by Paddy O’Halloran
‘And how can one live in
death, be already dead, while being-there—while having not necessarily left
the world or being part of the spectre—and when the shadow that overhangs
existence has not disappeared, but on the contrary weights ever more heavily?’
– Achille Mbembe, On the Postcolony
(2001, 201).
In a famous passage of The Wretched of the Earth, Frantz Fanon
describes the dreams of colonized people.
The dreams are of ‘muscular prowess’, of going ‘beyond certain limits’:
‘I dream’, Fanon writes, ‘that I burst out laughing, that I span a river in one
stride […]. During the period of colonization, the native [le colonisé] never stops achieving his [sic] freedom from nine in
the evening until six in the morning’ ([1961] 1963, 52). These are dreams which challenge, in the
subconscious world, unfettered from reality, the limitations of the coerced
reality of colonization. They are dreams
which the dreamers wish to make real, desiring to mimic the excess of action of
their nightly fictions in waking life. Fanon,
later, imagining an uprising of the ‘slaves’ writes: ‘We were running like
madmen; shots rang out . . . we were striking [….] Blood and sweat cooled and
refreshed us’ and, as they burned the structures of the colonizers, ‘the flames
flickered sweetly on our cheeks’ (1963, 88).