Haughty Americans and the joke that was the Essence Festival

Two months ago, I received an invite to Durban, South Africa for Articulate Africa, which was part of the Essence Festival.

The Festival, named after and organised by the people who run the African-American magazine, Essence, has been running for over 15 years in the United States, but this year, for the first time, it would be hosted in two cities: the usual New Orleans and Durban.

I was pretty impressed with the line-up of artistes on the programme. Having been informed that as partial payment, I would get a VIP access to everything, I looked forward to seeing favourites such as Thandiswa Mazwai and Black Coffee perform up close. It seemed like a win-win.

I flew out of Copenhagen on Friday at midday with a three-hour stop in Cairo. I arrived at the International Conference Centre in Durban on Saturday morning and I soon realised that the whole festival, including our fringe event, had more money than sense.

While it was lovely to be with many literati I respect  from the continent, the way they were treated was shabby. That people got their tickets only three days in advance was bad enough, but it got worse upon arrival. Many of the writers found that they were not reserved in the hotels they had been informed they were and had to await transport again to be taken to the correct place. Then there was the uncertainty on payment of honoraria. The organisers sent an e-mail of apology for how things were running — only to continue doing the same until the end of the festival.

And then there was the joke that was the panels. American musicians  Beyonce and Solange’s mother, Tina Knowles, and her husband of three years had been flown in. The couple were on a panel with Hollywood star Steve Harvey to discuss and tell Durbanites how to keep a marriage. Now, while the idea of anyone condescending to tell anyone else the best way to sustain a marriage is a bit awkward, one could understand why Harvey and his spouse would do that, but Ms. Knowles and the partner she has been with for three years did not make sense at all.

ACCESS DENIED

Another senseless guest was some woman who I hear is on a reality show called The Real Housewives of Atlanta, who was invited to speak on ‘raising boys when a single mother.’ Over 60 percent of South African households are women-headed but the City of Durban and Essence, in their wisdom, thought it would be an excellent idea to get a reality television single parent to advise the single parents in South Africa on raising boys with American values.

Then there was the drama of Sunday morning. The literature people and visual artists were in a zone that had been designated for Articulate Africa. There, artworks were exhibited and books were sold by the different publishers and bookstores who had been invited to do so. So our very own Angela Wachuka of Kwani? was there to show some of their titles. Unfortunately, it turned out she could not go into the space. “But I am exhibiting in there and I am here for that, why can’t I go in there?”

“Because,” the guard answered, “there are VIPs in there.”

I could not help laugh sadly when she recounted this story to me. Surely, anyone exhibiting art in an art space is a VIP in that space? Unfortunately not according to the organisers of this event. It turned out the VIP was Ms Knowles who was sauntering with 10 bodyguards.

The way my people were bowing down at the altar of Americanness was ridiculous. Conferred with this false sense of importance, I saw how some of this got to some of my American brothers and sisters’ heads. In a restaurant, I overhead an American woman condescend to tell our rather efficient and smiling waiter Walter, “you know in the States you would have brought…”

Knowing that Walter could not say much, customers always being right and all that, I was that African who decided to buy that story.

“Excuse me sister?” I said with a slight cough.

She turned her head to me in surprise, “yes?”

“I couldn’t help overhearing what you just told Walter over there who is serving both your table and mine. It may look like it this weekend but imagine this town is not a colony of the United States?” She was yellow-boned enough for her blush to show.