Lie back and think of your friends

Over the summer there was a study carried out that found divorce among friends can be contagious; apparently the effect known as divorce clustering means that there is a 75% chance of divorce among couples whose friends have split http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jul/04/divorce-friends-contagious-academic-study . Scary stuff and although I’m relieved to say that I cannot attest to its accuracy having witnessed a few separations in my social circle this year, I can nonetheless see how my friends’ relationship breakdowns have had an adverse effect on me and my relationship.

Perhaps this says a lot about me but I often find that if I spend time with a friend who pours her heart out about a bad relationship, the tendency is for me to empathise so much that I will pick a fight with my husband when I get home. It’s not necessarily a conscious thing, it just always seems to work out that way, and it may be because I am over-thinking all the reasons why my partner is no better than my friend’s. I may be alone in experiencing this although I doubt it. I suspect it’s simply human nature for us to empathise with other people, especially those we care about, rather than sit back and gloat (a la Chanté Moore in her song “Chante’s got a man”). Admittedly the empathy is taken to the extent of trying to find fault with our own relationships.

It probably makes sense to show concern for my friends’ well-being but there is also an indirect personal loss that you feel following a friend’s divorce or separation. For starters, there is a perceived threat to the tight-nit social circle that we cherish so much. There’s a question of who will take which side, will the newly separated couple still be invited to social events and what if they want to bring new partners? The breakdown also calls into question the strength of our own relationships and although this is a very selfish reason for feeling sad or angry when someone else is clearly going through emotional turmoil that is valid, it doesn’t make our feelings any less real. While sympathising with my friend, I simultaneously think but if it could happen to them, then it could happen to me. There were no obvious signs in their relationships, they seemed as happy as anyone else and had known their partners and been married for even longer.

On two occasions this year when the marriages of some of my friends broke down I felt saddened. I also felt very angry at their partners for giving up so easily and if I’m honest In a way I also mourned the end of the status quo although I know for a fact that change per se is not the issue. I know this because when a friend gets a new job in a different country I’m filled with excitement rather than dread. What worries me with separations is the knock on effect of divorce on everyone, their family, their children, and for many women in their 30s and older, I worry about their dating prospects. It’s a harsh reality whether we want to admit it or not. I now see the merits in the advice of older African parents which was provided he does not mistreat you physically; you should be able to work out everything else. I would extend that to as long as he doesn’t abuse you emotionally or physically then you should try and work things out if you’re both committed. In short I’m saying be practical. I know some would say that’s rich coming from someone who is happy, who did marry for love but I think I can put my hand on my heart and say that although I married for those reasons, I stay married for reasons that are far more grounded. I couldn’t say what would happen if I did fall out of love or felt unhappy but I know for a fact that feelings fluctuate. I was encouraging a male friend to settle down this summer; I started by telling him that the coup de foudre (love at first sight) was highly overrated. I gave the example of a guy I had dated who I spent the first few days not wanting to be separated from; we would stay up all night talking and making each other laugh. I was convinced that was It. Then one day I woke up and saw him in a completely different light. I don’t know what happened, I don’t understand when or how it happened but I suddenly looked at him and thought, wow aren’t you dull. It was an incredibly sobering experience because I went from ‘I can’t live without you’ to ‘I really need to get away from you’. It saddened me somewhat but I couldn’t help myself and so I moved on. I have no idea what would have happened had I given our relationship time to get back to what it was or tried to find what I saw in him in the first place. A few boyfriends later, I realised that I had to temper my excitement with a huge dose of realism and practicality especially when family and children and dare I add friends all have a stake in the success of my relationship/marriage.

The last thing you think about when agonising about whether to break up with someone who may have once been the love of your life, is what will my friends think or how will they feel? I know it may be a bit of a stretch to ask people to think this way but I do think it’s not too much to ask for people to consider those who will realistically be caught in the crossfire – the kids, the parents, the in-laws. As we acquire more, more freedom, more knowledge, more options, we also become increasingly hedonistic. We’re often unwilling to make sacrifices or compromise because we feel we’ve earned the right to put ourselves first. That’s all well and good but whatever choices you make in life, you will end up having to live with for the rest of your life so if there is a shadow of a doubt that you may wrong or simply having a moment of capriciousness, then surely you owe it to yourself and those who love you to stop and think before causing irreparable damage.

