Spoilers abound!
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Simply put, Pao is political history of Jamaica told through the eyes and life of ‘Uncle’ Pao Yang of Kingston’s Chinatown. Don’t expect anything more or less when reading Pao, I say this because from reading the blurb it is easy to believe that the book focuses on Pao’s relationship with Gloria and the struggles they face due to her profession, racial discrimination and class etc.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading Pao. While Pao Yang isn’t really the best of male characters (he does come across as sexist, homophobic and unaware of his own privilege, not to mention he rapes his wife), Pao provides really interesting and relevant commentary on slavery, colonialism, post-colonialism, colourism, class and race relations in Jamaica. Pao really delves into a handful of issues. For example, instances of racism in the book not only show the kind of overt racism people of colour suffered at the hands of white people pre-Independence. There is also that of the Chinese towards Black Jamaicans even though Pao’s step-father Zhang schools Pao, telling him that Jamaicans and Chinese are the same due to poverty, oppression and exploitation and that they are ‘brothers in arms’. There are also glimpses of internalised racism as seen through Pao’s brother Xiuquan who is ashamed of being Chinese and is only happy after he leaves his family in Jamaica for America.
Another character that is first portrayed as having internalised racist views of herself is Mrs Cicely, the mother of Pao’s wife Fay. It’s fascinating that the book’s blurb mentions Fay Wong as the more respectable woman that Pao marries instead of Gloria. Yet Fay’s mother, Mrs Cicely is a Black woman. Through Fay, we are told that Mrs Cicely hates being black and abandoned her first child because he was not mixed race like her later children with Henry Wong. Mrs Cicely’s character is fully fleshed in the last pages of the book where she reveals the true reason she was ashamed of her first son, through her we also get to witness the kind of conflict that results from being a direct descendant of slaves. Mrs Cicely had lived her whole life trying to prove to ‘them’ that Black people were not all monsters and uncivilised.
Colourism (linked with class) is mentioned as well when Gloria, Pao’s mistress argues with him regarding the kind of school she wants to send their daughter. Gloria is dark-skinned, so is her and Pao’s daughter Esther. Esther to. Due to Esther’s complexion despite her mixed heritage, Pao is initially uncomfortable with sending her to the school Gloria suggests (the school he sends his children with his wife, Fay to). On the other hand Fay is light-skinned and is thus privileged to attend white-only venues before independence. Fay also comes from a wealthy family which adds to her privilege.
There were just so many issues properly analysed or just shown briefly in the book. For example, when Yang Pao arrives in Kingston and is promptly renamed Philip Yang by a British official at the port stuck out to me. Later on in the book, it is revealed that the same thing happened to Pao’s father-in-law, Henry Wong whose real name is Hong Zilong.
The main criticism I have for Pao is that after reading the book, I felt that some characters and situations were not fully developed. For example, Pao’s mother and Uncle Zhang, what was really going on between them? Was it love? Why did they wait so long to act on their feelings for each other? Also why did Pao’s brother, Xiuquan hate being Chinese? Why was Fay so angry at her mother, Mrs Cicely? I understood Fay’s anger and hatred for Pao though. Also Fay’s sister, did she really have feelings for Pao? So many questions!
Pao is written in dialect, this did not stop me from enjoying the book at all. I like that Kerry Young added a bibliography at the end. Overall, I found Pao funny, and entertaining. I’ve learnt a bit on Jamaica’s history and thanks to the bibliography I can continue learning more. At times the book had a mystery genre feel to it with Pao solving minor and major problems for all sorts of people. For those who are tired of books that have Chinese men and Black women in solely romantic situations, be prepared to be extremely pleased as Pao does not have much romance in it. The book is basically just about Uncle Pao living and taking care of Chinatown while observing Jamaica’s transition from a British colony to a fully independent nation and dealing with family issues.
In conclusion, here’s a video interview with Kerry Young and some quotes from Pao;
And even though we still struggling to sort ourselves out after the English come here three hundred years ago and set everything up so careful and tidy – Africans on the bottom, the Indians, the Chinese, English on top – I think we doing OK. But I wonder to myself how many other countries there are like Jamaica? How many other countries been through what we been through? How many of them still going through it like us? All because some long time back somebody decide to pick themselves up and sail halfway ’round the world to come colonize us. And it not just about the English and the slaves. It about the Americans and the money. (p. 266)
Because in the old days everybody could see that it was the British that was responsible for the slavery, whereas now it seem like we are the ones responsible for this mess we in. Nowadays it hard to see how we being controlled by foreign powers because this new kind of imperialism come wrapped in a cloak that look like help. (p 242-243)
‘You want to talk ’bout revolution, but this was never your revolution. You never been poor, not so poor you hungry; you never had to find yourself a job or put a roof over your head. You never needed to get yourself an education. You were never made to feel degraded and ignorant or worthless because of the colour of your skin, and have to stand there like a damn fool while them shut every door in your face, and while you watch even the most stupid white people moving up instead of you. You didn’t have to feel the shame of what been done to your people, and witness how that shame sit on your mother and father and brother and sister, and neighbour and acquaintance. No, you live in Chinatown all this long time because you was comfortable, and now you not so comfortable you have the choice and the money to go move to a mansion in Beverly Hills.’ (p. 245)
Something happened in November 2011 that I don’t think I’m ever going to forget. I’m also probably going to keep on bringing it up over and over again. Usually when I hear people talking nonsense about the lack of achievement of my African ancestors, I firmly school them. When I start going on about Abyssinia or ancient Ghana and how one too many Africans today have chronic cases of colonial mentality, the haters usually have the grace to shut up.
