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Gullah, descendants of Afrikan slaves in South Carolina who haven’t abandoned their cultural roots

The Gullah Geechee Kinfolk…Pathfinders Travel Magazine

The Gullah people, also referred to as the Geechee, reside in Georgia and the low country of South Carolina within the United States.  They are also located within the coast and the Sea Islands  – which are a series of minute islands along the Atlantic Ocean. They equate to over 100 islands.

Originally, the Gullah people inhabited the Cape Fear region of North Carolina extending to the Jacksonville, Florida area. They eventually heavily populated South Carolina and Georgia.

They differentiate themselves by referring to one another as saltwater Geechee or freshwater Geechee; this describes the mainland and the Sea Islands settlers. saltwater

Geechee or Gullah are also the names of the language spoken by the African natives. The name Geechee is said to derive from the Ogeechee River within the vicinity of Savannah, Georgia.

The Gullah originate from Angola, Ghana, Sierra Leone, Senegambia, Cote d’Ivoire, Madagascar, Mozambique and the Bight of Benin which is a bight in the Gulf of Guinea on the western African coast.

Slaves from this portion of Africa were brought for the chief purpose of profit for slave owners and colonizers.

Two British trading companies operated the slave castle at Bunce Island, formerly known as Bance Island in the Sierra Leone River.  Henry Laurens, a slave agent was based in Charleston, S.C. His colleague, Richard Oswald was based in England.  Any slaves taken from West Africa passed through Bance Island.  It was the principal spot for slaves being shipped to Georgia and South Carolina.

Along the Western coast of Africa, the natives grew and harvested rice.  This rice was initially planted and grown in the inland delta of the Upper Niger River.  British colonizers realized that African rice could be cultivated in the southern parts of the U.S. Hence why slaves were captured from Western Africa. They were needed to build irrigation and dam systems that would aid in growing the rice.

By the 18th century, large acres of land in the lowlands of South Carolina and Georgia were made into African rice fields.  It proved to be very lucrative for America during that time.

The Gullah have been able to preserve much of their African culture due to the similarity in the climate of their origin and their new land. Many slave overseers were African which enabled a fusion of African cultures and preservation of customs. Additionally, because malaria and yellow fever became endemic, white slave owners, rice field owners and plantation overseers were forced to leave their homes and migrate to the city.  This attributed to the increase of African rice overseers.

1861 ushered in the beginning of the Civil War. White planters, afraid of an invasion by U.S. naval forces, abandoned their land.  Union forces soon arrived on the land and were introduced to the Geechee who were eager for their freedom and willing to risk their lives for it.  The Gullah joined the Union Army as the First South Carolina Volunteers.

The Sea Islands became the first place in the South where slaves were freed. Unitarian missionaries from Pennsylvania also formulated schools for freed slaves – even before the end of slavery.

After the end of the war, the rice fields became damaged and chances of labor were considerably low.  Rice planters gradually abandoned their land. In 1890, hurricanes obliterated the crops altogether. The Gullah were now the main inhabitants of the low country which isolated them from their former owners and the greater population. This allowed for the opportunity to practice their culture, undisturbed by outside influences.

There was an awesome mending of customs and traditions from the Mende, Baga, Fula, Mandinka and Wolof tribes, to name a few.

Some mentionable customs that have passed from African traditions are the Gullah word guber which is derived from the Kikongo and Kimbundu word, N’guba.  The Geechee version of gumbo comes from the Angolan dish of okra called Umbundu.  Gullah herbal medicines are highly comparable to traditional African remedies.  Gullah strip quilts are made in the same fashion as Kente cloth from the Ashanti and Ewe people of Ghana as well as the Akwete cloth from the Igbo tribe of Nigeria.

During the 20th century, wealthy whites redeveloped some areas of the plantations destroyed earlier on.  Since there has been an influx of visitors who wish to enjoy the favorable weather and beautiful scenery. Juxtaposing this notion has been the Gullah fighting to preserve and practice their culture.  Development of the plantations for tourism purposes has also threatened the livelihood of the native Gullah.In 2006, the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Act enabled the preservation of historic sites as it relates to Gullah culture.  The act has also provided $10 million towards the cause aforementioned.

