Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Of Knee Injuries and Clogged Minds

I woke up today, as usual, by putting down my right leg first. By so doing, it enables me generate enough strength to land the left one and stand upright. Since I tore my knee tissues playing football on that fated Saturday, this has been the routine. Sometimes, it is hard not to feel like a handicap. Why do I always have to stand from bed with my right leg? Why is this always the first thing on my mind the moment I open my eyes? Well, it’s been an incredible journey. The recovery process. It has come with lots of self-introspection. Sometimes, tinged with snippets of sadness.

The first two days after I had the injury, I was fighting to keep myself from stubborn worries. I worried a lot. I worried about what the scan result would be? Had I ruptured my cruciate ligament? Has the knee cap shifted? Is there a fracture? I was in so much pain that I could barely sleep at night. So I was convinced that one of the three possibilities may be true. But even more worse for me was the thought of being treated in Nigeria. I had already began to consider, just maybe, I may have to go abroad for treatment if something indeed had gone wrong with the bone. I knew our hospitals too well. There were risks you just didn't want to take. 

Luckily, the scan revealed that the joints were in their normal positon, but there was swelling on the knee tissues. Incidentally, just a day after the scan, I got an email from a lady at the ECOWAS Building in Asokoro. She seemed enthused to speak with me. She said she stumbled on one of my articles online. According to her, she was in love with my writing. “I like the fact that it was analytical without being pretentious. Well researched, without being overly academic.” Those were her words, and it had me swooning all over the place. I had even began to imagine a beautiful young face behind the voice. I know. Men. We are all the same.

 And then I remembered my knee. I needed to meet with her the next day, and I couldn’t even stand properly erect. I normally walk majestically. Unconsciously though. But now I no longer had that walking touch. I prayed for a miracle. To make full recovery overnight. But when I woke up the next morning, my knee was still how it was. Crocked, stiff, hurting and fragile. The anti-inflammatory tablets eased up the pain, and the stiffness around the knee. But the side effects scared me a great deal. So I stopped them as soon as I can. But then the knee grew quite stiff again, like it was the first day after the injury. I just stopped them anyway.

“How are you?” She asked, walking me into her office.
I'm fine. But I could be better.”

I had mustered the courage to try to walk erect, in my satin-breasted suit, and in high spirit. But I couldn’t stop myself from limping in intervals. So I had to announce that I sustained an injury over the weekend, just to make it known, I did not usually walk like that. It was easy. She saw the humour in all of it. An incredibly brilliant, just didn't turn out as good-looking as I had imagined the whole time. So we just talked business and I went home.

It’s now four months since the injury. I feel better, but very unfit. I've had to manage my diet religiously. I've had two months of physiotherapy, which has come with a financial burden I’d have love to avoid. But the psychological cost has been the most overwhelming. I've had to really understand why professional sports teams provide therapist for their injured athletes. Lots of things go through your head when you have a long term injury. Anger. Regrets. Depression. Acceptance. You are angry about the game, about the sports, about whoever made you sustain the injury, about why bones crack, why joints shift, why tissues tear. You regret ever playing football, you regret playing on that very day, and you regret ever loving the game. You have a hard time keeping yourself from sadness. You tell yourself you’ll never play football again. But if you are strong enough, you end up accepting the situation. You take a deep breathe, and stop kicking yourself.

At some point, I felt I needed a therapist. I wasn't depressed or anything of that sort. Running was just an important part of my life that I lost. I just missed it and it was hard to take. It helped me unwind my mind. It helps me ease off. To feel light, in both body and soul. And not being able to run meant that I had a lot of shit clogging up space in my mind. In my head. I felt I needed to share. To say stuffs to people. To someone. But it’s not me. Its not part of me to share issues carelessly. I guess sometimes, you just can’t help it.


Till next time.

