Treasures in the Library: The University of Khartoum Development Studies and Research Centre Monograph Series

The other day, I went along to the University of Khartoum to track down a professor but he was not in his office. Malesh. Instead I went to the Anthropology library where I found treasures hidden on the bottom shelf- U. of K. papers from the 1970s and 1980s. Some of them were really great- one paper on social mobility! With much excitement, I asked the librarian where they came from. She told me they had all the Red Sea Area papers in a special room but the others had been printed by the Economics Department. So I went along to the Economics library (I love how all the departments in the University of Khartoum have their own libraries).

Here another librarian took one look at them, scratched his head and then began to search a storage closet. It was a very exciting (and dusty) afternoon for us both. We found (almost) the complete series after searching and climbing and searching some more. He let me take them away to make photocopies and I promised to type out the names and give him a copy. 

After spending about half an hour typing in the endless stream of names, I thought I would post them online just in case they are interesting to anyone else. 

If you would like to read a copy and you are in Khartoum, go to the Economics library and ask for Faisal Al Tayb Eissa Youssif. He will help you find them and probably make you a cup of tea in the process. If you are not in Khartoum but are my friend (or potential friend and live somewhere close to Edinburgh), I can try and photocopy them for you. One day, in the far off future, when I return to Sudan with a digital sender, I will digitize such treasures.

If you want to look at the Red Sea Area collection, then go to the Anthropology library and ask for Jowahir Mubarak. I am not sure if she will make you tea, but she is also very friendly. 

This whole episode has made me realize how vibrant and wonderful the research community of University of Khartoum was in those days. I really wish it could be returned to its former glory... with a little human will and a little bit of funding! 

Nevertheless these papers should not be forgotten...  Here they are (some of them are missing):

Development Studies and Research Centre. Faculty of Economic and Social Studies, University of Khartoum. Monograph Series.

1. The Five Year Plan (1970-75): Some Aspects of the Plan and Its Performance. 1977. Sayed Nimeri. 

2. Vocational Training and Economic Development in the Sudan. 1977. Ahmed H. El Jack and Abdel Rahman E. Ali Taha. 

3. Educational Policy and the Employment Problem in the Sudan. 1977. M. O. Beshir. 

4. Development Budgeting in the Sudan. 1977. B. A. Azhar.

5. The Estimation of Human Population by the Capture-Recapture Method. 1977. A.E. El Goul. 

6. How to Survive Development: the Story of New Halfa. 1977. Gunnar M. Sorbo.

7. An Evaluation of the Six Year Development Plan of the Sudan (1977/78- 1982/83). 1978. Sayed Nimeri. 

8. The Problem of Desterification in the Republic of the Sudan With Special Reference to Northern Darfur Province. 1978. Dr. Fouad N. Ibrahim. 

9. Sudanese Labour Mobility: A Statistical Investigation. 1978. Z.A. Beshir and Siddiq M. Ahmed. 

10. Local Government and Local Participation in Rural Development in the Sudan. 1978. Salih Abdalla El-Arifi. 

11. Urbanization and Exploitation: The Role of Small Centres. 1979. Abdel Ghaffar M. Ahmed and Mustafa Abdel Rahman. 

12. Patterns of Family Living: The Case Study of Two Villages on the Rahad River. 1979. Ellen Gruenbaum. 

13. A Bibliography of West African Settlement and Development in the Sudan. 1980. Ahmad Abd al-Rahim Nasr and Mark Duffield. 

14. MISSING.

15. A Consumption Function For the Sudan. 1983. Ahmed Al Sheikh.

16. Origins of the Underdevelopment of the Southern Sudan: British Administrative Neglect. 1983. Raphael Koba Badal. 

17. Import Policy in Sudan 1966-1976. 1984. Siddiq Umbadda.

18. Monetisation, Financial Intermediation and Self-Financed Growth in the Sudan (1960/1- 1979/80). 1984. Mekki El Shibly.

