Saturday, December 29, 2007

On the 12th Day of (my) Christmas

WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 26

This, my last full day in Guinea, was one of my favorites. As always, it was beautiful--sunny and warm (OK, a little too warm, or, at least, too humid for my taste). And I did all of the things I liked to do--traveled, visited with friends, watched a family have fun together, took pictures, and played music. Only the beautiful mountain countryside was missing.
The travel was merely across town to visit two of my students and their family. This was great fun. They are a bright, lively (especially two younger siblings, who, I was duly warned, may become my students in the near future), and interesting to talk to. They are hospitable, and served me a delicious meal of beef and chicken brochettes (shish kabob) and wonderful chocolate-filled cream puffs. We discussed Guinean history and current conditions (they've been without city power for a month now) and school and books and movies.
On the way to and from lunch, I took numerous photos. I've been surprised at the wide variety of sizes, shapes, and colors of moquest in West Africa, so I've begun documenting that variety. Check back for a separate page of pictures at a later date.
When I returned to Jim and Becky's, they played outside with the kids, chasing and screaming and laughing.
As night fell, I sang and played music with a young Guinean musician who has come to Conakry to attend a University. Only 23 years old, he's written many songs about life in Africa: "Cease Crying" and "Stop Playing with Fire" were among those he sang for me. He accompanied himself on a hand-made gongoma [GOHng-go-mah], a simple instrument made from a calabash, a piece of wood, and three broken pieces of a hack-saw blade. He taps the wood with his left hand and plucks the sawblades with his right as he sings.
We recorded some of his songs, and he insisted I join him on the choruses of one. So, I now own what may become highly-sought-after, seminal recordings of West Africa's next singing sensation. And who will guess that it's an old toubob (white guy) singing along with him?

On the 11th Day of (my) Christmas

TUESDAY DECEMBER 25

Though it's the 11th Day of my Christmas holiday, it's actually Christmas day, and I'm glad to report that Santa took time to visit us (see photo).

Baby Jenna's first Christmas was duly videotaped for the grandparents. Hannah, when not decked out in a red and white cap, helped her younger sister open her packages. To my surprise, there were gifts for me, too: a lalaangii (see Day 6 post) and two books, including a wonderful book about Guinea.

We were joined for breakfast by a young Guinean man. When he asked about my family, he was visibly moved to learn that, like him, I had lost both of my parents. This led to a long conversation about sorrow and happiness and hope. I was glad to be able to tell him about the steady hope I have because of the centuries of promises, recorded in the Old and New Testaments, that God fulfilled in the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus. It was a surprising conversation, but fitting for Christmas day, since Christmas has no meaning outside of those promises.

In the evening, we attended a huge Christmas dinner hosted by a friend of Jim and Becky's, complete with two turkeys (which I attempted to carve), stuffing, mashed potatoes, home-made rolls, and a host of other wonderful dishes, including several fabulous desserts. The crowd was broadly international--American, Canadian, Egyptian, French, and Guinean, perhaps more--and the entertainment ranged from dominoes to card tricks to jigsaw puzzles to live hammered dulcimer music (hmmmm). It was a treat to be invited, a great way to close out Christmas day.

On the 10th Day of (my) Christmas

MONDAY DECEMBER 24

A downtown shopping trip took up most of my Christmas Eve day. Conakry, at 2 million, boasts a population about two-thirds that of Dakar, but is a much bigger city, stretched over a long, narrow peninsula. It took perhaps 45 minutes to get downtown despite almost no traffic.

Since West Africa is predominantly Muslim, there were understandably few indications in town that Christmas was near, even fewer than in Dakar. Nevertheless, the three I saw were rather large--two 6-foot Santas, and, in the middle of a major intersection, this leaning tower of a Christmas tree.

We went to a small artisan village, where I bought some rhythm instruments. In a larger market, I found some beautiful and unusual hand-dyed cloth, and purchased a few other items. Jim and I ate lunch at La Gondole--one of Dakar's nicer restaurant-ice cream parlors, which, I discovered, has a branch in Conakry.

We got home in the nick of time to leave for the outdoor, candlelight Christmas Eve service held at a local mission compound. I led the singing, and helped accompany a couple of songs on the hammered dulcimer I bought in Michigan last August, my public premier as a dulcimer player.

