Lembra dos meu post anterior sobre lama e urbanidade africana.

Talvez eu queria ouvir um pouco mais de revolta misturado com orgulho. Sei lá. Mas é sempre bom ver realidade no mini-ecrã.

Tem sido uma irritação minha há tempos: a preguiça das mídias internacionais em relação à torre de babel (pós)colonial. Artigos em inglês sobre “África” sofrem do olhar “África é um país”, mas eu iria ainda mais longe, é o olhar “África é um país anglófono“.

A cena de TICs e tecnologia também é culpado com isso! (Irónico até porque, pensa-se que a linguagem do código derrubava barreiras.) Estamos sempre a ouvir de projectos maravilhosos de Nairobi, Capetown, Kampala, Accra, mas ouve-se muito pouco de projectos menorzinhos na RDC, Cameroon ou Moçambique. (O que acontece nestes países é inevitavelmente menor devido a diferenças históricas e estruturais.) Fiquei entusiasmada com a iniciativa de mapear os hubs (núcleos) de tecnologia em África – mas falta fazer muito mais para destacar e alimentar inovação nestas escalas pequenas.

O post recente da CNN sobre “Top 10 African Tech Leaders” parece ter provocado uma reacção pelo menos. Pode ser que aqueles que queiram “top 10″ não tenham tempo para ouvir sobre coisas a surgir em lugares inesperados, mas o post de Jean Patrick Ehouman a catalogar líderes da tecnologia francófona é mais que necessário.

Não sou tão boa em francês, mas posso ler e tenho aprendido bastante do @Fasokan @JulieOwono entre outros. No campo das TICs, muitos twitam em inglês mais que francês. (Pensando bem, aonde cabem o pessoal de Ruanda e Cameroon nestas listas, como ambos têm camadas grandes a twitar em inglês?)

O mesmo podia ser dito da cena lusófona – muito conteúdo em inglês.

Acontece que a minha lista é exclusivamente moçambicana (ganda sorpresa) mas tenho tentado destacar as lacunas. Tal como sugere o Jean Patrick Ehouman, vamos começar um thread no comentários aqui em baixo, para criar uma lista dos melhores tweets.

__________

Angola (população pequena, rico)

A ala de Google de outreach em África esteve em Luanda o ano passado, mas nenhum único tweet com o tag #gangola sobreviveu. Nunca vi tanta actividade de tecnologia no Twitter de Angola, a pesar do país possuir vários negócios relacionados com as TICs. A constada falta de twits de tecnologia diz-me que presença no Twitter não diz respeito aos mercados e nem capital financeiro. (Por favor, deixem seus top tweets no comentários em baixo!)

Cabo Verde (população mini)

Bastante ausente no Twitter. Cabo Verde foi o único país lusófono a ter um projecto seleccionado pelo concurso de TICs Creatic4Africa, foi um académico chamado Simão Paulo Rodrigues Varela. Mas não está no Twitter e nem sequer achei um blog. Pena.

Guiné-Bissau (população mini)

Enquanto não presente no Twitter, o projecto baseado na Guiné Rising Voices “Netos de Bandim” merece uma vista de olhos. As últimas novas foram que sofreu com inchentes, deslizamento de terras, enfim uma bolsa micro chega para pouco. Twitter não é prioridade quando subir fotos e postar custa tanto.

Moçambique (população pequena)

@Echaras – Erik Charas, fundador do jornal @VerdadeMz – a fazer coisas incríveis com mídia social e telemóveis. Twita principalmente em inglês.

Evangelista-Linux Maputense e criador de comunidade Celso Timana parece ter deixado Twitter recentemente (anteriormente @ctimana) – uma grande perda. Seu centro de formação @Cenfoss é porta-bandeira de opensource em Moçambique.

@_Mwaa_ Trabalha de dia num ministério relacionado a TICs mas twita em inglês e português sobre todo tipo de tema do sul de África. 

São Tomé and Príncipe (micropopulação)

Os únicos tweets destas ilhas parecem ser relacionados ao turismo.

__________

Esta lista parece colocar a questão: como pode crescer o Twitter na cena das TICs em África? Se não com geeks/cromos, como pode crescer o Twitter?

Eu questionaria até que ponto alguns países têm a figura do “intelectual orgânico” além de, digamos poetas, escritores e talvez uns professores universitários muito ‘secos’ (que são propriamente secas). Muitas vezes, nem ocurre a pessoas viradas a tecnologia e afins que poderiam abrir um espaço, no Twitter por exemplo.

