Nigerian women in film
Watching the BBC
documentary Welcome to Lagos has been a more revealing look at the
dynamics between male and female relationships in Nigeria than all the
Nollywood movies I have watched. For me Welcome to Lagos was a profound
commentary on the state of marital relationships in Nigeria today. In
the face of profound changes in how Nigerians live, we still cling
stubbornly to traditional notions of marriage and family without any
serious attempt at adaptation. Anecdotally, I would venture to say that
a significant number of Nigerian marriages are highly stressed as a
result.
The cemetery of
our marriages is at that messy junction where tradition meets modernity
or some would say reality. Increasingly, women work outside the house
and they also manage the household. In Welcome to Lagos, Esther lives
in a shanty on a beach. There is a moving scene where Esther becomes
emotional as she describes her love for her husband. A few scenes
later, Esther is seen dumping the man’s belongings on the beach. It
appears that the husband is also in the habit of also loving other
women.
Despite Nigerian
“democracy” whole swathes of communities have become slums and shanties
where our own women and children are literally living and dying in
their own filth. Where is the outrage? No wonder children are literally
flying out of Africa’s windows fleeing a perverse culture that only
comforts men. As the documentary shows, religion seems to exist in
Nigeria to dull the senses and keep women and men in bondage as
thieving pastors exhort the faithful to be bound by the strictures of
what passes for tradition.
The BBC
documentary showcases Esther and her friends bound by a sorority that
is steeped in unnecessary suffering. Esther is friends with Blessing
and Victoria, two mothers with young children who were born at the
beach. Blessing is pregnant and all three are looking at a Western
brochure on pregnancy and parenting titled Welcome to Mothercare. The
models are white. The women all coo at the pretty pictures of pregnant
white women and one of them observes wistfully: “Most of our Nigerian
women, they will look ugly when they are pregnant! They won’t wear the
correct cloth, they will just wear buba and sokoto!” Here are three
beautiful women filled with self loathing because every day life for
them is honestly ugly. They marvel at a picture of a man carrying his
baby. Their jaws drop in wonder and the commentary is telling: “In this
kind of country [Nigeria] you can’t expect your husband to carry your
child! They will blackmail you that you have turned your husband to a
woman. Nobody will dare that in this country…” They really do not ask
for much.
These are not new
issues. Buchi Emecheta has been harping on this dysfunction for over
five decades, almost to the point of obsession. The good news is that
there are new warriors on the stage. In many ways, they have built on
the work of Emecheta. Names like Ngozi Chimamanda Adichie, Chika
Unigwe, Unoma Azuah, Lola Shoneyin, Sarah Manyika, Sefi Atta, Molara
Wood, etc, are the public faces of young Turks quietly determined to
change the status quo through their literary works. In my personal
opinion, their works are more robust conversations about the complex
relationship between the men and the women. One detects a fuller
exploration of sexuality and relationships than what understandably
preoccupied the mostly male writers before them. I do not see much in
terms of a dialogue between these writers and Nollywood for instance.
That ought to be the next step. Let me also observe that there is a
reason why most of these writers ply their trade in the West and we
must agree that their views and attitudes have been shaped by their
life’s journeys in the West. But I would argue that societies that
thrive do not live in the past, they also tend to model wholesome
behaviors from other societies.
In the absence of laws, and compassionate caring responsible
leaders, patriarchy threatens everything we hold dear. Nigerian women
in the corridors of power should be inspired by their own successes to
make a difference in the millions of Esthers toiling out there for
pennies. Our women in power should strive for more substantive
involvement in the politics and governance of Nigeria. We see a vivid
example in what I call a tale of two first ladies. There is Mrs.
Michelle Obama, the First Lady of the United States, as she is simply
called. And then there is Her Excellency, the First Lady of the Federal
Republic of Nigeria, Dame Patience Goodluck Jonathan. One protects the
dignity of her office with substantive policy work, while the other
seems to revel in a caricature. Mrs. Obama goes to an elementary school
to have a genuine conversation about the perils of childhood obesity
and manages to spark a national conversation about immigration. The
other apparently sparks a conversation about visiting Dubai of all
places and buying gold. We have our work cut out for us.
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