On the 9th Day of (my) Christmas

SUNDAY DECEMBER 23

Back in Conakry, we attended a large French-language church service Sunday morning. It turned out to be the annual children's service. The room was decorated with paper streamers and birthday baloons for Jesus' birthday. The kids ran the whole thing.

MUSIC: Several choirs of various aged kids sang a lot of great songs, and led the congregation in others. I wish I had music for them!

SKITS: A variety of skits were acted with amazing confidence and animation by children of all ages. Some were apparently quite funny, though the only joke I got was when Mary and Joseph reported to the census taker in Bethlehem...

Census-taker: Name?
Joseph: Joseph.
Census-taker: Wife's name?
Joseph: Mary.
Census-taker: Ages?
Joseph: I'm 9. She's 7.

SERMON: A boy I judged to be 10 or 11 years old gave a lengthy and lively sermon on Isaiah 9 in French. It was translated, on-the-fly, into an African language by another boy his age. I followed neither presentation!

Back home later in the day, while I played with the kids, Becky caught a chicken that had flown over the wall from a neighbor's yard.

Friday, December 28, 2007

On the 8th Day of (my) Christmas

SATURDAY DECEMBER 22

One of the things that most frustrates American children living in Africa is having their state-side friends ask them if they live in grass huts, ride to school on elephants, or hide from tigers at night. Don't Americans know that Africa has houses, that elephants are rare, and that tigers only live in India and Asia?

Though none of my students live in huts, and many urban Africans live in houses and apartment buildings, many, many other Africans do, in fact, live in huts. We passed hundreds of them on the way to and from our mountain vacation. Many, like the one shown here, offer items for sale to those driving by. In this case, it's charcoal, wrapped in grasses and bagged in pastel sacks, displayed under a huge, colorful mango tree. Perhaps more often, it's rice, potatoes, or pyramids of fresh fruit or vegetables. Sometimes it might be boldly patterned cloth, or recently butchered cows or goats.

In fact, the irregular intersection of manual labor and traditional products with technological sophistication is one of the earmarks of African life. Single A fisherman spends his morning in a small canoe, and brings his products to a market where vendors use hand-held calculators and cell phones. A shepherd guides his flock of sheep or goats across a divided highway. A street vendors hawk matches, CD players, and inflatable Santas side-by-side. Imams chant their calls to prayer not from the minarets themselves, but from tinny loudspeakers stuck at their tops (see photo--that's a speaker, not a bell). Africa is a living kaleidescope of change.

On the 7th Day of (my) Christmas

FRIDAY DECEMBER 21

This was a packed day! It started with birdwatching near the cabin in the morning. I saw numerous species not listed in my Birds of West Africa; and others that are listed, but not indicated as living in Guinea. And I have pictures to prove (some of) my sightings! Unfortunately, the quality of most of the photos is pretty poor, but they still should help with identification. Here's a fire finch perched on the end of a cinnamon tree trunk.

Then, Jim and I and three-year-old Hannah began a sight-seeing tour of the area. It started at the Dalaba visitor's center, a hut packed with local crafts and other items of interest, including this Hannah-sized, stuffed leopard skin. I almost succeeded in playing a reed flute like the one with which I was serenaded at the market yesterday, and the Center Director almost succeeded in getting me to buy one, but we couldn't agree on a price.



The next stop was the French colonial governor's compound, including a traditional "cassa des palabres" or House of Words. Built in 1936 using traditional mud construction, with beautiful geometric patterns formed in the floor, walls, and (before it collapsed from lack of care) the roof, the governor met here with important indigenous leaders to discuss political matters. A special place for each cheikh' (chief's) chair is marked in the wall--you may be able to make out two of these on either side of the door in this picture). It was here, in 1958, that incoming dictator Sekou Tourre convinced other national leaders to oust the French upon declaring independence--a move from which the country has never recovered.

Finally, we went to a beautiful lake where friends took me birdwatching in their canoe. I saw more stunning sights (including a large kingfisher with irredescent green back, wings, and throat; white breast; huge orange and black beak; and gray head), and took more terrible photos, the single exception being the birdless one at left.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

On the 6th Day of (my) Christmas

THURSDAY DECEMBER 20

EXCLUSIVE VIDEO FOOTAGE BELOW!!