Supporting black talent or lack thereof

There was a time when I used to catch every black film that was released, and buy every book written by a writer of African origin....then came Nollywood, Tyler Perry and the likes of E. Jerome Dickey - and I decided it was time to draw the line. As time goes by and I guess I get older, more cynical and hopefully more discerning, I find that I am becoming less tolerant of mediocre work from artists, even if I do happen to share the same skin colour as them.


Recently I picked up a book called Bitter Leaf as it was being discussed at a book club that covers work from African writers, of which I hasten to add there are many exceptional ones; it has taken me four painful weeks to force myself to finish 400 pages of what I consider badly written, badly researched and extremely pretentious crap.

At the book club we discussed the book and it seemed as though most people in the room who like me were supporters of African writing and anxious no doubt to attest to an African Renaissance, were making excuses for the writer. Rather than say they didn't like her writing or found it mediocre at best, some struggled to find positive things to say and suggested that perhaps it was because we simply didn't get it. Could this be an example of Amos Tutola's Palm Wine Drinkard of the 21st century - a work that was misunderstood and ahead of its time? Could her blatant lack of regard of the cardinal rule of writing to show rather than tell be a sign that she is fully aware of the norm and chooses like Jazz music to flout it? Being a child of plain speaking, I felt then and still feel now, that it is simply a badly written book. The writer creates a so-called African setting without wanting to call it that, and jam packs each page with one cliché after the other; her characters like her setting are neither believable nor interesting. There is no depth, in fact I would go as far as to say it is the literary equivalent of 80% of Nollywood films or if I want to be generous a modern day Disney Fairytale. Yet you sense that as she writes, she is trying to impress the reader with references to languages and cultures that she has no doubt come across but which have no place in the story and render it even less authentic than it would have otherwise been had we dealt with one language, one culture and one clearly identifiable and credible story.

When I finally got to put the book down, at the back of my shelf, I decided that a break from bad black talent was in order and went to a screening of Up From the Bottoms, African American Migration to Muskegon , a documentary narrated by Cicely Tyson which was fantastic, and went some way to make up the 400 page fairytale torture. For some strange reason, however the organisers decided to show a short British film about the 'politics' of oral sex in the Black British community called Morally Speaking (get it?) on the same night. Once again I was reminded of the importance of being selective when supporting black talent. The film, albeit a short and clearly a low budget production was so badly done, I could hardly face the director who obviously felt proud enough of his work to pop in for a question and answer session afterwards. It got me wondering - who on earth are these people who call themselves artists catering for? Do they presume that other Black people are so simple-minded as to be impressed by talentless nonsense? Are we as Black people so starved that we will accept any one-dimensional work that is fed to us?

This takes me to the Tyler Perry phenomenon. Like the majority of what comes out of the Nigerian film industry, I can’t help but marvel at the number of seemingly intelligent people who support his work time and again. I've seen three Tyler Perry films and feel as though that is enough to last me a lifetime. I recognise of course that Hollywood is not known for churning out quality; and can see that for black film makers it’s a numbers game too. Get them out fast and get the money. The difference however is that a lot of smart people I know shun crap that comes out of Hollywood, in fact the intelligent world prides itself on shaming insultingly rubbish productions. We even have 'The Golden Raspberries' in case the box office figures weren't enough to tell the film makers and stars of films like Gigli and Swept Away what a terrible job they did.

Admittedly in the 80s the argument was that our films were so few and far between, our books just not getting published so when one got through, we had to show our support so more could come. But that was then, today we have countless incredible African and Diasporan writers like Helon Habila, Aminatta Forna, Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, Petina Gappah, Nii Ayikwei Parkes, Edwidge Danticat, Andrea Levy to name but a few. As far as films go if we look beyond the obvious glossies from LA, we'll find some phenomenal works from the likes of Raoul Peck, Eric Kabera, Abderrahmane Sissako, Mama Keita, Sanaa Hamri and many many more.

Personally I think it’s high time we call out the poor excuses for artists in our community, tell them to go back and polish their talents and above all to stop taking for granted that the colour of their skin and apparent lack of competition will be enough for us to support them. I for one will continue to separate the wheat from the chaff and call out anyone who puts themselves forward as an artist, be it literary or visual because if I were in their shoes, I would expect no less from a discerning audience.