It’s in the Box: French Promotional Giveaways for Children about Africa

Once upon a time, cereal shopping was an adventure. While mother made the circuit of the aisles, her child disappeared to the cereal section to decide which one had the best giveaway.  The cereal manufacturers were hoped to make the child pine for all their promised prizes so he or she would ask to buy more boxes of their products, supposedly creating brand loyalty. When mother arrived, negotiations began about what brand her darling wanted versus what she was willing to buy, having given in before and seen boxes of untouched cereal stripped of the prizes going stale on the shelf.  We can give thanks to the Kellogg Company of Battle Creek, Michigan for putting the first promotional giveaway for children, Funny Jungleland Moving Pictures (1909), in boxes of cornflakes.

European corporations also have used this diabolical advertising strategy in the promotion of food products to children.  Several ambitious examples of collectible premiums about Africa were added to Cotsen’s collection of advertising ephemera because they looked like an underused source for studying how corporations doing business in particular countries presented to children those cultures formerly under European control.

Africorama was a promotional giveaway ca. 1967 for Petit-Exquis cookies by the L’Alsacienne brand, which had been baking the buttery treats since the 1920s.  The cookie box contained a color enamel metal flag of an African nation. There were two sets, 20 representing the Muslim countries of Africa, and 28 for the “pays noirs” or Black countries. The set in Cotsen has all of the flags except for the Rhodesian one.  Most of the copies coming on the market are seriously defective, so it is unusual to have one so complete.  On the picture of the cookie box to the left, the metal tabs of the flags can be seen. The metal flags were supposed to be displayed on a  folded, perforated cardboard sheet illustrated by Wilquin.  The flags came with the cookies, but the child-collector had to write away for the sheets if they were to be displayed.  The set for the Muslim countries features a full-length portrait of a Berber Tuareg warrior, a Bantu warrior on the Black one. The back of the cardboard display has a big illustrated advertisement for Petit-Exquis cookies, but no clues why L’Alsacienne was issuing such an elaborate giveaway.

The second example of a French promotional giveaway, La collection La Vache qui Rit, also dates from the 1960s.  The semi-soft cheese had been sold in Africa since the 1930s and the continent remains a big market for the product.  Tucked into the little circular cardboard packages containing the cheese were illustrated cards the same size and shape. The child determined to acquire a complete set had to convince his mother to purchase over 200 boxes of cheese. I suspect many mothers were of two minds about that unless her family consumed a great deal of La Vache qui Rit anyway.  Similar to Africorama, single cards and one or the other of the display sheets are not hard to come by, a set as large as this takes persistence and time to accumulate.

The cards, none of which are signed by the artist, are in French and Dutch.  They illustrate in rather attractive detail African animals, arts and crafts, indigenous costumes, and relations between the European colonizers and native Africans in the Belgian Congo. The cards could be stood up for display if cut along the indicated lines on the front and folded as directed. The pictures are captioned, but there is no explanatory text on the back: they are blank. The subjects are quite intriguing; surely many children would have been curious to learn more about what they saw. To look at these cards, no one would have any idea that the Congo had been roiled by political turmoil since it was granted independence by Belgium in 1960.To understand why these two French corporations produced such attractive, elaborate promotional giveaways, one needs to know something about the history of European corporate investment in Africa during the twentieth century.   Have economists studied this phenomenon to learn more about how corporate strategies for increasing market share at home and possibly abroad devised these sets?  Who came up with the ideas?  Who was responsible for the projects, which could not have executed quickly or cheaply.   Was there a motive other than an economic one for making these giveaways?

How might the presentation of Africa in these promotions might have affected French children and African children living in France or abroad?  When were French children taught about the history of their country’s colonization of Africa?   Would they have been exposed to news about Africa in the press, radio, and television? What attitudes towards non-European people were reflected in the illustrations? How would they have compared with those in school books, leisure reading, or the media?  Would children have heard similar or different views expressed by the adults in their families?   And do reminiscences of collecting promotional giveaways as children survive?  Is collecting this kind of ephemera bound up with nostalgia in the same way as it is in America?

Cooking for Dolls in the Summertime: Marjorie Winslow’s Mud Pies and Other Recipes

Today I was reading a bookseller’s  catalogue and came across an extraordinary illustration in a late edition of a popular French alphabet book, L’abecedaire des demoiselles  (Paris: P. C. Lehuby,1839; Cotsen 52908).  I ran into the stacks to see if the 14th edition had the same engraved frontispiece of a little girl entertaining her friends outdoors with an elegant repast improvised with stones.  The story “Le diner de cérémonie” tells how little Elisa welcomes her friends in a corner of the garden shaded by lilacs on a tiny table with bricks for chairs, a sheet of paper for a table cloth, and leaves for plates.  Being a proper little French  girl, she serves them slices of small brioche, wedges of apple, and sugar-coated almonds.  The author notes approvingly how generous the little hostess was without lapsing into gourmandise, a good sign for the  future.

The reason I mistook the main course for two artfully arranged stones instead of a buttery brioche was I had leapt to the conclusion that I had discovered a nineteenth-century French equivalent of Marjorie Winslow’s enchanting cookbook for dolls, Mud Pies and Other Recipes (New York: Macmillan, 1961; Cotsen 13477), which assures readers that anyone with a little imagination can prepare a backyard picnic out of few ingredients:

Doll cookery is not a very exacting art.  The time it takes to cook a casserole depends on how long your dolls are able to sit at a table without falling over.  And if a recipe calls for a cupful of something, you can use a measure cup or a teacup or a buttercup.  It doesn’t much matter.  What does matter is that you select the best ingredients available, set a fine table, and serve with style.

Dolls dote on mud, according to Mrs. Winslow, so here are some recipes for choice dishes starring that tasty and tactile ingredient.  The illustrations are by the incomparable Erik Blegvad.Pair “Mock Mud Puddle Soup” with the “Molded Moss Salad” and a “Grilled Mud Sandwich.”  For a party of vegetarians, “Leaves en Brochette” are a nice substitute for the sandwiches.

Little girls and dolls adore gooey desserts.  “Instant Mud Custard” couldn’t be simpler and follow it with “Dollypops,”  which are not too sweet.  Seconds would not be out of order. On a day that isn’t too hot, a good late afternoon snack would be “Pie-Throwing Pies,” an easy variation on “Mud Throwing Pies,” that can take out big brothers or pesky neighbors.

We Americans may not rival the gracious hospitality for which the French are renowned, but we can show then a thing or two about outdoor cooking and dining!