Today is the highest holiday of the Muslim calendar. Known by different names in different parts of the world ("Eid ul-Adha" in Arabic countries, "Tabaski" in Senegal, "Donkin" in Pulaar, one of the main Guinean languages), it is the Muslim celebration of Abraham's near-sacrifice, at God's command, of his son. At the last minute, God provided an alternate sacrifice, a ram caught in a thorny thicket near the altar he had instructed Abraham to build (see Genesis 22). Christians recognize in these remarkable events a foreshadowing of God sending his own son, Jesus, wearing a crown of thorns, to pay the price for our sins, literally once and for all, with his life instead of ours.

Muslim families sacrifice a goat or sheep or cow each year in gratitude for the sparing of Abraham's son. (When I left Dakar, roadsides and major intersections were filled with thousands of sheep for sale at makeshift markets. It reminded me of the hundreds of Christmas tree stalls in every city in the United States--though those generally smell better!) The sacrificed animal is divided and shared with family and with the poor. The rest of the day and the following day are spent in celebration with special meals, visiting of friends, and gift-giving.

We took the day to travel over roller-coaster quality, unpaved roads to Pont de Dieu--"Bridge of God"--a natural bridge on the penultimate level of a 5-tier waterfall. In the above picture, I'm standing on the middle level, just below the bridge, photographing Jim as he photographs me.

On the way home, we stopped by the city market for a few food items. Jim and Becky���s blonde two-year-old Hannah was the center of attention until Becky came back from her search for cooking oil trailed by four nyamakalabhe���musicians who insert themselves into social settings such as weddings and baby-naming ceremonies in hopes of securing cash donations. They welcomed me to Dalaba, singing ���You have come to Dalaba, You have come a long way,��� and similar phrases over and over . . . until I paid them to stop! One man played a djembe, a west African drum; one played a reed flute; and two played lalaade (singular: lalaangii), shakers made from wooden disks stacked on small, angled tree branches.

Back "home" at our mountainside cabin, we could hear the Tabaski/Donkin celebrations until 10 pm under the nearly full moon, with both children and adults chattering excitedly along the road that runs along the bottom of the hill on which our cabin sits.


On the 5th Day of (my) Christmas

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 19

After getting up to do a little birdwatching, during which I photographed the sunrise through the pine trees, I spent the rest of the day sleeping. Every move felt like lifting lead weights. I wore three layers of clothing and was still cold, so I lay on a mat in the sun all afternoon to keep warm. In my lethargy, I missed going to the local French restaurant at which we had made reservations for dinner. I began recovering just in time to eat some of the delicious beef bourguinon leftovers Jim and Becky brought home.

On the 4th Day of (my) Christmas

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 18

Tuesday we went shopping in the nearby city, Dalaba [DAHL-uh-buh]. (Be sure to watch the market video on my "6th Day" blog). We bought fresh eggs, flour, sugar, bread, lettuce, tomatoes, several packages of batteries (that didn’t work), and slippers, each item in a different shop. I watched awhile as a tailor sewed gold thread into the seams of a dress using a foot-powered sewing machine similar to one my grandmother used.

On the way home, we stopped at a hotel surrounded by poinsettias and oleanders, with a fabulous panoramic view of the mountains. Here I am holding my hosts' baby girl in front of a 6-foot poinsettia bush.

At night, two of my former students and their parents, who are staying in a nearby cabin, came over for games and desert. I learned a strange, but fun card game called Bohnanza (or, "The Bean Game").

On the 3rd Day of (my) Christmas

MONDAY, DECEMBER 17th

Today, we drove northeast from Conakry (on the coast) past Kindia to Mamou, and northwest from there to Dalaba [DAH-lah-bah] in "upper Guinea" for a 5-day stay in the mountains. We stopped in Mamou to greet the family of my hosts' guard in Conakry. The family was apologetic that they hadn't known we were coming, and didn't have any food prepared for us. We promised to stop again on our return trip. (Map © 2006 Mapquest)











One of the differences between the US and Africa is the approach to tranportation. In the US, people and luggage are usually trasnported inside a vehicle. In Africa, the outside of the vehicle is just as viable as the inside. In the left-hand picture above, the luggage and people on top of the car are taller than the car itself. In the right-hand picture, the man standing on the left bumper has tied himself to the car so he can nap as he rides!

