The Roads We Walked - The Fifth Pan-African Congress

• THE ROADS
• THE FIFTH PAN-AFRICAN CONGRESS
• WALKED
• IWM SOUP
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THE FIFTH PAN-AFRICAN CONGRESS LEGACY PROJECT

To mark 80 years since the fifth meeting of the Pan-African Congress which was held in Manchester in 1945 - IWM have commissioned Young Identity, Manchester's acclaimed spoken- word poetry collective, to respond to the legacy and significance of the Congress. Through a series of creative writing workshops, the young poets explored the Congress's themes, voices and impact, crafting original pieces that speak to both history and the present moment. Their words form the script of a new Big Picture Show, a 360-degree immersive cinematic experience at IWM North, produced by Soup Collective, and are collected here in this zine.

PAN- AFRICAN CONGRESS

The Fifth Pan-African Congress, held at Chorlton-on-Medlock Town Hall in Manchester, UK in October 1945, was a landmark event in the struggle for decolonisation and African independence. It brought together a mix of intellectuals, activists, trade unionists, and students from Africa, the Caribbean and the African diaspora in Europe and North America.

The end of the Second World War had brought to the surface many key issues that formed a powerful catalyst for the Congress. African and Caribbean troops who had fought for Britain, defending democracy and freedom, returned to their homes where they continued to live under colonial oppression. Europe's economic power and control had weakened following the bruising war. Wartime migration had enabled African and Caribbean activists to connect and share ideas. The time was right to seize momentum as the mood shifted, with anti-colonial movements on the rise across the world.

Activists George Padmore, Peter Abrahams, Ras Makonnen, Peter Milliard and Kwame Nkrumah organised the 1945 Manchester Pan-African Congress. Earlier Pan-African Congresses had been attended primarily by Black elites, but the 1945 Congress had more grassroots voices and was attended by what Kwame Nkrumah called 'practical men and men of action'.

Part of a series of meetings intended to address the decolonisation of Africa from Western imperial powers, the Congress demanded an end to colonial rule and racial discrimination. Issues that were discussed included land in Africa being occupied by white settlers; inequalities in working conditions and wages for Africans; and independence for African and Caribbean nations.

The Congress helped legitimise nationalist movements and give visibility to future leaders. Sessions were chaired by notable figures such as Amy Ashwood Garvey, Dr W. E. B. Du Bois and Jomo Kenyatta. Jomo Kenyatta went on to become president of Kenya, while Hastings Banda of Malawi and Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana also later became leaders of their respective countries. There was also a growing call for gender equality, and women, such as Amy Garvey, played a strong role in highlighting the particular forms of exploitations faced by Black women.

Over the course of the twentieth century, former colonies gained their independence, with a rapid period of dismantling empires between 1950s-1970s. Ghana gained independence in 1957, followed by Nigeria in 1960 and Jamaica in 1962, along with many others.

Pan-Africanism is a general term for various movements across Africa that have as their common goal the unity of Africans and the elimination of colonialism and white supremacy from the continent. Pan-Africanism as a philosophy has its origins in the struggles of African people against enslavement and colonisation.

COUNTRIES WHO TOOK PART IN THE FIFTH PAN-AFRICAN CONGRESS

Antigua, Bahamas, Barbados, Belize, Bermuda, Gambia, Ghana, Great Britain, Grenada, Guyana, Kenya, Jamaica, Liberia, Malawi, Nigeria, Saint Kitts and Nevis, Saint Lucia, Sierra Leone, South Africa, Tanzania, Trinidad and Tobago, Uganda.

MANCHESTER AS THE SETTING

Manchester's radical and diverse heritage was a major factor in its choice as the Congress setting. Often the centre of movements advocating for political and social change, Manchester's activist past dates back to the infamous Peterloo Massacre of 1819, where a peaceful protest about parliamentary reform resulted in 18 people being killed by armed yeomanry and around 700 more being injured.

