Reaching the Outdated Version: A Case of the Diasporic & Indigenous Bodies

Contextually, I am gnawed at the ‘imposition’ of research methodologies introduced by the colonial/imperial establishment, which has become a universal and dominant ethos in the global academia. I believe that the whole idea of science is to reformate the existing traditional belief system. Therefore, an existential question could be drawn from this: why would ‘others’ be forced to apply a research method established by the unfamiliar? Scientific research methodology, its foundation laid during the Scientific Revolution in the 16^th century, is perceived to be a systematic investigation of natural phenomena, a universal methodology involving making an observation, forming a hypothesis, making a prediction, conducting an experiment, and finally analyzing the results.

The deliberate import of the educational enterprise has turned out to be a mechanism coercively ingrained in the school system of the colonialized community, which is magnified in the way they perceive education, and the importance attached to it – writ large. Moving forward to the 21st century, scientism was globally recognized as a method of academic inquiry. Deep down the spine, there could be other ways of inquiry to aid knowledge production. The ‘act’ of acceding everything to be “scientific” implies our weakness in eroding other epistemologies yet to be acknowledged (yet they are there).

The average African child spends his educational life practicing educational/teaching methodology that is alien to his culture, a burial of some sort, by virtue bestowed within the spectacles of scientific ways of concession and asking questions against his philosophy, which implies that due to the cloudiness of his indigenous culture, he won’t arrive at a conclusion that is ‘virgin’. A sort of intellectual imprisonment. The word “culture” is loosely applied here. In Nigeria, my university tutors who enjoyed the benevolence of Eurocentrism insist that every student must be scientific in their research methods or risk the umbrella of mistakes – mistakes in this context mean failure in their assessment. I experienced it firsthand. When I was researching “The Impacts of Politicization of Education in Nigeria,” I was told not to go outside the “tabular” – scientific. A colonial ‘Thinghood’ that pressured me to efface the traditional research method.

If close attention is derived, Global South scholars like Aníbal Quijano (1928), Walter D. Mignolo (1941), Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o (1938), Frantz Fanon (1925), Achille Mbembe (1957), Boaventura de Sousa Santos (1940), and a host of others protested this observation through the instrument of ‘decolonization’. In their magnificent ways, they sought an escape but were met with a fierce wall. In one of my essays titled “Feeling the Beautiful Madness: Villagizing Our Freedom,” I discursively played into the burden of freedom, the one siphoned but not forgotten. I argue the encapsulation of the morbid practice exhibited by the Indigenous and Diasporic bodies in the pretense of having the capacity to carry on with the activities of the day, with a mix of failure to reach out to the outdated version. Again, coercion of some sort. In this framework, I am contributing to the debates on the wounded bodies strangled along the colonial borders, signaling the monstrosity imbricated in the layers of epistemicide that sufficed, perhaps. I am “staying with the troubles.”

The idea of grasping both the new and old data and processing them denotes engaging oneself in a rigorous task and attempting psychological infringement against the democratic ‘will’ to discover, rather than the sinew to a unitary concession. Merely epiphenomena. Everything is cheap except for the discovery of new beginnings. I am not performing activism against or challenging the scientific method; I am synergizing the entanglement for an ‘emergence’ to happen, for another (and not a new) ‘beginning’ to be discovered. This is a means of saying that we can find ourselves together, and there are lots of ways to produce knowledge.

How do we achieve valor to bridge the onus of subversion in knowledge production from the decolonial lens? How do we create space for intrusion and eruption? How do we invent ‘newness’ without altering the existing patterns? How about ceding prestige, eschewing masculinity to make space for femininity? These questions are the fundamentals that have received minimal exploration. They are servient “inter-actions” in the shivers of African scholarships not yet known, not discovered. This is the ‘escape’ we are talking about. There is no single way of knowing. There are multiple ways of seeing the world, of seeing ourselves, and of noticing.