The countryside here is truly beautiful. The panoramas bring to mind parts of Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Georgia, but with a special character all their own. At left is a view of a valley as seen from our cabin. The weather here is idyllic--clear and sunny, breezy and dry, with pleasant temperatures. Surprisingly, though, even this far south, the harmattan wind delivers a hazy layer of Saharan dust which hovers over the countryside.

Another surprise for me is the quality and busy-ness of the roads this far from Conakry (quite different from my experience in Senegal, where roads and traffic both thin within a couple of hours of Dakar). Our cabin home feels like a US National Park, with frequent trucks driving by on the road below us and children laughing in the distance.

On the 2nd Day of (my) Christmas

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 16

Today, I attended two church services and a wake. The first service was in one of the three predominant languages of Guinea. Nine people were in attendance. We sat on mats in a room with a half-wall open to the outside. We sang in two languages (it was interesting to try to read and sing the words to a couple of the songs, originally written in English, in a language unfamiliar to me.) I will not publish photos of this service, since announcing one’s Christian faith in this particular Islamic context is a matter of considerable difficulty and, sometime, persecution. It can be a long process, often starting with trusted friends. It is not my place to publicize these believers’ faith for them.
The wake was for the brother of one of the church members. Her house and yard were full of men coming to pay their respects. As special church guests, we were ushered into her living room and served a meal of bara-bara (BAHda-BAHda)—a delicious rice—and sauce with a little meat.

The second church service was in the evening, conducted in English, and attended by American, Canadian, and African missionaries and personnel from various embassies. Much more in my own tradition, it was a welcomedly* familiar end to the day.

Today's photo is of something I saw many times in Guinea, food laid out on the shoulder of the road to dry. In most cases, as shown here, it's rice, but I also saw a bleached-white root of some sort, perhaps manioc, handled the same way.

*I made that word up. Feel free to use it without asking my permission. Just footnote me in the history books.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

On the 1st Day of (my) Christmas

SATURDAY DECEMBER 15

I left Dakar at 4:30 am and arrived in Guinea's capital city of Conakry at 6:00 am. The air was humid but not hot. Not suprisingly, the airport terminal was small. Surprisingly, it had no exterior walls.

To exit the airport, you must present your yellow health card as evidence that you have had malaria shots. I had presented this to the Guinean embassy in Dakar a few days earlier to obtain a visa, but had mistakenly left the card itself in Dakar, perhaps even at the embassy. At first, the airport health representative insisted that I either produce the card or pay 10,000 Guinean francs (about $2.50US) for an inoculation. I didn’t want another vaccination, particularly not one kept in a freezer that doesn’t have power 70% of the week (see below), so I repeatedly explained that I had obviously had an inoculation, or I wouldn’t have been able to get a visa. The woman continued to dismissively insist I purchase a vaccination. Eventually, we reached a compromise: I paid $2.50 for a new yellow health card that said I’d received an inoculation at the airport.

As we drove through the city in the early morning light, I found Conakry quite different from Dakar. It is more spread out—wider streets, more space between buildings, and stretched over a longer peninsula; the ground is rock and dirt instead of sand; slanted roofs outnumber flat ones; trees and grasses abound, as do streams and ponds and hills! It also smells better, lacking the sickly sweet odor of decaying trash mingled with diesel fumes which so often permeates Dakar. With its red clay, pine trees (introduced by the French), and dilapidated buildings, Conakry reminds me of rural Georgia near where my grandparents lived.

Two other ways Conakry is different from Dakar I learned later: city electricity is usually available only at night, and water is available only two days per week. Neither service reaches Jim and Becky's neighborhood, so they have solar panels on their roof and a short water tower in their front yard.

The 12 Days of Christmas

For the holidays this year, I’m on my first African trip outside of Senegal. I’m spending twelve days in the beautiful (!) Republic of Guinea, two countries to the south. This Guinea is commonly referred to as Guinea Conakry (CON-uh-kree), after its capital city, to distinguish it from Guinea-Bissau to the north and west, and Equatorial Guinea to the southeast.

I came to Conakry to visit my friends, Jim and Becky. I knew Becky at graduate school in the ’90s, but never expected to see her again because she was planning to live overseas! I bumped into Becky and Jim last spring when they were evacuated to Dakar during political unrest in Guinea, and they invited me to visit sometime. Seven months later, here I am! (Let that be a warning to anyone else who might lightly toss off an invitation for me to visit you.)