Sunday, 1 September 2013

NOLLYWOOD AND THE TELEVISUAL IMAGE OF NIGERIA

Maverick Nollywood actor, Mike Ezuronye was driving alone one day, when suddenly a car double-crossed him. On pulling over he was met with a hot slap by an aged woman who kept shouting ‘How can you treat Chioma Chukwuka like that? Who taught you that as element of marriage?’ Within moments, the spectacle had drawn nearby motorists, who busted into delirious laughter when they discovered that the only reason this woman was furious had to do with the actor’s role in a movie – ‘Moment of Truth’.[1] This incidence exemplifies the extent to which Nollywood films permeates the life and psyche of Nigerians and Africans in general. Suffice it also to say: if Nollywood actress Patience Ozokowor (a.k.a Mama Gee) earns 1 dollar each time viewers call her “evil woman”, or “witch”, she’ll be Africa’s richest person. These denigrating pseudonyms however are not always passive adjectives to denote her movie role, but actually, an expression of real feelings of disgust from the viewer towards the person of Patience Ozokwor.
Nollywood needs very little introduction. It is the second largest film industry in the world, worth an estimated sum of 500 million USD with an annual output of over 1,200 films. In terms of quality, the industry is a paradox, in the sense that, on the one hand, it produces internationally acclaimed movies like Ije, The Mirrow Boy, etc. that are aired in cinemas worldwide, and on the other hand, it is also an industry where films are shot in a space of  4 – 5 days, and often of an agonizing quality. Nollywood films are sold locally between 75 cents – 1 USD. For all its flaws, however, Nollywood remains hugely popular in Nigeria, across Africa, the diasporan population in Europe and America, as well as in the Caribbean.
This essay, first, aims to contextualize the role of Nollywood as a televisual disseminator and exporter of Nigerian realities, be they historical, social or political. It holds that while Nollywood cannot be blamed for using film as a medium of broadcasting the nuances and contradictions of the Nigerian society to its local and international audience, the industry underplays its responsibility to create movies or invent realities that are rooted in positivism. That is, Nollywood largely ignores its role in using film as a tool for constructing positive ideologies (patriotism, nationalism, ethno-religious tolerance, moral virtues, honesty, etc.) that would somehow restore pride locally, and admiration – internationally.
Frankly, while one cannot hold the movie industry accountable for scripting the social ills within its society, one should also not forget that Nollywood creates imaginary realities, often, dark and negative ones, and in this vein becomes a mass medium of exporting a toxic televisual image of Nigeria.
The role of films as a mechanism where people form notions of other cultures and people has already being scientifically proven. John Friske, in his theories of televisual realism noted that television does not represent reality. Instead, television reproduces a dominant sense of reality. For this reason, we can therefore call television an essential realistic medium because of its ability to carry a social convincing sense of the real.[2]  Research in audience studies, psychology, neuroscience and cognitive theory, has shown how films are used to prop up, project or entrench ideologies and ideals that have cultural, social and political consequences. For example, it was reported by the US Navy that after the release of the film ‘Top Gun’ in 1986 (a movie that systematically painted the glory of the U.S Military, against the backdrop of the Vietnam debacle), the number of young men who enlisted - wanting to be Navy aviators, went up by 500 percent.[3]
Nollywood suffers a myriad of problems, the most profound of it being that it is an industry where everything seems to be driven by profit, so much so that it hampers any chance of critical thinking, any chance of imagining or gravitating towards the production of films that are infused with positive ideological undertones or emancipatory ideals. What we’ve seen rather, are a barrage of film-makers driven not by the passion for art but by the greed of its proceed, churning out half-baked movies that sometimes come out tasteless, incomprehensible, and having all the making of a painful watching experience. Often, the plots are weak and hardly sustained, the sound of generators echo in the background, and picture quality are at best, average. The cinematic presentations are mostly below par – almost to a point of amusement, and the narratives concentrates primarily on all the negativities of our society. For the sake of this essay, I focus only on the latest part, the narratives.
