100 books like I Didn't Do It for You

All of Kapuscinski’s books are gems. He traveled Africa and other parts of the developing world as a Soviet journalist. The Emperor describes the rule and decline of the Ethiopian Emperor, Haile Selassie. The dry day-to-dry accounts of the emperor’s benign neglect for his people is chilling. Haile Selassie knew to keep those around him happy and not to worry about the people: “A man starved all his life will never rebel…. No one raised his voice or hand there. But just let the subject start to eat his fill and then try to take the bowl away, and immediately he rises in rebellion. The usefulness of hunger is that a hungry man thinks only of bread.”.

The breadth of Meredith’s book makes it a true masterpiece. He covers the political history of virtually every African state from independence through the end of the century. Each chapter is as compelling as it is brutal.

As the author of a book on the Democratic Republic of Congo myself, I should have felt fiercely competitive with Van Reybrouk, a Belgian playwright, poet, and author. In fact, I loved this book. He tells this enormous country’s complex history, from King Leopold’s 19th-century giant land grab through to Patrice Lumumba's premiership, Marechal Mobutu Sese Sekos’ overthrow, Laurent Kabila’s Rwandan-backed takeover and beyond, almost exclusively through the testimony of living Congolese citizens, making it not only extraordinarily fresh, but utterly authentic as a record of the past. It’s a long book – 150 years of history, addressed at a leisurely pace, takes up a lot of paper - but every chapter is a jewel.

By far the most academic of our recommendations, Throup and Hornsby describe the constraints that having to hold an election imposes on leaders and, most tellingly, how easy leaders find it to flaunt these binds.

I love this book and have taught it a number of times because the protagonist challenges us not to like her, and we do anyway. The novel's first line is that her brother died, and she is not sad. From that point on, you are enveloped in the complex and conflicting dynamics of an extended Shona family that has been changed by missionary education in what was then Southern Rhodesia.

It becomes clear that Western education, mostly by design, introduces students to concepts (if not languages) foreign to their families of origin. The result can be estrangement and division. The novel is semi-autobiographical and a moving illustration of colonialism's social and cultural impact.

I loved this book because it clearly demonstrates not only how Western Kenyans (in this case, the Luo) think about their economy but also its resilience despite more than 100 years of Western imposition. Shipton shows that Luo acts within relationships and thinks of economics in terms of giving and receiving. Thus, it is better to always be indebted to a number of people (including the dead and land) in the sense that you “owe” them something. This is what Shipton calls entrustment. It is an obligation but also strategic.

Such a way of life creates a more stable and resilient future for small-scale farmers and herders. Rather than seeking a more holistic economy in the West, we need only learn from our global neighbors about their centuries-long systems that have served them well.

I loved Rist’s book because it totally changed the way I thought about the idea of development. It made it more complicated and far more sinister than I had been led to believe. His definition alone is provocative: development destroys social and environmental systems. But there is much more here to get one thinking.

He starts by saying that development is a plastic word with so many different meanings that it can apply to almost anything. He traces its use in the West and then its application as a universal ideal through foreign policy and international institutions (like the United Nations and World Bank). The result is global disparity. Development somewhere requires poverty (or less development) elsewhere on a finite planet.

I love Ferguson’s book because it seeks to be useful rather than academic. He uses the category of “Africa” to understand large-scale dynamics that have perpetually underestimated or misunderstood the agency of Africans.

For example, globalization is not passing over Africa; it is deeply implicated there but in isolated ways that perpetuate inequalities rather than erase them, as globalization proponents promote. Or that global capital can thrive in a failed state without peace, property law, or many other attributes of the modern state.

Again, like in all my book picks, Ferguson is eager to show how Africa’s role in global society is not in the shadows but in full sun, illuminating aspects of our world order that many would rather not look at straight on.

In a world where the number of forcibly displaced people is rising faster and to the highest levels ever, I believe this beautifully written story of fourteen-year-old Alem is incredibly important. Thinking he’s on a short holiday to the UK with his father, Alem, who is an aspiring architect, happily soaks in the sights and sounds, making apt comparisons between London and the urban landscapes and architecture of Ethiopia. However, Alem is about to have his world turned upside down. The next day, his father abandons him in the UK in a desperate attempt to keep him safe from the war between Ethiopia and Eritrea. This means Alem is forced to navigate the asylum process and get used to living in the UK while trying desperately to hang onto the hope that his parents are still alive and that they might one day be reunited as a family.

Ruby is new to school as she enters Miss Hart’s class. Ruby’s desk is right behind Angela’s. Angela seems to be a self-possessed, lovely young girl and, right away, Ruby is quite taken with Angela.  She wants to be her friend. Perhaps Ruby wants to be noticed and equally admired by this potential new friend, and so she imitates Angela in every way. It gets old fast. Miss Hart handles the situation admirably well, with utmost respect and sensitivity. (I wish I had encountered more teachers like that as a kid.)  Rathmann captures kids’ innocent foibles, well. The artwork is adorable and expressive and loose. Great humor. Full of humanity.