The perils of meaning well

The problem with goodie-goodies who use comics as way of educating the great unwashed is simple: the propagandists of safe sex, or who're battling spousal abuse or female circumcision, often don't understand the joy and artistry of comics. So they -- they being the often well-intentioned non-governmental organization -- produce bilge. And they're shocked when no one pays attention.

There's the damned preaching, of course. But it's worse with bandes dessinées, because some still think that a comic is a picture surrounded by text: Draw me a happy face and a word bubble where I can fit 700 words on animal husbandry!

That's not a comic book, that's an illustration. In a novel. (My current fave illustration portrays Robert Lewis Stevenson's infamous, mustachioed villain clutching a walking stick in threatening fashion. The caption reads: "Mr. Hyde listened with an ill-contained impatience." It's from an abridged, ESL version of the classic text. Oops; tangent.)

So yeah, pop a righteous message into something hideous, and the message itself becomes suspect -- because the creators have no respect for the medium, nor for the people who are(n't) reading it.

Journalist Sebastien Langevin's presentation "Vue d'Afrique: bandes dessinés et savoirs partagés" (again at the recent comic book con for librarians that I attended) took a quick look at the emergence of an indigenous comic book scene in French-speaking Africa over the last 20 years. Sadly, NGOs are leading the charge.

And Langevin had lots of examples of beautiful pictures overwhelmed by static design, by endless text, by.... Nobody in North America or Europe would bother with this crap. Why should Africans? Cuz it's good for them and we said so?

For liberals living outside of Africa, it's far too easy to blame outsiders. But that turns Africans into mindless victims. Yes, some of these NGOs are staffed by Europeans who seem unaware that, whatever the specifics of the local aesthetic, the concepts of narrative and dynamic drawing aren't culturally specific. But social workers of any colour undoubtedly suffer from the same paternalism.

And in fact, some African comic book artists are themselves learning as they go. Langevin offered a quick tour of the evolving African cartoon scene, focussing on the bad. There's A l'ombre du baobab, Koulou chez les Bantu ("didactic"), the painful environmentalist tracts "Le temps d'agir" and "Objectif Terre," the confusingly illustrated Senghor Cent Ans (recalling the life of the Senegalese poet and politician), the tediously anti-booze "Plongée dans l'alcool" (from Gabon), and Farafina Express (called simply "a catastrophe" of a book). Then there's the circumcision-related "Le choix de Bintou," which never quite manages to decide who its audience is.

But there's art, too. "Tchounkousouma" is "great," said Langevin. It's a bit of a soap, a slice-of-life comic that reflects the realities of teenagers and, just at the end -- surprise -- AIDS shows up.

In Cote d'Ivoire, far from the helping hands of an NGO, there's GBich (the sound made as a fist hits its target), where recurring characters tackle politics with humour and zest. It's published in and by a populist newspaper staff.

Langevin's moral? The end doesn't justify the means. Cuz people just won't read your ends.