An encounter with the famous naturalist's descendants rekindles a small nation's sense of historical significance
Young Darwin: Journeyman
Since the start of 2009, the world has been celebrating two very significant and related events: both the 200th anniversary of naturalist Charles Darwin’s birth (1809) and the 150th anniversary of the publication of his groundbreaking treatise on evolution, On the Origin of Species (1859). Here, 375 miles off the coast of West Africa in the small island nation of Cape Verde, the observation of the International Year of Darwin takes on a certain degree of additional resonance. In 1832, the young Darwin visited the principal island of Santiago at the start of his famous five-year voyage aboard the HMS Beagle.
This early point in his career marked where Darwin began to formulate many of his ideas on natural selection and the theory of evolution, which came as a direct result of his first-hand observations of the plants, animals, and geology of the many places he visited. Over the course of the worldwide journey, he began to note the crucial relationship between organisms and their habitats, most famously in the case of various species and subspecies of finches found throughout the islands of the Galapagos archipelago. What is also clear is that as a result, Darwin came to more fully grasp the vast diversity of life on Earth, otherwise a difficult conceptual task for someone constrained in his or her knowledge of only one ecosystem or climate. The voyage would ultimately be Darwin’s only time spent outside of Britain.
Under somewhat different circumstances, I arrived in Cape Verde in July 2008 as a trainee in the U.S. Peace Corps. By September I had sworn in as a Volunteer in the education sector and had moved to Praia, the nation’s capital, on Santiago. In the midst of settling in to the rhythms of a new and foreign environment, I failed to recognize what 2009 would mean in connection to Darwin. Not long after the New Year though, a friend casually handed me an article that had appeared in the national weekly newspaper A Semana.
“Here,” he said, “You’re into Darwin, right?” I remembered Darwin’s connection to Cape Verde. To be honest though, I only skimmed the text. But it had a lot of great old pictures and drawings too, so I hung the two-page spread on my bare apartment wall, where it remains. We Peace Corps Volunteers are masters at interior decorating on the cheap.
Around this same time, in the weeks following Darwin’s birthday on February 12th, various programs including lectures, presentations, publications, and other activities were also announced for the year. The vast majority of these have been organized under the aegis of the University of Cape Verde. But groups as varied as local primary and secondary schools, the municipal chamber of Praia, and the Brazilian and Portuguese cultural centers have also joined in the observations.
Banner announcing 2009 as the International Year of Darwin, on the façade of the University of Cape Verde’s main campus in Praia, Cape Verde’s capital.
Back in March of 2008, when I was invited by the Peace Corps to serve in this country, I read Darwin’s account in The Voyage of the Beagle. Almost immediately, Cape Verde, then a sleepy outpost of the Portuguese Empire, takes center stage in the narrative. It was the ship’s first port of call. The 22-year-old aspiring naturalist arrived at the Port of Praia on January 16th, 1832, only sixteen days after leaving Plymouth, England. He goes on to speak of a dry, rather forbidding place, one that, “viewed from the sea, wears a desolate aspect.” Hoping to find more encouraging remarks, I read on. He soon steps back from first reactions and puts things into perspective: “The scene, as beheld through the hazy atmosphere of this climate, is one of great interest; if, indeed, a person fresh from sea who has just walked for the first time in a grove of coconut trees can be a judge of anything but his own happiness.”
I was intrigued by this sense of contradiction, as I am still today – part tropical island oasis, part volcanic desert, Cape Verde is anything but easy to categorize. Due to close links with Portugal and the lack of tribal conflict, the islands have always fared relatively well. Today, only 34 years after independence, Cape Verde by far boasts the highest standards of living of the West Africa region. In 2007 its status was raised by the United Nations to “developing country” from that of a “least developed country.” Nevertheless, now, as it was in Darwin’s time, there are still severe limitations on the nation’s growth potential due to the lack of natural resources and, thus, employment. The Cape Verdean diaspora is considerable and far-flung as a result. For example, about an equal number of Cape Verdeans lives in the United States as in the entire archipelago itself (around 500,000).
Darwin further describes a visit to the village of São Domingos, north of Praia. He notes “the scenery of St. Domingo (sic) possesses a beauty totally unexpected, from the prevalent gloomy character of the rest of the island.” Indeed, as you ascend to the island’s rugged interior, the volcanic wastelands give way to verdant mountains and valleys. There he also witnessed and remarked on a form of dance and singing performed by the local girls and women: “As soon as we approached near, they suddenly all turned round, and covering the path with their shawls, sung with great energy a wild song, beating time with their hands upon their legs.” Although unnamed by Darwin, this was undoubtedly an example of the still very popular style of batuku, a quintessential element of Santiago’s traditional culture.
