Buy this book - £13.95
Taking centre stage in colonial history
March of Ages
Obi O. Akwani
2003
Fourth Dimension Publishers, Nigeria
260 pages
Reviewed by Richard Bartlett
Every now and again one comes across a book that coaxes one in, gently, unwrapping stories as threads. As a weaver of mats faces a wall of disparate threads that gradually take shape as each individual reed is added so March of Ages lays a mat for us. It is the story of a single community on whose fringes the development of European mercantilism is being determined. It is a story of tradition, of the ‘things’ before they fell apart, it is about evolution in a literal sense, of small, almost insignificant changes in individuals that allow a community to adapt to a new environment.
March of Ages is not about that new environment, it is about the lives of ordinary people in the region of what came to be know as Nigeria and how they were as much participants as victims in the changes which eventually came to transform their lives. As if to emphasise this reality of Africans as active participants in the economic, political and social changes which marked the advent of colonialism, we are led through the lives of different members of the community. Ultimately this is story of individuals of Ukoha, the high priest; Ibekwe, the soft boy who becomes a trader; Ochefu, who is an exile from another community; Mpee, the hunter; and Onuoha the town-crier, among many others.
It would be easy to read this collection of individual stories, that are woven into a single narrative, as a romantic idealisation of life in Africa before the arrival of the white man (the women followed later). The fact that the author, a Nigerian, has been living in Canada for the past 23 years adds to this inclination of hastily labelling March of Ages as an aspiring prequel to Things Fall Apart. But such a reading fails to take that step of viewing Africans not merely as passive victims of European imperialism, but as members of interwoven communities that responded, adapted, benefited, suffered and changed in a multitude of ways to the coming of the European influence.
The book opens with Ukoha walking through the village, his mind racing with the importance of his task, which is announcing the time for harvest of that year’s yam crop. It is the highlight of the year for these people whose lives are determined by the seasons, and the power of Ukoha’s position results from his accuracy in determining the right time to harvest: too early or too late and the crop will spoil.
Then there is the harvest itself, which is a true community affair. The hunter is contracted by Ukoha to provide a wild boar or other large animal so those who help in harvesting the plots will be well fed. After the harvest comes the dancing, which turns into a friendly competition as an adjacent community joins in the festivities.
Yet there are also outside influences – life is not determined solely by the changing of the seasons. It is also shaped by the market, by the need, and desire, to acquire goods such as cloth, steel traps, guns, mirrors, or just to trade excess yams for cowries. Onuoha uses the opportunity to buy an expensive piece of cloth for his wife Nneoma, as he knows it will help coax her out of her depression.
The market itself, on this first big post-harvest fair, was full to capacity with native and foreign traders alike. Aro traders, with their diverse range of grain foods and hard goods, took up the north-west section, right next to the stalls for local wine tappers. Here too sat the salt traders, local Aros with bricks of brown salt from Uburu and the far north…and southern riverine traders with the white pyramids of running salt….Okrika traders, whose name would soon become synonymous with second-hand wears from Europe, occupied the central portion of the market with the wares of old, surplus European clothing…and these were some of the more expensive sale items in the market. Across the aisle from the Okrika clothesmen the angelic Ahaba women smiling beatific, plied their trade in deliciously spiced melon cakes….There were stalls where fine European gin in dark green bottles could be had for a cowry or two. Just behind them…Afpiko potters sold their finely crafted earthenware pots….Here too, Abriba and Awka blacksmiths hawked metal utensils like knives and machetes, ladles, pots, plates and cups.
But all is not harmonious in the community of Ozuaku. The greatest fear of all who live in the village is the constant, if intermittent threat of being abducted into slavery. Such is the fate of Ibekwe, and while the guards become more vigilant, none but his girlfriend are too concerned with his disappearance as he was such an effeminate man anyway. Thus he is almost forgotten, until the day of his return as a wealthy trader.
