On the other hand, it is understandable that we should want Eusébio to be ours, given that he is one of the greatest footballers of all time. Eusébio was the flag that identified Portugal. In the eighties, many in the world still recognized Portugal through its two emblems: Eusébio and Amália Rodrigues. It’s therefore natural that we should want Eusébio to be a source of our pride. But there are things that can only be obtained by means of seduction. The heart of a man or a woman doesn’t obey the dictates of conscience. No one loves out of duty.
Eusébio’s case may be revealing of other illusions. The question is this: why can’t black Africans transform themselves into some other “thing”? If there are whites who are African, if there are blacks who are American, why can’t black Africans be European? Nowadays, there are hundreds of thousands of blacks who were born in Europe. They have studied, grown up, and absorbed values there. They have become citizens of the countries where they were born. The vast majority will live their whole lives in those countries. They will have European children and grandchildren. And they mustn’t fall into the trap of claiming a ghetto for themselves, a kind of second-class citizenship going by the name of “Afro-European.” They are European in their own absolute right, they are European not through favour or condescension. They participate in the same process of identity exchange as any other European citizen.Two years ago in France, I fell prey to this stereotyped view of the world. Wherever I went, I saw huge posters of a beautiful black woman. So I asked:
“Is that woman a singer?”
“No, she’s Christiane Taubira, and she’s running for President of the Republic.”
All this, all these stories, are to tell you this: a man isn’t a shore, merely existing on one side or the other. A man is a bridge linking various shores. Eusébio can in fact be various things at the same time. Only he can assess to what extent this is true.
Fears and Prejudices
We react with some misgivings to an open discussion about certain questions. One of the topics that scares us is that of nation and ethnicity. Is there such a thing as a Makua nation, a Shona nation, a Zulu nation? Or are they merely ethnic groups? But then what exactly is the difference between these categories? Are we merely debating the meaning of words?
The truth is that, for many of us, these words, these categories, are important points of reference. There isn’t a South African Zulu who, from time to time, doesn’t feel the urge to reclaim his ethnic identity as being his first nation. Just like the rest of us who, at certain moments, are drawn to wield this or that absolute identity. Nation and ethnic identity can coexist without conflict, as has happened in any number of historical moments. But they are also an opportunity for demagogues and the ambitious to promote their personal or group interests.
The debate about dual nationality in Mozambique has always been contaminated by the assumption that it is about taking up Portuguese nationality alongside Mozambican. The truth, however, is that the issue is much wider than this. We cannot forget the ambivalent and arbitrary history of our frontiers. How many Mozambicans have their history divided between being Mozambicans and Zimbabweans, South Africans, Malawians, Tanzanians, Zambians, Swazis? And there’s more to it than that: if we consider that ethnicities were in fact historically defined nations, then it is perfectly natural that a Mozambican citizen may feel he belongs both to the modern Mozambican nation and to the Shona nation. He will always feel “divided” loyalties. This doesn’t mean that he is less Mozambican or that he should feel less Mozambican than any other citizen.
I used the term “divided” on purpose. It is an intentional error. I recall the poet José Craveirinha’s lesson when referring to his mestizo origin: “I am a shared man, I am not a divided man.” This is how we all represent ourselves here, shared and not divided. None of us is a citizen of only one nation. We share ourselves among various worlds. We are citizens of orality, but also of the written word. We are urban and rural. We belong to the nation of tradition and to that of modernity. We sit down in an office chair at a computer and on a floor mat, without feeling out of place with either form of seating. And this is how it must surely be: sharing different worlds without any one of these worlds gaining hegemony over the others.
Mozambique is a nation made up of many nations. It is a supranational nation. And this should sit comfortably within the territorial space of Mozambique, as we have defined it, just as it should sit comfortably within each one of us. We shall, of course, have to be on our guard against certain politicians who will try to turn our differences into levers with which to create division. Let us beware, then, of those who propose crusades in search of purity and authenticity.
Citizenship Without a City?
The origin of the word citizenship is easy to identify: it comes from city. In the same way, “civic spirit” is an expression that comes from civis, that which is urban.
In Mozambique, we shall have different and diverse citizenships. But modern citizenship, that which will make us more part of the world, is born in the city. Herein lies a problem, however: to what extent are our cities already urban, both in the cultural sense, and in the sene that their way of life is based on civic responsibility?
Let us take the case of our capital, the city that might serve as a kind of model. For most of its citizens, Maputo is still Xilunguini. What does Xilunguini mean? It’s the place where Portuguese is spoken, or in a more generic sense, where people live like whites. When did Maputo turn into a place that is mentally represented as ours, reshaped in accordance with our ways?
The perception Mozambicans have of the cities of southern Mozambique was invented outside Mozambique. It was born from the contact between our miners and country folk and South African cities. The term doropa comes from dorp, the word that designates a “small town” in Afrikaans.
The history of the city is linked to human processes that we inhabitants of Maputo are unaware of. But it is important to know the history of each one of our cities. That is where the feeling of citizenship begins: one only loves what one knows. And we cannot love our cities if they are seen as legacies left by outsiders.
We have an idea that Mozambique is a rural country, and this is true, but we are rapidly changing from being a rural country to an urban one. Soon (in less than ten years), most of Mozambique’s population will live in cities. This will have decisive consequences for our social, economic and environmental policies.
In 1994, around five million Mozambicans lived in cities; in 2025, this population will amount to more than twenty-one million. In other words, in 2025, 61 percent of Mozambicans will live in cities. At that point, the country dwellers will be in the minority. Once again, Mozambique will become something else. Once again, we shall be ambushed by History.
Our Other Poverties
We were taught to attribute fault to others, to find explanations for adversity in foreign enemies. The guilty are those from the South, the North, whites, blacks, Christians, Muslims. We easily embark on a discourse that casts stones and promises to purify the world, repudiating those who are different from ourselves. We need a symbol for the nation that includes those who don’t speak the official language well, that doesn’t marginalize the illiterate and poorest members of society, and that doesn’t privilege or exclude anyone on the basis of race, colour, faith or origin.