Tags
Africa, African Music, Ancient religions, being black, black, Culture, Deities, Gods and Goddesses, Mythology, Nigeria, Religion, Roots, Stories, Yoruba
I wanted to make a different type of post today. Firstly, I apologize again for not blogging in recent times, though I doubt I have any followers of any sort, haha…but just in case, I apologize. Now that that’s out of the way, we can move on to today’s topic: Getting in Touch With My Roots.
In case it wasn’t obvious until now, I’m black…not just that, I’m African. I was born in Nigeria and grew up there until I was 8 years old before moving abroad. Leaving Nigeria at such a young age made me miss out on a significant part of my culture, my homeland, and the richness of traditions and cultures in Nigeria. When you’re young, you see things from a different perspective than when you’re older…you have this sort of ignorance.
When I was younger and in Nigeria, I never realized how diverse the city I grew up in was. I grew up in Lagos, and in Lagos, there are roughly 18 million people. Nigeria isn’t a country like other countries in that: we don’t all speak the same language (our national language is English because we were colonized by the British but there are over 400 languages and dialects in Nigeria alone), we don’t all have the same culture or traditions, Northern Nigeria is vastly different from Southern Nigeria, Eastern Nigeria, or Western Nigeria (the Northern part of Nigeria was colonized by the Arabs, so there, they speak and write in Arabic and the majority of the people are Muslims), we don’t all eat the same foods (there are staples that we all eat such as: rice, garri/fufu, chicken…etc, but we all have our own cultural foods and soups and depending on the area you go to, some people won’t even eat certain types of foods), Each state or area is pretty much like it’s own country in that their values, languages, and culture may be different…and this list can go on.
As a child, I thought the whole of Nigeria basically revolved around Lagos, the most populous city. I thought that there were only three main ethnic languages: Yoruba, Igbo, and Hausa. I thought all other languages were just spoken by a minority (like 300 people or so). I didn’t understand the huge tribalistic and ethnocentric views that many Nigerians have (thinking that their tribe is better and other tribes are barbaians…to the point where many Nigerians won’t do business with people of certain tribes, won’t allow their children to date or marry people from certain tribes, will fill their children’s heads with lies, propaganda, and stereotypes about other tribes, will be happy when something bad happens to other tribes…etc). I was so ignorant that I generally thought that everyone got along…aside from the extreme corruption and abject poverty in the country. I thought bad things happened in Nigeria just because of bad people, not because of the distrust and corrupted views that are ingrained in children from youth.
When I moved abroad, I pretty much tried to dissociate myself from my roots. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be white. When I first moved abroad, people made fun of me in school every day because of my accent…even to the point of them physically bullying me and throwing stuff at me. I immediately tried to lose my accent. In elementary school, I packed my own lunches. At home, we ate lots of Nigerian food…we basically ate Nigerian food every day but my mom would make Western foods for us when she was busy…such as: Kraft Dinner, spaghetti, boiled hot dogs, baked burgers, steak…etc. I would never pack any of the traditional food my mom made. Instead I would pack hot dogs, baked burgers…etc. One time, when my mom stopped buying those things for a while, I even resorted to packing sandwiches made of 2 slices of whole wheat bread, 2 leaves of lettuce, and a tiny bit of butter (so nutritious…NOT), all so I wouldn’t have to pack African food to school.
I was ashamed of my culture. I hated it when my mom called me by my full name in public or tried to speak to me in Yoruba or Delta in public. I wanted to change my name to a white name like Jessica. I tried so hard to be white, even to the extent of pinching my nose every morning so it would be thinner. In Nigeria, my parents generally spoke to us in English because they wanted English to be our native language. I really appreciated that a lot, back then…but now, I wish I had insisted on learning my languages. My parents were even so gracious as to change their accents and adopt Western accents whenever we were in public. Other than when they say certain words, you would think my parents were born and raised abroad. My dad is Yoruba from Ondo State and my mother is from Delta state. I can’t speak either of these languages. I can understand Yoruba to an advanced level but I have a lot of problem speaking. Lately, I’ve been trying to learn and practice speaking.
This was my life…but there are other people who, when they moved abroad, were not ashamed. They spoke in their cultural languages at home and in public. They let their parents speak in their accents and show off their culture without being embarrassed or ashamed. I, unfortunately, was not one of those people…and it isn’t until now that I am trying to learn more about: my roots, where I’m from, my people, my history, my culture…and everything else.
When I started making friends from other cultures, and from my culture, who weren’t ashamed and fully embraced their culture…even shared it with other people…I began to feel like I was missing something and I also wanted to learn more about myself. Now I realize how important culture, traditions, and your home is. You should never forget where you are from. You should never forget your roots. When I grow up and have my own children, I want to be able to teach them my language, teach them my roots…not just the random stuff but the history, the origin of everything before colonization, I want to teach them how to cook and eat our foods, I want to teach them our dances and tell them the stories that my dad told me in my youth…I want to teach them the oral tradition of passing information through stories like it has been done for generations. I don’t even care if my children aren’t full Nigerian…even if they are half German, half French, half Congolese, half Egyptian, half Chinese…etc, they must learn about both cultures.
So now, I will start by posting about the deities of Yorubaland. This piece of art was done by James C. Lewis. It should be noted that these religions are STILL practiced in the Yoruba parts of Nigeria, Benin, Brazil, and by many in the USA. It should also be noted that these are beautiful renderings, but hollow reflections of the reality of this religion. The Yoruba deities are called Orishas. These photos lack the appropriate Yoruba interpretation. These smooth Vogue magazine style photos are pretty, but are rather vapid when compared to the faces of the Orisha found in nature: a flowing river, the whirlwind, the flash of lightening , the calm and raging seas,a well-turned field, the deepest forest a high mountain and more.
These are just to give you an idea. I’ll be posting 4 every day