Prominent Suffragettes Emmeline and Christabel Pankhurst were born and raised in Manchester, and the fair-trade co-operative movement emerged in nearby Rochdale in 1844.

Manchester continues its rich history of activism and protest into the present day, reflected in movements such as Black Lives Matter and Extinction Rebellion, which have led major peaceful gatherings in the city.

This project set out to revisit the Pan-African Congress and introduce its history to a new generation. For many of the Young Identity poets, this was the first time they had encountered the story of the 1945 Congress. Through workshops, archive research and creative writing, they produced new poetry that speaks directly to that legacy and brings it into the present.

This work has been shaped and supported by many people. Reece Williams provided dramaturgy and workshops for the script, supported by Nasima Bee, who encouraged young people to think about activism and freedom.

The Fifth Pan-African Congress was a turning point where activists used the power of words and language to call for freedom and independence. This project shows how those same tools remain vital today. The Big Picture Show connects past and present, reminding us that the work of freedom is never finished.

We hope you enjoy this poetic reflection on the 1945 Congress and the new work it has inspired.

Shirley May, Artistic Director, Young Identity

• IN PRAISE OF SELF-WORTH, A LETTER.
• by Abhijeet Singh
• SOCIAL BETTERMENT.
• by David Okodeh

THE 5TH PAN-AFRICAN CONGRESS. . by Edmund Okyere-Yeboah

SOMEBODY IS THE PUPPET MASTER, AND WHO ARE THE PLAYERS? . .

by Aya Omer

ITAN RE-HER STORY by Oluwatomisin Faheezal Taiwo

UNITED, WE RISE by Kaz Abbas

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

• WHAT MY HANDS HOLD.
• by Kyia Kulczycki Binnall
• AN EVENING STORY.
• by Leyla Barakat

THE ROADS WE WALKED: THE FIFTH PAN AFRICAN CONGRESS

THE WEIGHT OF INK IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST. . . .26 by Seth Connor-Fullwood

• THIS IS A COUP.
• by Shreya Mishra
• WORKING IS A MOVEMENT.
• by Louis Registe
• NOT THEIRS TO HOLD . .
• by Davinia Isaac
• MOUNT KENYA by Abhijeet Singh
• IS THIS LIBERTY?.
• by Pelumi Fatayo

THEY PLAYED CHESS IN MANCHESTER AT THE FIFTH PAN-

AFRICAN CONGRESS, 1945..

by Shirley May

In Praise of Self-Worth, A Letter by Abhijeet Singh

You will find my name with Du Bois, or find me (maybe) in Jazz history of London, but what you won't find is my due worth, you won't find a picture of me blessing my hair in sun on one of the beaches in Port Antonio, and so you won't know how I talk in anger, you won't see the heat flushing inside my cheek whenever I say freedom, you will find my name with Marcus Garvey, or as a co-founder of UNIA, but would you know I fought for that too?

this is really about women who look like me, shout like me, and I'm all those women, and all of us make sense, that you will never find in a discourse, I figured that we don't need a discourse made by the Du Bois' and Garveys'.

I have to push something more than a nation, I figured I'm too good for geography, I love Jamaica, that's not the point.

I am fighting more than what Jamaica is fighting for.

Sitting in that congress, I figured all these men have no idea of 100 different things it means when I say, freedom

Sincerely, Amy

Believe in peace.

THE ROADS WE WALKED: THE FIFTH PAN AFRICAN CONGRESS

The African peoples - victims of violence and slavery. The Western world - rule mankind by force.

Appeal: to achieve Freedom.

We are free -

To express our thoughts, To create beauty.

• Continue to sacrifice.
• Condemn the monopoly.
• Complain, appeal, arraign.
• Make the world listen.

Fight in every way, For freedom, democracy, And social betterment.

Demand: Black Africa autonomy and independence.

The 5th Pan-African Congress by Edmund Okyere-Yeboah

It's Congress Day they gather around a large table, Kwame is sitting with his knees crossed, finger on jaw Dreaming of a world where Africa's freedom is not a fable.