Gullahs have reached as far north as New York City; keeping close ties to family members by visiting and passing down their traditions to newer generations. Some Gullahs have established relationships with natives in Sierra Leone in the form of reunions.


From the brutal murder of Lumumba to overthrowing Nkrumah; these are suspected ways the CIA meddled in Afrikan affairs

The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) was created in 1947 with the signing of the National Security Act by President Harry S. Truman.

A civilian foreign intelligence service of the United States tasked with gathering, processing, and analyzing national security information from around the world, primarily through the use of human intelligence (HUMINT), the CIA allegedly invaded and dabbled in African affairs in a way unimaginable, sowing mayhem and anarchy.

The covert maneuverings of the CIA extensively influenced politics on the continent during the cold war period leading to years of mayhem and chaos on the continent which slowed the continent’s development and economic independence.

In this article, therefore, Face2face Africa looks at four ways the CIA allegedly meddled and sowed anarchy on the continent.

Image source:

Patrice Lumumba’s assassination in Congo

Patrice Lumumba, the first prime minister of the independent Congo, was brutally murdered on January 17, 1961.

He was shot dead with two of his ministers, Joseph Okito and Maurice Mpolo.

Lumumba led the Democratic Republic of Congo to independence on June 30, 1960, after the country was passed on from King Leopold II, who took control of it as his private property in the 1880s, to Belgium in 1908 as a colony.

Lumumba was inspired by the independence movement of Africa after attending the All-African Peoples’ Conference in Ghana in 1958. This spurred him on to organize nationalist rallies in his country resulting in deadly protests that got him arrested and later released to negotiate Congo’s independence.

A strong ally of Belgium, the United States had a stake in Congo’s uranium. The United States is suspected to have planned Lumumba’s assassination as disclosed by a source in the book, Death in the Congo, written by Emmanuel Gerard and published in 2015.

In 2002, former colonial power Belgium admitted responsibility for its part in the killing, however, the US has never explained its role despite long-held suspicions.

US President Dwight D Eisenhower, concerned about communism, was worried about Congo following a similar path to Cuba.

According to a source quoted in Death in the Congo, President Eisenhower gave “an order for the assassination of Lumumba. There was no discussion; the [National Security Council] meeting simply moved on”.

However, a CIA plan to lace Lumumba’s toothpaste with poison was never carried out, Lawrence Devlin, who was a station chief in Congo at the time, told the BBC in 2000.

survey of declassified US government documents from the era notes that the CIA “initially focused on removing Lumumba, not only through assassination if necessary but also with an array of non-lethal undertakings”.

Kwame Nkrumah speaking on 24th May, 1963 in Addis Ababa

Overthrow of Kwame Nkrumah in Ghana

Ghana’s first President Kwame Nkrumah was overthrown in a military coup in 1966 while he was out of the country.

The CIA in 1966 aided by elements in the Ghana Police and Army, overthrew Nkrumah’s government, using Ivory Coast as the base for its missions.

In a 1978 book In Search of Enemies, former CIA intelligence officer John Stockwell wrote that an official sanction for the coup does not appear in CIA documents, but “the Accra station was nevertheless encouraged by headquarters to maintain contact with dissidents.

“It was given a generous budget, and maintained intimate contact with the plotters as a coup was hatched.”

He said that the CIA in Ghana got more involved and its operatives were given “unofficial credit for the eventual coup”.

declassified US government document showed awareness of a plot to overthrow Nkrumah.

Nelson Mandela — Photo: Reuters/Antony Kaminju

The arrest that led to Nelson Mandela spending 27 years in prison 

Nelson Mandela‘s arrest in 1962 came as a result of a tip-off from an agent of the CIA.

Former CIA agent Donald Rickard made the disclosure shortly before his death in the Sunday Times newspaper

Mandela served 27 years in jail for resisting white minority rule before being released in 1990.