Eu gostaria de sugerir que temos que considerar aonde as artes – especialmente hiphop – fundam-se com a tecnologia, porque os melhores twits de Angola e Moçambique são sobre música urbana, moda, artes e protesto. Em vez de twitar sobre tecnologia, estes estão simplesmente a apropriar-se dos meios tecnológicos, e assim fazendo, inovando. Pelo bem ou pelo mal, é a cena de indústrias criativas emergente nestes países tem mais hipótese de ser ouvida no palco mundial.

Comentem, por favor, neste post, não passa duma tentiva de iniciar uma conversa, nada mais duma perspectiva subjectiva de fora.

The tech scene itself is guilty of this! (Ironic because the language of code, one would think, would break down barriers.) We hear about great projects in Nairobi, Capetown, Kampala, Accra, but we hear very little noise about some great smaller projects in DRC, Cameroon and Mozambique. (What happens in these countries is inevitably smaller due to structural and historical differences.) I was heartened by the recent initiative to map African tech hubs – but much more is to be done to highlight and nurture smaller-scale innovation.

CNN’s recent post on “Top 10 African Tech Leaders” seems to have at least provoked a reaction. Perhaps those who want a “top 10″ are too busy to hear about what is bubbling up in unexpected places, but Jean Patrick Ehouman’s post cataloguing francophone tech leaders is more than necessary.

I am not great in French, but I can read and have learned from @Fasokan @JulieOwono among others. In the tech field, many are tweeting more in English than in French. (Also where do Rwandan and Cameroonian techies go on these lists, as both countries have a vocal cohort tweeting in English?)

The same could be said for the lusophone tech scene – much of their tweeting is in English.

As it turns out, my list is exclusively Mozambican (surprise surprise) but I have tried to highlight the gaps. Just as Jean Patrick Ehouman suggests in his post in French, let’s start a thread here below assembling the best tweets.

__________

Angola (small population, rich)

Google’s outreach wing in Africa was in Luanda late last year, but not one tweet with the hashtag #gangola appears to have survived. I have never seen too much tech activity in Angola on Twitter, and yet the country has quite a few ICT-related businesses. The perceived lack of tech tweets from Angola says to me that presence on Twitter is not about markets or financial capital. Please leave top tweets in the comments below!

Cape Verde (mini population)

Again, very absent on Twitter. Cape Verde was the only lusophone country with a winner in the Creatic4Africa #ICT4D competition, an academic called Simão Paulo Rodrigues Varela. But he is absent from Twitter and I could not even find a blog signed by him. Shame.

Guinea Bissau (mini population)

While not on Twitter, the Guinea-Bissau based Rising Voices project “Netos de Bandim” (Grandchildren of Bandim) is definitely worth a look – last I heard they had suffered flooding and rather large set-backs, and a microgrant only goes so far. Twitter is not a priority when even uploading photos and posts is a chore.

Mozambique (small population)

@Echaras – Erik Charas, founder of @VerdadeMz Newspaper in Mozambique – doing amazing things with social media and mobile. Tweets mostly in English.

Maputo Linux evangelist and tech community builder Celso Timana appears to have recently left Twitter (formerly @ctimana) – a real loss. His training center @Cenfoss is carrying the flag of opensource in Mozambique.

@_Mwaa_ Works by day in a Mozambican government ministry related to tech but tweets in English and Portuguese about all kinds of southern African topics.

São Tomé and Príncipe (micro population)

The only tweets from these islands appear to be tourism-related.

__________

This list seems to beg the question: can Twitter grow in the lusophone tech scene in Africa? If not with geeks, where will it grow?

I would question to what point some countries have the figure of the “public intellectual” beyond say poets, writers and maybe very dry university professors. Often it does not occur to technical-minded people that they could open this space, on Twitter for example.

I would also like to suggest that we need to consider where arts – especially hiphop – collide with tech, because most of the best tweets in Angola and Mozambique are about urban music, fashion, arts and protest. Instead of tweeting about technology, they are simply appropriating the tools and pushing things forward. For better or for worse, it is the nascent creative industries in these countries that seem to have more of a chance than the tech sector of being heard on a world stage.

Please comment on this post, it’s a mere attempt to start a conversation, nothing more than a very subjective view from outside. (I will be translating this post to Portuguese.)

