As
in one Igbo adage, “Okporoko ka mma nke Njemanze tara”. This adage means that ‘The
stockfish that King Njemanze eats is always the best”. This described the mentality
of the developed countries, rich, influential, upper class, etc. and that of
the poor and lowly. In other words, if the same kind of stockfish lands in the
mouth of the poor or lowly person, it becomes crayfish or worse still, ant. The
imperialistic mentality and nature of the upper class has so much enslaved the
common people; making the common people believe that everything about them is
foolishness. It has become even a norm, such that we don’t seem to notice that
as long as the Americans, Europeans and upper class people are concerned, the
blacks or the underdeveloped countries, the poor or the lower class people have
no self esteem. It is that bad, that when a person from the upper class
sneezes, the common people bows, but when a common man does the same sneezing,
it is disgusting; both to the people at the upper class and the people of the
same lower class.
In
the essay below, Chika Unigwe brought to the limelight, how the Americans,
Europeans and the people of the upper class rob the common man of their pride,
prestige and self esteem using self invented languages, slangs, gestures, etc.,
that to them is classy or modernized. Who says that our local palm wine cannot
be served in intercontinental restaurants like champagnes, red wine, etc.?
There is no God given law that forbids that. It is only in our enslaved minds
and mentality. Chika Unigwe exposed the extent the developed countries and the
people of the upper class had gone to enslave the underdeveloped countries and
the people of the lower class in an easy to understand approach that no other African
writer has ever done. I found her essay very interesting and educating and I
know you too will. Read on!
Years
ago, I was enjoying my bushmeat in an Australian restaurant in Belgium and said
as much when my dinner companion gently reminded me that what I was eating was
“game” and not bushmeat, and I had been invited out to “enjoy game.”
Apparently, bushmeat is what you get in a small, ramshackle affair by the
roadside in Nsukka, paired with palm wine and most often eaten by hand, not
meat carefully paired with a Pinot Noir or a Shiraz in a restaurant where the
silverware is so shiny and so smudge free you can use it to fix your makeup.
This
morning, I did a quick google search and found this:
“The
term ‘bushmeat’ refers to meat that comes from wild animals captured in
developing regions of the world such as Africa. Bushmeat comes from a variety
of wild animals, including bats, nonhuman primates (e.g., monkeys), cane rats
(grasscutters), and duiker (antelope).”
“Game
are wild animals and birds. Large native game animals living in America include
antelope, buffalo, bear, deer, elk, moose, reindeer, and wild boar.“
Fact
1: bushmeat and game come from wild animals.
Fact
2: Antelope is bushmeat when in Africa but game once it crosses the ocean.
Question:
Who does the naming? Why does it matter? What does naming say about the
imperialism/hierarchy of cultures?
Naming
is neither innocent nor neutral. Victors name the conquered, the wealthy name
the poor. Think about why every westerner in Africa is an “expatriate” and
Africans in the west are “immigrants,” and how the labeling influences the
dominant narratives around these two groups. Think about why you are a
cosmopolitan if you’ve traveled extensively (in the west) and speak a variety
of European languages but not if you are Nigerian and have lived/traveled extensively across Africa and speak many African languages.
One
of the stories my father-in-law (who taught history and French for many years)
and my husband (who is a history buff) love to tell the younger generation
(children and grandchildren) is how William the Conqueror influenced the names
of (cooked) meat in English. When William the Conqueror invaded England in
1066, he gave land to the knights who fought with him and made them dukes and
earls and etc. They did not work the farms or cook their own food but they
named the meat which landed on their plates. The transformation from cow to
beef (le boeuf), from pig to pork (le porc), from calf to veal (le veau)
happened once the animals left the farms of the poor Anglo Saxon farmers and
landed all ready to be devoured by the nobility.
Cultural
imperialism of course goes beyond naming. It is also about what is framed as
“civilized” and therefore desirable and what is not. It is about people turning
up their noses at people eating eba with their hands and yet killing themselves
to learn how to use chopsticks so they can “eat Japanese food the proper way.” It’s
about people gagging at the thought of me enjoying goat meat (good thing it
didn’t make it to the plates of the nobility or we would have been calling it
chevon like the French or some other variant of chèvre) and yet ridiculing me
for thinking that raw oysters are gross. It is people thinking that when the
French speak English with their accent (including H-dropping), it is sexy but
when a Yoruba does it, it is “bush.” It is people rolling their eyes at African
superstitions yet believing that the position of the stars on the day they were
born has an effect on their personality (and determines their fate). It is
about people thinking that there is one single measure of civilization and that
they calibrate it.
Years
ago, I was invited to talk about my favorite pieces of classical music on a
radio show in Belgium. I was upfront in my correspondence with the (producer?)
about classical music not being my cup of tea. I think I said I wasn’t
knowledgeable at all about it. Undeterred, she sent me a box of CDs of
classical music, determined to bring me on the right side of “civilization.”
She very thoughtfully labeled each CD according to its “mood.” I gifted the
CDs to my husband (who does enjoy classical music). A few weeks later, I get a
mail from the producer asking if I’d played the CDs. I lied and said I had. She
decided I was ready to come on the show. Cut a long story short, I went on the
show and the woman begins by talking about my ignorance of classical music
before the show and then asks, ‘So, you had no culture of music growing up in
Nigeria?” In proper Naija fashion, I answered her question with a question. I
asked her what she knew of highlife (“Highlife? What’s that?”). I asked her
what she knew of juju (she’d never heard of it.) I told her it didn’t matter to
my father that she knew Mozart and Beethoven, if she knew nothing of highlife
and juju, she was a cultural barbarian. She was appalled. She had not thought
that there was a “musical culture” outside of the European tradition. Like my
mother would say, I gave her homework.
In
recent years, I have begun making a conscious effort to pass out such homework
where I can. It is our collective responsibility to challenge narratives that
privilege other cultures/voices/stories over ours.
And
that is why I no longer use the term, “game” for any kind of bushmeat.
Brought to you by:
Olive Chinyere Amajuoyi
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