He was subsequently elected as South Africa’s first black president in 1994.

Rickard, who died earlier in 2016 was never formally associated with the CIA, but worked as a diplomat in South Africa before retiring in the late 70s.

Mandela was released in 1990 following the relaxation of apartheid laws, including the unbanning of liberation organizations like the PAC and the ANC by the then South African President FW de Klerk.

After leaving prison, Mandela worked hard to ensure that human rights were respected and South Africans had a better future.

Agostinho Neto
Image source: AP

Opposition to the MPLA in Angola

The MPLA is a political party that has ruled Angola since the country’s independence from Portugal in 1975.

It fought against the Portuguese army in the Angolan War of Independence of 1961–74 and defeated the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA) and the National Liberation Front of Angola (FNLA), two other anti-colonial movements, in the Angolan Civil War of 1975–2002.

With the MPLA under Agostinho Neto taking over the capital Luanda, chief of CIA’s covert operations in Angola in 1975, wrote that Washington decided to oppose the MPLA, as it was seen as closer to the Soviet Union, and support the FNLA and Unita instead, even though all three had help from communist countries.

The CIA then helped secretly import weapons, including 30,000 rifles, through Kinshasa in neighboring Zaire, now known as the Democratic Republic of Congo, Stockwell says in a video documentary.

He adds that CIA officers also trained fighters for armed combat.A declassified US government document detailing a discussion between the head of the CIA, the secretary of state and others indicates the support the CIA gave to the forces fighting the MPLA.




How Cuban Art Fed Afrika’s Liberation Struggles

An exhibition of Cuban propaganda posters and magazines in London shows the support Fidel Castro gave to African liberation movements during the Cold War. The works were produced by 33 designers, many of them women.
Lázaro Abreu Padrón, Images courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection // BBC News

The art works were produced for Castro’s Organisation of Solidarity of the People of Asia, Africa and Latin America (Ospaaal), which was born out of the Tricontinental Conference, hosted in Havana in 1966, to combat US imperialism.

“A lot of African countries were represented as part of the delegation there, including liberation movements. And Castro connected with a few leaders, particularly Amílcar Cabral from Guinea-Bissau,” Olivia Ahmad, the curator of the exhibition at the House of Illustration, told the BBC.


Amílcar Cabral on the poster Day of solidarity with people of Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde Islands, 1974
Olivio Martínez Viera
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Cabral led the fight against Portuguese colonial rule in Guinea-Bissau and the Cape Verde islands, but was assassinated in 1973, a year before Guinea-Bissau became independent.

Ms Ahmad says more Tricontinental Conferences were planned, but never happened so Ospaaal’s publishing arm became an important way to keep in contact and share information – and posters were folded up and put inside its publications.

Latin America’s most recognisable revolutionary, Ernesto “Che” Guevara, was “probably the most depicted across the whole output of Ospaaal”, she says.

“But there are recurring ones of these African leaders being celebrated in the same way and commemorated as well.”

Che Guevara depicted in a poster from 1969
Alfredo G Rostgaard
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Guevara infamously went to what is now Democratic Republic of Congo in 1965 on a failed mission to foment revolt against the pro-Western regime four years after the assassination of Congolese independence hero Patrice Lumumba.

Lumumba’s killing, four months after he had being elected the country’s first democratic prime minister, was widely blamed on US and UK intelligence agencies.


Patrice Lumumba featured on the poster Day of Solidarity with the Congo, 1972
Alfredo G Rostgaard
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

“The portraits are particularly interesting because they have all these pop art influences that you might not expect to see, so they are kind of celebrating people but in a genuinely celebratory way – rather than having a sort of like lumpen socialist-realist aesthetic,” says Ms Ahmad.

The works showcased in Designed in Cuba: Cold War Graphics exhibition were produced by 33 designers, many of them women – who made some of those most enduring images.

A poster about Guinea-Bissau showing a woman holding a machine gun is by Berta Abelenda Fernandez, “one of the women who made some of the most iconic designs for Ospaaal”, says Ms Ahmad.