After a very frontal and comical open and signed letter to the mayor of Maputo, and after the newspaper today began pasting up a copy for passers-by to read all week… lo and behold… the neighbors came with the police to register their outrage. 

I actually wonder whether the complaint was about the unpleasant notion of having people stopped on the sidewalk and doing that ever-subversive thing: reading. Or whether it was about having colorful messages scrawled on the wall in black and white.

The idea of the Wall was to create a permanent and offline space for readers to read (simple) and to comment (simple). In a sense, an offline Facebook wall. (The newspaper’s Facebook wall is a vibrant space for debate and comment but those who are offline do not have this opportunity.)

As one reader said

[The Wall of the People] should have a small Facebook symbol, it would be an interesting satire of the extension or democratization of spaces for sharing of knowledge and information.

So, I would like to a propose a solution that will satisfy all parties.

The Newspaper will immediately cease and desist from its Wall project if the neighbors pay for 100,000 Blackberrys to get the newspaper’s readership fully online where they can read online and comment on Facebook.

I wanted to capture the sensory experience – the emptiness of the city on a Sunday – the stifling heat, entering the terminal of the airport, its openness and not-too-cold airconditioning, and realizing that I had “left” Mozambique. The air I would breathe from then on would be airport air. The last rays of sun I would feel would be through massive glass windows. Leaving is always anticlimactic. Unknowingly you often leave before even having stepped on a plane, or crammed the trunk of the car.

Leaving happens in stages.

From the full moon – and unexpected eclipse I experienced the night before – pink, massive and cooly burning itself into my memory.

From the back log of blog entries, from the moment when I thought to myself – I’ll write it down “afterwards”. (And I will be back-blogging in the next weeks.)

My time in Maputo was in some ways as I expected. The beautiful jacarandás and acacias. Coffees at Acácia Café. My world was some what circumscribed by my disinterest in Redbull or Rasta-variety night lives, by the circumference and hours of the day or night I would walk on my own, by the visas I had – the length of the stay. By intermittent contact with the “real” unpaved Maputo and with Mozambican friends and their families. People’s ability to cope with increasingly difficult circumstances – unimproved transport, bread controlled in price but getting ever-lighter, lack of cooking gas. This did not surprise.

Other things surprised me.

The speed with which I was able to laugh with colleagues and new friends. But not only. I was able to talk to them about serious personal/social issues like relationships, the role of women. (For example, getting my colleagues to translate the words to Mabessa’s “Para Quê?” a song banned from the radio for its crude rendition of the modern transactional relationship.)

The speed with which we convened offline Twitter meetups.

The paradox of lack of capital and “entrepreneurial spirit” but then seeing internet cafés thriving, learning about the massive “iceberg” beneath the surface of young people’s use of mobile chat.

The speed with which international and national news travels in spite of a purposefully lazy state media and a private media mostly in the hands of government cronies.

The Mozambican love for the beach and the car-based practice of hanging out in front of FACIM or at Costa do Sol.

The number of new tall buildings going up in the Baixa, the absurdly empty Radisson.

The Baixa, with its incredible labyrinth of old buildings, life, nationalities, commerce… (A place I need to return and spend days with a guide.)

Seeing Escodidinho (from the outside!) and realizing that Brazilian love “motel” culture will spread like wildfire in Maputo.

My Saturday mornings: seeing so many muscle-men, a Rihanna sidecut  (a girl who must be a “gangster”). The relatively few guys in skinny jeans and fashion high-tops. Guys asking for women’s phone numbers from the txopela (tuk-tuk). Xipamanine Market – where I felt the true “irrationality” of trying to give 300 somethings for free in a place where thousands want it. Businesses, churches, bars, markets, sport… The feeling that life – real city life, is out there and not in the paved city.

Maputo is the biggest small city I have ever lived in. The 100,000 who live in the paved city live in an unreal place; 30,000 of those live in an even more unreal place with satellite TV and internet. The 900,000 who live in the unpaved city live in an unreal place. These unrealities intermingle, but not in the entirely beastly mill of human lives of a megacity. The Maputo scale of intermingling makes the city so hard to characterize. I am not going to try. Yet.

As I looked across the runway out of the massive window, all I saw was green, cloud and blue sky. But now I knew a little of what lay on the other side of that green – the 900,000.

All I know for certain is I arrived while the jacarandas were in full bloom. Many days I walked under in a tunnel of red, with blooms overhead and petals carpeting the sidewalk. I ate lychees straight from the tree.

