educating alice

When I lived and worked in Sierra Leone neither I nor those I taught knew anything about the Amistad story. In fact I first heard about it when the Spielberg film started to be mentioned, controversies and all. Soon after I attended a Friends of Sierra Leone meeting at Mystic Seaport and visited the just-finished replica of the Amistad. Since then the ship has traveled around and now it has made its way all the way to Sierra Leone. The accounts at the Amistad America site are very moving indeed. And here is a recent news report on the visit: BBC NEWS | Africa | Crowds flock to S Leone slave ship.

Folktales shouldn’t be used, except very cautiously, as windows into other cultures. (Judy Sierra, Cinderella The Oryx Multicultural Folktale Series, pg. 165)

 

In the grad course on fairy tales I’m currently co- teaching we just finished a lively discussion on multiculturalism. One of the books we considered was John Steptoe’s Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters, a beautiful Caldecott honor book that is often used in lessons about Africa because it is mistakenly thought to be an authentic folktale from Zimbabwe. In fact, it is not. Steptoe himself is honest by writing that the book, “was inspired by a folktale collected by G. M. Theal and published in 1895 in his book, Kaffir Folktales. Details of the illustrations were inspired by the ruins of an ancient city found in Zimbabwe, and the flora and fauna of that region.” Unfortunately, few seem to have investigated to see if it really is an appropriate choice to help American children learn about a place that is very far away and unfamiliar to them.

One who has is Eliot A. Singer who writes in his article, “Fakelore and the Ethics of Children’s Literature“:

In The Horn Book Magazine (July/August 1987, p. 478), a reviewer notes of Steptoe’s (1987) celebrated and award winning Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters that the story is a “polished retelling of one from G. M. Theal’s Kaffir Folktales.” The actual title is Kaffir Folklore(Theal 1886), and there is no tale in that collection that remotely resembles the one in the picture book. Maybe getting a title right is a scholarly hang-up, but it does seem reasonable to expect a reviewer who claims something is a “polished retelling” at least to look in the card catalog. To his credit, Steptoe (198 points out that he was simply inspired by Theal’s book to explore Zimbabwe tradition and come up with his own story, that he “did not write and illustrate a special interest picture book,” one “said to be based on an African tale.” Yet, Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughters is reviewed, sold, classified, and, awarded, I presume, as an “African” tale.

One of our students, Jenny Schwartzberg of the Newberry Library, tracked down an on-line copy of Kaffir Folk-lore and after reading through all the tales, I feel the one that probably inspired Steptoe was “The Story of Five Heads.” However, the commonalities are minor; Steptoe’s story is really an original, his alone. Additionally, information about Great Zimbabwe (found here and here) indicates a far more tangled history than can possibly be deduced from Steptoe’s story and illustrations.

Our students agreed by the end of our discussions that this book was better used within a language arts unit than in a social studies unit. I agree wholeheartedly!

After having read about and listened to their music I finally got to see the documentary film, Sierra Leone’s Refugee All Stars when it was aired on PBS recently.

It was personally hard for me at times (especially the footage of Freetown when it was invaded), but it was also wonderful. The film tells the story of a group of Sierra Leonean musicians who connect at a refugee camp in Guinea and become a band — Sierra Leone’s Refugee All Stars. Their individual histories are heartrending. While some of them are willing to return to Sierra Leone, one (with the most horrific story) is unable to. They will be touring in the US in August and September. And here is a small not-very-good video I made with some clips from the film.

Colleen Mondor at Chasing Ray alerted me to Vanity Fair’s special issue on Africa. I’m of two minds about it.

On the one hand (or mind) it does reinforce my previous post on Africa being the hot continent du jour. Looking through the Table of Contents, I see a lot of articles from the point of view of outsiders — Bono, Christopher Hitchens, Brad Pitt, Sebastian Junger, and Bill Clinton to name a few. And let’s not forget Madonna; Punch Hutton has a very kind piece about her work in Malawi, “Raising Malawi: Madonna Lends a Hand.” Having not yet read the other articles, I can’t speak for the other outsiders, but this one on Madonna? Simplistic, glowing, and you’d never know that some did not think so highly of Madonna and her efforts in Malawi. Chimanada Ngozi Adichie, for one. Check out the Orange Prize winner’s interview, “Madonna’s not our saviour” for an insider’s perspective on all these outsiders. (Thanks to Linda Lowe for the link.)

On the other hand (or mind), I do appreciate the in-depth articles in Vanity Fair and assume there are plenty in this issue. And maybe, just maybe some readers of this issue will decide to learn more. That is always a good thing, isn’t it?

Asia, move over. It’s official; Africa is the current hot exotic continent. Writes Amanda Craig in her reviews of three new teen adventure books in today’s Times:

AFRICA HAS BECOME the most fashionable setting for film and, now, for children’s fiction. Perhaps it took the delightful Alexander McCall Smith’s The No 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series to remind us that the continent doesn’t have to be all doom and Joseph Conrad. It can also be a place of modern adventure.

So, yes, the continent is certainly not all doom and “Mistah Kurtz — he dead.” And Smith’s Botswana-set stories do provide an authentic feel for one tiny place in that very large and diverse continent. But is the fact that these new thrillers of the Alex Rider/James Bond sort are set in Africa what is most significant about them? (Of the three books reviewed, I’m most intrigued by Sarah Mussi’s Door of No Return.)

Yes, Africa is hot. (Well, actually it is the rainy season in Sierra Leone and less hot than other times of the year, but whatever.) Hot here being a state of cultural consciousness or popularity or something like that. And as far as I can tell, that hotness has yet to translate into those of us on the North American continent (and that island across the pond) having a more nuanced understanding of Africa and a stronger consciousness of our propensity to be, shall we say, arrogant in our feeling of superiority over those whose history has created a very different way of being.