Day of Solidarity with the People of Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde, 1968
Berta Abelénda Fernández
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

It is one of the recurring motifs – women with guns – showing them taking an active role and the Tricontinental magazine had “quite a lot of contributions from women and articles about women as well on guerrilla fronts”, Ms Ahmad says.


A cover of the Tricontinental magazine in 1995
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Castro played a major role in Angola, unlike Cuba’s secret operations in Africa in the 1960s, where he saw an opportunity to exert his brand of international solidarity to make a difference on a global scale.

Ahead of Angola’s independence from Portugal in 1975, Castro sent elite special forces and 35,000 soldiers to support the Marxist MPLA movement to stop apartheid South African troops installing pro-US movements to power.


Day of Solidarity with Angola, 1972
José Lucio Martínez Pedro
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

According to Alex Vines of the think tank Chatham House, at least 4,300 Cubans are thought to have died in conflicts in Africa, half of them in Angola alone where the civil war did not end until 2002.

The posters carrying messages of solidarity to liberation fighters usually did so “using bold visual metaphors or quite simple visual propositions”, says Ms Ahmad.

They tended to have captions at the bottom, usually in four languages – English, Spanish, French and Arabic – “to help them be more universal because they were intended for circulation rather than to be seen in Cuba”, she says.


International Week of Solidarity with the Peoples of Africa, 1970
Gladys Acosta Ávila
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Ospaaal oversaw a huge publishing operation, which involved a lot of paper and ink. Olivio Martínez Viera, a designer who was at Ospaaal from almost the beginning, said there were often material shortages that meant they had to be quite creative.


Day of World Solidarity with the Struggle of the People of Mozambique, 1973
Olivio Martínez Viera
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Viera “talks really fondly about that time, about Ospaaal being a real nurturing space for experimentation and having the freedom to create these really direct visual metaphors like the Mozambique” design of a dagger plunging through a hand, says Ms Ahmad.

Much of Ospaaal’s output was directed towards the fight against white-minority rule in South Africa, which did not end until 1994 when anti-apartheid leader Nelson Mandela was elected president.


Day of Solidarity with the People of South Africa, 1968
Berta Abelénda Fernández
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Teishan Latner’s book Cuba Revolution in America shows a satirical advert for South African Airways included in Tricontinental’s July-August 1968 issue promising “an unforgettable vacation in the land of APARTHEID, where Africans are massacred, where prisons overflow with patriots fighting against white racists, where thousands of Blacks work as slaves in the gold mines, where miles and miles of land are used for concentration camps”.

The images on the Ospaaal posters were just as blunt:


South Africa – Against Apartheid, 1982
Rafael Morante Boyerizo
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

After Mandela was imprisoned by the apartheid authorities in 1964, it was illegal to photograph or republish a photo of him in South Africa. This poster came out in 1989, a year before his release after 27 years in jail.


Nelson Mandela, 1989
Alberto Blanco González
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

The artists producing the posters were mainly based in Havana and were trying to understand the political context for real people often using press photographs, says Ms Ahmad.


Namibia Will Win! 1977
Víctor Manuel Navarrete
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

“They are very graphically interesting… trying to sympathise with all these geopolitical messages. I think most are hits and then some of them are slightly questionable.”

It is not always clear what some of the stylised sculptures were based on. “I think they’re basically just trying to relate contemporary struggle in a long history,” says Ms Ahmad.

Day of Solidarity with Zimbabwe, 1969
Jesús Forjans Boade
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Ospaaal closed this year saying its work was done.

“I think the context for those international movements has really changed, so you can see why,” says Ms Ahmad.

But the curator says Ospaaal’s work and diversity of output has been impressive and its ability to sum up complex messages in an engaging way.

“Also it’s interesting to see what is essentially propaganda executed with humour and often levity,” she says.


