Book Review
Oseloka Obaze*
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Kolanutology
KOLANUT – Food of the Gods
M. O. Ené
(ISBN: 0-9521610-0-2; Reedbuck, Inc. Bloomfield, NJ, USA, 2005; pp. 111; Price, unlisted)
Special limited edition
In the Igbo culture, a man is allowed the liberty of being ambivalent about his faith, but not about the preeminent place of the kolanut in any family gathering or cultural event.
In
Kolanut – Food of the Gods,
Dr. M. O. Ené writes a propitiously long-overdue treatise about the symbolism,
doxology, and pertinence of
oji
(kolanut) in Igbo culture. The kolanut holds a significant place in the Igbo
culture and lore. It must, therefore, be studied like zoology, philology,
biology, cosmology, psychology, and kabuki; hence my title, “Kolanutology.”
For this writer, the symbolism of the kolanut assumed an added importance, when
Chief Bob Ogbuagu told a story last fall at a Nigerian gathering in New Jersey.
He recalled how in pre-independence Nigeria, the founding fathers were looking
for a common symbol acceptable to all Nigerians that would serve as a icon on
the coat of arms and as a unifying national symbol. The consensus was the
kolanut; but, regrettably for reasons still unknown, it was never used.
Nevertheless the national affinity to the kolanut remains strong.
Rather than offer a traditional book review, I have elected to present this review of Kolanut – Food of the Gods (a limited edition and a must collection for all traditionalists and kolanut aficionados) in a different format, seeing as Dr. Ené himself concluded, that “this edition is by no means a definitive or exhaustive account of kolanut, the food of gods” (p. ii) and “I am certain that there is much more to the associated rites than revealed in this presentation (p.107).
As the kolanut is bittersweet in taste, so too are its significance and the variance of its usage in different cultures. The broad spectrum of beliefs and rituals associated with the kolanut can best be grasped by the saying: “He who brings kola, brings life.” Likewise, an old Igbo adage warns: “He who chews and swallows the kola in a huff hearkens to the call of his ancestors.” For the Igbo, the kolanut lore is replete with diametric archetype. For this alone, Ené’s book will be of immense significance from here to eternity.
I am the first to admit that this review and indeed any review, given the constraint of time and space and the fully unexplored nature of the subject matter, cannot do justice to Ené’s work, which like the epochal kolanut, is split into eight distinct parts. Starting with the culture of kolanut, the book delves into the being of the kolanut, its significance, symbolism, and the communion that goes with it. The last four chapters explore the presentation, the consecration (doxology), the partitioning (breaking), and distribution of the kolanut.
The lore, history, reality, rituals, paradigms, and myths that guide the kolanut are evolutionary and, as such, are in the main set in codification, oral history, and practice than by convention. Naturally, there are assumptions, variations, and also controversies and miscalculations. Norms vary from clan to clan, but the universality of the place of the kolanut in Igbo culture has remained paramount. The significance of the kolanut is not delimited to the Igbo. The Hausa-Fulani, as President Shehu Shagari once noted, treat the kola nuts (gworo) with the same discriminating passion which some men reserve for women and horse.” Ené notes that “in Yoruba religion, kolanut is the favorite food of ifa, the divination deity”(p.36). This might explain why the Yoruba nation treat the kolanut (obi abata) with Eucharistic reverence. So too the Ibibio and the Efik, for whom the kolanut (ibong) is akin to manna. For the Igbo, the kolanut has spiritual and temporal dimensions. Indeed, it is omnipresent in every facet and order of their lives (birth, marriage, honors, medicine, religion, death, sacrifice, oracle, initiations, and overall cosmology). Unsurprisingly, the best kolanut is associated with the king of birds, oji ugo -- the eagle kolanut. How the Igbo perceive the kolanut can be best grasped through the various verses from Chris Abani’s book, Graceland (2004:3):
The Igbo hold the kolanut sacred, offering it at every gathering and to any visitor, as a blessing, as refreshment or to seal a covenant. The prayers that preceded the breaking and sharing of the nut are ‘he who brings kola brings life.’ This is the kolanut. This is the star. This is life. This star is us. (p.6); We do not define kola or life. It defines us.
