I Didn’t Do It For You: How the World Used and Abused a Small African Nation

I Didn’t Do It For You: How the World Used and Abused a Small African Nation
Michela Wrong

One small East African country embodies the battered history of the continent: patronised by colonialists, riven by civil war, confused by Cold War manoeuvring, proud, colorful, with Africa's best espresso and worst rail service. Michela Wrong brilliantly reveals the contradictions and comedy, past and present, of Eritrea.Just as the beat of a butterfly’s wings is said to cause hurricanes on the other side of the world, so the affairs of tiny Eritrea reverberate onto the agenda of superpower strategists. This new book on Africa is from the author of the critically acclaimed In the Footsteps of Mr Kurtz.Eritrea is a little-known country scarred by decades of conflict and occupation. It has weathered the world's longest-running guerrilla war, and the dogged determination that secured victory against Ethiopia, its giant neighbour, is woven into the national psyche. Fascist Italy wanted Eritrea as the springboard for a new, racially-pure Roman empire, Britain sold off its industry for scrap, the US needed headquarters for its state-of-the-art spy station and the Soviet Union used it as a pawn in a proxy war.Michela Wrong reveals the breathtaking abuses this tiny nation has suffered and, with the sharp eye for detail that was the hallmark of her account of Mobutu's Congo, she tells the story of colonialism itself. Along the way, we meet a formidable Emperor, a guerrilla fighter who taught himself French cuisine in the bush, and a chemist who arranged the heist of his own laboratory. An arresting blend of travelogue and history, ‘I Didn't Do It For You’ pierces the dark heart of our colonial history.

I Didn’t Do It For You

How the World Used and Abused a Small African Nation

Michela Wrong

To Elena and Silvia Harty, as promised

Table of Contents

Cover Page (#ud4fa5d1a-9d7d-540a-91b1-0caa5af7abeb)

Title Page (#ufa88a53a-af9f-5923-ae2d-0cd5fcae6621)

Dedication (#u6d639e26-d51f-5cbd-a869-78d97edc08a9)

Maps (#ub6e3edd6-e451-59a3-a080-254dfa78fcf8)

Foreword (#u1c461e25-07e4-5678-a53c-9e0f2a6c9194)

CHAPTER 1 The City Above the Clouds (#u75118f52-55ad-5248-b2af-fb21507a78a6)

CHAPTER 2 The Last Italian (#u077e0b1f-19a4-5ef5-b278-d8edf8283bcc)

CHAPTER 3 The Steel Snake (#u8149070d-7ae3-5f4b-a90a-5128ed149a83)

CHAPTER 4 This Horrible Escarpment (#u501f72a6-c61b-5265-8ed9-b6df71ed3017)

CHAPTER 5 The Curse of the Queen of Sheba (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 6 The Feminist Fuzzy-Wuzzy (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 7 ‘What do the baboons want?’ (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 8 The Day of Mourning (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 9 The Gold Cadillac Site (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 10 Blow Jobs, Bugging and Beer (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 11 Death of the Lion (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 12 Of Bicycles and Thieves (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 13 The End of the Affair (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 14 The Green, Green Grass of Home (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 15 Arms and the Man (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 16 ‘Where are our socks?’ (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 17 A Village of No Interest (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 18 ‘It’s good to be normal’ (#litres_trial_promo)

Chronology (#litres_trial_promo)

P.S. Ideas, interviews & features … (#litres_trial_promo)

Interview (#litres_trial_promo)

About the book (#litres_trial_promo)

Read on (#litres_trial_promo)

Glossary and acronyms (#litres_trial_promo)

Notes (#litres_trial_promo)

Other sources (#litres_trial_promo)

Index (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Praise (#litres_trial_promo)

By the same author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Maps (#ulink_880f3c35-a58b-5961-83d3-e514c94baaad)

Eritrea–Ethiopia border as defined by the International Boundary Commission on April 13, 2002

Eritrea–Ethiopia border as defined by the International Boundary Commission on April 13, 2002

Foreword (#ulink_eaef3f81-e678-5fcf-bc7e-5e28e1064942)

It was well past midnight, and in Cairo airport’s transit lounge it was clear most passengers had already entered the trance-like state of passivity that accompanies long-distance travel. Outside, in the fluorescent glare of the hallway, a trio of stranded Senegalese women traders, majestic in their colourful boubous, were shouting, with operatic volume, at the Egyptian airport staff behind the counter, who were responding with an icy silence that said more about Arab attitudes towards black Africa than direct insults ever could. But here in transit, eyes had glazed over, the energy had leached from the air. A group of Nigerian youths, whose clothes gave off the nose-tickling aroma of dried fish, lay slumped in the plastic orange scoop seats, spines turned to jelly. They were being messed around by EgyptAir staff, who couldn’t be bothered to check them in to the airport hotel their tickets entitled them to. They seemed past caring, anger had long since given way to exhaustion.