The Much Needed “Escape” 

While lending my voice as a Magnus Opus lone, I am ‘dancing’ and cojoining with the likes of Nigerian novelist, poet, and critic Chinua Achebe, whose work challenges the Western narrative that often portrays African societies as primitive and in need of civilization to curate an institutional framework for another version of ‘acceptance’. It is acknowledged how scholars reference Things Fall Apart as the Super Bowl. The narrative continues to influence our contemporary times. The implications of the Igbo civilization crystallize all facets, comprehension, activities, and qualities of intellectual relations.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, a prominent Kenyan writer, scholar, and activist, is widely regarded as one of the most important voices in African literature and postcolonial thought. Sabelo J. Ndlovu-Gatsheni, a Zimbabwean historian and decolonial scholar, is a leading figure in the decolonial thought movement. Wole Soyinka, a renowned playwright, poet, and essayist, is known for his critique of colonialism, tyranny, and social injustice.

As mentioned earlier, Frantz Fanon is a Martinican psychiatrist, philosopher, revolutionary, and writer, whose works have had a profound influence on postcolonial studies, critical theory, and decolonization movements worldwide. His most influential work, “The Wretched of the Earth,” is a radical critique of colonialism and a manifesto for anti-colonial resistance. It helps to understand what Eurocentricity calls an outdated version.’ Fanon, in his ‘boundaries’, opened new cans of worms that are seemingly thunderous.

Tsitsi Dangarembga, a Zimbabwean novelist, playwright, and filmmaker, explores themes of colonialism, gender, race, and social injustice. Her classic work “Nervous Conditions” tells the story of Tambudzai “Tambu” Sigauke, a young Shona girl growing up in colonial Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) in the 1960s and 1970s. The novel explores Tambu’s struggles to obtain an education and the complex intersections of race, gender, and colonialism. Her book is celebrated for its nuanced portrayal of the challenges faced by African women, particularly in negotiating the conflicting demands of tradition, modernity, and colonial rule. It is one of the first novels by a black Zimbabwean woman to gain international recognition and has become a key text in African and postcolonial literary studies.

Edward Said, a Palestinian-American scholar, literary critic, and public intellectual, is best known for his seminal work “Orientalism” (1978). As a founding figure in postcolonial studies, Said’s work has had a profound impact on the way the West perceives and represents the “Orient,” and he has been a critical voice in the discourse on cultural imperialism and colonialism. His ideas influenced a generation of scholars and writers who began to explore how literature, art, and culture are implicated in the dynamics of power and domination.

Assia Djebar, an Algerian novelist, filmmaker, and academic, is widely regarded as one of the most influential figures in North African literature. Djebar is renowned for bringing the voices of Algerian women to the forefront. She depicted their struggles, resilience, and agency in the face of both colonial and patriarchal oppression. Djebar’s works are deeply concerned with the effects of colonialism on Algerian society, particularly on the identities of women who navigated both the legacies of French rule and the expectations of a newly independent Algeria.

Achille Mbembe in the “Critique of Black Reason,” Walter Mignolo in “The Darker Side of Western Modernity: Global Futures, Decolonial Options,” Boaventura de Sousa Santos in the „Epistemologies of the South: Justice Against Epistemicide,” Leanne Betasamosake Simpson in “As We Have Always Done: Indigenous Freedom Through Radical Resistance,” Arturo Escobar in the “Encountering Development: The Making and Unmaking of the Third World”.  Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak in “Can the Subaltern Speak?” critiques the ability of Western intellectuals and scholars to represent and speak for marginalized groups, particularly those from colonized backgrounds. And many others who, in the past, have made cases for epistemic freedom and championed educational practices and methodologies that see learning as a tool for human emancipation.

Conclusively, in this essay, I posed many daunting questions to unravel the Indigenous ways of understanding and to realign the notion that we are not ‘dots’ in the world but rather are lines of continuity in the process of transiting justice across the prison gate. I explored existing scholarships by decolonial writers to analyze the fabrics of inquiry and employ the service of an altruistic perspective to expand the understanding that we may find ourselves in different time zones, yet there are commonalities. I anticipate my request to reach significant ears.

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