However in November, I met a fellow Nigerian, Yoruba lady who caused me to see red. I don’t recall what we were discussing beforehand but I remember her words exactly, she called our African ancestors ‘heathen’ and implied that she was happy that Europeans and missionaries came to free us from our devil-worshipping days with Christianity and Western education. She openly said that she did not believe any Nigerian or African had achieved ANYTHING before the kind Europeans came to save us all. She knew this because her grandmother said so! I was speechless for a second then I started talking. I talked, kept on talking for about an hour (I just went on the history of people of colour and why colonial mentality has people like that lady thinking that we were/are nothing without Western intervention). She ended up walking out on me, while I was talking, with this repentant look on her face.
Encountering her has reminded me that there are people who truly disdain anything African in this world, whether it is our religions, cultures, histories, or customs. I tend to keep myself in safe spaces but I believe that people who view my ancestors as ‘devil-worshipping heathens’ are in the multitude.
It is legitimate to worry that any attempt at humanising Africans through our history will always be put down. We must always have been running around in the jungle (never mind that the continent’s geography is diverse, there are Africans that have not seen any damned jungles) sleeping on tree branches, dancing naked around fires and waiting for white skinned people to come and teach us civilisation.
Anyway this post is about shoes, or their lack thereof in African history. A lot of folks, Africans included, believe that our ancestors never wore shoes, that shoes were introduced to the continent by the British. Now I’m not trying to argue as to whether wearing shoes or not denotes civilisation, but when applied to African history, I view this as another attempt to dehumanise Africans.
Now imagine you ran a search on footwear in African history and came across this,
“The available evidence about ancient African cultures suggests that most Africans did not wear shoes for much of their early history. Although many northern tribes had contact with people who wore sandals and shoes, including the ancient Egyptians and Greeks, and later Arabs and Persians (from present-day Iran), a complete record of when or how Africans adopted foot coverings does not exist. The most common depictions of Africans from statues, artwork, and examples of traditional dress still worn by groups throughout the continent suggest that bare feet were most common.
Footwear is now worn in Africa. When Europeans established trade routes with Africa in the fifteenth century, European products, including shoes, entered Africa and many Africans began wearing Western style foot coverings. Africans also created their own slippers and leather sandals modeled on Western examples. But whether imported or made nearby, shoes were available mainly to the wealthiest Africans. Although many present-day Africans wear Western style shoes, sandals, and boots, not all Africans wear or can afford shoes and several aid organizations ship shoes, among other things, to Africa.”
This must certainly be the truth, you know because today people send their old shoes to AFRICA because people over there cannot afford shoes. Why should they have been wearing shoes in the past? Note that the above seems to have academic references, so it must be the truth. Also note how ancient Egyptians and Greeks are grouped together, the civilised North.
If you were lucky with that ‘footwear in African history’ search you may come across this,
“Due to the hot climate, most Africans in the past did not wear shoes. When foot coverings are donned, open sandals are preferred, which allow the circulation of air, as in the bowl-shaped oval sandals from Uganda or the flat, wide sandals worn by the Hausa in Western Africa.
Leather and rawhide are the most common materials used in making footwear, although shoes of other materials are occasionally employed for reasons of status or ceremony, including wooden toe-knob sandals from Zaire, and cast metal shoes from Cameroon.
Ashanti ceremonies abound with references to the shoe. As the king’s feet are never to touch the ground, his footwear is a symbol of his special status. Boots worn by the Yoruban elite provide a wide canvas for dazzling beadwork, which can cover the entire surface of the boot. Thigh-length boots embellished with finely-woven leather strips are worn by the Hausa, and provide protection while riding camels.”
The latter gives a reason for most Africans in the past not wearing shoes, and it was not because they were waiting for the British to introduce the concept. I don’t get why I’m still going on about Africans wearing shoes in the past, before European context. These things should be a given! Instead we’ve argued about whether Africans had bloody two story buildings before the Europeans showed us how it was done, we’ve argued about whether Africans understood the concept of love before the Europeans came and taught us that there is an emotion called love, and it just goes on. How frustrating.
It gets even more frustrating when evidence to the historical achievement of African gets ignored so that people can continue believing nonsense.
Everyone from a country formerly colonized by Britain should go and watch the documentaries available at colonialfilm.org.uk to catch a glimpse of how things were back in the day. I am not entirely sure but the more I discuss with folks, and read comments on forums, the more it seems like there are a lot of folks who have the wrong idea about what colonialism and imperialism mean.
Perhaps by watching what is available in the archives of colonialfilm.org.uk and really paying attention to the kind of words and themes used in the documentaries, folks will have a clearer understanding on colonialism.
So far I’ve watched African Nurse (1948) where missionaries were training nurses as a tool for evangelism in South-Eastern Nigeria. Springtime in an English village (1944) shows a young African girl crowned as ‘May Queen’ in an English village to prove to African countries that ‘we British were not a dreadful race of people’…yes of course, after violently colonizing brown bodies and minds…as far as I’m concerned the whole coronation and everything could have been staged but at least the girl looks happy.
I enjoyed watching Giant in the Sun (1959), a study of Northern Nigerian before it achieved self-government. I actually liked this one, despite the annoying soundtrack that played with the market scene I believe I saw suya being made in that video! Also fura da nono. They even showed Zaria, my birthplace. I also found the connection between the durbar and polo interesting. I also noticed this, in 1959 they were reporting that Northern Nigeria is religiously tolerant and that there are many Christians and churches there. Now Western media is saying almost the opposite. I used to laugh when I met Nigerians from the ‘South’ who were shocked to learn that there are Christians indigenous to the ‘North’, now it is just annoying in a ‘how can someone be so ignorant?’ way.