19. Towards an Appraisal of Tractorisation Experience in Rainlands of Sudan. 1984. Khalid Affan. 

20. The Evolution and Transformation of the Sudanese Economy Up to 1950. 1984. Elfatih Shaaeldin.

21. Towards an Understanding of Islamic Banking: The Case of Faisal Islamic Bank 1985. Elfatih Shaaeldin and Richard Brown.

22. The Labour Force in Sudanese Agriculture. 1984. Abdel Sadiq Ahmed El Bashir. 

23. A Modelling Approach to Forecasting. A Critique of Some Essential Aspects of the Sudanese Six-Year Plan. 1985. Ahmed Elsheikh M. Ahmed and Beshir Omer M. Fadlalla. 

24. Some Aspects of Sudanese Migration to the Oil-Producing Countries During the 1970's. 1985. Mohd. El Awad Galaeldin.

25. The State of Women Studies in the Sudan. 1985. El-Wathiq Kamier, Zeinab El-Bakri, Idris Salim and Samiya El-Nagar.

26. Proposal for a Nile Water Treaty. 1986. Omer Mohamed Ali Mohamed. 

27. Structural Analysis For the Production Function of the Sudan Economy. 1986. Ahmed Elsheikh M. Ahmed. 

28. البراهين على الطبيعة التصاعدية الجميع انواع الزكاة 1987. أحمد صفي الدين عوض

29. MISSING

30. Economic Development Urbanization and Induced Migration. 1987. Mohamed Abdelhameed Ibnoaf. 

31. MISSING

32. MISSING

33. Resource Allocation Under the Joint Account and the Land-Water Charge Systems: Is There a Case for Abandonning the Joint Account? 1989. Samir Taha Saleem.

34. Female Participation in Trade: The Case of Sudan. 1989. Alawiya Osman Mohamed Salih. 

35. The Kordofan Region of the Sudan, 1980-1985. A Case Study of the Problems of Regionalism. 1989. Kamal Osman Salih.

36. Tradition and Modernization in Sudanese Irrigated Agriculture: Lessons From Experience. 1989. Sharif El-Dishouni. 

37. Economic Expansion Domestic Distribution and North-South Trade. 1991. Hatim A. Mahran.

38. The Institutionalization of Capital Accumulation and Economic Development in the Sudan. 1991. Medani Mohamed Ahmed.

39. MISSING

40. MISSING

Patience pays off... but sometimes the dividends are monkeys

Research is sometimes a matter of endurance and patience, especially when conducted under the Sudanese sun. But at the end of it all, there is reward. 

A couple weeks ago I turned up to an interview and found that the manager had double-booked me . In order to placate the look in my eye, his secretary gave me extremely strong tea and told me to come back in a couple days. Instead I asked if I could get some information about the organization to better prepare myself for the interview and accordingly, I was directed to another floor. 

Here, I was given some more tea and then told to wait while a man fetched some books. I sighed and resigned myself to the sugary mix. If research is sometimes a matter of endurance, then in Sudan this endurance is represented by tea. How much tea can you consume in a single day? How much tea can you consume when you have already consumed four cups before lunch and feel like your eyes have been hooked up to a ECG and need a medical consent form in order to be blinked? 

I look into the cup, wondering how expensive a stomach transplant is in Sudan, but etiquette dictates endurance and so I bring the cup to my lips.

While I am waiting and plotting the logistics of pouring the tea into the potted plant on the desk, an old man comes into the office. He has a smile on his face that would lift a beached whale and a little twinkle in his eye that says "I don't give a damn". 

I wonder.

He sits down in a chair, put his hands above his head and tells me he's going to tell me "what's really going on in here". What follows is nothing but the most honest and deep internal description of the workings of an organization that I have ever heard. He has a happy growl of a voice, the kind of voice you would expect a sheepdog to have if you were lucky enough to catch him in a monologue. 

Is this fate? One interview postponed so you can have another with a sage-like shepherd?

This morning I had a similar experience. I was supposed to have a meeting at 10 am. I had been told to come to a specific bank on the other side of town. The company's office was right next door... or so they told me on the phone. 