Ené notes that the ceremony of the breaking of the kolanut is tantamount to “a prayer that the will of God manifest on earth. If this is not a communion, nothing else is” (p.2). Indeed, the numinous reverence and symbolism Ené attributes to the kolanut can be better understood from the backdrop of several other excerpts from Abani’s Graceland:
The Eucharistic qualities of the kolanut ritual are clear. There are close parallels to Catholicism, as there seem to be some kind of transbulation involved in the kolanut ceremony, similar to the communion wafer in the Catholic ritual of mass. We worship in different ways, with wine, alligator pepper, seed, nzu, blood… But greatest of all his is the offering of kolanut in communion, the soul calling unto life (p. 18).
As per Ené, this “reverence is so deep and so special that no person, no matter the academic ability and social status, can do justice to the subject” (p.4). The kolanut, scientifically, cola nitida, (atrophora or acuminata) also a valuable stimulant and cash crop, is for many West Africans, especially in the Igbo tradition, a sine qua non for rituals, to welcome visitors, for marriage ceremonies, title-taking, offerings or prayers at traditional ceremonies, and to introduce very important discussions and requests and for various forms of sacrifice and spiritual ablution. But the kolanut goes beyond this near-scripture usage. As Ené notes,
African peoples of all faiths offer, bless, break, and share kolanut. The custom is probably the only authentic African ritual that revealed religions of the Middle East have not degraded… the ubiquitous witness, “communion” confer on the kolanut rites the rightful relevance it richly deserves (p.3).
The kernel of the nut
In the normative sense, Ndiigbo -- Atheists and Christians alike -- will not break bread with someone with whom they have not broken the kolanut. It would be a futile exercise also to serve guests a sumptuous meal without first serving them the kolanut, or offering the disclaimer that the kolanut has been co-opted by the arrival of nightfall. But far from the symbolism of the kolanut is the discerning ritual and sanctity with which it is handled. These are in the four stages: presentation, consecration, partition, and distribution of the kolanut. Ené explores all these extensively and in a simple and very educative manner. But to understand the essence of the kolanut criterion, one must have a grasp of the underlying socio-cultural ethos. Also, one must understand the procedural and substantive aspects, since both are equally important.
There is a clear nexus between Igbo cosmology, numerical nomenclature, days, mythology, worship, rites of passage, social, and socio-political order. Like the lines separating but interlinking the cotyledon, the centrality and connectivity of these facets of the Igbo life and culture rest on the kolanut (oji). Whereas the kolanut is used for peace, for prayers, and for prompting the oracle and assuaging the gods, it is also used for excommunicating the undesirables or those who have committed an abomination. In the Asaba culture (mid-western Nigerian Igbo community), once the clan engages in the process of "igopulu mmadu oji" (buying out the kolanut) for an individual, that person essentially would have been served notice of a possible ostracism. The process of rescinding the sanction also requires using lots of kolanuts, as does the process of the individual responding to the charges against him or her.
It is a well-known fact that those who do no understand the customs -- omenala or odinala -- associated with the kolanut are bound to be ridiculed and are often viewed as lightweights in customary matters. The best way to avoid this pitfall is to follow the admonition: Onye ajuju anaghi efu uzo (an inquirer is unlikely to stray). It is generally believed that only the unwise, or someone with the courage of an illiterate, would venture to break the kolanut in a foreign land without questions as to the protocol or applicable norms. Acceptably, there are slight variations in how the kolanut is presented, broken, and distributed --- depending on the clan, but there is also verisimilitude of norms. Indeed, certain norms associated with the kolanut ritual are immutable. There are also some taboos believed to be of non-rescindable value. Some believe, for instance, that one cannot break the kolanut in the presence of one’s in-laws and also that women cannot break the kolanut. The latter has nothing to do with sexism or misogyny, but simply that the kolanut epitomizes headship and that almost in every culture -- even the matrilineal – the man is accorded the headship of the family.
Another constant is the convention that when kolanut is presented, the host must first hand it to the oldest man in the gathering. An exception is made in the southeast of Nigeria, the present-day Abia and Imo States, where the [breaking] responsibility falls on the youngest man. Also, in any Igbo gathering where there is someone from Nri or Aro, both reputedly the bastion of Igbo civilization, the task must devolve on that individual, his age notwithstanding. There has been an ongoing debate about latter-day deference of age to title. This has become even more complicated by some contemporary practices that violate even the most sacred norms. Ené is in concurrence with the near derision, with which a “few people now challenge the choice of lining up titled men to bless the kolanut, a common sight in America… some titled men claim to be properly ‘titled,’ as opposed to those who probably purchased their titles, allegedly” (p.53). Finally, when there is a congregation, discussions and banter may continue but must halt when the kolanut is presented. As per custom, Ené notes that “you do not talk over the kolanut” (p.33). Also, by custom, the kolanut is invariably only to be consecrated in the language of the ancestors, hence there has always been the traditional belief that oji anaghi anu oyibo (bekee) – the kola is not versed in the English language.
