At the National Museum
On Friday, I went to the National Museum. Although it is not open to the public, I was able to tag along on a meeting that the State Department’s cultural affairs representative for central and east Africa had scheduled there. Big thanks to someone at the Embassy who kindly thought to invite me. Through a discretionary cultural fund, the Ambassador has given a couple of small grants to the museum to buy some desperately needed air conditioners. One of the meeting topics was the repatriation of a sculpture from Chicago (at the Field Museum I believe) that was stolen from here, as many of the objects in US and European museums are. The museum in Chicago has agreed to repatriate the sculpture, but there are lots of problems related to shipping and customs, which is something that the State Department should be able to facilitate. Let’s see if they can do something good. I hope so.
The approach to the National Museum complex, on the outskirts of Gombé, is impressive. As we drove up to the gate, we were “greeted” by a soldier. He was lounging on the grass inside the compound, wearing an undershirt. Before approaching the vehicle, he picked up his machine gun and strapped a round of ammunition across his shoulder. After checking our identification, he opened the gates and we drove up a hill which looks out over the Congo River at Stanley Pool, one of its widest points. This was the site where the city was originally founded. It is a magnificent view of three Congos: Kinshasa, Brazzaville across the river, and the river itself. To the west, you can see the beginnings of the rapids that make the river impassible all the way to Matadi (about 200 km southwest). Transportation is by ship from the Atlantic Ocean to Matadi, by land to Kinshasa (the country’s only functional railroad line runs along this route), and then the river is navigable northeast to Kisangani for several months a year.
On the grounds of the museum, they have Henry Stanley’s boat. The thing is rusted out and appropriately eerie. It is surrounded by five carriage wheels from Stanley’s land caravan (on the Matadi to Kinshasa route). There are a number of colonial-era sculptures in the garden, most of which used to be displayed in town, but were removed from the city’s avenues following independence. (I wish Confederate monuments in the US South could be similarly decommissioned to the status of museum artifacts…) An equestrian statue of Leopold II sitting on top of a horse the size of an elephant surreally overlooks the river. Such disproportion seems apt since, as the curator was eager to point out, Leopold never visited the Congo though he personally controlled it for more than twenty years. My favorite of these relics was the Stanley statue which was broken into two pieces. Everyone seemed to appreciate my suggestion that it looked better that way.
The Museum itself is comprised of a series of modest buildings, with well-maintained grounds covered with impressive sculptures and murals from students at the Musée des Beaux Arts here in Kin. The first room we entered was a small library, which includes shelves and shelves of colonial-era photo albums, organized by ethnic group. Looking at a couple of samples, many of the photos appeared to have water damage. I spied about seven or eight albums of photos of the Kuba (with whom William Sheppard worked) from the 1910s, and began to plot my return visit. In the next room, I noticed a sculpture by Bodys Isek Kingelez. I think I gained points (and hopefully a return invitation) by identifying the artist, even though his speculative architectural installations in paper are difficult to mistake.
The curator led us through a series of large warehouse-style rooms, with industrial metal shelves covered with art objects. There are separate buildings for sculpture, material culture (functional art objects), antiquities (materials from archeological excavations), musical instruments, musical recordings, and “costumes.” The “costumes” room had clothing, including masks, textiles, and ceremonial staffs. In showing several of the intricately carved staffs, the curator mentioned with a smile that they wanted to acquire Mobutu’s for the collection. I assumed she was joking until we saw Mobutu’s chair upholstered in leopard skin (of course) in another of the rooms.
The most modern facility was the musicology department which involves a collaboration with the Royal Museum for Central Africa in Tervuren, Belgium. In fairness, since, as many of you may recall, this museum has been the target of my criticism, they do seem to be doing good work in providing the museum here the resources to digitize hundreds of hours of colonial era field recordings. (CDs will then be deposited at Tervuren.) Part of the project involves ongoing video recordings and documentation of cultural practices. They were eager to show me some of the Kuba, including a weaver on a loom and King Lukenga, also a Senator in the Parliament, dancing. (What would be the equivalent--Jesse Helms line dancing perhaps?) Even this project has stalled despite the hardware because they are out of blank CDs and have not been able to get any money from the government, which is in charge of the museum, to purchase more. This predicament sadly characterizes the museum. It is very well organized and run, but lacks the resources it needs to be successful. They need air conditioners--the lack of basic climate control makes preservation difficult. Having cut down on ongoing thefts, they now need to reopen to the public. There used to be a storefront annex downtown, but that remains closed.
