Thoughts on the Death of Chinua Achebe

March 23rd

Esperanza de Azama

     I awoke this morning to read the news that Chinua Achebe, the Nigerian writer, had died in Boston. He was one of a few writers who truly opened my eyes to the depth and complexity of racial and cultural mixing, and helped me to keep these eyes and mind open as I experience the World around me.  Conflict resides around us everywhere in both the non-human and human worlds, conflicts for us to unravel and strive to reach some higher understanding of our existence and place in the Universe. Achebe was able to tear away at the fog that surrounds our complacency about the World we live in.  I thank him for that, and for the richness of his great literature.  With countless quotes to choose from, here is my offering: 

“When suffering knocks at your door and you say there is no seat for him, he tells you not to worry because he has brought his own stool.”

     Just last night, we were in conversation with Margot, about the status of indigenous people here in Ecuador.  Only four years ago was legislation passed to eliminate official discrimination within the Constitution, and as we know all too well, cultural discrimination survives a great deal longer than what any law may say.  Margot is a mestizo – a mixture of European and Indigenous heritage.  She described how as a child she would play frequently with indigenas in her neighborhood, much to the ongoing strong disapproval of her father.  There is apparently still a great deal of mistrust between different groups of people here.  So where have we heard that story before?

Margot looking out for the welfare of others.

     I am still learning much about the history of ethnic, racial and cultural differences here.  Since independence in 1830, there has been an ongoing movement to create a unified national identity, but driven largely by the power of the mestizos (among whom the power elites originate) to create the ideals that other people should follow. Mestizos are essentially people of mixed racial ancestry, but are now colloquially understood to be non-indian.  Needless to say, the indigenas and afroecuadorians often had a different view of what cultural identity should be about, and this has led to confrontations in some areas, in particular the major cities of Quito and Guayquil.  Otavalo is hardly a hotbed of ethnic and racial segregation, but based on conversations with Margot and a little of what we see, indigenas children are far more susceptible to poverty here, even in a world where there is considerable economic growth for so many other people.  

     At the school here, there is a small mural on a wall overlooking the assembly area representing three children of different racial backgrounds. Underneath are the words, “Somos diferentes y nos respetamos indigenas, negros y mestizos somos hermanos porque somos equatorianos.”  On the surface at least, the children do not appear to care about their differences which is reassuring. It is just a shame to acknowledge that the bonds of pure childhood are all too often subjected to the more powerful cultural and economic forces of the world into which they are growing.

     While we were talking last night, Emma, Nicole (daughter of Margot), and an indigenas friend of Nicole were goofing around like any group of teenage girls might. As a parent, it is at least reassuring to witness three girls of very different ethnic and cultural backgrounds relating just as new friends.