Angola in the Comics #10: Swamp Thing #19

Here's another very brief look at an appearance by Angola as the setting of a DC super hero comic. Like my previous look at a 1977 Batman comic, Angola appears for only a single panel. The book in question is Swamp Thing #19 and the story "Rootless" by writer Brian K. Vaughan and artists Giuseppe Camuncoli & Cameron Stewart, originally released in 2001. It seems appropriate that a DC super hero visited Angola near the beginning of the Civil War and likewise one visited near the conclusion. (there doesn't seem to be any appearances from the middle though)

Swamp Thing is normally a thoughtful horror/fantasy book about the plant elemental creature Swamp Thing who, per Alan Moore, once thought he was a man named Alec Holland. However, the star of the Swamp Thing series which ran during 2000-2001 was Tefé Holland, the half-human/half-plant daughter of the original. Brian K. Vaughan was a relatively young comics author at the time, this being before his breakout work on Y: The Last Man or Runaways. In fact, Vaughan has said in interviews that he doesn't think too highly of his early comics work, that he saw it as a means to get "bad writing" out of his system.

It seems Tefé and her friend Pilate are searching for the literal Tree of Knowledge and their quest has brought them to Africa. Like, the entire continent. In a quick series of panels we see them visit just about every hotspot in Africa circa 2001: first an "amputee camp" in Sierra Leone, then to the civil war in Angola, then rescuing slaves in the Sudan, then opposing female genital mutilation in Ethiopia, then starvation in Somalia, and finally battling rebels in Namibia. Any one of those subjects could have been the subject of a half-decent post-Alan Moore Vertigo comic, but it's ultimately Namibia where the bulk of issue #19 goes down.

So all we're left with is that panel of Tefé & Pilate fighting nondescript people in a nondescript location which is only identifiable as Angola because the caption tells us it is; are those guys UNITA? MPLA? Mercenaries? Or just criminals? Heck if I know. Giuseppe Camuncoli has come a long way since 2001 - his work in this comic is very thin on detail. Even with Cameron Stewart inking him, it looks very dashed-off.

Swamp Thing was frequently a great platform for authors to talk about environmental issues they were passionate about and there is much to discuss about Angola - you could talk about how landmines have wrecked the agricultural industry, discuss the perfect environmental conditions they enjoy. You could talk about the unique plant life found only in that part of the world, like yesterday's Poison Ivy comic did. But nope, it's just glanced over, which is a pity. The actual plot in Namibia reads a little strangely as Tefé & Pilate encounter an African mystic who talks to them in English. Pilate says it's the first English he's heard in weeks, which is... huh? There's a pretty visible white population in Namibia and plenty of English spoken there. Heck, they'd just come from Sierra Leone, which has a lot of English spoken. Good rule of thumb for writers: former English colonies tend to have English-speaking populations.

Across my desk: Bar the Doors

Now here's a feature I haven't utilized in a while.

Some time ago I blogged about the H.G. Wells short story "Pollock and the Porroh Man," a jungle tale set in Sierra Leone on the subject of native witchcraft and revenge - perhaps the first story of its type? It's certainly a story of its time but made for a good radio adaptation on Escape.

Recently a copy of the Alfred Hitchcock short fiction collection Bar the Doors crossed my desk. Not only did the book republish the Wells story but on the back cover for some reason it depicts a map of the story's location:

Now, the map is pretty much useless - there is no point in the story where you are benefited from knowing how one location relates to another. It's enough to know that Sierra Leone is in Africa, frankly. And yet, simplistic as the image is, it was such an unexpected discovery that I find I kind of like it. Shows me for a sucker, eh? You've just got to slap 'Sierra Leone' on something and there I am...

Sierra Leone, 2014

For the benefits of those who aren't on my facebook, this video was assembled by the team I joined working in Sierra Leone this past April-May, where we completed work on the school King's Royal Academy which we began back in 2012:

Old-Time Radio Theme Month, Day 11: "Pollock and the Poorah Man"

Today's Halloween-theme program brings us to one of my favourite authors, H.G. Wells, via his 1895 story "Pollock and the Poorah Man," which you can read online here. It's a tale of African curses, murderous revenge and a descent into madness; it was presented on Escape October 29, 1947.

It's taken me years to realize it, but this story is set within Sierra Leone! Some of you may recall I visited Sierra Leone in April, 2012 and consequently, I have a better idea now of what Wells was trying to establish in this story. I don't know if Wells ever visited Sierra Leone, however. If you'd like to read an authentic account of mysticism in Sierra Leone, I recommend Tim Butcher's Chasing the Devil: the Search for Africa's Fighting Spirit (Chatto & Windus, 2010).

You can download a copy of this radio show from archive.org here.