In a place so overlooked both in Darwin’s time and at present, even these brief comments gave me valuable perspective on what would soon be my reality. Reading more about his adventures, my vague wanderlust became more focused. I found that his sense of seeing things as a part of a whole, as a part of the intertwining cosmos of both the organic and inorganic, would be an important notion to hang onto.
Darwin’s Legacy
The main part of my assignment is at the reitoria (“dean’s office”) of the University of Cape Verde. Here I’ve often found myself in the role of liaison between the Portuguese- and English-speaking worlds. What this means is that in addition to tutoring, interpreting, teaching courses in linguistics, and corresponding with other institutions, I also translate some of Uni-CV’s online news bulletins into English for wider readership. In early September, as I read through a new batch of Darwin-related events, an obscure Portuguese word made me do a double-take. Its root, neto; “grandson” or “grandchild”, was familiar, but its specific meaning was unclear. I consulted my dictionary. Tetraneto; “great-great-grandchild”. Two of Charles Darwin’s direct descendants were en route to the islands, and Uni-CV would be there to receive them.
I knew that I could be of help to whatever was planned for the two of them – Randal Keynes and Sarah Darwin, both of London. I was not explicitly assigned to do anything, so I made my availability and interest clear. I sent an email to a colleague about it and she quickly put me in touch with the point-person, a Uni-CV biology professor named Ana Hopffer Almada.
“Who will be acting as interpreter?” I asked, knowing that fluent English speakers (outside of the English Studies Department) are few and far between. This seemed to strike a chord and I was given the OK to meet Ana and Mr. Keynes at a local elementary school on the following day, Thursday, September 17th. Keynes would be there with her to make his first stop and visit with the young students.
Randal Keynes is the author of the book Annie’s Box, which details the important relationship between Darwin and his youngest daughter, whose early death shook his religious beliefs before the publication of On the Origin of Species. It was adapted for the screen and just recently released in select countries under the title Creation. Keynes also holds a chair on the Darwin Trust and lectures extensively on conservation and the life of his famous ancestor. As of late, he’s become the de facto ambassador of the extended Darwin clan. He is deeply interested in forming a bond with places like Cape Verde as well, he says, in the form of an international network of schools in countries that Darwin visited. “But we want this to be open to all students, everywhere in the world too, of course,” Keynes announced to the children of Nova Assembleia primary school. “We want every student to have the chance to explore his or her world through science.”
Ana Hopffer Almada and Randal Keynes study a calabaceira, the fruit of the large baobab tree in the background.
Later that day I met Sarah Darwin, Keynes' distant cousin. A biologist herself, she is currently circumnavigating the globe on board the Dutch clipper ship Stad Amsterdam. The project is a joint collaboration between a Dutch and a Belgian television station and is following the route of the Beagle over the course of 2009. The idea is to revisit Darwin's stops and take note of what has changed and what has remained the same since his time. The results are to be released in the form of a documentary series on both stations.
I helped translate – I hope not too amateurishly – for Mr. Keynes over the course of his two days here. I assisted Ana in introducing him to Cape Verde in general. I joined him and Sarah as they visited and measured the very baobab trees their forebear did at a village called Trindade. I met Sarah’s two young sons, who drew colourful pictures of the same. We literally walked in Darwin’s footsteps.
On the second day, Friday, Mr. Keynes, Professor Almada, and I made our own visit to São Domingos. Unfortunately we couldn’t stay long enough to seek out some batuku dancers, but he did have a chance to speak to the faculty of the local high school. He spoke about the town’s importance to Darwin’s visit, and the importance of science education.
It had rained recently and the hills were a bright green as we quickly made our way back to Praia. “It’s a shame he couldn’t have seen how lush it looks in the wet season,” Keynes commented. Darwin had only seen the landscape during the dry season that dominates most of the year.
“This is the time when Cape Verde [‘Green Cape’] actually lives up to its name,” said Professor Ana, through me.
“Well, at least the ‘green’ part,” I added. Due to a historical fluke, this country’s name has almost nothing to do with its actual characteristics. Think about it: How can an archipelago also be a cape? Such is Cabo Verde.
“This is an interesting place, isn’t it?” said Mr. Keynes.
