Last year I spent Christmas in the village. The highlight of the festivities for me, followed closely by my skilled castration of piglets, was the masquerades. Masquerades during the festive periods have always been a delight for me, and a fond memory whenever I think of the village. Different people at different stages of their lives coming together to be chased by tall clothes with whips attached to their headpiece. Bliss.
Maybe it is the feel of community, the shared sense of terror, the knowledge that you are not running and laughing alone. Whatever it is, I enjoy being chased by masquerades—just not the ones that appear in dreams. When I got back to Abuja after promising myself to be more productive this new year, and actually sticking with it for a full month before relapsing, I was binge-watching YouTube videos and saw a video where people were running away from a masquerade.
I thought it was funny, and I was instantly transported to the time I was in their shoes—or lack of, as one of them pulled off his slippers to run better—, my heart thumping and my screams a few hurried patters away from dissolving into breathless laughter.
In the comment section though, there were a lot of concerned people. Some people thought it was the strangest thing, others asked if the police was called, some said the masquerade was a monster, and a few (bless their sweet souls) wished the runners were okay and that the aggressor was caught. Try catch masquerade fess.
Seeing such a thing on the internet and reading the comments gave me a sudden jolt that morphed into some sort of ‘culture shock’—what exactly was going on? Isn’t this normal? Why were people so pressed about it like it was something barbaric and new to them?
It took me a few seconds to realise that this was because it was indeed new to these people. It wasn’t just people like me who saw the video. Non-Nigerians and some Nigerians (a strange concept to wrap my head around) who had never heard of the activity before couldn’t understand what was happening, talk less of understand the excitement and beauty of the video.
It has been a while since I saw that video—we’re already in April (thankfully, I got that mojo back), so this next realisation was slower to dawn. The realisation that things that are normal to me could be completely foreign and unthinkable to other people. The idea that my reality is not everyone else’s reality.
It’s something we claim to know but also something we easily forget, even though common sense should tell us everyone has different realities and experiences. When a friend of mine said he had never heard Wizboyy’s Screen Saver, I was shook! I asked if he was truly Nigerian. When another claimed he had never eaten ini oka (corn meal), I felt my world spin. We know it in theory, but we are always surprised when we are hit with the fact.
It is the same with African Literature, specifically African fiction. You might be an avid reader and collector of beautiful books by African authors, but your neighbour might not know these books exist. They may be Wattpad or Inkitt readers and think the books they read on those platforms are the only kinds of books there are. I mean, I found out about African literature in 2021, and I have been a reader all my life.
In the spirit of this, could you drop the titles of your favourite African novels (and a short summary, if you’re up for it) in the comment section so people like the me of early 2021 can find them? It’s okay if some of these people find that they do not enjoy African literature: others might, and they may go on to emulate, and write your next favourite African novel.
I’ll be on the lookout for titles I haven’t read and probably write a review on a few.
If there is anything you take home from this post though (apart from new titles to add to your longer than infinity TBR list), it should be that your reality is not everybody’s reality and maybe you should give a little grace and perhaps a hand to those who do not immediately understand, because we learn every day.
P.S. There were a few people in the comment section of that YouTube video who were educating others on what was happening, and it was an absolute delight to see. There is hope for humanity still.
Also, happy April Fools' day. I just want to let you know that the earth is actually flat, black is white and the mountain can never drink the on because the blanket is therefore. Mic drop.
