I cannot say that everything everyone told me from the State Department which encouraged me to go anywhere but Nigeria to friends who had been there was not true. All I can say is that I had a charmed, blessed walk with a chief and Babaloa, Ifasola. The younger of the Ifasola brothers, he nonetheless had power which with my own, meant that we were untouchable (smile).
Though I fell in holes like those crypts which covered and buried alive my ancestors, suffered whiplash as drivers hit us not once but twice as we laughed as Yoruba drivers did a mock beg-dance for other drivers to let them pass . . . the journey to Oshogbo would have been enough, but then we add Ile Ife and Benin City and Ile Ife again and Oshogbo again, not to mention Bagdary, the port where Africans were held. The story of an enslaved man who returned from captivity and others was amazing. Then to meet a decedent of this ancestor was truly living history. We arrived too late to go to the island on the canoe or see all of the galleries in the museum.
It was like this a lot. Traffic meant the driving time would take longer than the excursion. We were lucky often and ended up making the last tour, but not this time. The next day, it poured so we did not return. So on International Children's Day, when a lady in charge told us we could not come into the National Gallery without an invitation, to come back the following day, I knew that was not happening. We did not have time to back track since as I said, traffic was the larger monster haunting our footsteps. We fed the monster time, gas, humor . . . but he was not appeased.
On our way back from Oshogbo we stopped at Abeokuta, a big rock city. I reminded me of Zimbabwe-- mysteriously magnificent.
Climbing Abeokuta to honor the ancestors and the deities of the rock mountains as we looked out on the town. I dared myself to climb the mountain. It was worth the effort, but I am happy the guides helped me up. I had on my new Keen hiking boots-- yes this is a commercial. Light and sturdy, I highly recommend these shoes. I have pair of sandals which are comfortable and waterproof. I bought the sandals a couple hears ago for Ghana.
The government put in a rail and a lift people can take (when it is working) up to the top. There are sacred places there which are off limits to visitors. I really appreciate the incorporation of African spirituality into everything-- everything is not for sale. This is something absent in American tourist sites-- we are not invited to offer a prayer, told stories of deities who live there. Of course such stories exist-- Mount Tamapalis has a mythical story-- how often do we think about it though when we look beyond the Golden Gate or Alcatraz? Mount Diablo . . . everywhere we look there is a story, there is a sacred lineage we interrupt with our building and pillage and plunder.
What is also cool is that the people, the villagers know these stories-- the spirit tales, whether they are the 221 or so orisa that reside in Ile Ife or Osun's Oshogbo. Orunmila, the pious man who received the Odu, the Ifa stories and liturgy planted the a coconut seed from which grew the Sacred Coconut Tree. Yes, the tree Wolf Hawk Jaguar tells us about in his film. On the eve of the New Year, worshipers make the pilgrimage to the sacred city to make prayers at the 221 pots for the orisa. Kola nuts are read under the tree. People drink from the sacred well- an ocean that never dries up.
It is serious soul work-- Africans are concerned about how this life affects what is to come. We know there is only a veil separating the two.
I got a chance to visit two palaces-- the one in Ile Ife and Benin City. Next time I want to meet the Oni or King (smile).
A highlight was visit the Ifa Indigenous Temple in Lagos when the children led the service. It was impressive. Araba Agboola said that the youth who delivered the talk used his mannerisms. The girls led the choir and danced, while other boys played acoustic drums and traps.
Another highlight was hanging out in Osun Grove with the orisa-- they all have shrines there. I learned that most of the orisa have a corresponding town and river. When the white colonizers redrew the borders, several 1-deity towns became multiple deity towns.
Nigeria is quite different from Ghana. Different energy entirely. However one aspect of African culture that is a constant between countries is the connection to spirit. There are churches and mosques on every corner. You can even catch religious shows on the radio--including Islamic rap music on Yoruba and Hausa TV.
In Nigeria, the colonial influence is seen in the intolerance for Ifa. There are prayer rooms at the airport for Muslims, yet indigenous spirituality is frowned on. Many Nigerians practice Islam or Christianity and Ifa.
In Ghana, Christianity seems to have swallowed residents whole and whoever was left is Muslim. I am kidding but indigenous spirituality is not as visible. I have not gotten to visit the country in either place yet, which gives a visitor an entirely different spin on a culture. Cities do not vary much from country to country. All cities look like New York, San Francisco, or LA. The former French colonies have a French flavor. Similarly, the English colonies look a bit like Boston (smile). However, when one leaves the city, this is an opportunity to see original architecture and unblemished artistry. Mali and Ethiopia was most impressive in the presence still of historic architecture.
I am not certain why the education is not up to standard or why graduates feel such is the case. Buildings in Lagos Village rival the skyscapers in downtown San Francisco.