On the way over, I called up the secretary to check but she was not there. I asked the man on the phone if he could give directions to the driver but it turns out that this man was both the most confused and the most confusing man on the planet. The taxi driver hung up midway through the conversation declaring "This man is crazy! He probably just wandered in and picked up the phone! He is an idiot!" I decided to call the manager directly. He reassured me that the company was right next door to the bank. "JUST come to the bank" He said. So I did. 

I got out of the taxi, paid my fare and then proceeded to wander around like an idiot in the sun looking for the company's sign. I couldn't find a single sign that didn't involve the words "Pepsi" or "Zain". The advertising seemed to loom like the sun. And I became thirsty. 

I called up the secretary's line again. I didn't want the manager to think I was a complete idiot. This time, the simultaneously confused/confusing man had been replaced by a stern woman who was, unfortunately, equally confusing. She told me that I was in completely the wrong place and I should get into another taxi. Confused, I handed the phone to a new taxi driver and after a very long winded explanation, the man hung up and said:

Ten pounds.

Excuse me? Ten pounds? The man said it was right here!

It is far, far, far, far away! 

Then the driver added, 

Ten pounds.

I decided I did not trust this man. The manager had said that I should come to this bank and even if all his secretaries seemed to doubt their location in the universe, I was going to trust the boss. It was his company, surely he knew where he was sitting. I started to wander in the direction that the woman had described on the phone, all the while trying the number again- but now no-one was picking up.

Downtown Khartoum is probably the hottest place I have ever been. It is not just the sun and the lack of shade, but the noise and bustle of the traffic and the dust that wafts every time a bus screams past. I looked at my watch. 10:35. I was hot. I was angry. I was so utterly confused. Had I entered some fantastical research universe in which people contradict themselves and send you on wild-goose chases for kicks? Why had three different secretaries told me completely opposite directions? Why had the manager told me to come one place while the taxi driver seemed to want to take me to Kassala or some other far flung spot? I took a deep breath, ducked into an abandoned building site and called the manager one last time. 

This time- low and behold, Ilhamdulilah, praise be to the single cloud in the sky- the original secretary picked up the phone.

Laura? Her voice was like a cool breeze, Come to the bank and I will find you.

I have no idea what was going on. When I think about it in my head, I feel like there must be some plausible explanation. Were they just messing with me? Was their phone line split between two companies on opposite sides of town? Or am I just a little bit mad? When I entered the building, I looked into the faces of the other secretaries and wondered which ones had spoken to me. Which ones needed to acquaint themselves with reality. 

Or was it me that had lost the plot?

I cooled off. Literally.

The nice (sane) secretary gave me water- ice cold water that swept away the heat from my brow and then a nice man came in with a tray of tea, peanuts and dates. Peanuts? It was as if my stomach had perused the menu and made an order... and at 11:00 when I was sufficiently cooled and well fed, I finally had my interview-- which went really well. Thank you kind souls!

Now I sit in a nearby park. I have my notebook out, my list of possible interviewees on my lap, my phone pressed against my ear. But someone is watching me. 

A monkey. She sits up above in a tree, a baby monkey strapped to her back. They are both giving me the eye. I wonder if they can smell the peanuts on my breath. 

And it suddenly dawns on me, I am a lucky girl. This is research in Sudan and I am going to miss it when it's over.

It is official. The Sudanese winter is over.

How do I know that?

Because my shoulders are still pink and pulsing with the memory of the morning shower. 

It's a great pity because I have really been enjoying the mechanical switching on and off of the water heater each morning. First thing out of bed, I rush to the bathroom, flick the pleasant red switch and then stand there, singing to myself: tadaaa, beam of red is iniated. Rockets are ready to launch. Time to proceed to tea, news and email before leaping into the steaming waves of water that shall issue happily from my recently stolen shower head with a great big smile on my face. Ilhamdulilah. 

But this morning was not such a picture of happiness. Instead of turning on the hot tap, I might as well have jumped into a vat of chemical solvent and then stuffed myself with gravy. 

Anyone can tell you that laws of thermodynamics that usually pertain to bathrooms do not apply in Sudan. The hot tap produces cool water which has been stored in the mini tank in your bathroom, while the cold tap produces water that could be used in hospitals to singe off unsightly boils and cysts from peoples' necks and bottoms. If you foolishly turn on your heater, you basically heat water that has already been boiled: The kind of hot that even the most resilient Japanese and/or the immortal Ancient Greeks would whine and bitch about. 

