I have been interested in the African presence in the Middle East for some time now and hope to travel to the region in the near future to interview people for the book/theater portion of The Passage Project. A good friend of mine just sent me a link to the website Blackpower.com who posted a recent story reported on NPR about the discrimination facing the Black population in Basra, Iraq. The story was reported by Corey Flintoff December 3, on Morning Edition.
Below is a transcript of the report. You can also listen to the audio on NPR's website.
Image by Corey Flintoff courtesy of NPR.
he election of Barack Obama to the U.S. presidency was celebrated
with special fervor by Iraqis of African descent in the southern port
city of Basra.
Although they have lived in Iraq for more than
1,000 years, the black Basrawis say they are still discriminated
against because of the color of their skin, and they see Obama as a
role model. Long relegated to menial jobs or work as musicians and
dancers, some of them have recently formed a group to advance their
civil rights.
Black people in Basra are most visible at joyous
events. When there's a big wedding, Basrawis call in drummers from the
district of Zubair. The Basrawi bride and groom are welcomed in
traditional fashion by a row of musicians in Arab dress, long dishdasha
gowns and red-checkered head scarves. The drummers sway in unison to
the rhythms they slap out on broad, tambourinelike drums — and drive up
excitement as the newlyweds cross the threshold of a Basra hotel.
The
drummers are black men, descendants of the people who came here from
East Africa as sailors or slaves over the course of centuries. And
while they are welcome fixtures at joyous events all over the city,
they say they are not as welcome in Basra's political, commercial or
educational life.
Image by Corey Flintoff courtesy of NPR.
Seen As Slaves
"People here see us as slaves," says Jalal Diyaab, a 43-year-old civil rights activist. "They even call us abd, which means slave."
Diyaab
is the general secretary of the Free Iraqi movement. He sits with more
than a dozen other men in a narrow, high-ceilinged room in a mud-brick
building in Zubair, talking about a history of slavery and oppression
that he says dates back to at least the ninth century.
"Black
people worked on the plantations around Basra, doing the hard labor,
until there was a slave uprising in the mid-800s," says Diyaab. Black
people ruled Basra for about 15 years, until the caliph sent troops.
Many of the black rebels were massacred, and others were sold to the
Arab tribes.
Slavery was abolished here in the 19th century, but Diyaab says black people in modern-day Iraq still face discrimination.
"[Arabs]
here still look at us as being incapable of making decisions or even
governing our lives. People here are 95 percent illiterate. They have
terrible living conditions and very few jobs," he says.
Diyaab
takes visitors across the street to a warren of mud-brick courtyards
where dozens of people are packed into tiny rooms without running water
or sewage. The narrow passageways reek of excrement. Many people sleep
in the open yards when the weather is good, because there isn't enough
space in the rooms.
"These houses are like caves. This house?
This is it," says Diyaab, pointing at a single narrow room and the
courtyard outside. He says 15 people, the family of a man called Abu
Haidar, live here.
Lightning streaks the night sky as a
thunderstorm rolls in from the Persian Gulf. Rain begins to speckle the
hard-packed ground. The men gathered around say a heavy rain will flood
these rooms ankle-deep with muck and sewage.
Diyaab says there
are more than 2 million black people in Iraq. He says they want
recognition as a minority, like the Christians, whose rights should be
protected. He says his group's demands have been ignored by the Iraqi
government, but they have found an ally in a Sunni political party —
the National Dialogue Front.
Awath al-Abdan is the head of that
party in Basra, and he says he thinks black Iraqis have a strong case
for getting their minority status recognized.
"We expect this
cause to become a political reality soon because it just started to get
publicity. We are working hard to get these people's message heard," he
says.
Preserving Their African Roots
For
now, the message that most people in Basra hear from the black
community is the joy its musicians help bring to weddings. But there's
an entirely different feeling when they play for themselves.
The
community has preserved many traditions from its African roots,
including healing ceremonies that they say call up spirits from their
ancient homeland.
On a bright Saturday in Zubair, young men hang
bright flags and prepare an altar for a ceremony they say will summon a
spirit from Africa. They work under the impatient direction of Baba
Sa'eed al-Basri, a prominent local musician. He is the hereditary
leader of this religious sect, which combines elements of Islam with
African spirit traditions.
The flags, Baba Sa'eed says,
represent the African countries associated with various spirits. At the
center of the altar is a model of an Arab sailing dhow, the kind of
ship that brought black people to this city.
"These rituals,"
he says, "are inherited self-expressions that were brought to us from
Africa, through the ships that traded in this port."
The Baba
cleanses the courtyard, by sprinkling it with water. He scents the
hands of visitors with a cologne stick and offers tiny cups of bitter
coffee. Then he takes his place by the altar, among the candles and
incense burners, and tells the drummers to begin.
The ceremony
begins with an Islamic invocation, as the drummers chant "there is no
God, but God," but soon the rhythm changes. The song says another being
is announcing his presence, "a stranger is calling, the sea is calling."
Baba
Sa'eed, who has been dancing with his arms and his upper body as he
sits by the altar, goes rigid and begins speaking in what he later says
was an African dialect, punctuated by phrases in broken Arabic. His
voice goes into a weird upper register. The "dialect" has an improvised
sound to it, and even the drummers don't seem especially impressed by
his spirit possession. He says this place has been blessed, before
snapping out of it, with a dazed expression.
The ceremony ends
with a song the Baba says will send the spirits back to their homes —
retracing the journey that his ancestors made, back through the Gulf to
Yemen and then on to the coast of East Africa. The candles and the
incense are extinguished. The flags are taken down and the model ship
is put away. The black musicians of Zubair pack up their drums and get
ready to play another round of weddings.