Long Live Free Zimbabwe, 1980
Lázaro Abreu Padrón
courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection  //  BBC News

Images courtesy of The House of Illustration in London. Copyright: Ospaaal, The Mike Stanfield Collection 


ABRAL, Amílcar

ABRAL, Amílcar

Tell no lies. (…) Claim no easy victories

(Amilcar Cabral, 1965) Cabral



If there was ever such a thing as a practical philosopher, then Amílcar Cabral would have stood as one of the first of such kind. Amílcar Cabral, born in 1924 in Cape Verde and assassinated in 1973, is remembered first and foremost as the leader of the liberation wars in Cape Verde and Guiné Bissau. A brilliant strategist, diplomat and guerrilla tactician, Amílcar Cabral was further notable for his profoundly humane and uniquely independent political vision.  Though frequently approached as a thinker through his published speeches, it is difficult to assemble a picture of Cabral’s thought with no reference to his life, and the gestures with which he filled it (c.f. Chabal, 1983).


Born in Guiné-Bissau and raised in Cape Verde, Cabral’s childhood was marked by both a love of learning and the witnessing of colonial injustices, in particular during the 1940s drought and famine (c.f. Villen 2013). In 1945, earning one of very few scholarships of its kind, Cabral secured a place to learn agronomy in Lisbon. The next seven years in the ‘Metropolis’ would be highly significant for Cabral in that it would provide access to the writings of pan-Africanist cultural/political movements; as well as with connections with fellow lusophone African students (e.g. Mario de Andrade, Marcelino dos Santos, Agostinho Neto). It would be during these years, and under the guise of the ‘Centre for African Studies’ in Lisbon, that all important bonds would be forged between key figures of the liberation struggles in Angola and Mozambique. Deeply impressed by Leopold Senghor’s and Aimé Cesaire’s Négritude as well as by Nkrumah’s political visions, Cabral’s emphasis on the need for re-Africanisation had its root at this time (see Rabaka, 2015). Parallel to this influence, Cabral would also be introduced to Marxist ideas, ideas he would use during the liberation struggles in a strongly pragmatic, creative and anti-dogmatic way. Lastly, but also significantly, Cabral’s seven years in Portugal made him deeply sensitive in his position towards Portuguese people. Retaining a position of open-heartedness and kindness to what he saw as misguided people, Cabral quickly identified Portuguese fascism and its renewed imperialist discourse as the greatest source of immediate political evil.


Returning to Guiné-Bissau in 1952, Cabral was engaged by the colonial Forestry and Agricultural civil service. In this role he would conduct a comprehensive census of the country, awarding him with a deep engagement with the social, environmental and economic conditions of Guiné. At this time, Cabral also began his political work mobilizing local populations to demand for a better status. This was soon noticed and culminated in the Colonial Governor asking for him to be ‘transferred’. Unwittingly, this would lead Cabral to further radicalise his struggles. Returning to Lisbon, Cabral found work, which, for five years, would send him on long missions in Angola. In these missions, Cabral would quickly tap into the underground networks agitating for liberation. Involved simultaneously in the underground anti-colonial networks in Lisbon, Cabral would in 1955 participate in the Bandung Conference. This participation, though poorly documented, is crucial to understanding Cabral’s emphasis on diplomatic mobilization as part of decolonial struggles. This mobilization was both in terms of coordinating and uniting anti-imperial struggles as well as mustering international legitimation and support. In Cabral’s own life, this was born out in uniting Lusophone African struggles under a common front as well as by tirelessly working on garnering diplomatic and popular support for Guinea’s liberation war (c.f. Gliejeses 1997, Dadha 1995).