Yes, it is rather depressing. Winter is over. Heat has returned to reign victorious. Good bye novelty of socks! Goodbye open car windows! Goodbye pleasure of waking up at 5, switching off the ceiling fan and then jumping back into bed to savour the last couple hours beneath the warm and cosy sheet.  

Still, I suppose I should dust off my stiff upper lip: the encroaching spring heat will no doubt compare favorably with the Scottish sky: Hey ho, what delights have been brought from the moon by golden storks with tails like peacocks? Oh majesty of white! Clouds, so clean and crisp they could be used as table cloths on the tops of Downing street... but they will soon to turn grey... and then to black... and then produce physical masses of cold that shock on arrival. Sun, bake me while you last... For I shall not complain. 

Those that can't...

Unemployment sucks. It not only deprives you of your financial security, but also your dignity and respect. You have to ask for help, you have to show your shame. In the UK, it's the welfare office but in Sudan, there is another kind of social insurance institution: the family. 

Sudanese family members help each other out---without question. If you can't find a job, your parents will happily support you until you do. It doesn't matter how old you are, if you need it, someone in your family will look after you. 

Older interviewees talk about how this "cushion" makes youngsters too picky or over-ambitious in their job search. Instead of getting a job at the bottom of a company and working their way up, they say that young Sudanese want to start at the top. They are not patient enough for the workforce. They say that in the past, they had to earn their positions through hard work. 

Part of the problem is that most jobs today do not involve training and promotion like they did in the past. A company that offers recent graduates training will see it as a favor, not as a necessity. Young graduates simply don't want to get stuck in a job for five, ten years without further training. Their qualifications will become void and they will not be able to improve their position. It may pay to be picky. (and I would add, that it is difficult for young people to get any kind of job at all!) 

If you can't study, one alternative is to study. If you can't find a job with a bachelor degree, you can do a masters. If you can't find a job with a masters, you can do a PhD. This up-hill educational slide is especially true of women. While a young man must think of saving for his wedding day, young women are less constrained financially and are therefore more able to pursue their professional ambitions. In certain fields, like architecture or bio-chemistry, for instance, I have been told that women dominate because there are so few jobs, men opt out for more profitable but less professionally ambitious careers. Women stick it out. As Sudanese culture places a huge emphasis on education, further education for women is seen as a worthy pursuit. 

I recently spoke with Hind Abbas Ibrahim, a communications professor at the University of Khartoum and she commented that this uphill slide was the one positive side of unemployment in Sudan... but I have noticed yet another silver lining. 

If you can't get a job, you can volunteer. So many of my Sudanese friends volunteer and give considerable portions of their free time to social organizations and charities... and especially those without jobs. It is seen as a good way to wait for a job.

Long ago, I was a volunteer research assistant at the Population Council in Cairo. I was helping out on their study of the costs of marriage and Gulf migration. I remember reading an article about how Egyptian unemployed young men were "bare branches" and might pose a security risk. The rise of harassment has also been blamed on this economic state of affairs. While this is possibly true of Egypt, I feel that in some ways, these bare branches might also be positive in other parts of the world.  

You could say: There are a great number of young, educated Sudanese who are extremely frustrated by their economic situation and could pose a security risk to the public. They are dangerous!

But you could also say: There are a great number of young, educated Sudanese who have plenty of free time which they do not want to waste at home. They are brimming with potential and are ready to volunteer for good!

Just a thought...

Looking through a Sudanese telescope: the beauty of complex valuation

From my favourite Georgrapher:

"Biological nature that is accessible to the naked eye is actually a tangled mess, and whatever mathematical order there is may be just coincidence. Physical nature- the stars above- is by comparison more orderly, but even there modern scientists tend to discover chaos, historical accident, and violence rather than the simple harmony taken for granted by their predecessors. Still, physicists have not given up. The test of profound truth is still beauty. As the astrophysicist S. Chandrasekhar puts it, 'In my entire scientific life, extending over forty-five years, the most shattering experience has been the realization that an exact solution of Einstein's equations of general relativity... provides the absolutely exact representation of untold numbers of massive black holes that populate the universe. This 'shuddering before the beautiful,' this incredible fact that a discovery motivated by a search after the beautiful in mathematics should find its exact replica in Nature, persuades me to say that beauty is that to which the human mind responds at its deepest and most profound" (Tuan, 2000, 157)."