For example, the average Nigerian politician according to Nollywood belongs to an occultic brotherhood where he has sworn an oath of perpetual allegiance to the devil in exchange for power.  The average Nigerian girl, according to Nollywood sleeps with men for money, to satisfy her cravings for ostentatious fashion and flamboyance. The average Nigerian village boy in Nollywood only dreams of going to Lagos and return to his village a rich man – ready for a chieftaincy title. The average Nigerian Mother-in-Law, according to Nollywood is a home wrecker as she never gets along with her son’s wife. The average Nigerian rich man, according to Nollywood is a domestic emperor, who orders his stewards like a slave-master would order a slave. The average Nigerian professor, in Nollywood, has an overgrown grey hair, and is only able to see by the help of his medicated glasses. A televisual personification which makes you wonder if to be a professor in Nigeria, one ought to have been old enough to lose their sight. These negative binaries, overtime, have somehow formed a commonsensical understanding of how we view ourselves locally, and how we are viewed regionally and globally.
Worse still, the Nollywood narrative of a witch doctor evoking and sending a thunder that is only visible to the person about to be killed has become a common fixation, creating a false reality where foreign viewers conceive of this idea as highly palpable, when it is in fact, an anomaly. I wonder how many Nigerians had ever seen where reddish thunder strikes people dead in the market-place at noon, deep in dry season. These are Nollywood inventions that only leave outside viewers at best – shocked, and at worse - frightened. This may well have an entertainment value, but not without its doses of frivolity. What is more, foreigners who are yet to visit the country begin to form an understanding of Nigeria in line with these contemptible narratives. During my time in Europe, when I conversed with other Africans from Uganda, Tanzania, Ghana, Cameroon, Sierra Leone, etc, it was obvious to see their deep seated admiration for Nigeria, but which is often smeared by what they think is on the other hand, an insecure country where voodoo-induced deaths runs amok; a situation that scare them in no small measure.  
There is also the Nollywood narrative of Europe and America as a land that offers riches in superfluous measure. This narrative turns out to impact on the one hand, expectations of those going abroad, and on the other hand - their families, friends, and community that awaits their return. What Nollywood continues to underplay however, is that for most, these dreams are never realized, because, the traveler soon comes to tell the difference between the harsh realities of Europe and a scripted movie. Nollywood seem to gloss over the fact that there are thousands (if not millions) of Nigerians whom both the American and European dreams have failed, and the only thing standing between them and a return back home is shame. The shame of having a whole community feeling you’ve let them down, that you have failed to come back with the customary Nollywood exotic cars, without the customary 8 to 10 bags loaded with goodies from abroad, and even for some, the disappointment that you did not, just like in Nollywood, come back with an ‘oyibo’ woman. Bringing the problem home, the Nollywood narrative of Lagos as a beacon of hope for all aspiring Nigerians who intend to earn a decent living outside their own states, also ignores the realities of those whom the Lagos dream had failed, together with the level of destitution associated with this alternate reality.
Art, it is said, mirrors society. While it is plausible to argue that Nollywood is primarily an entertainment industry, it would be wrong to ignore the extent to which it not only draws from the Nigerian realities to do this but creates other realities that are either excessively exaggerated or categorically alien to our society. To make the argument that the industry indulges in innocent representation of characters and narratives that are restricted to the realm of entertainment, would be at best simplistic, and at worse, fallacious. There is a need to appreciate more, the fact that, the hostility, fears, and doubts that other African citizens express towards Nigerians are partly rooted in their televisual conception of us, a televisual conception which our film industry offers them.
Nollywood needs to go beyond its disparaging presentation of the Nigerian society. It needs to recognize it has a responsibility to conceive a positive imagination for the country, as well as balance the denigrating narratives which has for most part become its obsession. It is true that social problems like internet fraud (yahoo-yahoo), secret societies, money rituals, political assassinations, hedonism, etc. are realities of the Nigerian society, but these are certainly not the only realities identifiable and there is a need for Nollywood to take upon itself the task of filming the positive sides to us. It has to start drawing from the positive realities of the country, its military heroism, the individual strength of its citizens to persevere in trying times, our historical diplomacy, and the defining moments in our history where people had stood up for justice, and at one time or place - transformed state-society relations. Other African countries, or in fact, the world at large should be given an opportunity to imagine Nigeria beyond the spectrum of its depravity; beyond its bloodshed, beyond its criminality, beyond its insecurities, and beyond black magic and voodoo practices.