Slavery was not unknown, it was even an accepted part of the community’s social practice. It was a considered a form of enforced exile, a punishment, rather than a means of accruing wealth.
Over a four hundred year period , the people of Ozuaku witnessed the transformation of an institution whose main function for them had been as a penitentiary system. But what was behind this change, they did not know. First it was blamed on jealous neighbours until it was discovered that they too suffered the same transformations. Then the dreaded head hunters were blamed. But these were only interested in scalps not the disappearance of whole persons. They saw their system of maintaining social order transformed, despite themselves, into a vast commercial institution. They saw the change but refused to accept it and continued to assert the old traditional order. In their effort to stem the transformation, the system became like the proverbial snake, swallowing itself to nothingness from the tail. Social order still had to be maintained – but corruption, that drop of a foreign taint that gathers native coagulates – had set in. Miscreants still had to be punished and serious ones, as always, were sent into slavery. But the institution had changed.
Ibekwe’s abduction into slavery was not planned, yet he managed to return because he realised that if he did not become an asset to his kidnappers he would be sent on to one of the European ships, and disappear forever. The other slave whose story we hear is Ochefu. He has been sent into slavery for killing a man in his own community, even though it was self defence. His tale takes us on a tour of Nigeria’s trading network, to the northern reaches of the country where his Arab minder uses the stars to navigate across the desert. His master dies but he cannot return home and so finds a place in the community of Ozuaku. He is absorbed as a member of the community, but as a multi-lingual trader he brings with him much more than just his ability to labour.
The other upset the community suffers is the discovery of an adulterer. Onuoha takes a second wife with the blessing of Nneoma, as she has been childless. But the second wife, Chituru turns out
to be more of a threat to her dominant position in the household than Nneoma had anticipated. An itinerant trader, Ibeji, becomes her lover and her sense of self is restored. But the lovers become complacent and Ibeji is discovered in Nneoma’s hut. The elders are called together to decide on a suitable punishment, which, as has been the case since time immemorial, is to be sent into slavery. Nneoma chooses her own fate, which is to return to her original village.
Where the narrative begins with a harvest, with a festival of life and its abundance, it ends with a celebration following the death of the most esteemed of the elders, Anyaogu. To bid him an appropriate farewell, there must be a sacrifice, and only horses will do, as tradition determines, but they are not easy to find, so different groups venture off across the country in search of horses to buy. Overshadowing their success in buying a number of horses are the changes in the markets brought about by the penetration of European traders further up the country’s river network, with the Royal Niger Company making its presence felt by giving away crates full of green bottles of gin.
This conflict between modernism and tradition is one epitomised by the differences in approach between Ibekwe and Ukoha. But this is not really conflict, as on his death bed Anyaogu dictates that the two must work together for the benefit of the community. "Anyaogu saw Ibekwe as a bridge. The one most suited to help them span the gap between the world they knew and a new age in the shape of pipe smoking river men and sly Aro traders." But Ibekwe is still considered an outsider because of his long absence and his strange customs. On the other hand is the pragmatic Ukoha, who responsibility it is to preserve tradition, but even he is not blind to the coming storm.
We do not see the breaking of the storm, but that is the nature of evolution. We are so engrossed in the story of this community that the little changes, those of evolutionary importance, almost pass by unnoticed in the grander narrative that places Africans quite firmly at the centre of their own history.
This book’s one failing has nothing to do with the story that Obi Akwani has created. It is the typographical errors that litter this book, and it is easy for reviewers to pick out a spelling mistake or two and berate the publishers and all involved in the production of the book, while missing the story itself. In this instance it is the other way round. The story mesmerises with its apparent mundanity, a bit like watching a mat weaver create order out of hundreds of laden threads. But too often the trance is broken by errors that should teach publishers not to rely on computerised spell checks: like pepper source. One can only hope that a work of such understated power runs into a second edition, with a proof reader thrown in for good measure.
Richard Bartlett is the co-editor of the African Review of Books
