44. Brexiting

As I began to write this, Britain was going to the polls to decide whether to remain in the EU, or whether to ‘Brexit’ – to leave the Union. I was not really deeply acquainted with the arguments, I’m afraid, despite having heard the spin, seen the posters, and drunk my tea out of a Union Jack tea cup. Of course, I had read the flyers that came through the door, but I was still confused …

For instance, the Brexit flyer pointed out that if we stayed in the EU, Parliament would move to Istanbul; cars would have a maximum of three wheels; ladders would only have one rung; new-born North Sea fish would have to carry photo-ID; migrants would have first dibs on chocolate; grass would be yellow; farts would be methane-free; The Archers would become ‘Les Flècheurs’, (and Home Farm’s new bull would be trans); black pudding would be illegal; and every family would be £100,000/year poorer.

The ‘Remain’ campaign flyer, however, whilst conceding these points, quite reasonably said that after Brexit, Donald Trump would be President; Morris dancing GCSE would replace French; coffee would taste of turnip; Lidl would only sell stuff made in Britain, (empty cardboard boxes, mis-shapen potatoes and Cruise missiles); garlic would be illegal; worker bees would have to hum patriotic songs, (whilst, like the rest of us, working 18-hour days); human rights would not apply to human lefts; the English would have to holiday in Widnes; and every family would be £100,000/year poorer.

All of which left me very unclear which way to vote.

But now, the British People have spoken, and have decided that twenty-eight EU members will become twenty-seven. The UK goes it alone. For most of us, I expect, our decision was heavily influenced by spin. Even now, as the politicians get stuck into re-spinning the result, I am not sure that we really know where this all will lead.

What, (you might reasonably be thinking), does this have to do with rural women’s groups in distant Africa? Well, here is my point, admittedly arrived at by a gossamer-thin thread of rhetorical continuity: Over here, we are severing links. Over there, they are forming them. Over here Brexiting; over there … well, I am not sure that we have a verb for it yet, but doing-together-what-we-could-not-do-apart.

Within the next few weeks, the eleven women’s groups in up-country Morogoro and Tanga will be finalising their ideas for tackling maternal and child death, in a territory which has one of the worst rates for such tragedies in the peaceful world. Each hamlet will come up with its own priorities. Some of these will be specific to that community – eg growing food; sanitation systems; microloans for kick-starting cottage industry; emergency transport systems for women in labour; etc. Other aspirations might be shared across several or even all of the hamlets; eg training of birth assistants; access to primary school; clean water; etc.

Of course, it won’t be like the EU: I don’t envisage the women’s groups becoming a common market, with trade subsidies, porridge mountains, and better working conditions for goats. However, there is the idea that cooperation and synergy will become possible in a way previously inaccessible … 

... led by village women, whose common sense gives them common purpose. 

The idea of one of the groups becoming sufficiently prosperous and self-absorbed to Brexit from the others is, as yet, only a distant contingency.

History has something to say about this cooperative approach in sub-Saharan Africa. 

More than fifty years ago, Tanganyika, (as it was then), received its independence from its colonial past. (As did twenty-eight African nations in those heady and hopeful days of the 1960s.) Fortunately for Tanzania, despite its abject poverty, almost complete lack of infrastructure, lack of mineral resources, and almost universal illiteracy; it had Julius Nyerere. 

‘Mwalimu’, as he was affectionately known, was a teacher and Chief of the Zanaki tribe. He had a vision for national unity and cooperation not seen in almost any other country. Despite there being 126 languages and even more tribes, with no sense for most people of being part of a whole, Nyerere forged a nation.

Half a century later, there has been no war or coup; everyone learns a common language, (Swahili), as well as their own tribal tongue; and Muslims and Christians work and live alongside each other in every institution and every town. The country is still desperately poor, and is still mightily challenged in too many ways – but it is climbing its way out of the Iron Age with mainly a good heart. By contrast, for many of the twenty-eight, life is a tapestry of corruption, war, violence to women, and intolerance.

The message for us, then, is to hope that Brexit does not preclude cooperation, tolerance, and unity around a greater purpose than individualism.

However, there is one more point to make in the parallel between Tushikamane and the EU. Surprisingly for me, it is not a bleeding-heart-liberal, sentimental-softie observation, but rather one which speaks to capitalism and self-interest:

A Walmart derivative has replaced your mum’s corner shop:

Your mate’s uncle’s garage is now owned by Shell. If you are younger than thirty, (and some people are), you will never have browsed in an old-fashioned book shop. Your meat comes from Argentina, your flowers from Holland, your trainers from China, and your bad taste in clothes from Australia. (Only joking guys.) You are reading this on the World-Wide-Web.

We have one planet. The interests of others, are, eventually, our own interests. Global problems are our problems, and we ignore them at our peril.

As we head for Brexit, and for a firmer sense of national identity, let us hope that this will bring with it a firmer sense of mutual responsibility, and cooperation for the good of all. 

Together.

Lest we forget.