Writing about the Eritrean conflict in the Horn of Africa is a difficult task, because it involves the issue of dismembership of a state. From the Greek Empire to the Roman, from the feudal era to the colonial times, and now in the post-colonial era, dismembership of the state has been a highly controversial and emotional issue. From the colonial era to decolonization, Africans did not have to face this problem. In fact, not only did they applaud the dismembership of the colonial empire, they worked hard to insure the disintegration of the colonies. In their optimism for the future of Africa, they developed a rhetoric that went beyond cooperation among future independent states to continental political unity. “Africa must unite” said the vibrant and dynamic leader of Ghana, Nkrumah.

In the late 1970s, the Ethiopia-Eritrea conflict and the Ethiopia-Somalia border war over the Ogaden region has centered world attention on Soviet-Cuban activities in the Horn of Africa. Although the Somali army was defeated by the combined powers of the Ethiopians and the Soviet-Cuban forces in mid-March 1978, the tension between the two countries was still high. Among the other problems facing the region is that of the Eritrean struggle for self-determination.

When the 35-year-old Zwelakhe Sisulu arose to deliver the keynote address reproduced below, he stepped into a spotlight of national leadership toward which he had been moving for a decade. From an important role in the Black Consciousness Movement, he had become a leading strategic thinker for the United Democratic Front, South Africa’s most widely representative, nonracial coalition. Described by a colleague as “a charismatic, handsome figure with a resonant voice,” a man of “sharp intellect” and “sharp wit,” he is now recognized as one of the country’s outstanding younger leaders, comparable to Steve Biko, who died at the hands of the security police in 1977.

Southern Africa has been in a state of crisis since the fall of the Portuguese empire in Angola and Mozambique in 1974. The MPLA and FRELIMO governments established in Angola and Mozambique, respectively, in the mid-1970’s have been under pressure from internal opposition groups that have been increasingly drawn into the armpits of South African sponsorship in its destabilization policy towards its neighbors. Zimbabwe, independent only six years ago, seems to have fallen into a similar pattern.

Too frequently policy makers in Washington or Moscow see local or regional issues in southern Africa solely through their own, often distorted, lenses. And seen exclusively in ideological, or alternatively East-West or Cold War terms, they view their interests as inherently antagonistic. The old African maxim popular among non-aligned leaders in the early 1960’s is apropos: “When the bull elephants fight, the grass gets trampled.” Yet, unlike two elephants contesting clashing claims to territory of or sexual supremacy, southern Africa is not the territory of either of the super powers. Nor does Angola belong to other regional powers, notably South Africa. Although such states may have “interests” there. Angola is not their’s to shape.

As a Jewish political scientist who has lived, taught, and conducted research in Muslim areas of sub-Saharan Africa (particularly Niger and Northern Nigeria), I was more than intrigued with that aspect of the debate between Ali Mazrui and Hailu Habtu-two African Africanists, at least one of whom is of Islamic origin-concerning “Jewish cultural influences on Black Africa” (“The Semitic Impact on Black Africa: Arab and Jewish Cultural Influences”; “The Fallacy of the ‘Triple Heritage’ Thesis: A Critique,” Issue, vol. XIII, 1985). As a reflection on the revolution in Africana studies that has occurred over the past few decades, it is refreshing to note that Westerners (including Jews) may now find themselves to be the objects of intellectual discourse and historical analysis by African scholars-and not, as has traditionally been the case, the other way around.

Six years after independence, Zimbabwe is viewed by its admirers as having adopted a pragmatic approach to a broad range of socialist oriented policies. A massive expansion and re-direction of services in the areas of education, health, and agricultural extension services, in addition to the creation of one of the world’s largest resettlement programs, are often cited as evidence of how the government of Prime Minister Robert Mugabe is working for socialist transformation in Zimbabwe. In addition, under Mugabe’s Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU) government, the Zimbabwean economy has been able to maintain a real expansion in production averaging near 4.6% per annum-perhaps the highest rate in Africa--while the government has reversed a tremendous balance of payments deficit.

To the casual observer and the experienced scholar alike, the complexity of the African continent defies imagination. Two of the complicated-and troubled-areas are Southern Africa and the Horn. These two regions with their extraordinary mix of ethnic groups, races, political loyalties, new states, varying colonial experiences, economic concerns and environmental problems challenge the most astute analyst of African affairs. Recently, I had an opportunity to return to Zimbabwe and Ethiopia for a brief visit after a three-year absence. I was intrigued with the possibiltiy of looking more closely at some of the pieces of the Southern Africa and Horn puzzles. I wondered what changes there would be in these two countries since I had last visited them in the summer of 1982.

We used to play soccer with white boys in Kankan at Saint John, a Catholic elementary and junior high school. Then one day a girl by the name of Dusu told my mother that I had been in the worshipping house of the white people. When I came home my mother was crying, saying that the Devil had entered me. The other women in the compound gathered around her to express their surprise and distress as well. I could hear them talking about how the world had become a dangerous place since the era of the white man. Some said that nowadays the white men had driven Satan deep into the souls of some black men so much so that, like mad dogs, they had turned against their trainers themselves. Some said that the world was coming to an end, and others enjoined that it was all Sekou Toure’s fault. That day my mother locked me up and began whipping me.

This article is an inquiry into the origins, the ideological basis, political and economic organization and prospects of the Populist Revolution ushered in Burkina Faso (formerly Upper Volta) by the military coup d’état of 4 August 1983 led by Captain Thomas Sankara. Set against an inauspicious background of scarce resources, dismal poverty, recurrent drought and regional and international hostility, and occurring at a time when Socialism is on the wane in Africa, the coup initially seemed doomed to failure. The very fact that it has been able to survive for almost three years in such an unfavourable context is in itself intriguing. We venture the hypothesis that the relative longevity and temporary success of the Sankara regime is to be explained by the fact that-contrary to many similar socialists experiments-it has actually managed to actively and durably mobilize genuine and significant popular support for its policies.

In the quotation above, Kenya’s Ngugi wa Thiong’o sums up the anguish of many Africans, writers, and non-writers alike. Because they address a national, and sometimes international, audience, writers are particularly prone to detentions without trial.