January 20, 2013

Gedi Ruins, south of Malindi, Kenya Coast

The ruins of Gedi, an 13th or 14th century Swahili town, lie just south of Malindi, east of the Malindi-Mombasa road junction with the modern town of Gedi. The town was originally called Kilimani, but when bands of migrant Oromo from the north settled in the town in the 16th century, they renamed the town "Gedi" which means "precious" in Oromo. Or so said our able local guide. All the guidebook phrases about this being "Kenya's most important archaeological site" may be overblown, but the atmosphere here is thick with a presence, neither ominous nor helpful, just...watchful. The ruins lie in the midst of what was once a vast forest, and wildlife are frequent visitors to the site.

This was Swahili material culture and civilization at its apex, an elegant trading city along what was once likely the coast (the coastline has shifted over the centuries), with a population of perhaps 3000, a magnificent palace with barazas for men and women and an elegant bathing area, several large mosques once lit by oil lamps, chinese ceramics embedded in rich homes as symbols of wealth and status, and an absolutely unique style of fluted pillar tomb architecture. Above the doorway of the Great mosque, engraved in stone, is a spearhead--perhaps indicative of how indigenous Islam had become for the Swahili communities of the coast well before the coming of the first major Omanis migrations in the 17th and 18th centuries. Another must-see for travelers to the Kenya Coast.






















































Read more...

January 19, 2013

Haller Park in Bamburi, Kenya

Haller Park is basically the work of the Bamburi Cement Factory, a local institution. They created a sort of nature park/wildlife reserve, stuck a bunch of giraffes, and a couple pliant hippos, and created a pretty awesome urban safari park, where you can feed the giraffes for only 50 shillings. Highly recommended if you are in the Mombasa area.














Read more...

Jumba la Mtwana in Mtwapa, Kenya

Jumba la Mtwana is another in a line of ancient stone cities that dot the East African coast; the stone ruins that remain today are the town center and include the houses of the elite class; their presence probably points to a larger community of mud and thatch houses surrounding the ruins. James Kirkman was among the first to excavate this site, and he published a book called Notes on Jumba la Mtwana (which the Rough Guide to Kenya draws on quite heavily). The Friends of Fort Jesus and Homo Sassoon also published Jumba la Mtwana guide. I wish I'd had my hands on one or the other as I stumbled through the ruins with my girlfriend and a local guide.






































Read more...

The Grand Mosque, Oman

Jokingly described by some Omanis as a "tourist attraction, not a masjid" or by those less cynical as "a dawah tool for outsiders" the Grand Mosque is undoubtedly the single most impressive structure in Oman and probably the most beautiful masjid I have ever set foot in, outside of Sultan Hasan in Cairo, and Sheikh Zayed mosque in Abu Dhabi (I have yet to travel to Mecca and Medina).


Read more...

January 16, 2013

Monsoon by Robert Kaplan (Book Review)

I'm pleased to share with Azanian Sea readers a guest post from Dr. Fahad Bishara. Fahad is a Prize Fellow in Economics, History and Politics at Harvard University's Center for History and Economics, and an Assistant Professor at the College of William and Mary. His current research traces the legal transformation of the Western Indian Ocean through the Arab and Indian settlement and commercialization of the East African coast during the nineteenth century. He received his Ph.D. in History from Duke University in 2012, and holds an M.A. in Arab Gulf Studies from the University of Exeter. Here he reviews Robert Kaplan's recent work on the Indian Ocean. 


Robert D. Kaplan, Monsoon: The Indian Ocean and the Future of American Power. Random House. 366 pp. 2010. $28
Review by Fahad Ahmad Bishara (Center for History and Economics, Harvard University)

Historians of the Indian Ocean, and students of world history more broadly, are by now perhaps familiar with the story of the Chinese admiral Zheng He, who in the early 15th century sailed around the Indian Ocean with a fleet of more than 200 ships, reaching Southeast Asia, East Africa, and even Arabia. Those who know the story, however, have a hard time understanding its historical significance, let alone its contemporary relevance.

Enter Robert Kaplan, seasoned journalist, history aficionado and traveler extraordinaire. The veteran journalist has spent the past two decades or so writing on American military campaigns in the Middle East, the Balkans crises, and world politics more broadly, and has spent even an even longer time as a foreign correspondent covering the Cold War and the Iran-Iraq war. Kaplan’s latest work, Monsoon: The Indian Ocean and the Future of American Power extends his time-tested mixture of travelogue, history, journalism, and strategic analysis – and to good effect.