It's congress day they debate the needs of their countries, believe they are able To debunk the wests' fatal flaw.

They speak of how to make Africa's economy stable.

It's congress day laughter erupts still, black joy is not a fable.

They speak about their national dishes, and how they cook it from raw, They try to make Africa as comfortable as a new-born in a cradle.

It's congress day they each speak of an age-old fable. They speak of what Africa was like before Colonisers came and made it unstable.

It's the day before the Congress, they crooned to an understanding tune encourage each other to make sure they are able, To remove colonial paws, soon.

In Independence Square in Ghana, people gather proud and able.

Finally, they begin to heal the sore

Remove the unwelcomed seats from their table.

Convene to create a unified black people, colonialism, yesterday's fable

Somebody is the puppet master, and who are the players?

How can you ask a man to play a game he has already lost? I see a bear and I see a butterfly

There is no mystery regarding how it lost its ability to fly The simple truth is that no one man is better than another The complex lie is that the Western world agrees

I find myself going in circles trying to decolonise my mind, But my mind is a fish, And colonisation a deep unforgiving sea.

People were slaves, Identities fractured, Treasures attracted, A cruel monster, With a nasty appetite, A people whose vicious pride destroyed another peoples hope, Another peoples ability to reap the fruits they sowed.

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

They tell us they have nothing to apologise for, Like they forget how roughly they came upon our shores

Cannons armed as they sailed across the Nile. They came upon our land and saw someone to defile.

They tell us that their actions were to our benefit Teach us in our classes how 'colonialism has it's merits'

But they do not teach of the consequences we still bear, How our Motherland would flinch the moment they come near.

They came to her with sweet nothings and lies, Promised a great union with unbreakable ties.

And she 'bless her soul' was loving and kind How could she know the evil of their minds

They took and took and took

And she gave & gave & gave

They took her previous jewels And labourer then like slaves*

• Wondering if they'd stop invading her
• If she waved the white flag.
• And now after years

Of fighting her worst fears, She looks at her abusers in the eye

And all they do is deny

THE ROADS WE WALKED: THE FIFTH PAN AFRICAN CONGRESS

And now after centuries of being taken from and used

She is to settle for half-hearted apologies and half-hearted truths.

Why do they get to invade her

And then say that she 'asked for it'

When we all know they enslaved her

Until she had little choice but to submit.

Why do they keep pretending

That this was something she consented to Write in her history book, their own warped ending So they don't seem as cruel

Why even after centuries

We are yet to hear her side of the story How bravely she fought her enemies Where are the tales of her unending glory

They tell her they have nothing to apologise for. Well she has never been in need of their apologies.

No matter how much they might take, she will always have more.

While they are nothing without their atrocities.

United, We Rise by Kaz Abbas

Sometimes I wonder, 200 years ago, who would I be? I'd like to think I was one of those, the ones heard in hushed whispers round a kitchen table, the ones who said fuck you and did it anyway, a change maker, a flag waver, a person who fifty years later could say, 'I was part of the painting.' I brought down the wall, I sat round the wooden table, I scaled the ivory statue, I sang for freedom beneath a smog filled sky.

I know, not many make it to textbook pages, not many are made eternal in word. So I'd settle for being a smudge in the tapestry. I'd settle for one broken window, one raised fist in the silent dark, I'd settle in the knowledge I played my part.

I hold my hands out for you to take The wind is gentle, peaceful still

You tighten the shackles I wish you'd break

I hold my hands out and gesture bread You says my hands are dirty

Appalled by the idea, it wasn't you that lead

I hold my hands out in mercy You deceive me with compassion, you the same one, you cursed me.

I hold my hands out in understanding my brothers stand beside me.

Your fear our power is expanding

You hold your hands out.

I don't hold mine

Eyes are strong, but full of doubt because how can you go forward or undo when you already across the line.

