Niazi’s gun and Auranagazeb’s sword

Gen. J.F.R. Jacob was of two-star rank during the 1971 Bangladesh War. You can see him watching over the signing ceremony when Gen Niazi of Pakistan surrendered to Gen Aurora of the Indian Army.

In 1996, when India was observing the 25^th anniversary of the Bangladesh War, Jacob wrote a piece in the Indian Express, in which he recalled examining the revolver that Gen Niazi had surrendered. It was an old, rusted one, certainly not the kind that would have been the personal firearm of a general. This was the final joke that Niazi was playing on India, Jacob surmised.

During a recent visit to the Victoria Memorial Museum, Kolkata, I saw two swords. One was of Aurangazeb, with his name inscribed on it, and the other of Mir Jafar, the general of the then Nawab of Bengal Siraj ud-Daulah. Jafar is said to have betrayed Daulah that led to the defeat of the last Nawab of Bengal in the Battle of Plassey in 1757. That was the end of Mughal domination and beginning of the British Empire in India.

The Museums of India record of Aurangazeb's sword. http://museumsofindia.gov.in/repository/record/vmh_kol-R10268-16659

Both Aurangazeb and Jafar used thin, long, slightly curved blades. The non-cutting edge has a perpendicular reinforcement to strengthen the cutting weapons. The handles would have been the ultimate in ergonomic design of those days, because both were powerful men. Aurangazeb’s grip is simple, whereas Jafar’s is made of ivory with stone inlay.

The victory at Plassey was the crowning glory for Robert Clive, the man who started as a writer (clerk) in the East India Company’s office in Fort St. George, Chennai. In fact, Clive and his bunch of military adventurists were surprised at the ease with the Indian kingdoms fell like dominoes in the 50 years between 1707 (when Aurangazeb died and the decline of the Mughal Empire started) and 1757. 

Clive was a colonel at the time of Plassey, which is the equivalent of a unit commander in the present-day Indian Army. And this man spearheaded the defeat of a large country.

If any Indian power could have offered resistance against this onslaught, it could have been the Marathas, who had by then a group of kingdoms in their command. But then they were busy fighting amongst themselves.

At the Victoria Museum, I saw the personal weapons of two men – one who was the last custodian of the idea of India before it was colonised, and the other who helped destroy this idea. The country had to wait another 190 years before the idea could return.

History is value neutral. It happened, that’s it. But when we try to make sense of it we add value, prejudice and bias.

In these recent years, when the Aurangazeb Road in Delhi was renamed to A.P.J. Abdul Kalam Road, history rewriters were punishing the Mughal Emperor for his atrocities against the Hindus. Kalam was a nice man; affable, avuncular and with an ability to goad youngsters to success. But as a historical figure he never was and never will be a patch on Aurangazeb.

Aurangazeb's tomb near Aurangabad in Maharashtra. Photo by SGW.

Colonial cousins

In August 1999, I attended a workshop for environmental journalists at FOJO, the journalism school of Kalmar University in Sweden. There were 20 of us, mid-career practicing environmental journalists from developing countries across the world. We talked much about how it is to be an environmental journalist in our countries.

What struck us more than environmental discussions was the fact that all of our countries had gone through a colonial past. It showed me, graphically, how a handful of West European countries had controlled the lives and destinies of almost the entire world.

“Colonialism” is a rather academic word for Indians of our generation. Maybe for our parents it would have been a palpable, tangible concept. But for us it was in textbooks. I remember it being repeated in the rallies of the Students' Federation of India at my college in Thrissur. You would know how "seriously" colonialism was referred to if I told you that we even had a strike, then, in Sree Kerala Varma College, Thrissur, to demand that the South African Government release Nelson Mandela from prison.

I felt colonialism in my bones when I lived in West Africa. Like how “Gulf” money hangs in Kerala, colonialism hangs over the air of many of these countries.

West Africa is predominantly Francophone – Benin, Togo, Côte d’Ivoire, Guinea, Burkina Faso, Niger, Mali, Senegal, Chad and Senegal. The Anglophone countries (those that were former British colonies) are like islands in a sea of French-speaking world – Nigeria, Ghana, Liberia, Sierra Leone and the tongue-shaped The Gambia. The two former Portuguese enclaves are Guinea Bissau and Cape Verde.

A lazy afternoon at a roadside eatery in Kpalime, Togo.

Almost all the countries in the region got their independence between 1955 and 1960. Ghana was among the earliest – in 1957. Benin, Nigeria and many other countries celebrated their 50^th anniversary in 2010.

Half a century is a long time for any nation-state to take charge of its own destiny. Driving through Ghana, and through the streets of Accra, one can see a country that has taken stock of its own needs. Ghana is far more self-reliant in agricultural and industrial production than its neighbors. The markets sell domestically-produced products at competitive rates. Arterial roads are world-class. As the national football team climbed through the ranks in the 2010 World Cup matches, proud Ghanaians drove their cars with flags fluttering. When Asamoah Gyan stood to take the penalty against Uruguay, an emergent nation cheered and prayed silently.

When I landed at the Abidjan airport in Ghana’s western neighbor Côte d’Ivoire in early 2010, I saw French soldiers guarding the hangar.  The French are still involved in the politics and economy of Togo, Niger, Benin and most of the other Francophone countries.

The British left when they left; the French stayed back. And that essentially marks the difference between the Anglophone and Francophone countries of West Africa.

Ghana has its own currency – the cedi. You needed a few thousand cedis to buy a US dollar. When this value touched 10,000 in 2007, Ghana issued the Ghanaian new cedi, which was US$ 1 to cedi 1. Currently the value of the new cedi has fallen to around 1:1.62. At this realistic exchange rate, which reflects the size of the Ghanaian economy vis-à-vis the US economy, the country is regulating its imports, exports and domestic production.

With the exception of Guinea, all Francophone countries use the Communauté Financière d’Afrique (CFA) Franc as the common currency. Since this currency has the support of the French treasury, each of these countries have to deposit 80% of their foreign currency with the French treasury. In other words, sovereign governments have control over only 20% of their forex earnings. The return – French backing ensures convertibility across the globe and stability that a common currency can give in comparison to the volatility that multiple national currencies could have created in the region.

The flip side is rather severe. The CFA is locked to the Euro at a fixed conversion rate of CFA 655.96 to a Euro. This means that it can swing anywhere between 450 and 520 to a US dollar, depending on the greenback’s health vis-à-vis the Euro.

Let’s put this graphically. US$1 = 1.62 new Ghanaian cedis = 16,200 cedis. Benin, whose economy is a fragment of the Ghanaian economy, the rate is US$1 = CFA 497. You get my point?

No wonder that my Indian friends in Cotonou are predominantly importers – bringing in rice, oil, commodities and FMCG products. They do export cashew nuts in which Benin has quality advantage. But predominantly the Francophone countries are importers with absolutely no competitive advantage with exports, given the artificially overvalued CFA.

During the period we were in Benin, Raji and I have a standard repartee. “Is product X available in Cotonou?” one of us asks. “If it is available in France it will be available here,” comes the reply.

What did this mean to us? Blowing up US$ 100 while shopping is as easy as snapping one’s fingers. The smallest currency note is CFA 1,000, the equivalent of Rs 100 but in real terms worth Rs 10. When I got air filled into the tyres of my car I paid CFA 500, the equivalent of Rs 50. I earned in dollars, lived in a good part of the city. Half of Benin lives on less than two dollars a day.

If only Sahir Ludhianvi’s words could be translated to French, Fon, Adja and many other West African languages – “Wo subaha kabhi to aayegi.”