In 2009, Prof. Dora Akunyili – as the minister of information, embarked on a rebranding project, where millions of our petro-dollars were laid to waste. An advertisement was paid for in CNN, with the aim of announcing to the world that Nigeria is a ‘Great nation’ of ‘Good People’. Unsurprisingly, this project became one of those characteristic white elephant projects that are often dead on arrival due to lack of a viable mechanism of appropriate implementation. A quarter of that money would have been enough, considering the wide reach of Nollywood, to support the industry – specifically for the aim of producing ground breaking films that would cast the country in good light; positively impacting on the minds of its local population and its international viewers respectively.
To be clear about the sort of televisual trajectory I argue that Nollywood should take, let us consider, for example, the person of Nnamdi Azikiwe. This renowned Nigerian returned from his studies in the U.S in 1934, settled in the gold coast (modern day Ghana), and became the African Morning Post Newspaper where he vigorously promoted a pan-African nationalist and decolonization agenda. A man whose political activism and pan-African ideas went on to mentally mobilize the entire continent towards independence, raising disciples like Kwame Nkrumah who turned out to be one of the greatest Africans as well. Would it be too much to expect that Nollywood made a film chronicling the political heroism of this great African of Nigerian stock?
In 1997, Nigerian soldiers operating under the auspices of ECOMOG forces were sent to Sierra Leone on a peace enforcing mission, they restored the country's ousted president Tejan Kabbah to power, and ended at the time, a vicious wave of violence in that country. Would it be too much to expect that Nollywood chronicle the military heroism of the Nigerian soldiers, and the commitment of Nigeria in ending armed conflicts in the continent?
Let us also consider, for example, the internationally acclaimed artist - Innocent ‘2face’ Idbia; the Nigerian darling of the continent and the world, a person whose talent and humility has added a positive beam on the country’s map. It is true that his personal life (having 5 children by 3 different mothers) had come under criticism, but besides this, he remains an embodiment of that Nigerian spirit; of hard work, grit, perseverance, humility and happiness. It certainly wouldn’t be too much to expect that Nollywood made a film detailing the life of this remarkable Nigerian – from his humble beginning to his elevated status. This would promote once again, among young Nigerians and Africans, the rewards and importance of never giving up on ones dreams.
The often cited impediment to projects of this magnitude has been that Nollywood lacks the budget and the federal government has been unable to offer financial backing. Of course, this is a fair point and a justifiable limitation to the industry’s capabilities. The American film industry – Hollywood, irrespective of its size are in some cases supported by the pentagon, in terms of finance, military hardware, and uniforms, to produce films that cast the country in good light. And there is a need for our government to do the same at home. In this way, a symbiotic relationship between Nollywood and Nigerian government can be established, of which the country’s image would be the greatest benefactor. Though recently, reports have surfaced that the Nigerian government gave Nollywood 3 billion Naira. Sadly, further reports suggest that this grant appears to have only succeeded in creating a controversy over who the appropriate custodians within the Nollywood leadership should be. It seems also, that the utilization of this grant would again be fraught with the Nigerian factor; possibly ending up in private pockets and render to waste the entire aim of the grant.
The point bears repeating however, that Nollywood can play a pivotal role in engineering through film, socio-political ideologies which include but not restricted to, patriotism, of hard work, of personal advancement by legitimate means. If we cannot do this, we may as well be satisfied with whatever the world makes of us. It is our duty to allow our films to reflect us beyond known negative labels. It is our responsibility to beam – beyond our borders, the positive side of us as a people and a country. And to do this – there’s no better starting point than Nollywood.
Art has a duty to transform society positively, not just by highlighting the wrongs and imperfections of that society but also by acknowledging the positive vestiges within its borders. Else, it becomes an exclusive force for entertainment, wealth acquisition, fear-mongering and other degenerative forms of banal fantasies.
 Mitterand Okorie (afro_hero@hotmail.com)

