America’s definition of outdoors as far as I have seen does not transcend outdoor cooking of sausage rolls during warm days of spring and summer. I have not seen the bigger picture, of course. I’ve been limited to campus and a few other outdoor cooking invitations in a little town. From movies and reality shows, I know that there are pool parties that last all night in outdoor venues. And there are sports from tennis to golf. But whatever happened to just laying down and staring at the sky at night. Oh yeah, camping. There has to be a name for everything.
Sometimes before dawn between tonight and tomorrow, we’re going to lose one hour of sleep. Don’t ask me. It’s America’s way of reminding us of the vanity in predestination. Give me determinism. Heaven helps those who help themselves. Time waits for no man, except s/he that changes it at least twice a year. It’s common sense. It’s business. It’s the economy, stupid. Who cares for one more hour of sleep when we can add it to the productive part of the day and get more out of it. If you don’t like it, move to Canada, or Nigeria.
The spunk of America amazes, and delights. Nothing is, until human intervention makes it so. Spring break, for instance is what is it because of the attitude, general acceptance of its relevance, and the stories passed down from generations of the need to travel. In a few more weeks, it will be the break after school semester and another season will be gone. Culture. Acceptance. Season. Relaxation. My Italian colleague in the department has a different perception of time and enjoyment, of course, but having lived in the United States for many decades, I’m sure he has by now settled into the rote of American living.
Movies. Conversations. Fun, the usual. Monday will come and life will be back on the track of its brutish, interminable self. I will oil the wheels of my bicycle and plan for more days on the bike path to school rather than burn the gas whose price has skyrocketed since Gadaffi started slaughtering his citizens in Libya. But then there is Japan, now suffering from a horrible earthquake. It is easy to relax in the pattern of life that never seems to shake in turbulence. In other parts of the world are some of the most frightening indices of instability. Where is the safety, the peace of mind. The crises in Japan resulting in the explosion of one of their nuclear reactors yesterday night is a reminder of how precarious all existence as we know it is. This is to the little moments. Praying love and healing to Japan and the world. Libya too.
The adaptation of a stage play to film is tricky, and one should credit Tyler Perry for attempting that uphill task with his adaptation of Ntozake Shange’s play into film. Full disclosure: I am a fan of plays. I am a bigger fan of adaptations, especially if I have read the play first. In this case, I hadn’t. All I had going for me was a perception of the director as one very much in tune with his female base, willing to approach them from the most emotional point of their interest.
I had seen The Diary of a Mad Black Woman – his first film I saw. Then I saw the Madea Family Reunion which featured some of my favourite actresses. Maya Angelou was there. Then there was Why Did I Get Married and its sequel which I grossly disliked (and blogged about) for its over-sensationalist approach to family dysfunctions in the black community. In all his films I have seen, what I always took away is his ability to portray things as they exist in the reality of many. In doing so, he contributes to the (some have said “stereotypical”) portrayal of black life.
Initial thoughts on For Coloured Girls is that it does like all his work – with the brilliant performances of Kimberly Elise, Anika Rose, Phylicia Rashad, and Thandie Newton – once again takes an unflinching look at the painful lives of black women, their pains and victories. The positives are a star-studded cast, a language that sticks as much as possible to the lines of the play, and a story that is as complex as it is haunting. The negatives include the failure of the story to offer more than the pain of loss and the beauty of community. The promise of the first half of the story fails to move anymore after an hour, and at times seems like an earnest fight against an inevitable failing. Maybe it’s in my expectation of too much from it all, or my sociocultural distance from the emotional experience being so beautifully portrayed.
The summation of course is not that we need less of these kinds of works. It is that we need more, and better. And this is where Tyler Perry gets a thumb up.
I realize it’s one day late but here is to the women on the 100th International Women’s Day 2011. Special regards to all the women readers, commenters, friends and contributors to KTravula.com, and to all the women of the earth. May we never shirk from the challenges and commitments to make life better for you and all our daughters. You make life worth living.
Link: Top 100 women around the world
The following conversation – or something very close to this – took place on the way from Lambert airport a few days ago. In the car were three of us: An American professor/director of international programs, a Nigerian professor of technology visiting our campus (and the United States) for the first time on a MacArthur Foundations scholarship, and me. What united us was our interest in Nigeria. All of us had lived there at one point in our lives and are connected strongly to her in some way or another.
“When was the last time you went home, K?” the new Nigerian asked.
“I was just there in the summer,” I replied. “That was just a few months ago.”
“Nice. Do you plan to come home sometime?”
“Yes, of course. As soon as I’m done with whatever I have to do here. But it is also important that I have something concrete to do over there. I wasn’t very impressed with the situation before I left.”
“Oh no,” He said. “Things have really improved. The new president is really doing things.”
“He is? That’s interesting, because all I’ve heard these days are very unflattering things. Bombs, do-or-die politics, and campaigning with convicts.”
“No. He is really doing things. Electricity has really improved. Even education. He is bringing professors from here (the US) back home to help shore things up. We will need all hands on deck when you are done. You should come back home.”
Here the American professor contributes. He is impressed by the news of progress. I remained skeptical.
“I’m surprised that all you hear are the good news,” I said. “I’ve followed the situation in Nigeria closely and I do not think that Goodluck stands any chance in the next election except for the power of incumbency. I have not seen or heard any thing about progress. I do know that last week when one convicted member of his party was released from prison, his presence was conspicuously felt – along with the ex-president – at a church service thrown to welcome him back. It was a celebration of corruption if you ask me.”
“Oh no. He is a smart man.” The guest replies again. “All those corrupt people are close to him now because they are afraid of what he will do to them when he wins the election. He is a strategist. Don’t believe all you read.”
“I don’t really care for smart men but smart institutions, or things would never change.”
The conversation went on for the stretch of the forty-five minutes it took to drive from the airport back to school. I was lost in contemplation of what could be the cause of a stark difference between what I read from ordinary commentators, citizen journalist, academics like this new Nigerian, and real pundits online about the state of my country. I have not been impressed with the Goodluck charm as I probably should have been, and have been known to show a certain interst in the prospects of ex-Military ruler Buhari and his vice Bakare, for some strange reason. For one more reason, some of my otherwise smart friends have taken to volunteering for his campaign organization. How could this have been?
Being stuck here means that even if I want to, I can’t cast a vote. All I have is an opinion, and a chance to scoff at faux optimisms. It is very possible that our guest was saying all he could to paint the country in the best of lights, especially because of the presence of an American. It is highly unlikely, I thought, for things to be all good and rosy without there being a way for outsiders to see it from this distance. From where I stand, the current president is just as much a savvy politician with love for his hold on the position as everyone else. How that translates to progress for the country, I have not yet seen. But then, we still get to have elections.
In then end, I return to my couch skepticism. It is not like changing our leaders will make our lives miraculously better. It at least provides a way to spend otherwise idle time, and a chance to have a say in how the process turns out.