So, the World Cup has kicked off, we’re in to the second round of matches and frankly the spectacle is keeping me sane as I tackle the mounds of paperwork that have been neglected in the last few months. In truth, I’m much more a fan of the oval ball game but I’ll take wall-to-wall coverage of South Africa’s tournament over Cash in the Attic any day.
As my pre-paperwork procrastination continues, I came across Rudd Elmendorp’s latest dispatch from Tanzania about mothers in Tanzania opening their own bamboo workshop.
Now, in the hoo-ha surrounding the football, broadcasters (and in particular the BBC) are airing programmes extolling a refreshed (read: more positive) view of Africa, with Dimbleby The Younger’s An African Journey an excellent example. As someone with a deep love of the diverse continent (only a comparative fraction of which I have experienced), it’s great to see a thawing in the hidden but still evident post-colonial ‘Africa-as-a-single-country’ (sic) permafrost I feel can underpin a lot of stories about Africa.
Amidst the optimism however, we shouldn’t …