Other fascinating documentaries I watched included, Nigeria’s first women police, Three Roads to Tomorrow (1961), shot in the University of Ibadan, Caribbean (1951), Castles and fisher folk (1933) from Ghana (I loved the clips of the children playing in the ocean, especially the laughing girl except the people who made the documentary probably did not see these children as human beings).
This post includes links that are NSFW
If you follow me on twitter and were online in the early hours of Christmas morning 2011 (GMT), you may have noticed @LeaBecca, @jolantru and I discussing nipples. In particular colonialism, body politics and how they affect nipple colour. You may want to read their write ups on the topic before continuing, Body Politics and White Skin, Pink Nipples.
So now you know that there is a ‘right’ colour of nipples. And that there are bleaching creams available to turn brown nipples lighter even as there are ‘brightening’ creams for the face and the body. That pink nipples are a sign of innocence and lack of sexual knowledge.
When I reblogged this anime style drawing of a brown-skinned, female character on Tumblr, I wrote ‘Finally the artist got the right nipple colour!’ because at that moment it struck me just how often I’d seen brown- and dark-skinned anime style characters drawn with pale, pink-ish nipples. There’s been a lot of discussion on how ethnicity is presented in anime and manga, on the ‘race’ of characters in anime and manga. It is relatively rare to see characters with darker skin tones in anime and manga, nevertheless they exist and several people of colour who enjoy watching anime and reading manga across the globe are happy that they exist.
But what happens when your favourite brown-skinned character takes of his or her clothes to reveal pink nipples? Take for example, this image of Miyuki from the anime Basquash!. What would you think? Initially, I thought this suggested that the brown-skinned characters are actually white-skinned characters in blackface. The implications of imperialism and body politics that affect brown-skinned women did not occur to me at that point. I was genuinely confused, I understand some brown-skinned characters look tanned (and are supposed to be tanned) but why would you draw a brown-skinned character that has locs or a huge Afro and colour their nipples pink?
The first time I recall noticing pink nipples on a brown-skinned character was when I came across one doujinshi with characters from Code Geass by Nekomata Naomi, a female hentai mangaka. When I saw the manga, ‘Brown New Wife’, I barely registered that the new wife had brown skin and pink nipples on the cover (mostly because I was squeeing over Nekomataya being a female hentai mangaka). I must have laughed shaking my head and wondered if these artists had seen brown women topless before? Or who knows there could be brown women with pink nipples in this world. I convinced myself that it was a one time thing. I did not want to ‘overreact’ and basically silenced my own criticism.
I joined Tumblr recently and it did not take long for me to come across this photo blog dedicated to brown-skinned females in anime. As I went through the archives and saw that when they were shown, most of the brown-skinned characters had pink nipples I grew disturbed. I was confused and not entirely sure how to react, so I saved the pictures for later discussion.
That was until I saw the art I reblogged. I was surprised at how relieved I felt to see that at least one artist got the colouring things right. I believe it was at that point that I decided it was okay to say something. I am glad that @LeaBecca and @jolantru had things to say as well. As I mentioned above, most of my earlier thoughts revolved around blackface. I wondered if all brown-skinned characters in anime, doujinshi and art are actually white-skinned characters in blackface or tans? I briefly entertained the idea that all of us brown-skinned people who have adored brown-skinned characters in anime and manga have been hoodwinked.
I still do not understand why an artist would draw a brown-skinned character and colour their nipples pink but now I know how they conform to white supremacist ideals by doing so. In a world that regularly extols white skin, straight hair, skinny figures, and now pink nipples, as beauty ideals colouring a brown-skinned character’s nipples pink plays into the idea that there is something wrong with the natural tones of brown-skinned women.
Click for image source
Madam Efunroye Tinubu was among the most prominent and powerful Yoruba women in pre-colonial Nigeria (early to mid 19th century). Other renowned Yoruba women from that period were Iyalode Efunsetan Aniwura and Madam Omosa, both of whom deserve posts of their own.
Madam Tinubu was an Egba woman born to a trading family in Abeokuta (also known as Egbaland). After completing an apprenticeship, she headed to Badagry, Lagos where she started trading in tobacco and salt. She later expanded her trade to include slaves who she sold to European slave traders. As a shrewd businesswoman, Madam Tinubu became the most important middleman in trade between Europeans and the Yorubaland interior by creating large trading networks. Madam Tinubu’s wealth and connections led her to meddle in politics.
With her trade and wealth, she was able to lend support to military efforts, which in turn made her more powerful. Although she was not from Lagos, she began taking interest in Lagos politics. In 1846, King Akintoye of Lagos faced exile and sought refuge in Badagry with Madam Tinubu. Being the badass that she was, Madam Tinubu ignited and supported a movement to return King Akintoye to regain the throne he had lost, she was successful.
In 1851, after regaining his throne King Akintoye invited Madam Tinubu to Lagos where she further expanded her business and political activities. Due to her influence in Akintoye’s court, rumours abounded that Madam Tinubu was the real power behind the throne. Madam Tinubu’s influence was such that when Prince Dosunmu succeeded King Akintoye, she continued to hold a space in Lagos politics.
Today Madam Tinubu is called a patriot by some, I am not too comfortable with that term because technically there was no ‘Nigeria’ when she was alive. However, Madam Tinubu did take a stance against the British in their efforts to further flex their colonial muscles into Yorubaland. In 1855, she spearheaded a campaign against Brazilian and Sierra Leonean immigrants in Lagos who she felt were actively trying to oppose the King and did not respect local customs. Apparently, her actions against these immigrants worried the British (who had been keeping an eye on her since she helped King Akintoye regain this throne). By supporting the local king and insisting that foreign residents respect local customs, Madam Tinubu’s activities were getting in the way of British colonial and mission policies. In 1856, colonial authorities in Lagos deported her from Lagos to her home town, Abeokuta in 1856.
