Cropping Sentiments from Sierra Leone

In “The Development of Sierra Leone Writing,” an essay [Eustace] Palmer wrote in 1975, he finds it puzzling that Sierra Leonean artists, a small crop of intellectual elite of the 1950s and 60s, did not display a strong sense of African consciousness, a trait he had discovered in the work and impulses of artists such as Chinua Achebe and Camara Laye. Because the krio community identified more with the British colonizers (in their eyes their liberators from slavery) than with the indigenes of their new country, the community, not surprisingly, produced an artistry that reflected its sentiments.
--Iyunolu Osagie, "Theater in Sierra Leone," forthcoming from Africa World Press


Today, I am proofing a collection of five popular plays from Sierra Leone, edited by Iyunolu Osagie--it's a beautiful, short volume of emotive, thought-provoking breadth.


[Photo of Freetown, Sierra Leone]

The Politics of Imagining, Subversively and Otherwise

No doubt, I remain an avid reader of the works of Bessie Head and those who critically engage her novels. See the highly academic work, _Living on a Horizon: Bessie Head and the Politics of Imagining_**, by Desiree Lewis, one of my very own authors. A fairly recent article in African Studies Review (http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa4106/is_200804/ai_n27997181/pg_1) underscores not only the subversive relevance of Bessie Head, but also the beautiful critical mind of Lewis herself.

**I've also been informed that the book has been nominated for an award in South Africa. We await even better news.

Reality, Altered Negatively

Of Hoffman, Othello, and Obama

"To my mind, Iago actually loves Othello. And it's hard not to think of Obama when you read 'Othello' now." -- Philip Seymour Hoffman in Hirschberg's New York Times Magazine article.

MOOLAADE

About a year and a half ago, while living in sleepy Hightstown, NJ, I was writing film reviews for a soon-to-be-launched website on new African media. The website never materialized, but I received four films in total, each of which I watched and then wrote about in 500-word reviews. Ousmane Sembene's Moolaade was by far the most memorable one for me, especially because the great filmmaker had died early that year in 2007. Here is the long-languishing review:

Powerful and vibrant, Ousmane Sembene’s Moolaadé brings unwavering focus to female circumcision, one of the many plights of women in Africa. Filmed in Senegal, Moolaadé reveals the harsh realties of familial conflict, as village elders are challenged repeatedly, a young man refuses to wed the eleven-year-old bride picked for him, girls drown themselves in protest, and the defiant Collé (Fatoumata Coulibaly) takes a public flogging for her stand against female circumcision. In his final, beautifully filmed masterpiece, Sembene does not fail us as usual, offering steady but moving images of daily life and ritual in a Senegalese village, and wide-ranging emotions portrayed by an impressive cast of African actors; and finally, a sobering but hopeful glimpse at the challenges ahead for African women everywhere. Moolaadé is not for the faint of heart, yet it unfolds brilliantly, responding with a clear, defiant answer to those who continue to insist on female circumcision in Africa.

Graphically Speaking

There are probably just a few times in one's life when blatant self-promotion is actually excusable -- and this tool we call the internet comes in very handy at those exhilirating moments. I'm posting the introductory part of my interview with Ivorian writer Marguerite Abouet which has recently been published in the beautifully illustrated graphic novel,Aya of Yop City. The interview itself first appeared on Wild River Review and was subsequently picked up by Canadian publisher Drawn + Quarterly for reprint in the second edition of Abouet's first work, Aya. I've already linked to it under "Some Writings" on this blog. For more, cast your eyes toward the top right corner of this virtual page.And herewith the intro to the interview:Too often, it is easier than we realize to forget the intimate details of a childhood, especially one lived thousands of miles away in a different country. As the years pass by, distance and time make fading memories more difficult to recall. Slowly, a new — and hopefully better — life takes over our days, making it even harder to remember little details. 
 
Like Marguerite Abouet, I left West Africa at an early age. And like her, I too, long to remember and write about what it was like then, for in the back of my mind West Africa is always present. It comes as no surprise to me that Abouet’s only comic book in English, Aya, is her very powerful visual and literary expression of this longing, this deep need to hold onto childhood memories filled with “unbelievable” stories about neighbors, families, friends — all in an Ivory Coast that had recently gained independence from France and was enjoying a new middle class society. 

Set in a bustling city in Ivory Coast, Aya is a witty, urban story. One, Abouet says, could have taken place anywhere in the world. She is right, in theory, for there is a universalizing force that seems to drive Marguerite Abouet, the writer. 

So come along and let her show you why, and literally through pictures, how, just as they might do in Europe or America, young girls sneak out to meet guys at night — or go to a party and flirt with the most attractive guy there. This is no different worldwide, really. 

And yet,Aya is also an urban story that takes place, specifically, in Ivory Coast — a country which now experiences what many other African countries have faced after decades of colonial rule: political corruption, disease, civil strife, and staggering poverty. 

Days after I finished this interview with Abouet, I realized that in it I had brought attention to the current harsh realities for Africans in Ivory Coast, and for those who migrated to Europe. Perhaps, as someone who was raised in Africa, I felt I had to... and it was the responsible thing to do. Perhaps it may always remain so; I don’t know. Thankfully, Abouet was generous and warm in her response to my questions, always unapologetically reaching for honesty in her own reflections. 

At a panel discussion at the PEN World Voices Festival in New York City, Abouet spoke of how she often feels a certain responsibility as an African writer because she wrote the book Aya. It was unclear to me whether this feeling of responsibility, like mine, had everything to do with addressing the current crisis in many parts of Africa. But I secretly wished it didn’t, and that part of it also meant continuously drawing attention to the universal and relatable aspects of Africa, which Abouet has indeed successfully done in her engaging work, Aya — and in her interview with me.

Worl' Do For Fraid

Over the past few months, I have had the fortune of working closely with the brilliant Sierra Leonean playwright, Nabie Yayah Swaray, on his play, The Rape of Fatimah, which was published in the 80s as Worl' Do For Fraid. It isn't often that the press publishes plays because they are rather hard to market unless performance is somewhat guaranteed. The last play I worked on, as editor, was by Rashidah Ismail back in 2004, I believe, and it was called The Ricekeepers.  As I contemplate both plays, I must say that they are different in several ways. Yet they both deftly explore aspects of the sad demise of Africa's societal cohesion with some powerful and accessible metaphors. If you are inclined, do pick up a copy of one of the plays, if only to engage, via a different literary form, the minutia of the "African condition" as we know it even today--and as it is legitimately explored through the past in these two plays.

*Of course, all books that I have worked on can be purchased through Africa World Press at www.africaworldpressbooks.com.