A CONVERSATION WITH FLÁVIO ZENUN ALMADA
TRANSLATED FROM PORTUGUESE BY SONIA VAZ BORGES
In this conversation, Sónia Vaz Borges interviews Flávio Zenun Almada, a mc/rapper and longtime Cape Verdean activist in Portugal. In this conversation, they explore the roots of the Popular University, organized by Plataforma Gueto, a Black Social Movement based in working class neighborhoods in the periphery of Lisbon. The Plataforma fights against all forms of discrimination and social injustice towards the population that live in social housing and self-built neighborhoods, especially against police brutality, housing eviction, deportation, and incarceration. It monitors Portuguese public policy for immigration and integration to critically question and make proposals about them. Finally, Plataforma promotes rap as a source of social intervention.
SÓNIA VAZ BORGES: Flávio, can you share with us about how the Plataforma Gueto came to exist?
FLÁVIO ZENUN ALMADA: What I will share with you today is my understanding of it, as there are other people who were part of its creation. I think we cannot talk about the creation of the Plataforma Gueto, without talking about the events that the Associação Encontros organized around, in the Alfornelos theater in Amadora around 2003 and 2004—the cinema events and the music showcase, as well as the debates. The events organized there made it possible for me to be in touch with many other people and organizations that would have otherwise been difficult to get in touch with. During these events, people formed the organization Associação Khapaz in the neighborhood of Arrentela, the organization Laços de Rua in the neighborhood of Cascais. During this time I had the idea of making a newspaper, but I had no conditions to make it. But someone gave me a computer, and some books.
We also did other things, like the discussion around creating a movement called Onda Negra (Black wave) in response to so-called “looting” that happened on a Portuguese beach, and the way the Portuguese media portrayed the whole situation. All these organizations participated in that discussion, together with people connected to the Rap world like the group Red Eyes; the Nos ki Nasci Homi ki ta Mori Homi, and other people from Cova da Moura and other neighborhoods. We started to talk more, but I think it was with Associação Encontros that everything started to become more consistent. But I also think Plataforma, which was founded between 2006 and 2007, is part of this heritage of where these people and organizations were already doing things.
SVB: How can we see from your perspective the creation of Plataforma and an educational process?
FZA: I think this has a lot to do with what Amílcar Cabral said: “Agir para pensar melhor” (“Take action to think better”), because it was an accumulation of experiences. For example, the Cadernos Consciência e Resistência Negra already existed. The people from the Associação Khapaz were already making fanzines, from what I know, and there was also the project idea of doing a Pan-African magazine. There were already a lot of things going on. Like here in Cova (da Moura), because there is the particularity of police oppression and brutality, but also its own history of resistance—I cannot say much about the other neighborhoods, because although I know them, I didn’t live there much. The youth of my generation were going mad, because there was no place where we wouldn’t be harassed by the police. For me, who had just come from Cape Verde, it was a shock, as I came from a country who built its liberation struggle and I was free to go wherever I wanted to, without having to think if I should go or not, if that was my place or not, because of the color of my skin.
I’m speaking about what we were reading, but also of the inheritance that was transmitted to us through Rap music, like Tupac and his connection to the Black Panthers, their Ten Point Program, and I should add Cabral and Fanon. With all these forms of education, we were educating ourselves, like militants who self-educate while they organize in the community. We learn through this process and with daily life, also reading to gain experience from older people.
SVB: You mentioned books, how did you access these books and in which language they were?
FZA: I study Translation and Creative Writing, especially because there were no books about Africa openly available in Portuguese. The only bookshop in Lisbon that had books in this direction and from the liberation struggle, was the Livraria Sá da Costa. They had books on African independence movements, Cabral, Paulo Freire, Mario Pinto de Andrade, etc. Most of the other books were in English. But a lot of the literature found in Portuguese still portrayed Africa and Africans as simply backwards, including the histories in school textbooks, and that would reflect too in mainstream media. The interesting books were all in English, like Angela Davis, bell hooks, the Black Panthers, etc.
SVB: Can we say that it was because of the lack of literature and other materials in Portuguese that the Plataforma started their own newspaper?
FZA: Newspaper Gueto. Olhos Ouvidos e Vozes (Eyes, Ears, and Voices), yes. Everytime we went to Associação Encontros events, especially when they showcased the documentary, Era uma vez um Arrastão, from the filmmaker Diana Andringa, we realized that the community did not have their own voice. So the newspaper was created with the goal of breaking this trend. There was a reality in the streets that was not shown on TV, or in academia, so we thought it was important that we start to write our own stories, as we view and understand it. Plus, the name of the journal was not chosen by me or any of the other militants. The newspaper was named by people from the community, who chose it during the meetings we had in Moinho da Juventude here in Cova da Moura.