I believe it was in Abeokuta that Madam Tinubu developed and adopted a staunchly anti-British stance. She eventually stopped selling slaves to the Europeans, it seems, after she learnt of the ‘evils of transatlantic slavery’, that is, the differences between the treatment of domestic slaves and those sold to the Europeans. Apparently she fought European slave traders to liberate slaves in Lagos and thereabouts however there is no mention if Madam Tinubu liberated the slaves she owned when she became anti-imperialist.
In Abeokuta, she traded gunpowder, bullets and other firearms (she also traded in palm oil and food produced on her massive plantations). She concerned herself with the Abeokuta-Dahomey wars that were taking place at that time, and through doing so became involved in Egba politics. Madam Tinubu would make loans to the army and supply food and arms during wartime. She was also in charge of the market place in times of peace. She contributed to defending Egbaland during attempts at Dahomean invasion in 1863 after which she was bestowed the title of ‘Iyalode’ in 1864 officially placing her in a position of power. She was the second woman to receive this title.
She died in 1887, at the height of her popularity.
Today, Madam Tinubu has several monuments dedicated to her, in Abeokuta, one stands ‘in the town square named after her Ita Iyalode.
There seem to be conflicting dates on when exactly a colonial government was established in Nigeria (and dare I say other parts of Africa as well). I have noticed that a lot of people place colonial governments actually earlier than they were. This supports the idea that from the beginning African and Europeans economic and political relations were unequal. The academic essay I read places Madam Tinubu as a pre-colonial Yoruba heroine who has a lot of information on her because her alliances and political activities, including her anti-colonial stance worried the British.
At this point, I am about to discuss the main reason I’m writing this post. Recently there was a debate on Facebook with several Nigerians saying that we shouldn’t be celebrating Madam Tinubu because of her trade in slaves. Some people argued that Madam Tinubu could not be patriotic if she was selling slaves to Europeans. Someone went as far as comparing her to Hitler. From the start, the entire discussion unsettled me.
You see, a long time ago I came across Madam Tinubu while searching on Yoruba women in history, but I only learnt of her as a trader in slaves and firearms. At that time, I decided to ignore her due to her part in the transatlantic slave trade. The source I read only described Madam Tinubu as a powerful Yoruba woman who sold slaves and firearms, there was no mention of her ventures in politics and the fact that those British colonials were, truth be told, scared of her.
I am not a fan of selective information. With people arguing that we should ignore Madam Tinubu’s anti-colonial efforts, I feel that now or in the future people may only know her as a slave-trading woman. It has taken me months, literally to articulate my thoughts and opinions on Madam Tinubu and the rejection of her legacy by some Nigerians. I only hope I express my ideas clearly in this post.
Firstly, how many renowned women from Yoruba history exist in the minds of Yoruba and Nigerian people today? Apparently there are only THREE of them, as I mentioned above they are Iyalode Efunsetan Aniwura, Madam Omosa and Madam Tinubu. Is there readily available information on these women? Well no, not exactly I am yet to come across substantial information on Iyalode Efunsetan and Madam Omosa. It seems the only reason we know so much about Madam Tinubu is because the British colonialist kept dossiers on her. While searching for information on Iyalode Efunsetan, the only thing I kept coming across was how her name had been maligned by someone, she had been portrayed as a ‘bad’ woman in some way. Now, people are debating whether Madam Tinubu should be acknowledged. Is it bizarre that it looks to me like this kind of treatment is specially reserved for women in Nigerian history?
Would we be debating whether or not Madam Tinubu should be acknowledged as a powerful person in Nigerian history if she were male? For a while after following the debate, I was totally confused and feeling all sorts of emotions! I started looking at other personalities in ‘pop history’, that is the sanctioned popularised history, and compiling a list of all the now morally wrong things they did in their time. For example, why is it that no one is debating whether the Dahomey empire should be studied, admired, praised the empire’s rise and decline is directly linked to the transatlantic slave trade? Or should I cease appreciating the Dahomean Amazons because of this knowledge? Would that be the ‘right’ thing to do? Nzingha of Ndongo and Matamba reportedly killed her subjects at will and kept a harem of male concubines (slaves?) yet today we appreciate her efforts against the colonising efforts of the Portuguese. The interesting thing I found is that the a lot of those men and women who fought against European colonisation of Africa had at some point or the other sold slaves to Western buyers. This apparently includes my favourite history subject from secondary school, Samori Toure.
According to a friend of mine, I should ignore the entire debate around whether Madam Tinubu was a ‘patriot’ or not, an anti-imperialist or not, because every single important West African from that period of time had a part in the slave trade. Surprisingly, Wole Soyinka has an essay on ‘Africa’s role in the transatlantic slave trade’ in which he mentions this, that is the power some Africans in that period got from trading slaves. I do not entirely agree with his essay though, anyone who says Africans sold ‘our own people’ will automatically get a side eye from me.
What I am getting at is this, is it impossible for Madam Tinubu’s efforts against the British Colonial government to be celebrated despite her dealings in the transatlantic slave trade? I am not one for redemption stories to be honest but the fact that she became an abolitionist (it is not specified whether she was dedicated to liberating slaves headed towards Europe and America or the domestic slaves she owned…this opens another can of worms). I personally don’t think we should be having the debate at all.
