A New Center for Black History in the 21st Century

The Black Cultural Archive's new Heritage Center in Windrush Square, Brixton (London, UK)
photo by Edmund Sumner

by Andrew E. Colarusso

Brixton, in the south London borough of Lambeth, is now home to the Black Cultural Archive's Heritage Center. Opened last week, the Heritage Centre is located in Windrush Square, the arrival site of the first major Afro-Caribbean wave of immigrants to the United Kingdom. The Windrush Empire made its voyage from Jamaica to Brixton, London in 1948 carrying 492 passengers (one stowaway) and the rest is history. Brixton today carries this cultural legacy with a thriving West Indian and African community. So what is this new Heritage Center and what does it mean?

Americans, Boko Haram & Message Control

Ampson Hagan, MPH
Peace Corps Volunteer
Health Sector
Cameroon 2013-2015

The tension is a palpable drum beat in the air. How quickly the calm and quotidian life in village can warp into a roiling wave of danger and anxiety. Somewhere in between those extremes, the mere knowledge of the existence of possible doom has created a highly fragile and volatile resting state. Boko Haram is as much a danger as it is an intractable cancer, with remission being simply the lull in between terroristic episodes. Boko Haram already has a real effect on my safety and well-being. Being so close to the Cameroonian-Nigerian border, this Boko Haram crisis is a credible threat that may materialize into a dangerous episode. My biggest fear is being forced to move. Moving in the States is a nightmare, even with all the moving campaigns and packing materials and the often taken for granted ability to drive myself. Here in Cameroon, simple travel is an adventure that often borders on reckless personal endangerment. Having to move would be harrowing.

Dirt Here

by Ampson Hagan

Brown University MPH

Peace Corp Volunteer

Health Sector

Cameroon 2013-2015

What the fuck is happening to me? I’ve been averaging roughly one shower (or bucket bath) per week. I don’t brush my teeth for days at a time and I wear the same clothes with barely a thought on personal appearance or even a general sense of fashion. In fact, I haven’t washed my clothes since I moved to this small village in the North region of Cameroon. That was almost 4 months ago.

Sure, there was that month in which I was flown to Morocco for medical care because I contracted amoebas that caused ulcerative colitis, and this excused me from having to consider my appearance and hygiene due to being hospitalized. It was nice to be absolved of responsibility of cleaning, and I didn’t have to wash clothes for that entire month (although I admit that it would’ve been nice to return to the ritualized act of throwing clothes in a machine and coming back 1 hour later to clean threads). I even got to take showers (with hot water!) in Morocco, so maybe my hygiene problem isn’t all that bad.

Well, no, it is that bad. The reason I was sent to Morocco, the reason I contracted that vicious infection was not a good one. Amoebic dysentery is an infection that occurs as a result of poor hygiene, and the amoebae are present in contaminated food and water. That contaminated food and water are tainted with animal feces that carry the amoebae. Unclean hands move the contaminated food and water to the mouth, proving to be the recipe for a delicious infection. But wait, before you judge me too harshly, please consider the fact that there is no running water in my village and it’s terribly difficult to wash my hands here. The well water is not safe to drink (see above) and most of the food I eat was once on the ground, surrounded be the feces of at least 5 different types of animals including that of humans. I’m almost always touching shit, or touching something that touched shit, or…