Subsequent posts will tell a little about each day. The photo above is from the Fouta Djallo region, as we neared the mountains. I have so many interesting and beautiful photos, I’ll try to figure out how to set up a separate page on the blog for some of them.

Friday, December 7, 2007

Scrooge is Dead! Long live Scrooge!

Next week, our Middle School and Elementary School students will join forces to perform A CHRISTMAS CAROL CARD COLLECTION--an update of Dickens' Scrooge story by yours truly, complete with bad puns, rhyming replacements for Scrooge's ghost friends (posts of Christmas instead of ghosts of Christmas), true spiritual conversion to Christ, traditional and contemporary Christmas music (including a new piece written specially for the program by one R. Jay Sappington), and a special guest appearance by Laurel and Hardy.
In the rehearsal pictured above, Scrooge is rudely refusing Laurel and Hardy's request for a donation to their charity, NICKELS BY NICHOLAS, which is sponsoring a Christmas dinner for those who have fallen on HARD TIMES.

"We have GREAT EXPECTATIONS of you," says Oliver.

"You won't FIELD one COPPER from me!" scowls Scrooge, ushering them out the door.

"That was a nasty turn," Oliver comments as they leave.

"It certainly was an unexpected TWIST, OLIVER," Stan replies.

Sharing the Road with Tomorrow's Dinner

In an earlier post, I compared Dakar's traffic to Chicago's. There are differences, though. It's not at all unusual in Dakar to share crowded intersections with horse-drawn carts, hand-pushed carts (the ones in the photo at left are full of sacks of potatoes), or with goats, sheep, and cows.

Sassy Teenagers!

Dakar Academy is not just a ministry of adults to students. It is a ministry of students to Senegal. Over 75 of our 110 high school students gave up 3 days of their Thanksgiving vacation to go to the village of Sass (pronounced "sahs"), a few hours from our campus, where they worked long, hard days in hot, sunny weather to minister to the physical and spiritual needs of the residents.

Joining our students on this trip were 25 more students from a sister school in Madrid, Spain. Plus, ten national pastors--including the president of the national church--lived, ate, and worked with the students.

The daytime project teams:

  • Team 1: Roofed the village pastor's home

  • Team 2: Dug and poured a foundation for a church

  • Team 3: Dug a septic system

  • Team 4: Made and repaired church benches and made a pulipt

  • Team 5: Painted another church and two homes in a nearby village

  • Team 6: Provided medical aid to 157 locals. (Our assistant director, who is an EMT, provided training and first aid certification for our students, who administered most of the treatments. Two additional trained medical professionals were on the trip to help with triage.)

  • Team 7: Visited 13 villages, presenting the gospel through skits, music, mime, and puppet shows to about 1200 children and adults.

  • Team 8: Ran Bible programs ("Vacation Bible School") with 800 children!

  • Team 9: Worked at the campsite coordinating meals and hand-pumping gallons and gallons of filtered water.

At night, troups of students went to three different villages and joined the Senegalese pastors in presenting the gospel to all who came to listen. Between 180 and 200 of these people indicated that they recognized the truth of the Biblical message of spiritual freedom in Christ, and wanted to become Christians. Many have already gotten involved in their local churches.

The students finished the weekend by joining the Sass church members in ther Sunday morning worship service. "We were deeply moved and humbled," wrote our outreach coordinator," when the president of the national church asked our staff and students to surround the local believers and pray for them. Indeed, the battle has just begun and we need to pray for these dear folks, that they will be faithful in sharing the gospel with their neighbors and building God's kingdom in that area.”

Photo of some of our girls working in Sass, taken by outreach coordinator Evan Evans.

Equal Time for the Boy's Dorm

This is the week for carolers! In an earlier post, I showed the group of Santas who serenaded my apartment building Monday night. Sadly, I missed a Wednesday night group when I was stuck in traffic for over an hour. (Dakar is a very congested city. It was odd to move to Africa only to face the Chicago rush hour.)

Last night, my Bible Study group was meeting when the sounds of male harmonies wafted in the windows. Sure enough, the high school boy's dorm was making the rounds. A welcome sound at this time of year!

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

'Tis the Season

Dateline December 3, 2007. 8pm. I'm about to eat dinner and watch a movie when the doorbell rings. "Who would be stopping by now?" I grumble, "I just want to be alone and relax." Then music begins floating in my open windows. Something about wishing me a merry Christmas . . .