I have long wondered why, how and when mathematics began its slow and painful encroachment into my world. As a child, I was never particularly pleased to find myself in a Maths classroom with my eyes stuck on a graph or sum. For sure, I had some lovely maths teachers over the years. An amazing East Bergholt-ite who allowed us to spend a week charting a commet across the sky. I remember his revealing that, if the commet had come but six months later, it would have filled the entire sky at night...wow... But when it came time to make important decisions about my preferences in life, I did my very best to avoid any serious mathematical thought. Who needs to know the slope of a line anyways? I live in East Anglia, possibly the flattest part of the UK! My future lay in words, in history, in politics, in anything that did not start a sentence with a "x" and end it with a "y". The mathematical creep had yet to begin its chase.

The first instance of creep took place in Econ B at LSE. Full of spirit and enthusiasm,  I soon realized that my beloved Economics, rather than involving social-political discussions, instead involved unsavory looking equations whose symbols seemed to taunt- what the hell is that little triangle doing in here?!- I plowed on ahead, reluctantly teaching myself the laws of Calculus and forcing my eyes to confront the endless stream of numbers and symbols that bled down my professors' powerpoint slides. Day in, day out, oh how my eye balls shed tears! By the end of my first year, I no longer winced at the sight of an equation but I had firmly decided that my future lay somewhere else... somewhere a whole lot less mathematical. 

It was therefore, somewhat of a disappointment to learn in the other half of my undergraduate degree, that nature, yes, nature could be reduced to number: contigent valuation, the assigning of economic value to environmental goods. This little "trick" of environmental economics has managed to persuade the world to factor the environment into its economic and financial calculations... ilhamdulilah- Necessity is the mother of all invention. But can you really assign value to nature? Is the value of a tree or flower reducible to its market price? Is the value of a national park reducible to the travel costs of its visitors? Is the value of an island reducible to the compensation of its inhabitants in the event of a flood?I remember answering an essay question: Is any number better than no number at all? NO, I said, NO it isnt you creeping little mathematical equation, you! It is only because the environment tends to be rather mute, that we happen to think so. 

Now, far away from environmental economics, in the safety of sandy Sudan, I have found my passion in something else, in the study of social networks. But here too, mathematics is encroaching. Run away! Run away! Social capital, the assigning of economic value to social relations, has begun to creep this way!  

Don't get me wrong! It would be wonderful to "measure" social relations, to assign value to different sorts of relationships: which are important, which are draining, which relationships will get you a job, which relationships instead ask YOU to get THEM a job.. the cheek!... but wait, there is something wrong with this... 

We assume that all human beings value things in the same way. But many Sudanese interviewees have forced me to confront an important chicken-or-egg lesson: Are relationships the pathway to money, or is money the pathway to relationships? The family firm is a case in point. To what purpose is a business run, to make money or to make a family? Do we live to work or work to live?

Today I was interviewing a Sudanese businessman-academic- ex-civil servant (the triple threat of Khartoum) about the problems of privatization in the field of agriculture. He had taken part in the privatization of the telecommunications industry in the 1990s and was frustrated that other industries, like agriculture and transportation, were less amenable to his model. He explained that many agriculturalists did not want to sell their land. They valued the land more than the money. Try as the government may, these stubborn farmers/landowners could not be bought. This reminded me of the story of the Darfuri cattle herder, who was very wealthy in terms of of cattle but lived simply and did not spend money lavishly. In the end, this was to prove his undoing. Instead of choosing an expensive bus ticket, he chose the cheapest alternative and died in a terrible bus crash. His cattle herd was not convertible into money. It was the well of his prestige, even in death. 