Those who pick up Monsoon are in for something of a treat. With delightful prose and insightful analysis, Kaplan takes his readers on a tour of the Indian Ocean, stopping at some of its lesser-known (but, as he makes abundantly clear, no less important) port cities: Gwadar (in Pakistan), Chittagong (in Burma), and Hambantota (in Sri Lanka), to name just a few. For each, Kaplan is able to pull together a remarkably clear blend of history, anecdote, and analysis, and the reader leaves each chapter with a rather strong grasp of each port city’s past, present and future. His discussion of Gwadar, for example, highlights the port city’s Omani past, while situating its troubled place within the Pakistani nation-state, and suggesting how the ongoing development of a Chinese container port there might reshape both its present situation and its understanding of its own history.

Sandwiching these vignettes are more thematic reflections. Some are on regional history – Arab-Islamic expansion in the Indian Ocean, Zheng He’s voyage and British India all get the full treatment – and other times on more contemporary matters like the muted Sino-Indian jostling that characterizes much of the region’s political economy. Individually, they seem gratuitous; but together, they form the broader context and background, cluing us in to how Kaplan imagines the Indian Ocean as a unified space – an idea, as much a geographic feature, he reminds us.

Over the course of several chapters, the big picture begins to emerge – one in which China’s tentacles slowly make their way across the water to the Persian Gulf, East Africa, and South and Southeast Asia, binding them together into a new world system, to borrow Immanuel Wallersein’s provocative concept. In return for its oil, the Gulf receives a steady stream of Chinese manufactures; and for allowing Chinese companies to build a network of ports, governments around the Indian Ocean are compensated with development projects – highways, hospitals, and more – all gratis. Throughout the process, China is careful to stay below the radar – it even refuses to run the very ports it builds, preferring to allow the Singaporeans to do it instead.  This, then, is no plan for Chinese world domination; rather, it is a regional infrastructure built to ensure that China’s insatiable thirst for energy is met and its goods have a secured market. But, as Kaplan makes clear throughout, this is not without its political consequences, both domestic and international.

For all of its strengths, Monsoon can be a frustrating read. Those who read the entire volume are likely to be left wondering what they had just gone through. While Monsoon’s individual vignettes are thorough, stimulating and thought-provoking, the author does little to connect the dots; the book is not too much more than the sum of its parts. Readers are left to guess as to what Zanzibar has to do with Burma, or why a discussion of Gwadar necessarily precedes Gujarat; they get a vivid picture of politics and economics around the Indian Ocean, but little by way of a forceful argument. Kaplan seems to prefer the slow-cooker approach, dropping in bits and pieces of his overall argument and letting them stew together with his travel writing and history. Those looking for an argument presented neatly on a single platter will be disappointed.

Perhaps a more glaring shortcoming is Kaplan’s failure to deliver on the second half of the book’s title. Beyond hanging thoughts and throwaway sentences that pepper the volume, Kaplan does nothing to explain how the United States fits into the picture, let alone establish the Indian Ocean as “the essential place to contemplate the future of U.S. power.” Policy buffs will undoubtedly be left unhappy with the book’s unfulfilled promises.

So then what are we left with? A great deal, actually. Beyond enriching vignettes, the book illuminates the reorientations of different parts of  the Middle East, Africa, and South and Southeast Asia towards China. Indeed, if there is a protagonist to the book at all, it is Chinese capital, which has managed to forge a world of its own, replete with protected sea routes and eager markets. It might not be Zheng He all over again, but it’s certainly something close – and Kaplan does not fail to impress upon his readers the importance of seeing the region in light of its history.

All told, Kaplan has thus given us a thoughtful, balanced and readable – though not always entirely coherent – analysis of the modern Indian Ocean. Those looking to assign students a readable book on the modern Indian Ocean with which to cap a history course, then, can do a lot worse than Kaplan’s Monsoon. The book’s structure makes it easy to pull out chapters to assign, and the prose is both informative and eminently readable – which in itself is a remarkable feat.





Read more...

  © Blogger templates The Professional Template by Ourblogtemplates.com 2008

Back to TOP