Galvanized by the international momentum against (neo-)colonialism, Cabral would, in 1956, establish the African Party for the Independence of Guiné and Cabo Verde (PAIGC). Having spent the first years doing political work in Guiné’s cities, PAIGC would after 1959 focus its efforts on the countryside. By 1963, PAIGC began its armed guerrilla insurgency and within ten years achieved control over most of Guiné’s territory and declared independence. Supremely successful in terms of guerrilla warfare, Guiné’s liberation was in no small part due to Cabral’s leadership and foresight into grassroots politics, diplomacy and livelihood improvement. Most significantly, in Cabral’s life, insurgency emerged as the most fertile site for theory. Drawing on practical problems in the politics and logistics of insurgency, Cabral regarded insurgency as the key context in which to conceive and form an African nationalism that would succeed in overcoming colonial legacies. In Cabral’s thought, national liberation relied on a unique process of cultural renovation, whereby military struggle would be actively subsumed under a deeper form of struggle towards the re-signification of local non-European cultures and the formation of social forms shorn of colonial subconscious.  Indeed, such was Cabral’s insistence on this, that Paulo Freire saw his pedagogical attitudes as uniquely inspiring (c.f. Pereira and Vittoria, 2012).


A man of action more than words, Cabral’s theories seem to be still fully understandable by reference to the extraordinary events of the liberation insurgency of Guiné-Bissau. Assassinated in 1973, before the fall of Portuguese fascism and colonialism, Cabral’s death left a tragic absence, a foreclosure, in the construction of independence in lusophone Africa.  Remembered as a moral paragon and political giant in the African liberation wars, Cabral continues to lack the scholarly appreciation his life and work deserves. Engaging with Cabral, however, remains a worthy, necessary and empowering project. In his poetry, in his speeches, in his party archives and in the oral memories of his life, Cabral offers a uniquely visionary and sensitive approach to the historical task of decolonisation. Living beyond the grave, Cabral’s incisive, humane, and pragmatic voice may well continue to teach us – if only we listen.


Amílcar Cabral’s recorded speeches can be viewed herehere, and here.




What was Cabral’s understanding of culture in the context of decolonial struggles?


What lessons can be taken from Cabral’s way of theorizing?




Cabral, Amilcar. Resistance and Decolonization. Translated by Dan Wood. Rowman & Littlefield International, 2016.

Cabral, Amilcar. Unity and Struggle: Speeches and Writings of Amilcar Cabral. (preview) Monthly Review Press, 1979.

Cabral, Amilcar. Return to the Source: Selected Speeches of Amilcar Cabral (pdf) Monthly Review Press, 1973.

Casa Comum’s Digital Archive




Sousa, J. S. Amílcar Cabral (1924-1973): Vida e morte de um revolucionário africano. Lisboa: Nova Vega, 2013.

Chabal, P.  Amilcar Cabral: Revolutionary Leadership and People’s War. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 1983.

Davidson, B. No Fist Is Big Enough to Hide the Sky: The Liberation of Guinea Bissau and Cape Verde: Aspects of an African Revolution. Zed Books. 1981.

Mario de Andrade, Amilcar Cabral : essai de biographie politique, F. Maspero, Paris, 1980.

Villen, P. A crítica de Amílcar Cabral ao colonialismo: Entre a harmonia e a contradição. São Paulo: Expressão Popular. 2013.

Manji, F. & Fletcher B. (Eds) Claim No Easy Victories: The Legacy of Amilcar Cabral, Codesria. 2013

Rabaka, R. Concepts of Cabralism: Amilcar Cabral and Africana Critical Theory. Lexington Books. 2014

Gleijeses, P. ‘The First Ambassadors: Cuba’s Contribution to Guinea-Bissau’s War of Independence’ , Journal of Latin American Studies, 29:1, 45-88. 1977

Dhada, M. ‘Guinea-Bissau’s Diplomacy and Liberation Struggle’ , Portuguese Studies Review, 4:1, 20-36. 1995

Pereira, A. A., & Vittoria, P. The liberation struggle and the experiences of literacy in Guinea-Bissau: Amilcar Cabral and Paulo Freire. Estudos Históricos (Rio de Janeiro), 25(50), 291-311. 2012

Abdullah, I. ‘Culture, consciousness and armed conflict: Cabral’s déclassé/(lumpenproletariat?) in the era of globalization’, African Identities, 4:1, 99-112. 2006.


Additional Video Sources:


Cabralista’ Documentary Series (2011-). see here

BBC Four section on Cabral’s African War, see here


Submitted by António Ferraz de Oliveira