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The past is never dead. It's not even past

Not Even Past

Between Traditions: A Nigerian Writer’s Funeral

By Chukwuemeka Agbo

Amos Tutuola Odegbami was a Nigerian amateur novelist interested in promoting Yoruba culture to the outside world. Tutuola was born in 1920 at Wasimi, Abeokuta, Ogun State, Nigeria. The young Amos had limited western education, stopping at high school level before moving to Lagos, Nigeria, in 1939 to learn smithing. He later joined the services of the Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation (now Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria) where he retired in 1976.

Tutuola’s prominence is tied to his writing career. Though with limited western education, he became a celebrated author both within and outside Nigeria. Some of the works to his credit include: The Palm Wine Drinkard (1952); My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (1954); and Simbi and the Satyr of the Dark Jungle (1955). Amos Tutuola’s fame began with his first novel, The Palm Wine Drinkard. He was a member of the Association of Nigerian Authors and had an extensive network of relationships with friends and colleagues, which extended to the United States. One such friend was Dr. Ben Lindfors of the Department of English at The University of Texas at Austin. Amos Tutuola Odegbami died on Saturday, June 7, 1997. He was buried three months later on October 4, 1997 at his hometown Odo-Ona, Ibadan, Oyo State.

Tutuola

African burial ceremonies highlight the importance of valor, selflessness, and diligence (as well as other celebrated values) as everlasting motifs and prerequisites for good living. Indirectly, these values serve to emphasize the importance of traditional nobility and preservation of good name, honor, and service, which are fundamental for good leadership. It was only the good and the noble that were usually celebrated in burials. The cowardly and selfish were discarded in the ‘evil forest’ or buried without such fanfare. These burial practices were rooted in the past and were underpinned by the peoples’ indigenous religious beliefs. Although African traditional burial practices have been modified in the course of time, many still survive to date.

Examining the documents surrounding Tutuola’s burial (held at UT Austin’s Harry Ransom Center), one familiar with burial practices in Africa will be quick to notice that Tutuola was not accorded the kind of funeral one would expect a person with his popularity would be given. The inability to give the late Tutuola a deserving burial could be traced to financial constraints. The quality of Tutuola’s funeral brochure is very poor compared to what one would expect to see at the funeral of a person as famous as he was. The tributes, offered seem like afterthoughts. In addition, a newspaper report published the day after his funeral ceremony noted that Tutuola’s family had no support from the government or the publishers of his works in planning his funeral.

Fame and intellectual accomplishments in Nigeria in the 1990s did not equal wealth and power. During the period that Tutuola lived, Nigerian authors and academics were mostly poor. It was one thing to belong to a well-to-do class and another thing to be a known writer. Although he was a prolific and popular novelist, Tutuola was a poor author. So in death as in life, his funeral reflected his placement on the social ladder.

Tutuola’s funeral brochure emphasizes his interest in promoting Yoruba Studies but with significant limitations. Tutuola’s photo showing him adorned in traditional Yoruba attire was used as the front cover of the brochure. His biography and the tributes from his associates refer to his unrelenting commitment to the Yoruba. Even more striking is the language used in publishing the brochure. In Nigeria, depending on the social status of the deceased or his survivors, burial ceremonies could attract people from diverse ethnic groups. Therefore, funeral documents in post-colonial Nigeria were usually published in English if the family planned to give the deceased a Christian burial in a service conducted only in English or a combination of English and the indigenous language of the deceased. Although Tutuola’s biography, tributes, and the appreciation by the family were in English, the rest of the brochure was published in Yoruba.

Obituary

Even more striking is the kind of funeral accorded Tutuola. The invitation card, newspaper reports on the proceedings of the burial, and the brochure show that Tutuola was given a Christian burial. Neither the funeral activities on the invitation card nor the brochure mentioned any Yoruba traditional burial practice for the late Tutuola. The absence of traditional Yoruba burial practices and other documents suggest that Tutuola was more of a Christian than a Yoruba traditionalist. In his autobiography, Tutuola ends the short history of his life by saying that he was a member of the African Church. But he says nothing about his commitment to Yoruba traditional religion.

A copy of the invitation to Tutuola's funeral.

A copy of the invitation to Tutuola’s funeral.

Nothing in the funeral documents suggests they were fulfilling the will of the deceased. Africans give careful attention to fulfilling the wishes (especially last wishes before death) of a deceased. Family members do everything in their power to fulfill wishes left by their deceased loved ones. They believe that failure to meet those demands would hinder the deceased from having a smooth journey to the spirit world or possibly stop them from entirely joining their ancestors. It is also believed that not meeting the desires of the deceased could cause misfortune or even death for family members. Tutuola’s family would not have overlooked his wishes if he had any that related to the kind of burial he wanted to be given. One would have expected that Tutuola’s activism in promoting Yoruba culture would have made him want a traditional Yoruba burial.

Amos Tutuola’s activism in promoting Yoruba studies seems to have been more of an intellectual exercise than a desire for personally practicing traditional Yoruba culture. Neither his funeral brochure nor any other documents suggest that he took active part in the very culture he sought to promote.

