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Kuito, a child’s
map of war and infinity
Photos
by Guy Tillim, text by Ana Paula Tavares. Guy Tillim is a former economist from South
Africa; Ana Paula Tavares is an Angolan poet and writer
“Through
something small, one can sometimes discover the great things of life; there is no
need to explain, one simply has to look.” Drawing on the wisdom of her countryman
and fellow writer Ondjaki, the Angolan poet. Ana Paula Tavares reflects on the photos
of children taken in the devastated town of Kuito |
The children’s days
pass like light scattering on the wings of a bird. Small waves buoy them along, their
fragile bones, their vast souls opened wide towards the sky.
A sense of eternity lies in each window turned toward the light, the sun glides in
through blankets of pollen settling on the ground. Children move forth as if the
world under their little feet was a theatre stage. Far in the distance, the rumours
of fountains can still be heard.
Children’s laughter fills the silence, as if the soul of the rain had risen and was
beckoning the rivers to return and tempt wheat, maize and manioc from the earth.
Every wall is a mountain, and the higher one climbs, the farther one sees into the
future. Through the doors of grand, darkened houses, the voices of adults, slow and
unstinting as the afternoon, gather letters of the alphabet and dreams to teach children
of vanquished utopias, the secrets of the wind and the two-times table.
One
thing is certain: here in Kuito, children push the world onwards to infinity
The
day advances in the wake of birds–the birds who leave small grains behind so they
can retrace their steps and dream once again.
These children live free, while the clocks, jammed by bullets, are destined to repeat
time, just as the to and fro of bells sounds the cycle of birth and death.
They tame the silence, sowing laughter into the folds of day. There is still milk
in their laughter, fermenting the hopes of an afternoon. Beyond the doors of houses,
the children are exploring the labyrinthine walls. They have a key for everything–even
to the stairs that they climb up to reach the sky, bared by a missing roof. They
sleep on the ground, parched by bullets, under a sheet of stars that slowly descends
until the light is eclipsed and night ushered in.
Beyond
the doors of houses, the children are exploring the labyrinthine walls
This
is the map of a war: territories, frontiers and sprawling craters are inscribed in
black and white–it is the map of a new world. Children slide along this map with
little speed cars made of tin cans, their bodies puffed by the wind, navigating the
world to its farthest limits.
They tell each other the tales of the great chiefs, heard from elders sitting around
water pipes and fires lit on the edge of night. “Once upon a time there was a man,
his wife and a snake,” or “Once upon a time, there was a girl who asked many questions,”
or “Once upon a time, there was a magic box that should have been hidden.”
Children in their white Sunday best walk the city from north to south.
One thing is certain: here in Kuito, children push the world onwards to infinity.
Born in
1952, Ana Paula Tavares specializes in African lusophone literature, which she teaches
at the Catholic University of Lisbon.
Poetry: Ritos de passagem (“Rites of passage”) published by the Union of Angolan
Writers (1985); O lago da lua (“The lake of the moon”), published by Editorial
Caminho, Lisbon, 1989; Dizes-me coisas amargas como os frutos (“Tell me of
bitter things like fruit”), same editor 2001. In prose: O sangue da buganvilia
(“The blood of the bougainvillea”), Cape Verde Portuguese Cultural Centre, 1997.
Ana Paula Tavares’s poetry also appears in an anthology co-edited by UNESCO and Acte
Sud, Poésie d’Afrique au Sud du Sahara, 1945-1995.
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A
City on its Knees
“The dogs
devour dead bodies, the living eat the dogs,” wrote The Independent’s special correspondent
from Kuito during the nine-month conflict that pitted the National Union for the
Total Liberation of Angola (Unita) against government forces in 1993-1994. Since
the country’s independence from Portugal in 1975, the two camps have been at war,
but this time, they fought on either side of Kuito’s main street. The fighting and
privations left 40,000 dead. To date, the Angolan conflict has cost close to one
million lives.
“At the height of the Bosnian war, my eyes, like many others, were fixed on Sarajevo’s
agony, while at the same time, another city was on its knees,” wrote French writer
Bernard-Henri Lévy, who visited the city in 2001 for the French newspaper
Le Monde. Located at the heart of Angola’s main plain, Kuito is the most devastated
city in Africa. Following the breakdown of the 1994 Lusaka peace agreement, fighting
resumed in December 1998. Since then, Unita has been upholding a state of insecurity
around Kuito. The city, only reachable via armed convoy, is in “a desperate situation,”
according to its bishop, Dom Jose Nambi.
It counts about 240,000 inhabitants of which close to half are displaced. Like a
quarter of Angola’s population, war has forced them to flee their homes.
The city has no running water or electrical network.
Close to one child in two dies before reaching the age of five. Apart from a tiny
minority profiting from the diamond trade, the majority of Kuito’s inhabitants survive
through a bit of farming around the city and a host of “odd jobs.”
The displaced are almost entirely reliant on the World Food Programme. But for financial
reasons, the latter has just been obliged to limit its aid to the “vulnerable groups,”
such as pregnant women and very young children.
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Angola: key
figures
Population:
12 millions (1999)
Surface area: 1,247,000 km2
GNP per capita: $270 (1999)
Life expectancy at birth: 47 years
Adult literacy rate: n.a.
Source:
World Bank. |
Angola
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