Imagine a conference of West African heads of state or government held in 1870 to discuss what West Africa would be like in the year 1900. The list of participants at such a conference might well have included Lat Dior, the darnel of Cayor (Senegal), Samouri Toure (Guinea), his enemy Tie-ba of Sikasso, the President of Liberia, Obas of Benin and Lagos, King Gezo, King Gelele, King Tofa (Porto Novo), King Ja-ja (Opobo), Chief Na-na (Itshekiri), Sultan Attahiru of Sokoto, and Asantehene Prempeh.

A general survey of non-African reactions to African literature reveals some characteristic features. First, there are the inexcusable generalizations that fail to take account of the continuity of modern African literature with traditional African modes of expression, and the fact that the study of the multiplicity of cultural groups in the continent, even if the cultures are homologous, must necessarily be of a comparative nature. Second, and this is closely related to the above, non-African scholars with glaring gaps in their knowledge of the continent and its peoples evince a reluctance to acknowledge such gaps—with the result that such scholars often make reprehensibly erroneous assertions.

The bulk of what is known today as African literature began as a reaction to white colonization, oppression, and racism. The similarity of experiences throughout Africa during the colonial era created a common denominator for writing and a common identity in themes and inspirations for writers. Colonization fanned ethnocentric feelings among the colonized and the need to portray black culture as worthy and valid grew. Early African writers described in glowing details the cultural aspects and human worth of their societies.

In a rather loose, personal way I would like to address myself to the problems of the extremely tenuous position that African literature holds in the American university, and to a step that has recently been taken towards ameliorating the situation. As much of what I will present is admittedly subjective, I hope to raise questions and precipitate discussion, having no desire to pre-empt debate with an airtight argument.

Only eight years ago Janheinz Jahn stated in Neo-African Literature that the critics of nigritude were all writing in English—not in French. Jahn was referring to writers like Ezekiel Mphahlele, Gerald Moore and Wole Soyinka, whose criticism he regarded as “based on an inadequate translation.” 2 The most important movement in the literary evolution in French-speaking Africa had, according to Jahn, only been criticized out of ignorance and misunderstanding. Today, criticism of Negritude has become a major issue in those French-speaking countries which were among its strongest supporters originally. It should be mentioned, however, that certain French African writers—among them Ferdinand Oyono and Ousmane Sembene—have opposed Negritude since the 1950s.

In 1960, Wellesley College invited eminent scholars (Africanists!) and diplomats to discuss the question: “Does Africa Exist?” The symposium was organized to resolve “Whether or not Africa really exists as any sort of political, economic, cultural, or other concept.“ The challenge facing the experts was to determine whether Africa constitutes an entity, whether it has a real ethnic, geographical, economic, cultural, or political identity. Fortunately, most of the speakers agreed with the late Ralph Bunche that “There is an Africa seen as a continent, as a physical entity which takes concrete political and economic shape.“ That Africa, Bunche argued, is exploding onto the international political scene with an increasingly militant and demonstrable renaissance in terms of heightened and unified aspirations for true selfdetermination, human rights, rapid economic transformation, and the assertion of a collective dignity and unity for all peoples of African descent.