at the bus depot in Vilankulos, Mozambique: “There’s only one thing to make for dinner: Reservations!”). The more I learn, the more I wonder about the effort we put into being connoisseurs of manufactured irony. There’s real stuff out there that’s so much more amazing.
Side 1
Alowo Majaiye
Aiye Laba Ohun Gbogbo
Rora
Gba Mi Lowo Ota
Ma Di Oni Kanra
Ile Baba MISide 2
Miliki
Pepeiye Bimo
Maje Nyo Aiye Wa
Baiye Nsata
Originally published at culture-making.com.
Six degrees of urbanization
This would be an interesting challenge: to locate a friend in a new-to-you American city using only conversations with people you meet—neither you or anyone of your informants would be allowed to consult the usual lists, maps, phone books, etc. I wonder if it’d be possible …
When I carried out fieldwork in Ghana during the 1960s, I was amazed by how migrants found their relatives, after traveling 500 miles to an unknown city of a million people. They had no addresses or phone numbers written down. When they arrived in the central lorry park, they would look for someone wearing Northern dress and ask him where they could find people like themselves. Directed to a particular district, they would seek out a leading figure in the ethnic community. They might then be directed to someone else from their home village. By all means, within an hour or two, they would be sitting with their relative. These African migrants knew that we live in small worlds connected by fewer links than most of us imagine. They used contingent human encounters and network hubs like local big men, not street maps. Their method was news to me then, but it shouldn’t be now.
Originally published at culture-making.com.
Poverty Is Not Economics, by John Kofi Ayree
Sometimes buses say the darndest things, especially in Africa (and throughout the developing world). John Kofi Ayree is self-taught painter from western Ghana, based currently at the National Museum in Accra. This painting is from the collection of some good friends of mine.





