Everyone but Africa
An investigative look into hegemonic worldview and its influence on study abroad destination preferences
BY PANACHE MATEMBA WITH ART BY MEGAN BORMANN
Do you swoon at the idea of a guided culinary course in the Italian countryside? Perhaps you have a penchant for francophone culture and daydream about learning the language in a Parisian backdrop. Year after year, thousands of collegiate hopefuls pursue opportunities just like these: going in with buoyant spirits and leaving with enviable résumé additions. Arguably, the wealth of experience one acquires while learning abroad is unparallelled.
The University of Minnesota prides itself in its study abroad programs. Nevertheless, the school’s recently published data illuminates a worrying trend: certain destinations clearly get top pick over others. According to the U of M’s Study Abroad Center, over 65% of college globetrotters make their way to Europe; in second place is Asia and Oceania at 15%, followed by the Americas at 13%, and finally, Africa and the Middle East at only 7%.
As the daughter of Zimbabwean immigrants, I can’t ignore my conviction to explore this. There’s an undeniable euphoria when I go home. The melody of the marimba at the souvenir shop. The exhilaration of being on safari. The plate of sadza ne nyama that awaits me at my grandma’s house. And so my question stands: Why not Africa?
Actually, it’s unsurprising that Africa is unpopular given her grim media portrait: a poverty-stricken warzone at worst, and a missionary’s wet dream at best. Outside of Hollywood’s fetishization of ancient Egypt, we see few examples of media that depict African societies. Instead of seizing this opportunity with their 2005 motion picture Madagascar, DreamWorks opted for the jocular route; the plot follows a band of bumbling anthropomorphic zoo animals whose story is so far removed from Malagasy culture that it becomes negligible. And Black Panther, while dripping in Afrofuturistic sophistication, is, at the end of the day, a fantasy. Unfortunately, we won’t be seeing Wakandan passport stamps anytime soon (sorry fans).
At the core of all this is anti-Blackness. Anti-Blackness is more than a face-saving buzzword used by pandering corporations. It is the lingua franca of the world. Its manifestations run the gamut from overt to covert, and it infects every branch of our society. For centuries our media has shaped mainstream attitudes toward the African diaspora and their homeland. But our media is only as progressive as the people who produce it. They take cues from our education system.
The ruling pedagogical approach to Africa and her history is fundamentally dichotomous: casting Western societies as protagonists and everyone else as foils on a world stage. These Western societies, as we read about them, are the founders of innovation. They govern our cultural taxonomies of highbrow and lowbrow, with their works always falling under the former.
Africa’s character on the other hand, is particularly stunted; she is primitive, obscure, and a perpetual charity-case. Having been vanquished, she is void of any global significance. We are taught that her deliverance from turmoil rests on the influence of the West. So we deploy volunteers and evangelists on service trips to rescue her from her impending doom.
And therein lies our problem: the narrative holds that the West is the donor, and Africa is the recipient. We would not expect a recipient to give to their donor. Why would American students choose Africa for studies abroad when they’ve been told that she has nothing to give? After all, Paris is lauded for its footprint in arts and fashion, Rome for its cuisine, and London for its contributions to theater and literature. Surely those cities would have more to offer in their respective disciplines than any African country…
And yet, as someone who has had the privilege of experiencing Africa, I know this to be far from true. Should you make your way to Africa, I hope you’ll find solace in her maternal warmth. I hope you’ll feel the rhythm of the handicraft markets as they revive at the crack of dawn: the sweet hums of women carrying baskets of mangoes on their heads, the symphony of livestock and engines parading on gravel streets. I hope you’ll feel my ancestors’ tears on your skin during the rainstorms. I hope you’ll see the colors of Africa.
One day, if you meet her, you’ll love her. And I promise she’ll love you right back.