Signs of Sierra Leone

Here are a few signs I noticed while looking about in Sierra Leone; some made me laugh; some made me sad.
Commercial Advertisements:
"Stop! Car Wash"
"If Money nor dae. Welbody nor dae? Dis for change."
"Bon o Bon: Filled With Pleasure and Emotions"
"For Quality and Satisfaction Products"
"Female Condom!!"
Public Service Advertisements:
"A Force for Good Uses Condom. Beware HIV/AIDS is Real"
"Support Your Girl Child's Education"
"Dots Cures TB"
"Malaria is Curable"
"Rape is Punishable in Sierra Leone"
"Education First Motherhood Later"
"Help Protect Your Baby. Get Tested for HIV During Pregnancy"
"When You Educate a Girl You Educate a Nation"
Messages Painted on Vehicles:
"God is Good"
"It's Our Turn"
"No Job No Respect"
"God Bless Islam"
"In God We Trust"
"Allah is Great"
"God in Control"
"Thank You Jesus"
"Trust in Allah. No Food for Infidels"
"Last Supper"
"With God All Things are Possible"
"Prayer is Obligatory"

On being Poto

Several months ago, Erica told me a few items about her visit to Sierra Leone in 2011. "People would see us and call out 'White man! White man!' They would call me a 'white man' too."

The precise term was "Poto" (or "Porto"). I asked Vince what people called him, as he's Asian-Canadian. "They call me Poto." This tickled my fancy. "Really? So we're both a couple of Poto!" Many times following this I would find excuses to compare myself to Vince. "Hey man, I understand, I'm Poto too."

Our driver Soulay would ferry us about an hour and a half each day to the work site where the school was being raised up. As we passed out of Freetown and into the rural areas, our presence would draw the occasional stares from adults, but "Poto" was usually exclaimed by the children. As we drove into the village of Waterloo where the school was being built, the amount of children would intensify. All around us we would hear: "A Poto! A Poto! A Poto!" and a flurry of tiny hands waving at us. Some of the children would race to follow us, calling out as they ran. Seeing other white people was so rare in Sierra Leone that we couldn't help ourseleves: "A Poto! A Poto!" we'd cry from our car when we spotted other outsiders.

Wheels were turning inside the head of Jay, Erica's husband. "Soulay," he asked one afternoon, "how do I say 'one of you' to the children?" Soulay is old by Sierra Leone standards (perhaps 50?) and usually stone-faced, but he had his moments of levity and would often drop his guard around Jay. "Unibe." was Soulay's response. "That means 'black man'?" Jay confirmed. "Yes." Soulay answered.

As the next collection of children waved at our car, crying out "a Poto!" Jay waved back: "Honeybee!" he called. "Sweetie, I don't think you're saying it right." Erica cautioned. "Honeybee!" Jay cried. "Look, it stops them in their tracks! They don't know what to think!" Behind the wheel, Soulay was practically chuckling.

In the days which followed, Jay's cry of "Honeybee!" became a constant refrain (I think he was trying to say "Unibe" and sometimes succeeded). Even Soulay would mimic Jay's "Honeybee!" I occasionally joined in; greeting the children was the best part of the 1.5 hour drive we had to make twice each day.

My favourite task on the work site was to make bricks; this involved mixing together pans of sand with a bag of cement and a measure of water (more art than science). I made a few attempts to help the workers mix the contents, but I wasn't very good at it and usually stepped back to let the professionals manage it. Once the mix was ready, we would fill a rectangular steel box with mix and lay it upside down on the ground, much like building a sand castle. Hundreds of these bricks would be made each day.

I believe it was on our fifth day that I found myself making bricks alone; although the workers were present, ready with shovels to fill up my brick mold, the other 10 members of my team were elsewhere, either taking a water break or performing other tasks. I never liked going on break when I was the only person making bricks, so I kept going. Two children were seated nearby, watching me; we always drew audiences on the site. "Hello Poto," one ventured. "Hello Unibe," I replied.

A short time later, I noticed a stranger wandering through the site. He clearly didn't belong; unlike the workers, who wore dirty, tattered t-shirts and shorts, he wore good slacks and a clean white long-sleeved shirt. He was, I would learn, one of the teachers from the school for whom we were building this structure.

As he passed nearby, he addressed me: "Thank you, Poto." He moved on before I could stammer out my own grateful response.

That's what "Poto" means to me.

Bronzed and bearded

"Are you keeping the beard?" Jay asked. It was the fourth morning since our 11-person team had arrived in Sierra Leone and Jay was the first to comment on my lack of grooming.

"While I'm in Sierra Leone, yes," I answered, "but I intend to shave at least most of it off before we leave."

Jay shook his head. "Don't do it, man. It looks good on you!"

As I type this post at home in Calgary, two hours after my return, I still haven't shaven.

Our project in Sierra Leone was to build a school, foundation and all. I'm not the most physically able person for such work, but I toiled every day with the rest of the team. With the temperature often in the 30s (40s, counting humidity), I was applying sun screen every day to protect myself.

The trip was nearly over before anyone asked me about the sun screen. On our second last day of construction, Braydon inquired about borrowing mine and I explained I was wearing a sweat/water resistant SPF 60 sun screen. At this, Joel chimed in: "You've been wearing SPF 60 the whole time? And you still got a tan?"

And he was right. Although in the early days of the trip the sun didn't seem to affect me at all, by the second week I was clearly browning. And so I am now.

I knew I would be in the sun, but I did not plan to tan; I knew I would forgo shaving for a while but did not plan to wear a beard. Like so many things in Africa, you learn to accept the way things are.

More to follow...

Two week's notice

Today I set out for Freetown, Sierra Leone to begin a two-week mission there, hopefully helping to build a school. Blogging will probably be nil during this time. Stay out of trouble while I'm gone!