References:
     2. John Friske, ‘Television Culture’ (London: Routledge, 1987), p. 24
     3. Robb David, (2004) ‘Operation Hollywood: How the Pentagon Shapes and Censors the Movies’, (New York: Prometheus Books), p. 182

Thursday, 4 July 2013

CANCER













They had told me of her condition,
But her condition was beyond telling,
I paid a visit, nervous at the sound
Of my own feet,
Trembling at the beating
Of my own heart,
Unable to imagine what I would see

But then, I saw what I saw,
I saw why she took her daughter away
Saving her from the sight of a dying mother
Oh, even as death fangs approach,
A mother’s love radiates,
I had broken down in tears,
I told her, yes – I agree with you
This is hard enough for men,
It is no place for a four year old kid.

Hair, shaved – beyond recognition,
Empty stairs of teary eyes
Well rounded breast, rendered useless
Flattened by sickness, pain and sorrow
A once beautiful woman, lay stricken
Paralyzed, from spine to brain
And the cancer festers, lingers,
With no hope of ever going away,


 THE STORY
.................................................

An Indian poet (name forgotten) dropped a comment on a certain poem of mine. He said “Mitterand, you seem to always try to intelligently paint a picture of sadness”. Of course, his point was that poetry should always be used to paint pictures of beauty. I didn’t agree with him, but in practice I began to be more positive with poetry. Unfortunately, life is not only about beauty, and I wish I didn’t have to write about sadness. But that is what I won’t do, I will refuse to forget that sadness is real, and that poetry can actually be the only way out of such depressing thoughts. I find it funny, not even ironic; that when I’m sad I write poems – sad poems – and then the sadness starts going away. I call it poeterapy!

Sunday, 30 June, I visited a family friend. I knew she had breast cancer but was shocked how her situation deteriorated so fast. A combination of bad treatment and bad luck meant that she was soon condemned to a state of paralysis – unable to move any part of her body by her own self. The moment I walked into her home, saw her lying on the couch – comforted by her mother, my head began to hurt, I had never in my life found myself consumed by such depression – devastating and holistic. I asked her about her beautiful four years old daughter, she told me, she was at a friend’s. Oh a mother’s love!

3 months ago, a teenage child of a very rich man had molested the little girl. Soon enough, the girl confided in her mother and let her know. On the day she went to the house of the boy’s father, the man wasn’t around, and the teenage boy had returned to boarding school. Yet, this man, on getting home to the story, refused to call or seek out the woman who had come to her house earlier in the day. After a week, she told me she was going to call the police, I told her: ‘No, I have a lawyer friend who can serve the rich fool and his pernicious son the court documents, and in case you were bordered about the legal fees: don’t worry, I’ll sort it out with him’. She refused, she wanted immediate solutions. In Nigeria, the police is often faster in delivering justice than the court, even though serving justice is by no means a police duty. Suffice it to say that during this period she was overdosing on some energy drugs to be able to go through all those stress as a cancer patient, drugs, I heard, were responsible for her situation getting so speedily bad. She told me, ‘Mitte, don’t worry about me, Cynthia is my daughter. I know I have cancer, but I am not dying, please allow me handle it my way.’ 

I was so touched at this woman’s level of determination, and true to her word, she made the rich man come begging, embarrassed at the deeds of his mischievous son. Remembering all these made it even more difficult to believe she’s lying helpless on the couch; eyes full of emptiness, breathing through a heart were hope doesn’t live anymore. At least, she was strong, for her daughter, for herself. She stood her ground, from the slab of her lowly place, she pulled down a rich goon from his high horse, humanity will remember her as a woman who confronted evil, and prevailed. Maybe in time, death will prevail over her, but I will, we will remember, that a fearless woman was once here, and no amount of cancer can take that away.


I left, drove off – with this entire episode echoing in my head, holding back tears and emotions. I couldn’t afford to lose control on such busy motorway, but I was sure that emotionally, I was about to have a bad week. Writing was this was the only way out.