Not everyone sees money as the absolute source of value. For many Sudanese like the Darfuri herder, cattle is the source of their dignity and identity. It is the currency of marriage and the currency of prestige. Social relations ARE the ends, not the means in this particular community. In fact money might not even be A means at all. Incorporating these individuals into the same economy as the rest of Sudan has been a challenge that has faced many governments throughout the country's history. It is a dilemma that needs a more complex solution than simple monetary bargaining. But there is an important lesson here. We should not assume that everything of value can be bought. We cannot assume that everything of value can be measured with the same currency. Instead we should build models that acknowledge different kinds of value in different social settings. 

Yes, as I said before, necessity is the mother of all invention, including different kinds of capital. We want to be able to incorporate natural and social "goods" in order to avoid taking them for granted. We do not want economic development to destroy the fabric of our social relations and natural environments and we should therefore endeavour to find cunning ways of including them into our decision-making processes... but we should also remember that these capitals (social, natural and even ethnic, if you go with the latest Comaroff book) are, by their very nature, convenient inventions of our minds. We have invented these different kinds of capital to serve a need. They are built not on some physical reality "out there", but on our own considerations of value. In this sense, they are extremely contextual: they have been constructed out of particular ways of choosing what is and what is not valuable to society at one point in time and one place in space. 

It is a frustrating lesson, because like the mind of the physicist, there is an allure to maths, there is a yearning to find simplicity in the workings of the world, but perhaps there is a deeper source of beauty in this lesson, for we learn that, as human beings, we are far more beautiful than the stars and the moons above, because in contrast to our cosmic companions, we CANNOT be reduced to numbers. Instead of shuddering before the beauty of simplicity, we should shudder before the beautiful complexity of our (human) nature and the myriad ways in which we view the same world. 

Isn't that more beautiful than anything you can see through a telescope? For when did a star make value from its mind? Never.  Abadan! 

I promise there is a post or two coming, but in the meantime.

I have been out of the cyber loop for a while and I promise there are some posts to come, but in the meantime, here is my Christmas movie:

Little Bird Shuffle on the Boardwalk, featuring Fats Waller on vocals... For Loula.

The Sudan Studies Conference in South Africa: thinking about personalities.

The conference was not what I had expected. The format was a bit rushed and some sessions might have been better held as discussions rather than formal papers, but there was also something inspiring about the week... and something very very cool! 

It was this: the fact that it took place in South Africa, in a country that many observers see as a miracle of social transformation and at UNISA, a university engaged in the training of the Southern Sudanese government. Thabo Mbeki was there and many of the younger South African participants told me that they really believed that Sudan matters to Africa as a whole. They said Sudan is not just about Sudan, but about Africa too. 

I had never really thought to compare the two countries, despite being in an African studies department dominated by South Africans and those who study the country, but in some ways, the South Africans at UNISA really inspired me and made me wonder about the pan-Africanist project more deeply. 

A Sudanese De Klerk?

One presentation in particular got my attention. Gavin Bradshaw gave a paper on Conflict Transformation and the Future of Sudan, comparing the South African experience with the Sudanese situation. He emphasized that South African liberation involved intensive pre-negotiation and that reconciliation was central to the country's transformation. In Sudan's case, the CPA might have been too rushed in comparison and issues of justice were overlooked. In the question session afterwards, Taban Lo Lyong from Juba University made a fascinating point: 

"That year, there was more than one person who won the Nobel Prize. You come from the Mandela University, but there is no De Klerk University. Surely we don't just need a Mandela but a De Klerk as well. Who will be our unexpected saviour?"

Bradshaw welcomed the comment and asked the audience to figure out who in the NCP represented a Sudanese versions of De Klerk? Who will have their "road to Damascus moment"? Who will negotiate? Who will concede power? Who will listen to pressure? Bradshaw spoke of the need to approach and cultivate this person, show him (or her) that there are other sources of support and legitimacy from which to draw power. 

I have been doing a lot of South African reading since I got back to the Edinburgh library. Primarily I am interested in learning more about Black Economic Empowerment and how successful the government has been in addressing the economic legacies of apartheid, but there is so much more to learn as well.  I am currently reading Mark Gevisser's biography of Thabo Mbeki: A Legacy of Liberation. I whole heartedly recommend it to anyone interested in the South African story. 