What I read
Tinubu Square, Central Lagos. MADAM EFUNROYE TINUBU
Denzer LaRay (1994), ‘Yoruba Women: A Historiographical Study’, The International Journal of African Historical Studies, Vol. 27, No. 1, pp. 1-39
Uche Obieri is a author who writes speculative fiction. Uche’s works are largely influenced by Nigeria in some way, mostly in names. Her short story Six and Fifty-Four is up for sale at the Amazon Kindle store for only £0.86.
Six and Fifty-Four is a “light yet satisfying sci-fi romance about Six, an android assassin forced to choose between work and something that could be love”.
I’ve been lucky enough to read Six and Fifty-Four and a few other works by Uche and I must say that I love her characters (and she writes kink so well! *sigh* Kink with Nigerian characters = awesome!)
Kindly support Uche by checking out her book, she is also offering to email free copies in any chosen format to those who want it.
If you’re interested in a free copy of Six and Fifty-Four, leave a comment below this post and I will let Uche know!
I wrote this essay immediately after watching the film Aramotu with a colleague from work, that was months ago. I delayed posting because I wanted to learn more about the gelede masks in Yoruba tradition (and I won’t lie, also because I grew distracted with other things).
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Aramotu is an amazing movie that has a lot to say not only about feminism and women’s rights among the Yoruba, but the film also manages to criticise colonialism and despotic leaders. Aramotu tells a great story and features wonderful acting that made my friend and I burst out laughing in the cinema at some of the things said that do not translate fully into English but were hilarious in Yoruba. Were I to summarise Aramotu in a sentence it would be; ‘popular uprising initiated by a woman, spread to the community through song and amplified by the supernatural forces surrounding Aramotu’s death’.
While watching the movie I kept on wondering about the gelede tradition, I finally wrote about my knowledge of gelede, which you can read here. Initially, when I learnt of gelede masquerade and how they are worn in celebration and praise of female elders, I assumed the gelede masks were worn by women. However, the truth is that gelede masquerades are men in women’s clothing, these men cross dress as women to praising womanhood and femininity, along with the ‘power’ that women hold.
Aramotu, the movie asks questions and seems to criticise the gelede and events surrounding the wearing of the gelede masks as allowing women to be praised and celebrated only within the patriarchal framework. Hence, while we have events that are supposedly in favour of women, concepts that supposedly empower women, they are actually thriving in an environment that seeks to limit and control women. As director Niji Akanni, says;
“Yoruba women from time immemorial are very hard working. They were actually the pillars of the society but being a patriarchal society, their contributions have always been underplayed, understated or even never acknowledged at all. At the same time, our myths give prominence to women. We venerate our women in myths but in actual history we tend to downplay their contributions to society, we tend to oppress them. So, that inconsistency between history and myth was what struck me about Aramotu. How can a culture venerate its women so much in myth, in stories but contemporary history tend to downplay them. Look at Moremi Ajasoro, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti and all that.
Osun, Yemoja, they were living human beings, they actually made immense contributions to the society at the period they lived but we tend to relegate those figures to mythical proportions. We never really acknowledge what they did. Even Moremi, she is known more as a mythical figure than the activist she was in her time.” Read more.
Aramotu, the eponymous character is a mother of two and a successful trader who regularly travels outside the village of Agesi to acquire goods that she sells in the marketplace. (Thus it is already clear that boundaries mean very little to her). She is married to a man, Akanmu who apparently cares for and loves her despite the taunts and jeers of his fellow men, women and family who believe that he is being cuckolded by Aramotu. He is called the ‘wife’ while Aramotu is called the ‘husband’, you can see glimpses of the way Akanmu is treated in the movie trailer (which sadly does not have English subtitles).
Aramotu is also a woodcarver, a profession that is forbidden for women to practice. Aramotu secretly carves wood usually in the middle of the night and in private room separate from the one she shares with her husband. Aramotu is centred on her craving a gelede mask to be worn by her fellow artist friend, Gbegiro for the festival in which the gelede masquerades dance during the Efe night. Aramotu is shown to be an innovative artist, she carves two faces onto her mask as opposed to the regular one face. Because of her innovation, she is chosen to become a member of the elusive yet powerful Cult of the Spider, a women’s secret society that is supposedly dangerous.
As the movie progresses, we see that things are not particularly good for women in the village. The men, spurred by the council of elders, have seized farmlands belonging to their wives so as to grow cash crops, such as banana and rubber, which they can sell to European traders. The women are distraught because they consider the farmland to be theirs to grow food on. The council of elders are only interested in generating wealth for themselves and though her husband warns her against it, Aramotu leads the women in a revolt against these self-serving ideas. Meanwhile, Aramotu’s husband grows frustrated with what he believes is his wife’s lack of submission to his authority, he takes another wife (a woman that Aramotu provides shelter for in her home due to her running away from her own home).
Along with her fellow artist friend, Gbegiro, Aramotu plans to use the gelede mask she is carving and selected songs to taunt the corrupt leaders of Agesi. She wants to use this vehicle to let encourage the leaders to do the right thing and to stop oppressing women in Agesi as Aramotu cannot openly challenge Iyalode who considers herself to be the voice of all the women in the village and represents them in the council of elders. Eventually, when it is discovered that Aramotu carves she is ostracised by her community. I found it extremely ironic, that a woman was severely punished for carving masks for a masquerade that is supposed to celebrate femininity and womanhood. I always had this image of gelede in my mind as something fascinatingly feminist in pre-colonial Yoruba culture.
