It started with a quest to solve the “greatest geographical mystery” of the age. It ended, more than a century later — and if you follow the rather narrow logic of this book — with ethnic cleansing in Darfur. The “mystery” was the source of the Nile, which had exercised Europeans and Egyptians ever since Ptolemy in the second century.
It was this that drew Tim Jeal’s protagonists — Richard Burton, John Hanning Speke, Samuel Baker, David Livingstone and Henry Morton Stanley — to central Africa in the 1850s and 1860s; together, of course, with the allure of the fame that being the first to crack the riddle would bring. On their way they were shocked by the atrocious slave raiding they found there, provoking a campaign against it that came to bear some of the attributes of a literal crusade — the slave traders were mostly Muslim Arabs — and later colonialism, ostensibly to protect the Africans but with exploiters and “great power” ambitions also muscling in. It was this that gave rise to the drawing of Sudan’s present artificial border with Uganda, which has caused such an “incalculable amount of suffering” in all these countries in modern times. That’s the final link to Darfur.
The first part of the story has been told often before: hagiographically in contemporary books and memoirs; classically in Alan Moorhead’s The White Nile (1960); and more recently in Jeal’s own biographies of Livingstone (1973) and Stanley (2007), which he draws on heavily here. These two books offered revisionist assessments of both their subjects, the first pulling the missionary Livingstone down a little, the second making some interesting excuses for the usually excoriated Stanley, one of which was that he deliberately exaggerated his own bloodthirstiness in order to satisfy his American newspaper readership. This book does much the same for Burton and Speke, originally travel companions who came to loathe each other as a result of various imagined slights and betrayals. They also disagreed on the question of the “source.”
The battle between them should have come to a head at a meeting of the British Association in September 1864, had not Speke killed himself the day before on a partridge shoot. It was almost certainly accidental, but Burton hinted that Speke had taken his own life, scared of the confrontation. In fact Speke had been right about the source of the Nile, and was the one who should have been awarded the palm for discovering it; but his reputation never recovered from Burton’s slanders. Jeal puts this right, puffing Speke and demolishing Burton — not an echt explorer, he thinks. Baker also comes out of this account badly, being mainly responsible, in Jeal’s view, for the switch from humanitarian protection to a more formal and brutal kind of imperialism in the 1880s and 1990s.
Jeal is right to insist that this stage should not be confused with the earlier, more “innocent,” one, when most of Africa’s explorers were motivated not by greed or the urge to control, but by simple curiosity, competitiveness, and the desire to pit their bodies and minds against the appalling hardships that African travel at that time involved.
Most European explorers suffered terribly, and many died horrible deaths. At least one had his genitals cut off first. But this only spurred the others on. Jeal wonders whether the Christian doctrine of “redemption through suffering” might have had something to do with it. Others might suspect an over-developed machismo, were it not for the several women who went out there too. Jeal restores these to the picture — Baker’s wife Florence, for example; and also the contributions of their hundreds of African and Arab guides, translators and porters, without whom the Europeans would have got nowhere at all. Often they were carried by them. (Isn’t that cheating?).
In the end the source of the Nile turned out to be roughly where Ptolemy had put it. So no great surprise there. But that may have been immaterial. It was the hopeful traveling, rather than the arrival, that stirred the explorers, and fascinated their contemporaries back home when they read about them.
They might have been even more fascinated by Jeal’s splendid account here. One of his discoveries is early manuscript and proof versions of Speke’s Journal of the Discovery of the Source of the Nile (1863), which reveal the excisions his publisher insisted on (Speke called it “gelding”). These include some shockingly favorable judgments of African societies — shocking because they left no room for the renovative powers of Christianity.
In late October of 1873 the government of Japan decided against sending a military expedition to Korea to force that nation to open trade relations. Across the government supporters of the expedition resigned immediately. The spectacle of revolt by disaffected samurai began to loom over Japanese politics. In January of 1874 disaffected samurai attacked a senior minister in Tokyo. A month later, a group of pro-Korea expedition and anti-foreign elements from Saga prefecture in Kyushu revolted, driven in part by high food prices stemming from poor harvests. Their leader, according to Edward Drea’s classic Japan’s Imperial Army, was a samurai
The following three paragraphs are just some of what the local Chinese-language press is reporting on breathlessly and following every twist and turn with the eagerness of a soap opera fan. For many English-language readers, it probably comes across as incomprehensibly opaque, so bear with me briefly dear reader: To the surprise of many, former pop singer and Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) ex-lawmaker Yu Tien (余天) of the Taiwan Normal Country Promotion Association (TNCPA) at the last minute dropped out of the running for committee chair of the DPP’s New Taipei City chapter, paving the way for DPP legislator Su
It’s hard to know where to begin with Mark Tovell’s Taiwan: Roads Above the Clouds. Having published a travelogue myself, as well as having contributed to several guidebooks, at first glance Tovell’s book appears to inhabit a middle ground — the kind of hard-to-sell nowheresville publishers detest. Leaf through the pages and you’ll find them suffuse with the purple prose best associated with travel literature: “When the sun is low on a warm, clear morning, and with the heat already rising, we stand at the riverside bike path leading south from Sanxia’s old cobble streets.” Hardly the stuff of your
Located down a sideroad in old Wanhua District (萬華區), Waley Art (水谷藝術) has an established reputation for curating some of the more provocative indie art exhibitions in Taipei. And this month is no exception. Beyond the innocuous facade of a shophouse, the full three stories of the gallery space (including the basement) have been taken over by photographs, installation videos and abstract images courtesy of two creatives who hail from the opposite ends of the earth, Taiwan’s Hsu Yi-ting (許懿婷) and Germany’s Benjamin Janzen. “In 2019, I had an art residency in Europe,” Hsu says. “I met Benjamin in the lobby