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

The Mask of Modernity: New Slaves, Corporate Dictators

Look at the picture, and ask yourself - "is this man?", "are we in slave-trade era or in an era of modernity?"
These are technical crews of the German construction company Julius Berger in Lagos - Nigeria being transported to work. The location of this crime - (yes I call it criminal) is of no essence to me, as it wouldn't be any less despicable if it occurred anywhere else in the world. The point is that these workers have been robbed off their humanity in exchange for food on their table. These wokers cannot request for better working condition, because in a country with 70% unemployed, they consider themselves lucky to have a job. They are driven to a pathetic job each morning in a pathetic car, dying to live in a pathetic world. In UK and Europe, this type of car cannot be allowed to transport cows, goats, cattle, or livestock of any sort. If it does, the animal would no longer be deemed edible. But here we are, humans, stacked in a cage like zoo animals – conveyed to work and back in such squalid conditions. Between a European cow and an African man, which is more dignified? Now, tell me that Julius Berger uses such cages to transport workers anywhere else in the world, certainly not! 

Meanwhile, if you stop that cage-bus and inform the workers that these conditions of work are unacceptable, they’ll sneer at you, scold you, tell you how it took them months, some even years to find the job, and since you have no job for them, why should they take your advice to protest and risk a sack by their slave-master employer? And then you’ll just shake your head, walk away, tails between your legs, like the biblical prophet who was rejected by his people.
Of course, you have no new job to give them, and it is difficult if not absolutely impossible to teach a hungry man about his rights when his mind is tightly glued to his next meal. And then the slave-master economy continues, unabated, embedded, structurally entrenched in a system that was corrupted from the start, and strengthened with greed, recklessness and more greed.

Julius Berger, one of the corporate oligarchs operating in Nigeria find neither shame nor repulsion in the squalid conditions it transports it’s technical crews for work, of course, they know that the ‘caged-animals’ would never quit. And they will never quit, precisely because they are like an egg cornered by stones – each direction they roll, they get broken. None of the choices are good, none at all, you are only left to choose which of the choices are least worse in nature.  

This is essentially the same reason why Pilipino women continue to go to Saudi Arabia to work as housemaids despite uncountable stories of other women who report to being treated as slaves, owed salaries, and in some cases raped by their male employers over there. These women, despite well documented dangers, continue to queue up at the trafficking line, for a chance to be a housemaid under such difficult and unenviable conditions. Certainly, reports that 45 housemaids in the country are on the death row awaiting execution are not enough to deter them. You cannot tell them not to go, they will spit at you. But you can’t blame them, some have children to feed back home, so idleness is hardly an option, none of the choices are good.  

On the 24th of April, a sweatshop building collapsed in Bangladesh – killing 1,127 people. Investigations uncovered that the building did not have the capacity to take the three more decks that were added to it. In essence, corporate greed had risked the lives of people in the vein of seeking more profit. Also suffice it to say that workers in the factory earn only a paltry sum of $40 for a whole month.* Again, if you tell them to quit the sweatshop, they will swear at you, for daring to ask them to leave the only source of livelihood they know for some idealistic rights that won’t put food on the table. Of course, you can’t blame them, none of the choices are good, and the promise of food on the table came to offer only sweat, death and sorrow.

It does seem that our inclination to reach out and do whatever brings in the money is in some way, preventing us from imagining a better world for ourselves or for generations to come. People will do anything for a meal, to attain wealth, to buy happiness. The lie that happiness is in itself a buy-able commodity has driven humans into a frightening and irrational chase of riches, playing straight into the hands of modern slave-masters (corporate dictator and plutocrats), oiling their greed and dying from their depression pills. It happens to the uneducated maid in Saudi Arabia as well as the educated construction (Julius Berger) worker in Lagos who actually has a degree in Law. It happens to us all, because we think none of the choices are good, and that a better world is not imaginable. It is convenient to live this way, to bury one’s head in sand and stir in a river of illusion, but we can never escape the fact that there are consequences. When we bury head in sand, and accept to work under every despicable circumstance for a meal ticket, we are dying to live, and not living at all.

*References