Background
Never a moment's peace
Transmitter masts are going up everywhere, even in war zones, and some users charge their batteries by cycling. The rise of the mobile phone in Africa can’t be stopped and Mirjam de Bruijn is studying the consequences. "Ah, a caller from Chad."
Vincent Bongers
Thursday 7 March 2013

Even her tablecloth is covered with them: "It’s a panje from Cameroon", explains Mirjam de Bruijn. "I bought it on the market in 2009." She points to the brightly coloured fabric printed with mobile phones. "It reveals quite a bit about the impact of this technology."

Professor of African Studies and Cultural Anthropology at Leiden University and the African Studies Centre, De Bruijn is studying the advance of mobile telecommunication in Africa and the economic and cultural changes it effects, for which she received one and a half million Euros from the NWO, the umbrella organisation for grants. Currently, PhD students are at work in many African countries, assessing the revolution in communication on the African continent. Only recently, a symposium on this subject was held in Leiden, with the presentation of the book: Side@Ways, Mobile Margins and the Dynamics of Communication in Africa.

Phone call!

"Ah, a caller from Chad", exclaims De Bruijn responding to her phone ringing, "Ah, Ousmane, ça va?"

"That’s another consequence", she adds as she hangs up. "You never have a moment’s peace. Not long ago, I was called by a lad at the cattle camp where I once worked. It’s in former Azawad in the northeast of Mali. The camp had been attacked, goods stolen and people killed. People I knew well had been murdered. I never would have heard the news so quickly before."

Back in the nineties, De Bruijn lived in that area. "There was Tuareg rebellion then too, but this one has a completely different scope. The chief spokesman for the Mouvement National pour la Libération de l’Azawad (MNLA) lives in Paris. The influence of the Diaspora, the Tuareg in Europe, is considerable due to social media and mobile phones. More communication means more ideas about their own culture and that has consequences for their attitude towards other groups. This technology also makes it easier for the rebels to get organised."

However, the ever-expanding influx of information has its own dynamics too. "The growing number of reports on the state of affairs in a region increases their reliability. But at the same time, all sorts of terrible stories are posted on Facebook. You get the impression that the whole region is ablaze, but that’s not the case either. The Internet is a rumour-monger– what can you believe and what not?"

Even the landscape is changing: "In the cities, everywhere, there are billboards advertising telecom companies and shops selling telephones or call time. In the country, every village now has a phone shop. The technology is relatively cheap. The largest problem is electricity: how do you charge the battery? You can connect a charger to a bike and just pedal. Others connect telephones to radio batteries or, very occasionally, someone will use solar cells."

For the youth of Africa in particular, telephones are a status symbol: "They’re just as important as nice clothes; kids will miss out on other things to get a phone. But it’s now becoming a basic need too: the right to communicate. The telephone companies bombard young people with dreams of a bright future though many people aren’t employed. In Cameroon, for instance, young people make up sixty per cent of the population and forty per cent of them don’t have a job.

"Of course, people are creative in communicating without spending anything: BBM messaging and flashing are widespread. And the companies appeal to small budgets – there are special offers inviting you to ring between one and five in the morning for free. That produces some comic effects: suddenly, priests are really busy with telephone counselling in the middle of night. When I’m over there, Cameroonian friends will ring me at three o’ clock in the morning."

De Bruijn recalls a village in central Chad: "It could hardly be more remote, but there is coverage. Cel Tel, originally a Dutch carrier, put a lot of effort into that. One lad follows the French international news on his Smartphone, reads all about how the rebels in the east of the country are reorganising themselves and then passes that information on to the old men in the village café. Those people would never have had access to that information previously."

The instability of many of the nations is a problem for the telecom industry. "But whenever possible, companies erect masts, even in war zones. We launched this study in Sudan in 2007 while there was a lot of unrest in Juba in the south of the country. But even there, they were busy. Particularly in troublesome areas, a company might be the first there and could make a packet. It’s all for gain."

De Bruijn studies ethnic groups that live far away from each other, often in other countries. "This technology allows them to get connected, reforging ties, just by phoning. Sharing emotional moments more often has huge consequences."

For instance, a colleague concentrates on the lives of Cameroonians in South Africa. "The exchange of information at weddings and funerals is changing for them. Life ceremonies become more intense experiences – even if you live far away, you can be involved because of the photographs and videos sent by mobile phone. It’s as if a funeral in a village in Cameroon is held in South Africa too."

De Bruijn is struck by the fact that the global political powers are, by contrast, trying to close the borders. "In many places, it’s becoming more difficult to move from one country to another, which is a strange contrast to the access to all that technology. It’s making people angry and frustrated."

Personal histories are marked by this frustration: "I’ve been following Michael, a Cameroonian migrant in the Netherlands, for five years. He is completely entangled in a procedure for a residence permit. He has been here illegally for eight years but he doesn’t want to return, a feeling reinforced by all the phone calls to his mother in Cameroon. Every time he rings her, he feels like a loser."

Nevertheless, mobile phones can be liberating too, she says: "I met Habsatu in Cameroon in 2006. She has found a new Islamic identity thanks to her phone. She used to have a stall on the market in Bamenda but hated it; it was no place for a Muslim, she thought. But with her phone, she could reorganise everything and she has given up her stall. She is a business woman and owns a garment workshop. Clients simply get in touch by phone, leaving her as free as a bird with more time to spend on Islam."

Increased communication has affected cultural identities. "Like Habsatu, some of the ethnic group I studied in Cameroon, the Fulani, left for the cities and lost the connection with their community back in the country. Now, there is no lack of contact and the ties are now stronger. The Fulani live in their own community despite being physically miles apart. It creates new dynamics and reinforces the sense of identity and self-esteem."

However, there is a threat of ethnic fragmentation: "And that can cause conflict too." The obvious fear is something akin to the Rwandan genocide of 1994, when between five hundred thousand and one million Tutsis and moderate-minded Hutus were murdered within a few months. Communication - at the time, by means of radio broadcasts – had a large part in intensifying the contrasts. Now, social networks and mobile phones are accelerating fragmentation and speeding up communication. "It only takes one politician to use them to cause trouble."