A Sudanese Mbeki?

A common complaint among Southerners living in Khartoum is that the SPLM does not include them in the re-building of Southern Sudan. They tell stories of how they are labelled "Jelaba" when they try to return "home". They are seen as outsiders or worse, traitors and are informed that they did not earn the spoils of peace because they did not fight in the struggle. I was even told that the Southern government brought in huge numbers of Kenyan and Ugandan teachers, because those in the North are either not competent enough or trusted enough to teach. The language card is often played: Northern educated southern Sudanese grew up in an Arabic speaking educational system; their qualifications are therefore, inappropriate. But one interviewee told me something quite beautiful. He said "What they fail to understand is that we were fighting too. We were fighting to become teachers. We were fighting to become engineers. We were fighting to become doctors. We had our own fight in Khartoum."  But it seems as though this side of the struggle remains unacknowledged by the SPLM leadership. 

You get the sense that the ANC understood the importance of exile to the struggle. They understood that education was key to liberation. Thabo Mbeki himself was sent away in order to study. Gevisser suggests that even his own father, Govan, who was at the very heart of the movement's armed wing, the MK, saw that his son was not a soldier but an intellectual:

"I asked Goven Mbeki why he took such a strong line on his son, given that he himself was on MK's high command and an avid adherent of armed struggle. "I didn't approve of him joining MK," he said resolutely, "or of him staying in the country. All the young people were excited about fighting, but we elders knew the other side. We realized not everyone was going to be a soldier." Perhaps, then, Govan Mbeki's hard line with his son masked a deeper perceptiveness. He knew enough about Thabo to understand that his destiny was not as a soldier on the barricades but as an intellectual. There was a different world of engagement in the struggle waiting him abroad, one that would suit him far better and take him much farther". (Gevisser, 2009: 79). 

So we should therefore not just ask who is the Sudanese de Klerk, but who are the Sudanese Mbekis as well. Certainly as the SPLM attempts to transform itself from a rebel military movement into a legitimate political party and government, it needs to make use of these educated "Jelabas" in the North. And as Southern Sudan transforms itself from a battlefield into a functioning country, these teachers, engineers and doctors are needed to get the country going again.

After the conference, Gavin Bradshaw approached me to talk about the Juba version of the Khartoum Student Seminar Series, organized by Lotje de Vries in the South. He said he was involved in training hundreds of young Southerners in order to get them up to the Masters Level. He was dying to find such seminars to stimulate these students outside the classroom. I am glad that the SPLM is now acknowledging the need for education. THIS IS GREAT! But I wonder whether this precludes the inclusion of the educated outsiders who are still waiting for homecoming in Khartoum. Especially if the South becomes independent, what will their futures hold?

You have to ask: Is their exclusion an issue of trust or power? There is another interesting aspect of the Mbeki story that might offer clues. In autumn 1962, a group of young South Africans travelled out of South Africa (in a roundabout way) to Tanzania to be sent abroad to study. Gevisser writes:

"The PAC comrades were given the choice of scholarships in the West. With the exception of Mbeki, however, all the ANC comrades were told they would be going to the Soviet Union and other Eastern European bloc countries. Mbeki did not stay long in Dar-es-Salam: He had been expected at Sussex in early October, and he was already several weeks late. Neither knowing that he had a preexisting scholarship nor understanding why he alone was being sent to the West, Mbeki's contemporaries in exile harbored resentment about his early departure to Britain was to fester for years. Vincent Mahali believed that the 'pre-existing scholarship' story was concocted by the ANC to cover the fact that Thabo was being given 'special treatment' because he was Govan's son, that this released him from the 'months and even years of deprivation... that most of us 'commoners' would have to go through." The impression would linger, and cast a long shadow over his ambitions" (Gevisser, 2009: 84). 

Gevisser, Mark (2009) A Legacy of Liberation: Thabo Mbeki and the Future of the South African Dream. New York: Palgrave, Macmillan.