Afronautic Memory and the Archive

Abstract

The smallish room nestled in the labyrinthine bowels of the basement of Sir Wilfrid Laurier University’s library was separated from the offices of the archivists by a wall of glass windows. Large oak tables were pushed together to form a continuous working surface. Books and stacks of laminated copies of archival documents heaped on the tables were illuminated by small gooseneck desk lamps, some with blue bulbs and others with red. The student who had agreed to perform with me had arrived just moments before the performance was scheduled to begin. I had been able to meet with, or had at least spoken to, all the Afronauts I had previously worked with, so I was nervous about how this unknown student was going to transition into a fullyfledged Afronaut in mere minutes. Upon his arrival, I helped him into his copper-coloured silk cape, white headwrap and boots. As he dressed, I briefed him on the world I had created and the mythology we were about to enter and animate together. I spoke quickly, hoping he would be able to absorb the information I urgently needed to convey. The Afronauts, I explained, are space travellers who are descendants of the Dogon people of Northern Mali, West Africa. Our extraordinary knowledge of star systems, encoded in our stories and rituals, predates Western science. Our ancestors left Earth 10,000 years ago, and each generation inherited the knowledge that Earth is our home. We have returned because our beloved planet is in danger. Our mission is to help and to heal and we do this by unveiling silenced truths and creating a space where the labour of reckoning with atrocities of the past takes place. Even if he could not grasp anything else, I needed him to understand that our presence as futuristic beings, and the otherworldly format of our lab, affirms the possibility of transcending the past and present. Liberation is not only possible, it is imminent. We embody hope. We are the future.