SVB: What do you think was the impact of the work done by the Plataforma in Portugal?
FZA: I think whether or not people agree, we broke the complex around using the term racism, which was then “forbidden” to mention, so to say. That happened even inside our communities, who were criticizing us about our attitudes with police action or retaliation. The work done by the Plataforma was big, and this can also be seen by the members who were part of it, who are writers and activists today. The Plataforma gave space to develop an attitude that was not the subaltern attitude, developing instead a dignified posture.
We in the Plataforma were constantly searching for things to read. We were thirsty readers. The Plataforma, as a grassroots organization, created its own principles from its own concrete reality, but also defended an ethical philosophy of life.
SVB: Was it grounded on this principle, that the Universidade Popular da Plaforma was developed?
FZA: In reality, we did not invent anything. What we did was seek out inspiration from previous experiences that we then adapted to our own reality. This came from what we read, but also from dialogue with other people. But what we realized at the time was that we needed a critical mass, but not only on the theoretical level—what we here in the neighborhood call vomitar conceitos (spewing concepts). We need a critical mass yes, but it has to be associated with practice. So it was important to discuss and create a space for reflection that was outside of authorized spaces, outside of the academic space. A place where the masses could participate with their voices and even question the authorized intellectuals. It is important to know that the Universidade Popular da Plataforma was not circumscribed to only Portugal, but it also expanded to Cape Verde. We created our own program, but still there were participants who thought they had to give classes, without being open to listen, talk, and share. We understood that such a posture was an element of deterrence. Our goal was to change people’s material living conditions, because no one who is hungry is going to fight for critical thinking. We at the university felt that in terms of priority, it should be based on the more peripheral reality of the Black working class here, and not on the principle of creating concepts every day. And this university was great, because we had people that came from different countries, but most importantly, from different neighborhoods. It helped us understand that sometimes people in academia are outside of the reality that the masses experience, and that they speak a sort of an alien language. Since August 2011, we have organized Popular Universities, the first one being Marcus Garvey University. We ended up not discussing much about Marcus Garvey, but instead we discussed the U.S. prison-industrial complex, as well as food insecurity and sovereignty. We had Kwame Touré University; Tetina Silá University, Amílcar Cabral University, Ruth Wilson Gilmore University, Kwame Nkrumah University, Cedric Robinson University, Pan-African University, Thomas Sankara University, bell hooks University, to mention some.
But it is important to let people know that we were not interested in worshiping a revolutionary past. We are interested in learning and discussing daily struggles on housing, work, police terrorism, prison, horizontal violence, immigration, the role of music and culture in the struggle, etc. The organization of these universities were a vehicle and a space to keep the anticolonial tradition going.
SVB: How did you go from the Universidade Popular da Plataforma to the Espaço Mbongi 67, and the Movimento Vida Justa?
FZA: Mbongi 67 appeared due to our necessity to have a space for discussion without interference. The name choice came while I was reading Professor Wamba Dia Wamba, about African pre-colonial institutions. He explained that Mbongi was a space with no walls, where the community met and discussed their problems until they found a consensus and solved them. The other aspect too, is that Mbongi is the name of a bean in Cape Verde that does not require much water, and that feeds the population. So we decided to combine both meanings of Mbongi, to feed not only the head, but also the stomach, which is why we always have food at meetings. We chose the number 67 because that was the date of creation for the PAIGC Liberation Radio (Rádio Libertação). Mbongi 67 is also a result of the Plataforma’s work. In the space we have, we want to build a library—or something in the direction of a library—and a bookshop.
The Movimento Vida Justa is made of several people who got together and even though we disagree sometimes, we converge on urgent and fundamental issues, such as housing. The movement is more focused on the peripheries, and whether it is wanted or not, it is also linked with Plataforma and therefore with the work of Associação Encontros. On that note, I also think that the Cadernos (Consciência e Resistência Negra) should be republished, because even today I know of people who are incarcerated who still hold the Cadernos that we send to them together with CDs and other materials. And there are also people who are in other countries, who still keep a copy.
SVB: From your point of view, how can we consider this tradition of activism that we’ve been talking about as an educational space, having in mind all spaces and materials created?
FZA: I think all this is part of a long tradition of struggle and there is much more that needs to be done. But we can say that all these were spaces of education for transformation and militancy. I think all this work is also collective, and you can see that they present as such. They were presented from a collective which I was a member of, and this posture and ethics continues to follow me.
Plataforma was a political center of conscientization for me, as an active member. It was a place of conscientization of myself as an intellectual, the conscientization of my realities and the realities of the country and the world, of its conditions and my conditions too. It was also a space of conscientization of what still needs to be done, especially from a political perspective that goes beyond concepts and aesthetics. This way of being and thinking is engrained in the collective work of Plataforma and the strong relations of comradeship that live on to this day. ■