While I could not see anything so abominable about Aramotu’s carving (I did not even initially understand why she crept out of bed with her husband to carve by a small flame in a secluded room), but of course society did. In the scene before Aramotu is killed for being a witch, she tells the Chief Priest that all she wanted to do was to utilise her God-given gifts, her arts to speak out on what she considered to be the ills of the Agesi society. She wanted to challenge the maltreatment of women within the community and provide a better life and education for the children. And the reply from the council of elders (all men and one woman) was, yes Aramotu’s intentions were honourable but were ultimately against tradition. She was accused of going against the Mother Earth when in only a few scenes earlier, she dreamt of the messenger from the Cult of the Spider telling her that anything she does was in line with the Mother Earth and would please Mother Earth. This raises questions, who had/has it right?
Gelede masquerades in action
Interestingly, in Aramotu after the gelede mask with two faces appears and openly calls out the council of elders for their selfish and oppressive laws, the leaders outlawed the gelede festival. Even the villagers found it strange, the festivities surrounding the gelede masquerades had never been interrupted previously. Nevertheless the leaders, removed the masquerades that placate female elders to replace them with masquerades that drive everyone indoors and can kill on sight.
I wonder if gelede could have started out like kabuki. Women using masquerades to celebrate womanhood before it became men using masquerades to celebrate womanhood, while women were sidelined within the very communities and cultures that claim to celebrate them. Of course, I could be wrong and this may all be wishful thinking.
Only certain kinds of womanhood and femininity are celebrated within a patriarchy, in the movie the character of Iyalode represents the celebrated woman. Aramotu is the woman that challenges tradition and mores, she symbolises change that the oppressive elders/leaders are scared of. On the other hand, Iyalode does not challenge anything or anyone. Iyalode is the leader of all the women in the community and she has some power as the only woman to sit in the council of elders with other men. She does not challenge her fellow power holders, she too seeks to benefit from the gains they will achieve. It is not until Aramotu is dead and her restless spirit brings omens upon the community that Iyalode is exiled from the community along with the other corrupt elders.
However in reality, when innovative people are wrongly killed there is no magic to bring justice to them and to ensure that their visions are upheld. Aramotu ended on a somewhat positive note as before Aramotu died, almost as if she knew she was going to be killed, she hid her wealth and instructed the women of Agesi to take all the fortune she had amassed in her life.
Sometimes watching a Yoruba movie feels like reading a work of speculative fiction. A lot of Nigerians I know seem to detest the ‘supernatural element’ in several Yoruba movies, in fact I came across a review of Aramotu that basically said the movie would have been great if not for the distressing inclusion of the supernatural element. I love watching Yoruba movies where things caused by magic happen and in which evil is resolved by priests of the traditional religion. Excluding the fact that movie centres around masquerades, Aramotu includes such gems as The Ritual of the Death Wish, the Cult of the Spider, the Ritual of Appeasement…I enjoyed watching the movie doubly because of things like this. The masquerades really, I didn’t know about the Oro mummers, ‘the masquerades that sometimes kill’ my colleague whispered to me in the darkness of the cinema. I mean I always thought masquerades beat and kill people but the only Yoruba masquerades I know a few things about are the gelede.
In addition, in the Malian film Taafé Fanga, there was a certain buzzing sound that announced the coming of the Albarga masquerade. This buzzing sound was also present in Aramotu and announced the coming of the Oro mummers, so that people would have ample time to run and hide in the their homes. I found this fascinating.
The acting was superb, Idiat Shonibare who played Aramotu delivered her role excellently. It was due to her acting that I found Aramotu’s character even more inspirational. Though Idiat Shonibare is apparently a newcomer, there are other faces in Aramotu that any Yoruba movie aficionado would recognise such as Ireti Osayemi-Bakare and Kayode Odumosu.
Despite my obvious love for Aramotu, I have the same old issues with this movie that I have with other Yoruba historical films that are otherwise awesome. While the special effects were nothing to write home about, they were not tragically horrible.
The clothes worn in the movie were pretty awesome. There was aso oke and some outfits made with wax print which makes sense considering the history of Dutch wax prints in West Africa. It comes as no surprise to me that Aramotu won an award in the ‘Best Costume Design’ category at the African Movie Academy Awards (AMAA). I also adored Aramotu‘s depiction of men playing ayo to pass time and to joke around. Furthermore, there was a scene in which Aramotu was using a washboard, this may seem insignificant but I think it is awesome as I believe that scene challenges the notion that everyone in pre-colonial Africa washed at the stream instead of in the convenience of their homes.
Despite the awesomeness of the costumes, I was not too pleased with the setting and also the hairstyles of the female characters in a movie that is set in Yoruba history. I am not going to get tired of bringing up this lack of creativity with natural or otherwise ‘local’ hairstyles in African historical fiction and movies, until it is resolved. At the same time, I understand that it may not be easy finding a Yoruba-speaking actress (or actresses for that matter) that have the kind of natural hair that can be styled like those old-school hairstyles in images such at the one on the right.
Click image for source
The use of wigs and hair extensions will usually solve this problem. To be honest, I would prefer even thread to the all-back and chuku they like to give female characters in the Yoruba historical movies I have seen. Igbo historical movies seems to have more creativity on this side.
The houses shown in Aramotu had corrugated iron sheet roofs…my colleague rightly said that people are still living like that today. At first I wondered if Yoruba villages in 1909 had roofs made of corrugated iron but a quick search online let me know that it was possible (corrugated galvanised iron was invented in the 1820s). While I cannot speak much on the history accuracy on this part, I can say that if houses from villages that stand today were used in shooting Aramotu I would be dissatisfied.