As we left the complex, the soldier who welcomed us, approached the vehicle before opening the gate. I was expecting that he was going to search the vehicle, a reasonable procedure given the value of the collection and their problems with theft. After conversations in Lingala with two people in the car, there was a disagreement. He seemed agitated, but did not search the vehicle. After some negotiations (without any commerce), he reluctantly opened the gate. I later learned that he was not concerned with theft; he had been asking for cigarettes.
The approach to the National Museum complex, on the outskirts of Gombé, is impressive. As we drove up to the gate, we were “greeted” by a soldier. He was lounging on the grass inside the compound, wearing an undershirt. Before approaching the vehicle, he picked up his machine gun and strapped a round of ammunition across his shoulder. After checking our identification, he opened the gates and we drove up a hill which looks out over the Congo River at Stanley Pool, one of its widest points. This was the site where the city was originally founded. It is a magnificent view of three Congos: Kinshasa, Brazzaville across the river, and the river itself. To the west, you can see the beginnings of the rapids that make the river impassible all the way to Matadi (about 200 km southwest). Transportation is by ship from the Atlantic Ocean to Matadi, by land to Kinshasa (the country’s only functional railroad line runs along this route), and then the river is navigable northeast to Kisangani for several months a year.
On the grounds of the museum, they have Henry Stanley’s boat. The thing is rusted out and appropriately eerie. It is surrounded by five carriage wheels from Stanley’s land caravan (on the Matadi to Kinshasa route). There are a number of colonial-era sculptures in the garden, most of which used to be displayed in town, but were removed from the city’s avenues following independence. (I wish Confederate monuments in the US South could be similarly decommissioned to the status of museum artifacts…) An equestrian statue of Leopold II sitting on top of a horse the size of an elephant surreally overlooks the river. Such disproportion seems apt since, as the curator was eager to point out, Leopold never visited the Congo though he personally controlled it for more than twenty years. My favorite of these relics was the Stanley statue which was broken into two pieces. Everyone seemed to appreciate my suggestion that it looked better that way.
The Museum itself is comprised of a series of modest buildings, with well-maintained grounds covered with impressive sculptures and murals from students at the Musée des Beaux Arts here in Kin. The first room we entered was a small library, which includes shelves and shelves of colonial-era photo albums, organized by ethnic group. Looking at a couple of samples, many of the photos appeared to have water damage. I spied about seven or eight albums of photos of the Kuba (with whom William Sheppard worked) from the 1910s, and began to plot my return visit. In the next room, I noticed a sculpture by Bodys Isek Kingelez. I think I gained points (and hopefully a return invitation) by identifying the artist, even though his speculative architectural installations in paper are difficult to mistake.
The curator led us through a series of large warehouse-style rooms, with industrial metal shelves covered with art objects. There are separate buildings for sculpture, material culture (functional art objects), antiquities (materials from archeological excavations), musical instruments, musical recordings, and “costumes.” The “costumes” room had clothing, including masks, textiles, and ceremonial staffs. In showing several of the intricately carved staffs, the curator mentioned with a smile that they wanted to acquire Mobutu’s for the collection. I assumed she was joking until we saw Mobutu’s chair upholstered in leopard skin (of course) in another of the rooms.
The most modern facility was the musicology department which involves a collaboration with the Royal Museum for Central Africa in Tervuren, Belgium. In fairness, since, as many of you may recall, this museum has been the target of my criticism, they do seem to be doing good work in providing the museum here the resources to digitize hundreds of hours of colonial era field recordings. (CDs will then be deposited at Tervuren.) Part of the project involves ongoing video recordings and documentation of cultural practices. They were eager to show me some of the Kuba, including a weaver on a loom and King Lukenga, also a Senator in the Parliament, dancing. (What would be the equivalent--Jesse Helms line dancing perhaps?) Even this project has stalled despite the hardware because they are out of blank CDs and have not been able to get any money from the government, which is in charge of the museum, to purchase more. This predicament sadly characterizes the museum. It is very well organized and run, but lacks the resources it needs to be successful. They need air conditioners--the lack of basic climate control makes preservation difficult. Having cut down on ongoing thefts, they now need to reopen to the public. There used to be a storefront annex downtown, but that remains closed.
As we left the complex, the soldier who welcomed us, approached the vehicle before opening the gate. I was expecting that he was going to search the vehicle, a reasonable procedure given the value of the collection and their problems with theft. After conversations in Lingala with two people in the car, there was a disagreement. He seemed agitated, but did not search the vehicle. After some negotiations (without any commerce), he reluctantly opened the gate. I later learned that he was not concerned with theft; he had been asking for cigarettes.
posted by irad at 11:09 AM
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