Italy and the Horn of Africa: Colonial Legacies and Challenges in the Age of Globalization

This article is divided into three parts. The first part gives a review of some aspects of the colonial legacy, including an account of my own experiences. In the second segment, on challenges facing us in the contemporary world, I look at some of the burning issues of policy and politics. The final part of the article discusses possible responses to the challenges.

Memories and Residue of the Colonial Past

First of all, I think that, from among the participants from the Horn of Africa in the international conference titled "The Horn of Africa between History, Law, and Politics," I was probably the only one who was born during the period of Italian colonial rule. I don't mean to claim any special privilege because of that fact; that would be ludicrous. But that firsthand experience gives me a particular historical perspective. I have vivid childhood memories of the last days of Italian rule in Eritrea and I am going to present fragments of those memories.

It was just before the start of World War II, and I was a six-year-old boy, attending prima classe (first grade) at the Scuola Vittorio Emanuele III, in Asmara. Some of my childhood memories may offer a window for the historian of the period to view aspects of the manifestation of Italian policy with respect to the schooling of natives—how it fit into the over-all policy of the government back in Rome. I will use my memories to provide an impressionistic view of the period.

For example, I remember that at the start of every class at the Scuola Vittorio, we were harangued by government or party cadres about the glory of Italy and the greatness of Il Duce. We would be told to stand up and salute the king of Italy and Il Duce. The cadre would shout, "Salute il re" and we would say, "Viva il re." He would then shout, "Salute Il Duce," thrusting his right arm forward, and we would shout back, "A noi," thrusting our own arms forward. The theater of it all—the noise, the excitement—was fun for us kids, but none of us understood what it all meant. Perhaps the students in the upper classes understood. Incidentally, according to Italian colonial policy, Eritreans were not allowed to study beyond fifth grade, and some of those who finished fifth grade were employed in clerical, subclerical, and other menial jobs in the colonial service or in companies. That was how an urban working class slowly emerged. The majority of its members were employed in factories and other industrial enterprises, including the building industry, engaged in the construction of infrastructure—business and government buildings, houses, roads, harbors, and so forth. This was how an urban population, working in factories and service industries and living in shantytowns, developed.

This was also how the native quarters of Abba Shawl, Edaga Arbi, and other shantytowns were built, mostly consisting of mud huts with tin roofs. Asmara was thus two cities: one composed of these shanty-towns, called quartiere indigeno, and the other being the modern city where only Italians were allowed to live and move.

Then came the British, following the Italian defeat in 1941. The British introduced changes, some significant, others quite inconsequential. Among the significant changes were freedom of expression and of movement for Eritreans. As I already said, during much of Italian colonial rule, Asmara was a divided city, the better part of it being reserved for Italians. No native was allowed to live in or walk through the streets of the Italian part of the city. All this changed with the coming of the British, who allowed Eritreans to walk through the streets previously out of bounds to the indigeni. The British also allowed the establishment of the press and thus began a new era in which people could express their views, including views on the future of their country. The British caretaker administration of Eritrea changed some of the regulations issued during Italian rule and kept others. Absurd though...