I couldn't get over the KFC franchises attached to the more upscale malls. I didn't get to visit a mall in either country. Traffic was so horrific; it was do we get into it now and arrive a bit earlier or later. Also, the concentration driving meant for Ifasola was mentally taxing. I would not even attempt to drive anywhere in the Lagos suburban area.
Though I fell in holes like those crypts which covered and buried alive my ancestors, suffered whiplash as drivers hit us not once but twice as we laughed as Yoruba drivers did a mock beg-dance for other drivers to let them pass . . . the journey to Oshogbo would have been enough, but then we add Ile Ife and Benin City and Ile Ife again and Oshogbo again, not to mention Bagdary, the port where Africans were held. The story of an enslaved man who returned from captivity and others was amazing. Then to meet a decedent of this ancestor was truly living history. We arrived too late to go to the island on the canoe or see all of the galleries in the museum.
It was like this a lot. Traffic meant the driving time would take longer than the excursion. We were lucky often and ended up making the last tour, but not this time. The next day, it poured so we did not return. So on International Children's Day, when a lady in charge told us we could not come into the National Gallery without an invitation, to come back the following day, I knew that was not happening. We did not have time to back track since as I said, traffic was the larger monster haunting our footsteps. We fed the monster time, gas, humor . . . but he was not appeased.
On our way back from Oshogbo we stopped at Abeokuta, a big rock city. I reminded me of Zimbabwe-- mysteriously magnificent.
Climbing Abeokuta to honor the ancestors and the deities of the rock mountains as we looked out on the town. I dared myself to climb the mountain. It was worth the effort, but I am happy the guides helped me up. I had on my new Keen hiking boots-- yes this is a commercial. Light and sturdy, I highly recommend these shoes. I have pair of sandals which are comfortable and waterproof. I bought the sandals a couple hears ago for Ghana.
The government put in a rail and a lift people can take (when it is working) up to the top. There are sacred places there which are off limits to visitors. I really appreciate the incorporation of African spirituality into everything-- everything is not for sale. This is something absent in American tourist sites-- we are not invited to offer a prayer, told stories of deities who live there. Of course such stories exist-- Mount Tamapalis has a mythical story-- how often do we think about it though when we look beyond the Golden Gate or Alcatraz? Mount Diablo . . . everywhere we look there is a story, there is a sacred lineage we interrupt with our building and pillage and plunder.
What is also cool is that the people, the villagers know these stories-- the spirit tales, whether they are the 221 or so orisa that reside in Ile Ife or Osun's Oshogbo. Orunmila, the pious man who received the Odu, the Ifa stories and liturgy planted the a coconut seed from which grew the Sacred Coconut Tree. Yes, the tree Wolf Hawk Jaguar tells us about in his film. On the eve of the New Year, worshipers make the pilgrimage to the sacred city to make prayers at the 221 pots for the orisa. Kola nuts are read under the tree. People drink from the sacred well- an ocean that never dries up.
It is serious soul work-- Africans are concerned about how this life affects what is to come. We know there is only a veil separating the two.
I got a chance to visit two palaces-- the one in Ile Ife and Benin City. Next time I want to meet the Oni or King (smile).
A highlight was visit the Ifa Indigenous Temple in Lagos when the children led the service. It was impressive. Araba Agboola said that the youth who delivered the talk used his mannerisms. The girls led the choir and danced, while other boys played acoustic drums and traps.
Another highlight was hanging out in Osun Grove with the orisa-- they all have shrines there. I learned that most of the orisa have a corresponding town and river. When the white colonizers redrew the borders, several 1-deity towns became multiple deity towns.
Nigeria is quite different from Ghana. Different energy entirely. However one aspect of African culture that is a constant between countries is the connection to spirit. There are churches and mosques on every corner. You can even catch religious shows on the radio--including Islamic rap music on Yoruba and Hausa TV.
In Nigeria, the colonial influence is seen in the intolerance for Ifa. There are prayer rooms at the airport for Muslims, yet indigenous spirituality is frowned on. Many Nigerians practice Islam or Christianity and Ifa.
In Ghana, Christianity seems to have swallowed residents whole and whoever was left is Muslim. I am kidding but indigenous spirituality is not as visible. I have not gotten to visit the country in either place yet, which gives a visitor an entirely different spin on a culture. Cities do not vary much from country to country. All cities look like New York, San Francisco, or LA. The former French colonies have a French flavor. Similarly, the English colonies look a bit like Boston (smile). However, when one leaves the city, this is an opportunity to see original architecture and unblemished artistry. Mali and Ethiopia was most impressive in the presence still of historic architecture.
I am not certain why the education is not up to standard or why graduates feel such is the case. Buildings in Lagos Village rival the skyscapers in downtown San Francisco.
I couldn't get over the KFC franchises attached to the more upscale malls. I didn't get to visit a mall in either country. Traffic was so horrific; it was do we get into it now and arrive a bit earlier or later. Also, the concentration driving meant for Ifasola was mentally taxing. I would not even attempt to drive anywhere in the Lagos suburban area.
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