Wednesday 21 June 2017

Ending Sudan's identity crisis Amir Ahmad

Since a year before its independence in 1956, Sudan has witnessed terrible violence and bloodshed, which continues to this day. The reasons for this are numerous and complex, but one key culprit has always been our Afro-Arab identity crisis, which doesn't seem to have any near end in sight.   read more
Contrary to what many northern Sudanese may like to believe, the secession and independence of the south is not going to end the identity crisis, and it's certainly not going to magically turn the country into a genuinely Arab Islamic nation-state despite what Omar al-Bashir may want.
It won't happen, not even by force, due to the simple fact that Sudan always has been and always will be a multi-ethnic, multi-religious melting pot. Multi-ethnic given its minorities and various dominant Arab, Afro-Arab and African tribes, and multi-religious given its diverse population of Muslims, Christians and animists.
The question is: will we eventually have a democratic government that actually recognises and respects our diversity? Or will we continue to have an Islamist Afro-Arab regime, largely in denial of its "Africanness", which forcefully seeks to impose its self-serving interpretation of Islamic law and confused Arab identity on the rest of us?
It's hard to say what the future holds for Sudan, especially in light of the Arab spring, worsening economic conditions, recent northern takeover of Abyei, and the precedence of Sudan's 1964 and 1985 uprisings that succeeded in overthrowing repressive dictatorships.
What ultimately happens remains to be seen. Meanwhile, one of the things we northern Sudanese need to do is to address our identity crisis as a people. It's a crisis the southern Sudanese don't have to deal with because they are ethnically and culturally African.
However, generally speaking, we northern Sudanese are not. With the exception of a few tribes like the Rashaida, who are ethnically and culturally Arab, and some tribes in Darfur and near the south, who are ethnically and culturally African, the majority of northern Sudanese are Afro-Arab.
We're Afro-Arab in three main ways, simplified as follows.:
1. Ethnically as well as culturally Afro-Arab
2. Ethnically Afro-Arab but culturally predominantly Arab (the majority)
3. Ethnically African but culturally predominantly Arab and hence "Arabised"
Nevertheless, our attitudes don't really honour this reality. Yes, there are many of us who value our combined Afro-Arab heritage and self-identify, either as Afro-Arabs or just as Sudanese. There are also many who identify primarily as Arab or African for valid reasons that depend on which side of their cultural and ethnic heritage weighs more heavily. However, there are too many who reject their "Africanness" or "Arabness", with a few in both camps condescendingly and outspokenly showing disrespect for that aspect of themselves which they reject.
Then there are those who don't reject, but rather gently distance themselves from their "Africanness" or "Arabness" – consciously or subconsciously.
From my experience and observations, this act of distancing tends to be dynamic and evolving. It can happen for a variety of personal, social and political reasons in Sudan and within the Afro-Arab Sudanese diaspora.
For instance, many religious Sudanese Afro-Arabs I've spoken to prefer to primarily identify themselves as Arabs, because Arabs were the first Muslims and the people who spread Islam to the world. They see a certain prestige in being associated with that, and their religiosity colours their world view. (Islamic culture and Arab culture are intertwined in many ways in Sudan, and sometimes difficult to tell apart.)
Another example is how the explosion of hip-hop and rap music's popularity in the late 1990s throughout the Arab world made it "cool" for many young urban Sudanese Afro-Arabs to self-identify primarily as black rather than Arab.
And if a conversation I had in 2006 with an Afro-Arab Sudanese-American friend in Chicago is any indication, in a post-9/11 America, many like him prefer to identify as African over Arab.
I can't help but wonder how the Arab spring, which shattered global stereotypes and reaffirmed Arab dignity, might impact on them now.
Different Sudanese Afro-Arabs are obviously going to self-identify in different ways for different reasons, and they're free to be who they want to be – but confusion should not be the outcome. A nation with a confused or, worse, conflicted identity is likely to face difficulties as it tries to move forward, especially if it lacks confidence, self-esteem and a vision for its future.
Socially, the problem can be remedied through better education about our rich history and through more cultural and artistic endeavours that celebrate our pluralistic heritage. While we're at it, let's also tackle internal racism and our sometimes twisted conceptions of beauty in relation to skin colour.
Politically, the solution should be a civil multicultural democracy that recognises and respects our diversity and provides the framework within which we can negotiate our identity as individuals and as a people.
But make no mistake. This democracy will need to nurture our identity as first and foremost Sudanese citizens, which in turn will need to be based on an inclusive "Sudanism" that we'll have to negotiate. Otherwise, we risk remaining a country suffering from a terrible identity crisis – which will be a shame, given our huge potential.

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