Footsteps
As I witnessed the whirlwind of classroom visits, field trips, and interviews, I felt compelled to take a step back and consider the implications. What does Charles Darwin really mean to a place such as Cape Verde, one of many lands that he visited and commented on between 1832 and 1837 – over 170 years ago? Should the average Cape Verdean, for example, be expected to care about this whatsoever? What should educators or administrators try to impart about him in particular, if anything? And, moreover, what does Charles Darwin really mean to the world of 2009? In sum: Why should we care?
Much of this came to light on that Friday evening, the 18th, at the inauguration of a street dedicated to Darwin’s visit to Praia. In true West African style, the event began about 45 minutes late, but the mood was loose and lively like a block party, perfect for an early Friday evening. Some women and a throng of small children mingled as the Cape Verdean Army band assembled, enjoying the festive ambiance. Semi-stray dogs poked around, on the perpetual search for scraps. As the band began their fanfare, Randal and Sarah finally arrived from another excursion. They gathered around the covered blue signpost with a few local dignitaries, including the Vice-President of Uni-CV and Praia’s mayor. The veil was drawn and the simple, unassuming placard was revealed to a round of applause. Everyone looked happy.
But once the local news reporters and photographers had captured their sound bites and snapshots, I felt a nagging impression of a disconnect, that the local people, the residents of this humble neighborhood, would be looking up at this sign for years and years to come, possibly with only the slightest notion of who this Charles Darwin person was. Add to that the rantings of a dreadlocked street preacher on the evils of this white man and his “racist” teachings, and I wondered if perhaps the sign was not long for this world. Professor Ana admitted to me that she felt that she had failed to properly inform the locals about the sign’s placement in their community and what it meant. But to her credit, she spent a good half hour after the ceremony talking to anyone interested, happily explaining a bit about Charles Darwin and why they should be proud to be a part of this slice of history.
Sign marking the newly christened Avenida Charles Darwin. It reads, “He passed through the City of Praia in January 1832.”
Darwin and Keynes with local dignitaries and residents of Lém Ferreira, Praia, site of the sign.
Perhaps I’m just used to Darwin’s name alone sparking caustic debate in the U.S., but I hope that the right impression is imparted here, be it in the schools, through the media, or by word of mouth. He was not a racist monster. He was not a soulless robot whose goal was the end of religion. Nor was he anything close to a nihilist or a fatalist. Above all, Charles Darwin was a beholder to the awe of nature.
After the unveiling, I headed to Quintal da Música, a downtown Praia restaurant famous for its live music. I sat down for the buffet dinner and a drink with the Dutch film crew, an interesting lot of chain-smoking thinkers and adventurers. Along with them was their own guide and interpreter, a middle-aged man who reminded me a bit of a Cape Verdean Jimmy Buffett. I had met him the day before at the baobab trees, but I hadn’t caught his name, so I asked. “Munaia,” he said, which was his nickname. He told me that he was a SCUBA instructor and gym teacher. He also mentioned his full name, of which I honestly only caught one part, Charles. I remember this because I thought maybe he was translating the common name Carlos in order to make a connection to Darwin.
“My main interest,” he added, “is shipwrecks. I wrote a book about the ones off the islands of Cape Verde. They’re everywhere. You just have to know where to look.” I could see why he had joined up with the equally inquisitive Dutchmen; he was a lifelong learner and teacher, a man fascinated by his own country and its biodiversity, history, and culture. “I’ve always felt a connection to Darwin,” he said. “He always asked questions.”
I went home soon later. Before turning out the lights, I took a glance at the now months-old newspaper article on my wall. I figured that it was about time I read the whole thing. As I did, I thought about everything that had happened during the previous two days, about Darwin and nature and long voyages of discovery. I thought about Cape Verde and everything I’d learned about it in the last year. Everything that I’d learned about myself in the process. And then I noticed something for the first time: the name of the article’s author. It was the very man I had just been chatting with; Charles was, in fact, his middle name and not a translation. On top of everything else, he is also one of Cape Verde’s very own Darwin experts and, I recalled from our conversation, an occasional contributor to A Semana. I let out a chuckle of realization, smiled, and then turned out the light.
So does Charles Darwin matter to a tiny group of salty islands in the Atlantic? Does he matter to the average person? Absolutely. He’s available to anyone who seeks him out. He’s there for anyone who wants to broaden their perspective on this planet Earth. For anyone who wants to appreciate the diversity of life that exists and, hopefully, be a part of keeping it that way. His ideas are for anyone who wants to keep asking questions. And in a place just awakening from the shadows of colonialism and obscurity, now full of potential and possibilities, that kind of critical thinking can make all the difference in the world.