All sources consulted and images used are courtesy of the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin. They are held in the following collections:

1. African Studies Collection, Tutuola, Amos. Articles and booklet re: Tutuola’s funeral 10.L.

2. African Studies Collection, folder 3.3, Lindfore, Tutuola’s Correspondence with BL, primarily, 1968-1997.

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You may also like:

Mackenzie Finley’s article on the letters of Kenyan writer, Grace Ogot

“What is African Literature?”: Uncovering One Woman’s Answers

By Mackenzie Finley

In 1963, Dennis Duerden of the Transcription Centre in London and Henry Doré of the National Educational Television Centre in New York collaborated with prominent South African writer Lewis Nkosi to develop a television series featuring leading African artists and writers of late-colonial and early-independent Africa. As part of the project, Duerden corresponded with Kenyan writer, Grace Ogot—the only woman writer whose life and work the series intended to explore. The documents exchanged between Duerden and Ogot (currently housed at the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin) offer glimpses into the intent of the television project, the relationship between Anglo-American and African personalities in the early 1960s, and the intellectual lives of Duerden and Ogot during the period of their exchange.

Painting of Grace Ogot, by Joseph Nyagah. Courtesy of the Daily Nation, Kenya.

Painting of Grace Ogot, by Joseph Nyagah. Courtesy of the Daily Nation, Kenya.

On June 22, 1963, Duerden initiated a series of letters with Ogot regarding the proposed television series. Duerden’s first letter was accompanied by a questionnaire, which Ogot was requested to complete. The questionnaire, developed by Nkosi and Duerden, was intended to gather biographical information about the writer before Duerden and his team began production on the film series. Ogot returned the questionnaire with reticent answers.

Lewis Nkosi at the Centre for the Study of Southern African Literature and Languages (CSSALL) at the University of Durban-Westville (UDW), 2001. Via Wikipedia

Lewis Nkosi at the Centre for the Study of Southern African Literature and Languages (CSSALL) at the University of Durban-Westville (UDW), 2001. Via Wikipedia

Consequently, Duerden wrote a follow-up letter to Ogot, requesting that she include greater biographical detail in her answers. In his letter, Duerden endorsed the value of the television project, hoping its worth would inspire Ogot to be more forthcoming. Whether or not Ogot was convinced of the project’s value, she filled out the questionnaire the second time with significantly more revealing information.

In Ogot’s second set of answers, we encounter glimpses of her values, interests, and intellectual life. For example, we learn that her primary literary influences included the short story “How Much Land Does a Man Require” by Leo Tolstoy, The Dark Child by Camara Laye, Mary Slessor of Calabar by William Pringle Livingstone, and Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. Ogot elaborated on the significance of these works in her life. Tolstoy’s short story, for instance, prompted her to write: “If the whole world read this story, perhaps there would be no war.” Regarding the biography of Mary Slessor by Livingstone, Ogot explained, “If anything at all, this book had a lot to do with the shaping of my life and the choice of my career.” Seeking to emulate the positive impact that Slessor had on African society, Ogot “became a nurse … I regarded this as an expression of that feeling of gratitude in me towards Mary Slessor of Scotland who did so much for my Africa.”

The television project as a whole intended to help a burgeoning African literary scene develop parameters for what might be called “African literature.” To this end, the fifth question on the questionnaire is perhaps the most illuminating. “WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER TO BE SPECIFICALLY AFRICAN INFLUENCES IN YOUR LIFE …?” The question presumes the existence of a tangible “Africanness” which is also reflected in the discourse of late-colonial and early-independent Africa, where African identities and trajectories of peoples, nations, and the continent were all being negotiated. Duerden’s second letter to Ogot unpacks the intention of this question further: “What we want to do is to establish how far the background of your people’s traditions have affected the texture of your life.” The question arises: What does it mean to the author of the questionnaire to be “African” in texture and influence?

Initially, Ogot offered very little in terms of a response to the fifth question. In fact, she chose to write, “NIL.” Yet when Duerden begged for more elaborate answers, Ogot disclosed what she considered to be the “African influences” coloring her life:

“Looking back now, I think that there were some African influences that affected my marriage. An English friend of mine asked me once, “After all these years of Education, you still want to be married according to African customs?” My answer was simple. “There is something terribly African in me that school education has not touched.” The negotiations about my marriage were done according to Luo tradition, and full dowry was paid.”

Ogot went on to summarize her wedding day and highlight some of the specific Luo rituals to which she adhered. Interestingly, Ogot had begun to write that the negotiations regarding her marriage were done according to “African” tradition; however, at “Afri” she stopped and scribbled out the word, replacing it with “Luo”, as quoted above. In the struggle against colonialism, which necessitated a certain unity among African peoples, Ogot’s response displays her active negotiation and mediation of her identity, imagined somewhere in between “Luo” and “African.” Her initial dismissal of the question might also suggest that “Africanness” to her was something embodied rather than something that could be divorced from context, defined, and analyzed. Indeed, in her response, she defines “African influences” as “something terribly African in [her].”

Following her participation in the television series, Ogot went on to publish short stories and novels, including The Promised Land (1966) and a collection of short stories entitled Land Without Thunder (1968). Luo history and tradition saturated her fiction. Yet, Ogot is also remembered for her prominent role in Kenyan national politics. Thus her life’s work reflects the plurality of identities—local, national, and continental—that confronted African literary elite in the wake of African independence. Rather than conclusively answering the question, “What is African Literature?,” the television series on prominent African writers served to expose the tensions underlying such plurality.

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Sources:

Box 17, Folder 21, The Transcription Centre Records, Harry Ransom Center, The University of Texas, Austin.

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