I leave as the red has fallen away, as the heavy mango trees prepare to delight children. Car traffic has already decreased, as the directores are on holiday.

I will return to the land of do-it-yourself where everything and nothing can be yours at a price, where body space is sacred, and apologies or smiles are a dime a dozen. Where women are relearning to sew, and people relearning to grow food, ride a bike and fix things when they break. Where, when people are oppressed and abused, they have some recourse. Where we are hanging on with all of our might – and where we are now just as concerned about what it means to be in that ninety-something percent.

Por incrível que pareça, eis uma imagem duma eleição municipal. Tirada hoje de manhã nos arredores da “cidade” de Cuamba pelo reporter de @ Verdade, Helder Shirangano. Estas pessoas chegaram ao posto de votação às 5h.

As incredible as it seems, this image is of a municipal election! It was taken this morning on the outskirts of the “city” of Cuamba, the second city of Niassa by @ Verdade newspaper reporter Helder Shirangano. These voters arrived at 5am to the polls.

Hitting the six week mark in Maputo, I picked up the volume and began to read “The Man in the High Castle“, a speculative novel about what the world would have been like if the axis had won what Americans call World War Two. In his world, everything is familiar but dislocated, turned inside out or subverted.

Not long after I had plunged headlong into his Pacific world, my mind started sliding off into a tangent. I recalled a number of conversations I have had here, mostly up north, at bars and in the back of pick-up trucks. In a sense, these conversations were the ultimate “speculative” moments.

Much like the characters in The Man in the High Castle, in their daily lives, people here accept the existing order unthinkingly. But there are fleeting moments when they ask why, when they ask “what if”?

For a certain generation here, who still remember colonization, the “what if” relates to the Portuguese. They “colonized” the place until the late 1800s from a small island off of the north coast. They fought with the British to maintain this territory, to demonstrate “effective occupation” in the time of the imperial rush on Africa. This strategy involved periodic military campaigns, allegiances with key indigenous leaders, and the leasing of large parts of territory to the “Halliburtons” of the times.

The Portuguese only moved their headquarters down here in the late 1800s to set up a port for the gold coming out of Johannesburg.

If the British had ruled us… If the British had ruled us… Would we be so corrupt? Would we be so poor? Would so much blood have been spilled? (And I ask them silently: would you have read Chinua Achebe instead of Agostinho Neto?)

Speculation is a form of nostalgia for the unlived.

In contrast, the new generation lives in a permanently mutating present – effervescent, hybrid, fragmented and connected, impatient but indifferent, unapologetic.

Feet squarely in the mud of the broken pavement.

But on these feet, hightops and Converse are kept clean, beneath skinny jeans. Shangana, English, and Portuguese in a texted tower of babel where vowels are dropped and once-taboo k’s abound. Two and three second- and third-hand phones each, a different sim card in each. DJ Cleo playing on these phones alongside a Singaporan mobile chat client. Vendors parading the streets wearing a chainmail of plastic Chinese Raybans. Ubiquitous boxes of small plastic-wrapped Brazilian chickens. A Chinese airport with nice espresso bars and views of the city, abutting areas with “open defecation”.

A couple of weeks ago, one of the operators of those trucks on the runway at Maputo International Airport drove into a South African Airways plane.

The flight was delayed at least 8 hours. In a speculative vein, I wondered -

How many international meetings had been missed because of this small tear in a global fabric?

The man who drove that truck – did he ever wonder why South Africa is so different than Mozambique?

How did he explain the accident to his kids, who know the names of different elite neighborhoods of Rio de Janeiro and Johannesburg from telenovelas and music video clips?

From the sleepy “city” in my dear Niassa province, Mozambique, this has to be the most absurd name for a street. Ever. “Rua Sem Nome 2″ which translates as “Street with No Name 2″.

As though “Street with No Name” was not bad enough, the city hall of Cuamba has started a series.

Wondering how many numbers are in the series. Can’t be too many because the place feels like a wild west frontier town.

A one horse town – a horse with no name.

Credit goes to @Verdade newspaper reporter @Shirangano for this provincial gem.

Nestes dias fico a pensar na autonomia – e paralelo sofrimento – da condição urbana, tanto aqui como no Brasil.

Nas palavras imortais do sambista Zé Keti

“Fale de mim quem quiser falar
Aqui eu não pago aluguel”