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The
story so far: an unholy ghost called Nil has given three NI
readers exclusive insights into Monsanto's plans for world domination
and into Albert Einstein's cornflakes.
For
all your talk of having as many female incarnations, you seem pretty
male-focused. Hard to believe you don't have a beard.
I
assure you, as a spark of spirit, I don't even stretch to stubble
- or breasts for that matter.
All
the same, everyone you name-drop is a man: Stalin, Ford, Einstein...
They
weren't incarnations, only acquaintances. But since you take this
tack, I'll say one thing to you: Nzinga.
Unzinger?
Is that one of those things you use with a digital TV?
N-Z-I-N-G-A.
Oh,
Nzinga. Yes, that gorilla born at a zoo in Texas. There are pictures
of it on the Internet.
I
hope it's good-looking because it was presumably named after one
of my finest lives, Queen Nzinga of Matamba.
Excuse
our ignorance, but who?
You
see? You blame me for mentioning too many men then, when I draw
your attention to one of the most heroic female figures in history,
you simply look blank. And I'd lay odds your knowledge of African
history is pretty sketchy too.
Well,
there was ancient Egypt. And Great Zimbabwe. And that King of Mali
who had all the gold...
Kankan
Musa. But there was so much more. Whole civilizations that rose
and fell like the breathing of the gods, epic tales of heroism and
resistance, only to be forgotten by a world whose idea of history
is a theme park based on Henry VIII's dangerous liaisons.
So
who was Queen Nzinga?
It
was 1624 when I succeeded my brother Mbandi as ruler or ngola
of Ndongo - you might say the modern country Angola was named after
me. The Portuguese had been attacking us from their forts nearer
the coast and seizing slaves for their new colony in Brazil. And
I'd travelled as emissary the year before to persuade them to recognize
our independence.
So
you were no shrinking violet then.
All
the same I had to fight hard to become queen - the Portuguese tried
to put up a puppet ngola and my own people, the Mbundu, had
no tradition of female leadership. Until I took charge, that is.
What times those were, leading the resistance against the Portuguese...
Hang
on, we never learned about Africans fighting the slave traders in
an organized way.
Organized?
We gave them hell. I harboured fugitive slaves, encouraged rebellion
wherever I could, built an army using mercenaries and Africans the
Portuguese had trained...
But
were doubtless soon crushed by superior firepower.
It
depends what you mean by 'soon'. After a couple of years they conquered
our capital but we regrouped by taking over the next-door kingdom
of Matamba and for the next 30 years we harassed them at every turn.
I used every resource I had to resist the Portuguese - and by the
time I died they'd recognized they weren't going to beat me. Parts
of Matamba were still free right into the twentieth century.
You
weren't exactly a pacifist then.
Not
in that incarnation, it's true. Of course had I known about the
enormous benefits that slavery and colonialism were going to bring
to Africa I might have been more accommodating!
Next
month: the link between teddy bears and US foreign policy.
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New
Internationalist 327