As a lover of most things related to African history, especially fiction and films, I long for the days that African historical movies on the level of say my favourite Korean historical dramas, Queen Seon Duk or Hwang Jin Yi, will come into existence. In those productions, it is pretty clear the amount of care that was taken into building settings and wardrobe (costume and hairstyles). Perhaps if more money was spent on Aramotu the people working behind the scenes would have produced an elaborate story, this backed with a good storyline, excellent moral message and a healthy does of magic in the ‘supernatural element’ would be awesome.
Aramotu is a film that attempts to understand the tendency to erase strong women in Yoruba history, relegating them and their contributions to myths. The film tells the story of a female woodcarver with forward thinking ideas and the price a patriarchal society forces her to pay for thinking and acting ‘out of her place’. While few issues detract from the film, overall Aramotu is a movie with a very important message.
Oh noes, you don’t say there are more African authors writing historical romance set in all corners of the continent. Be still my beating heart!
Kiru Taye is an author, she writes African historical romance. She recently revealed the cover of her upcoming debut book His Treasure (due for release in December 2011). His Treasure is ‘a historical romantic fiction set in the region now referred to as South Eastern, Nigeria or Igboland and is part of the 3-book Men of Valor mini-series’.
In a time when men ruled their households with firm hands, can a quiet man tame his rebellious wife with persevering love?
Angry at being forced to marry a man not of her choosing, Adaku stubbornly shuns her new husband on their wedding night. However, she soon discovers there are worse things than giving in to a man whose touch awakens her deep desires. In a land where fruitfulness is celebrated, she could soon be labeled a barren woman.
Obinna knows there are several ways to tame a rebellious woman. Patience and perseverance are two of them. Adaku is his treasure and he would never let her go. When her fears push her into his arms, will he be able to convince her to stay with him forever by unleashing the passion within her?
December can’t come soon enough.
I have to add that this book is not the first of its kind! Naa Shalman has written purely African romantic books set in Ghana. I don’t think it is a secret that I am a fan of Naa Shalman’s work, I really really hope I enjoy reading Kiru Taye’s series as well. Seriously though, it seems the ‘African historical romance’ is growing and this possibility makes me too happy. It is great to see that the next African historical romance I’ll be reading will be set in Igboland (maybe in the future, I’ll see one set in Yorubaland? *hehehe*)
I enjoyed reading ‘The Economics of African Slavery’ by Rizwana Monir so much that I had to share it here.
The BBC’s British History website contains a large section dedicated to the movement for the abolition of slavery. It details the efforts of British political figures and political protestors, all of whom are highlighted as champions of the movement that succeeded in enacting a ban on the slave trade in 1807. However, despite the praise that the abolitionist movement receives, the cessation of the Atlantic slave trade did nothing to restrict the flow of goods that were produced by slave labour, and thus nothing to restrict the practice of slavery itself. Read more…
Taafé Fanga is a film about a group of Dogon women who, with the power of a mask, manage to subvert gender roles in their mountainous village. Taafé Fanga has elements of comedy (which may not translate well outside a West African audience) yet, the heart of Taafé Fanga is female empowerment.
The film begins in a room crowded with children, women and men gathered round a television, watching a black and white Hollywood musical. A griot enters the room and switches off the television before taking his seat before his audience and placing his harp before him. As the griot wonders what kind of story to delight the audience with, a beautifully dressed woman enters the room and searches for a place to sit. She decides on a spot but a man stands up to tell her that women are not welcome to sit there, ‘Women and children sit over there’, he points. When the woman ignores his comment, he tries to hit her and she overpowers him to sit among the men. The griot then decides to tell the tale of a Dogon village, Yanda, where women lived as men for a while.
In the 18th century Dogon village of the griot’s tale, it is pretty clear from the onset that women are not faring well. There is unbalance between the genders and thus there is an unbalance in the world. Elderly Aunt Timbé is depressed due to her equally elderly husband, Ambara’s incoming second wife. She works hard to fetch firewood for him but he is uncaring of her old age and orders her to fetch some more wood because his bath is not hot enough. Yayemé and her daughter Kuni are relatively happy with Agro, Yayemé’s husband. Agro is willing to help out with the household chores, however this is before the other men in the village, Yanda start making fun of him for doing ‘women’s work’.
When Aunt Timbé borrows some firewood from the younger Yayemé, there is not enough wood left in Yayemé’s home but Yayemé is not bothered because she believes her husband will bring some wood on his return home. Agro returns without the firewood, he orders Aunt Timbé to return the wood she has borrowed but Yayemé refuses. I believe he hits Yayemé at this point and in a fit of anger she decides to go out to fetch more wood by her self even though night is falling and the elves and Andumbulu, the spirits roam about the plains at night.
Agro explains to Kuni that the Andumbulu are spirit ancestors of the Tellem the indigenous, cave-dwellers that originally inhabited Yanda and its surroundings. The Dogon invaded Tellem territory and engineered the Tellen Massacre though the Tellem still live on in Dogon folklore as elves who command the power of the Andumbulu spirits (masquerades).
Of course Yayemé encounters the spirits in a celebration while chopping some wood. At first she is frightened and tries to flee, when that proves futile, Yayemé manages to knock one of the spirits out. She eventually steals the mask of the spirit she wounded. I wondered why Yayemé thought to steal the mask in the first place and it struck me that while running from the spirits, Yayemé lost her skirt. As she forces the mask off the elf, she says that she ‘needs proof’ and much later on when she returns home, sneaking in by scaling the back wall, her husband beats her presumably because she returned home without her skirt (and may therefore be having an extra-marital affair). As Yayemé runs towards Yanda with the mask in her possession, she is warned that her actions will bring death and destruction to her village.