A favorite weekly event in my classroom is Literary Salon. A couple of kids bring in baked treats, I provide juice, and a bunch of the kids do prepared readings from books they are reading or have recently finished.

We all love it. Yes, they love the treats, but they also genuinely love both reading aloud and listening to each other. Every child participates. Because they prepare the readings ahead of time there is none of the halting-stumbling-over-words that occurs in round-robin reading (which I hate and never do). Some of the best readings come from some of the weakest readers because they’ve taken the most time to prepare.

One lovely result is that children become intrigued by the readings and eagerly go off to find the books in question to read. The cross-pollination is delightful! With the introduction of our blogs we’ve been able to podcast these events. So far we’ve done two. Please do check them out here and here. (And comment please — the kids are so eager for comments!)

Yesterday we did a very special Literary Salon. Poet Natasha Trethewey had come a few weeks ago to inspire the children to write Amistad poems. And yesterday they recited those poems to her. You can see their poems here and hear their recitations here.

Millions and millions of African people were taken captive during the long and horrible time of the Atlantic slave trade. Mothers and fathers, uncles and aunts, nieces and nephews, granddaughters and grandsons, brothers and sisters, friends and enemies were ripped away from their families and taken to the Americas. Untold numbers died. Countless others ended up on plantations. Very few ever went home.

Sarah Margru Kinson did.

Sarah Margru Kinson was a real person, one of four children on the famous slave ship, The Amistad. The Amistad captives were mostly Mende and came from the present-day country of Sierra Leone, a place I knew well as a Peace Corps volunteer in the 1970s. The devotion to Africa that Margru expressed in her letters coupled with my own fond memories of Sierra Leone and its people, inspired me to research and tell her story.

After a bumbling first attempt to write about her in a time travel story many years ago, I found more success with creative nonfiction. In the letter I sent to publishers along with that version, I wrote:

My vision of the book is one heavily illustrated with primary sources In fact, I see Margru’s story as a perfect vehicle by which child readers could delve more deeply into Mende life, slavery, life in 1800s US, and more. I have this dream of seeing the narrative in the center of each page surrounded by related newspaper articles, maps, letters, drawings, engravings, paintings, photographs, and other firsthand materials as well as sidebars (say a short glossary of Mende words). That way the child reader would have multiple ways of exploring the book. He/she could begin by reading Margru’s story or perhaps by looking at the images. My fourth grade students adore such books.

Unfortunately, while those considering publishing it found her story fascinating, they complained that Margru was too distant. Readers, they said, wouldn’t be able to connect to her. Since they knew there was little firsthand information about her feelings as a child, they suggested I make it up — that is, write it as historical fiction. I was uncomfortable at first — I wanted to be sure that kids knew that she was a real person and besides, who was I to even try to imagine how she felt about her harrowing experiences? (Aha, you say, now I get her obsession with this genre!)

After many more drafts and discussions with editors, I finally came up with a fictional idea that kept her real, but allowed me a way to bring her closer to the readers too — a scrapbook. With that I was finally able to write it as historical fiction — imagining Margru herself putting that scrapbook together and writing down her story as she did so. This idea worked for one editor, but not her house. The next editor had a different idea — turn it back into nonfiction! Her reasons were valid and her suggestions strong. I was all set to do so last summer when I was told I had to withdraw it from the publisher until I was finished with the Newbery. Bummed doesn’t even begin to describe my feeling. I tried to do the revision, but my heart wasn’t in it knowing I couldn’t give it back till January 2008. So I decided to put it away, read and think, and return to Margru some day.

And then I began blogging with my kids and all sorts of ideas came bursting out including one of putting my manuscript on a private blog for my kids to read during our February study of forced immigration. And so I did and so they are and so far it has been great. I wasn’t sure it would be. A few years ago at the suggestion of an editor I read a bit of the manuscript to a class and found that a very weird feeling indeed. But this is different — they are reading it to themselves.

If you are interested in their progress and opinions you can check them out on our class blog and theirs as well. The manuscript is private as I still am optimistic that some day, somewhere, and somehow it will be published as a book. (n.b. Last week I was told that the new ALSC rules now allow me to have a manuscript in consideration with a publisher during my time on the Newbery Committee. Ah well… and so it goes….the never ending road to publication.)

Olaudah Equiano is a fascinating figure. Years ago I came across his autobiographical account of his childhood in Africa, capture, middle passage, time as a slave in various parts of the Americas, and life as a freeman in England. I was particularly taken with the African portions of his story as so much of it made me think of Sierra Leone. Thus I was delighted to come across The Kidnapped Prince: The Life of Olaudah Equiano adapted by Ann Cameron for children.

Because even this adapted version has some very harsh sections and because so much about this time and slavery is new and overwhelming to my 4th graders, I read it aloud to them while they follow along in their own copies of the book. They have small booklets (chapbooks, I call them) in which I encourage them to jot down interesting words and ideas as well as personal responses. All of this gives us much to talk about, understandably.

I’ve since learned that there is some question whether Equiano was actually born in Africa. The arguments on both sides are compelling. Whether he was or not, scholars seem to at least agree that what he describes is accurate. That is, if he did not experience Africa as a child firsthand, he had informants who had.

Whatever the truth of his birth, I continue to recommend Camerons’ adaptation as a highly accessible first-person account for children of what it was like to be enslaved in the 18th century. Olaudah’s voice is a compelling one, only lightly abridged by Cameron (as I’ve checked her version against the original) that completely engages children and helps them to begin a lifelong journey of considering the whole idea of slavery and what it means in terms of America then and today.