And there, outside my apartment building, is a group of 15 high school girls from our on-campus dorm, all wearing Santa hats and shorts and (the temperatures being way down in the 70's)sweatshirts, singing Christmas carols! What a treat! I am pleased to report that I had a fresh batch of Christmas cookies to offer them (a neighbor had made them for me the day before.)

Sunday, December 2, 2007

My Hero, My Rant

My weekend began with a visit from my new Canadian friend, "Dan," (see my November 16 post), who brought me the latest issue of New Africa, a magazine based out of Ghana and England. I set it on my coffee table without noticing the cover article about Britain's celebration of the 200th anniversary of Parliament's abolition of the British slave trade, and Dan and I set off for Movie Night, an evening of free outdoor movies sponsored by the senior class.

First movie: Ratatouille. Thoroughly enjoyable. Get's my vote for the best animation and story since Finding Nemo.

Second movie: Amazing Grace. This historical drama is a class act from begining to end: well-written, brilliantly acted, and (most amazing of all) historically accurate in, I believe, every significant detail. The story is that of William Wilberforce's leadership of the abolitionist movement in 18th-century England. I had looked forward to the film because of the subject matter (as you may know, I spent two years researching Wilberforce's abolitionist strategy as the subject of my master's thesis), but was unprepared for its extraordinarily high quality as cinema.

The film's only major flaw is a sin of omission rather than commission. Whereas, in the US, the terms "abolition" and "emancipation" are typically used synonymously to refer to the end of slavery, in British parlance, "abolition" refers merely to ending the slave trade--the buying and selling of slaves. This was accomplished in 1807, and this is where, fairly enough, the film ends. The uninitiated American viewer might assume this abolition simultaneously ended British slavery itself, and nothing in the film serves to prevent or correct that assumption--not even the end notes which say that Wilbeforce went on to challenge and change additional aspects of British culture and life.

But Wilbeforce and his colleagues had to fight another 25 years before finally securing emancipation for the millions of slaves still owned by British subjects. This they finally achieved in 1833, just days after Wilberforce's death. (Wilberforce, age 73, had retired by this time, and died happy, assured that the emancipation bill would pass.)

This blurring of abolition and emancipation also mars the issue of New Africa Dan had brought me. The cover article, "Lies, Lies, Lies!," tells of a new book by a British historian who claims, apparently with detailed documentation, that Britain's bicentennial celebration of Abolition is a bunch of self-congratulatory hooey; that Britain continued to build its empire on the products of slave labor late into the 1800s. The book's author and the article's author both are scandalized by this revelation, and the latter heaps calumnies on the Brits, going so far as to wonder if Wilberforce himself were a racist.

The late hour and lack of library resources (or even my thesis and the notes it was based on) prevent a detailed or footnoted response. Suffice it to say:

(1) The main proponents of slavery were those who were benefitting financially from plantation produce (shippers, merchants, bankers, etc.). They spent 20 years fighting abolition because major portions of the economy, and their own profits, were based on slavery. Why would anyone expect them to suddenly forgo the financial benefits they could still milk from the industry, even if they were prevented from the direct sale and purchase of slaves? It's one thing go be scandalized by this. Slavery is scandalous. But, given the historical context, to be surprised by it seems naive.

(2) As pointed out earlier, 1807 marked the legislative end of the British slave trade. It did not mark the end of the slave trade still conducted under the laws of other nations (or of the illegal trade still conducted by some Britons). And it did not end slavery itself, even in Britain and its territories. The slaving industry marched on, denying basic human rights to Africans. And the foodstuffs and other salable items produced by slaves continued to be a huge portion of the British and world economy of the time. Again, what is the surprise here?

(3) Though the article does acknowledge Africans' complicity in the slave trade, the author downplays it, saving his indignation for the British alone (apparently feeling the British are self-serving in their celebration of Wilberforce and Abolition; but isn't it worth commemorating?).

(4) Wilberforce would not have spent over 40 years of his life trying to free British slaves if he were an anti-African racist (the term is anachronistic). To imply such a thing only indicates lack of knowledge of Wilberforce's writings, his life's work, and his reputation among opponents as (to use another anachronism) a "nigger lover."

Photo shows a contemporary painting, by John Rising, of Wilberforce at age 29, near the beginning of his abolitionist efforts. Image in the public domain. Downloaded from http://www.hullcc.gov.uk.