It doesn’t take Yayemé and Aunt Timbé, her confidante, long enough to know that they can use the mask’s powers to their advantage. They believe that the mask is in their possession only due to fate, and that Anma the god of justice must have seen the women of the village suffering and decided to intervene by giving them such power. Aunt Timbé convinces Yayemé that they can use the mask for good. In cooperation with some women in the village, a plot is hatched. Yayemé wears the mask and appears before the men of the village, proclaiming that she is a spirit sent by the god of justice and that men and women must trade roles. That henceforth, men must do all the activities that were previously set apart as ‘women’s work’ (cooking, cleaning, bringing water, take care of the children…all household tasks). The men are at first full of doubt that the masked person before them is truly Andumbulu, but then the masquerade points a leather and fur cane at a particularly energetic man and he drops dead. Thus, the men have no choice but to obey.
The women give the men their skirts, and they dress like men, in trousers and hats. They even take over the cave that was previously used by the men’s secret society. The women have fun lounging beneath the shades and imagining their lives as men. Soon, the tired men, frustrated at being forced to undertake tasks that they know nothing of, have to rebuff the sexual advances of their wives. The women do not seem to have similar troubles becoming hunters, bosses and enjoying their alcohol.
However, things do not remain idyllic for long. Despite their power, relations in Yanda are fraught with tension and the society remains imbalanced. The wife of the man who the whole village believes was killed by the Andumbulu is wielding a gun in her search for vengeance. Furthermore, to make matters even worse, Yayemé’s young daughter, Kuni, befriends a battered woman with backward feet who is looking for her mask.
It’s a world made by men, for men
A world full of confusion and suffering for the rest of us
In this world of uncertainty
peace and unity are empty words
Taafé Fanga follows women challenging patriarchy. There are Aunt Timbé and Yayemé mentioned above. Yayemé’s daughter, Kuni who also plays an important role as she is the person who ushers reconciliation between the men and women of the village, starting with boys and girls of her age group. I adored Kuni, she was so spunky and full of character, trading light-hearted insults with Aunt Timbé (a woman who really should be her grandmother), helping and befriending the strange woman with backward feet, using the ruse of the Andumbulu in the village to scare boys and men. In addition, there is the strange woman that Kuni saves, Yandju the Tellem.
You see, the night Yayemé encountered the ‘spirits’ they were in the middle of a celebration, the Sigi ritual held every 60 years in honour of the Andumbulu. Women, that is female Tellem, are bared from participating in and viewing such events. However Yandju does not like this tradition, so she steals the most powerful mask, Albarga the mask of social harmony and unity to attend the festival. Yandju did not foresee that the Albarga would end up being stolen but she needs to return it to her people before the mask runs out of power (and brings total destruction with it).
Thus, there are women fighting male supremacy in the Dogon village of Yanda, among the indigenous Tellem and in present day (recall the woman who decides to sit among men before the griot began his tale).
As the movie progresses and relations in the village deteriorate further, Aunt Timbé realises that it was not a good idea to encourage gender stereotypes in reverse. She confides in Yayemé saying that; ‘Men and women are here to complement each other. Let’s use our power now to bring equality among us. Let’s share everything: work, happiness and misfortune.’ Aunt Timbé envisions using the power of the mask to encourage equality and thereby irrigate the arid land they inhabit, making it fertile once more.
On the other side, the wife of the deceased man, believed to be murdered by the Andumbulu is still searching for her husband’s killer and Yandju desperately wants her mask back. Yayemé finds that her life may be in danger, as the vengeful women believe she had murdered a man. Yandju confronts her demanding that the Albarga mask be returned by Yayemé strongly refuses. To escape confrontation, she secludes herself in a hut in the outskirts of Yanda that seems to be left for menstruating women (and apparently as she is on her period, other women, including Yandju will grant her amnesty and not physically fight with her).
The Albarga mask rapidly loses it’s power and the men have discovered Yandju and they know that she is no ordinary human. Soon, the women’s ruse falls down and the men, along with the revenge-seeking women demand answers. Yayemé confesses that she was the one who wore the mask and ordered the reversal of gender roles. However, she insists that she did not kill the man who she believes died of a weak heart and in a gesture of supplication asks his widow to forgive her. Then a woman that has been heavily pregnant throughout the story goes into labour. It is up to Aunt Timbé, Yayemé and Yandju to help her while the entire village begin chanting and praying for the baby’s safe arrival.
Taafé Fanga ends with the birth of twins (a boy and a girl!) with the Albarga mask fully restored and Yandju vanishing. The men take control of the mask and with it comes the rule that no woman is to set eyes on the Andumbulu masquerade. Kuni and her mother, Yayemé watch the men retreat with the mask in their power and Kuni states; ‘It is not about power. it is about equality in our difference’.
In the modern time, the griot returns to sing, ‘Women, from the four corners of the world, fight for the right to be different and equal’. Meanwhile, back in the 18th century Dogon village of Yanda, a female griot sings; ‘We’ve experienced the taste of freedom and we will never forget! So beware!’
In conclusion, a word about the setting, I must say that while watching Taafé Fanga, I found the architecture and structure of the Yanda to be beautiful. The streets were wide, arching and maze-like. When I think of Yanda, I think ‘orderly and very clean’ contrary to the image of West African villages we see in any sort of media (even West Africa media). I guess this has to do with the geography of Dogon villages, you can see images of Dogon villages on Wikipedia.
Taafe Fanga
Forgotten Classics of Yesteryear: Taafe Fanga
California Newsreel: Taafe Fanga
Taafe Fanga/Skirt Power
Watch Taafe Fanga at The African Film Library!