An evening story

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

This inviting climate must be your dream destination

• Point 0 location
• Thank you for your adoration.
• Take it as a warning
• We don't want your coronation
• But if you insist
• I will suffocate your respiration.

The self-indulgence has arrived bright and early, presented as a birthright.

The court agrees, even God yields.

It is said to be for protection

-ammunition-

Our daily song, rhythm depends on resistance of the hour.

• I think my hunger feeds them.
• We collide with the colonisers
• Head to toe
• Never in reverse, stuck in time
• Hands cut off for refusing service.

Name erased for looking into your master's eyes.

• Path obscured for creating it.
• Remember us
• As your dream destination.

The Weight of Ink in the Belly of the Beast by Seth Connor-Fullwood

"The basis of any independent government is a national language, and we can no longer continue aping our former colonisers. Those who feel they cannot do without language can as well pack up and go." - Jomo Kenyatta

Where to start and begin?

Who do we have the freedom to be? Blood rains; people fall; music plays. Who gains; who loses;

who stops a bullet between their teeth?

It must feel good to pin your life to a bible tucked between your skin and shirt. Religions wait on whispers while the shape of ink remains.

Paper flutters, strikes hammer blows.

I wish I had the courage to give myself up to the world like you, to change my name, my country;

did you ever change your home?

You will be found in blood.

You are the future - no more yesterday.

We must remember you and the foundations you built on.

We too are built on the past and must slip free.

Our destination is revealed, the way, the road, remains unclear.

Turning over new leaves and words, new seasons, they will shame you.

The skies will darken with arrows, bricks, and torn-up streets, to reveal the sun, and behind it the battered dogma of bruises and creases from dancing.

We will walk together through wildflowers, over paths of more than the hard stones of law.

There will be thorns, but we have bandages, and there will be mud, but one day we will wipe our feet and the nights will bring rest.

this is a coup by Shreya Mishra a sudden, violent, and unlawful seizure of power from a government.

an instance of successfully achieving something difficult.

this is a coup this is a coup this is a coup this is a moment of uncertainty.

this is adoration in spite of anxiety this is a test of loyalty this is an essay of hope and dreams this is me convincing you to believe in me this is a cry to find a place in this world this is a fear of loss of routine of the loss of a foundation of love and freedom

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

When we work together we work towards.

We work for us and ours. The physical definition of work is the product of force and distance, like a vacuum or a relay baton or the sliding of stone. Work proves itself through how far we've come. Look back and know that change is progress when we stop recognising the past.

Not Theirs To Hold by Davinia Isaac

They will tell you power is found behind the altar, or at the feet of men. That history lives in leather bound books, locked behind glass - guarded by cold walls and colder hands.

But our truth cannot be caged like that. I am tucked between the letters of whispered warnings and in the breath of bedtime stories.

The history that lies in the tales that part from our lips, and the stories that are transferred through the vibration of the tongue.

Little do they know, you cannot cage a sound, you cannot colonise the air and you cannot capture a song.

Mount Kenya by Abhijeet Singh

Jomo is as Black as the infinite incomprehension of the sunrise at Mount Kenya, and a raw, fruit like moment of a family praying to the tall and ever widening Mount Kenya.

Jomo is spread that far, And this near, Here, in Chorlton-on-Medlock.

We look up to his emerald shadow, a corner where he stacks his favorite books.

He has many names, like all the revolutions do.

His head is the wetness of earth.

Rivers, and shapes (oral or otherwise)

and a regular black raven singing the choral Kikuyu song in the unreachable incomprehension of the sunrise at Mount Kenya.

They all come alive coughing and kicking like a child in his long speeches, in his conversations with men and women.

He cannot stop talking about this place, and his teeth are shining like the tusks of the elephant ivory, he has a way about him, and so does Mount Kenya.

We look up to him like looking up is done in the presence of Mount Kenya.

• Is This Liberty?
• by Pelumi Fatayo
• Up north
• Manchester was the place

Where for the name of Africa

Great minds gathered, the agenda was taking freedom, knowing there was wisdom in unity, two decades later, liberty

For some

They Played Chess in Manchester at the Fifth Pan-

African Congress, 1945 by Shirley May

Whispering was how they played in the early games. Pawns moved quietly in their villages, in their towns, in the capitals.

Kingston, Kinshasa, Lusaka, Washington, London.

Colonial kings watched every square.

They knew truth could not be spoken loudly.

So they learned to speak with silence, to move like pawns on the chessboard with purpose, willing to sacrifice for the game.

It was also their own.

They were born of the sun, the savannah, and a holy grace.

They came to take the centre.

We had spoken with talking sticks, with scar-patterned cloth, with woven codes, with hidden language.

• Now we spoke into microphones.
• One voice.
• One call.
• For the taken.
• For the broken.
• For the free.

THE ROADS WE WALKED: THE FIFTH PAN AFRICAN CONGRESS

In 1945, one month after the war, Manchester became the board.

• Britain was bruised.
• Bombed.
• Breathless.
• Still rationed.

Like a player losing ground, the empire held on.

It needed its colonies to rebuild.

But they came with their own plan.

Not to serve, but to rise.

On Rosamond Street, on Cavendish Street, on Oxford Road, the Fifth Pan-African Congress began.

Black and white squares underfoot.

But on this board it was not skin, but strategy, that moved them.

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

W. E. B. Du Bois watched the board.

He chaired the match because he knew the game.

George Padmore moved like a rook. He cut straight through empire.

He said, "There must be no more imperialism, no more masters and servants among nations."

He taught them to taste freedom, to live it, to defend it, while moving black and white

Pieces across each square.

Amy Ashwood Garvey was the Queen.

She walked as if her footsteps wrote policy into the pavement, her heels chipping at empire.

Her voice laced with a new plan, whispered in corridors in town halls.

where revolution rose like fire.

she challenged every rule of the board.

• Queen on the board
• Her pen, a bishop.
• Her words broke through glass ceilings

She recorded the movement while it lived.

We came from Kenya, Trinidad, Ghana, Nigeria, Jamaica, England.

• Knights crossing borders.
• It was intelligence.
• It was strategy.
• It was self-determination.
• The endgame was visible.
• We came to win.
• We came for freedom.
• IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

The board was set.

The pieces were human.

The air, thick from war, clung to our clothes.

But something had shifted.

The empire, like all empires, was dismantling.

From that match in the valley of rain, leaders emerged.

Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana, 1960 to 1966

Jomo Kenyatta, Kenya, 1964 to 1978 Hastings Banda, Malawi, 1966 to 1994

Nnamdi Azikiwe, Nigeria, 1963 to 1966

Obafemi Awolowo, Western Nigeria, 1954 to 1960 Their pieces moved into place.

Checkmate

IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUMS AND YOUNG IDENTITY

With thanks to the following organisations and individuals for their contribution to this project.

Young Identity - Shirley May, Nicole May, Shako Diesa, Billie

Meredith, Reece Williams

Imperial War Museums Exhibitions and Interpretation and Learning and Engagement Departments

Soup Collective - Mark Thomas, Farah Khalil, Isa Alsaba, Max

Thompson, Jayden Roy Crookes, Alina Akbar, Percy Dean, Virginia Gilles, Morgan Wetherill

Platt Hall - Ruth Edson, Liz Mitchell and team

SODA (School of Digital Arts), Manchester Metropolitan

University

Guest Speaker - Robert Croll

Ahmed Iqbal Ullah RACE Centre and Education Trust

Dr Jack Bowman, University of the Arts London

Professor Erinma Bell MBE DL, community peace activist and Manchester City Councillor

© First Published 2025

THE ROADS WE WALKED: THE FIFTH PAN AFRICAN CONGRESS

The Roads We Walked: The Fifth Pan-African Congress

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the project partners.

Publication Design: Billie Meredith Cover Image: Soup Collective

Internal Images: Soup Collective

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