Learning about the pitfalls of dealing with the kolanut comes in various forms. Some of them can be humbling, and some publicly humiliating. A master of ceremony once told the story of how a wedding ceremony almost came to ruins from the very onset, no thanks to his mishandling of the kolanut ritual. Ené warns us that among the Igbo, “it is wrong to handle the kolanut with the left hand”(p.36). On this score, I have had a personal experience. Many years back and already a family man in good standing in the Igbo community, I was called upon at a public function to consecrate the kolanut. That role devolved on me on exceptional grounds, not by right of age. The deed done, I soon forgot the event. But by a quirk of fate and technical glitch, a photograph of me consecrating the kolanut at that event was printed from the reverse side. So, here I was, a full-blooded son of Igboland steeped in culture, standing in full public glare on an 8x10 glossy, holding a kolanut with my left hand. No other than my dear mother was the first to point out this “gross error” to me, asking: “What devil took hold of you to goo oji, (consecrate the kola) with your left hand!” My only saving grace was that the left hand with which I supposedly held the kolanut, did not bear my wedding band. The other “right” hand did.
This said, the first thing that needs to be understood, in the time-honored rituals guiding the kolanut ordinance, is that the kolanut is deemed majestic and magisterial. The kolanut is king (oji bu eze) in Igbo festivities and culture. It is handled accordingly. More importantly, its priceless societal value notwithstanding, the kolanut is equally so affordable that it is deemed the invaluable gift that even the most indigent person can afford to offer it to you, along with their prayers and well wishes.
The divinity and paradox of kolanut
One cannot faithfully discuss the reverence of the kolanut without touching on its illustrative imperishability. No, this is not about its preservation, which takes skills, but about its mainstream relevance to everyday Igbo life. The kolanut can be comprised of two or more parts... up to seven parts. In Abani’s book we are told that the “four-lobed kolanut is the king nut…” four being in Igbo cosmology “the number of completion, dominion over the physical universe’’ and “the number of energy pockets that true sorcerers and sorceresses need to perform their sacred duty.” Four also represent the market days and hence industry and livelihood. But it is a seven-lobed kolanut that is the most rare and significant. The seven-lobed kolanut is the mother of all kolanuts, the unmitigated good head (isi dokpu nti), which also replicates the seventh day on the dawn of creation and encompasses the four market days, the two farm days, and the final day of rest. The seven-lobed kolanut ("ibe oji asaa" or "oji gbalu asaa") - also represents double indemnity, unmitigated progress, and an accord with one’s forebears.
The historical or psychological bent to the kolanut is not all kosher. Ené did also observe that “stories of real-life ritual reconciliation abound. Some border on serious fetish cultism; others are mere flights of faith” (p.102). To this reality, I would merely add the observation that in the Igbo culture, a man is allowed the liberty of being ambivalent about his faith, but not about the preeminent place of the kolanut in any family gathering or cultural event.
All said, witnessing a kolanut ritual rightly handled, complete with the responsorial of "ase" or "isee," is like watching the cadence, solemnity, and mutter of a Latin Tridentine Mass. It is a communal experience to behold. Consecrating the kolanut is often the metaphor for which life is sanctified, the ancestors recalled, and God rarefied. But then, like parenting, it is also one of those important things in life they don’t teach you at the Harvard Business School. Many people, especially upstart Igbo men, the new generation of gadflies, assume that they know a thing or two about the kolanut. In breaking the kolanut, some of them become hyper reductionists. But here is the reality: Those who best consecrate the kolanut are those with the burst to poetic and magisterial and metered rhythm. Quite the opposite and fittingly enough, some impostors end up with monotonous, flat, and clichéd -- if not dismal -- invocations. Yet, others make costly cultural assumptions. Those who pay scant attention to the culture and discriminating subtlety required for handling the kolanut stand to lose more than a good face. If they make assumptions and indeed if such assumptions seem nonsensical, they can jolly well consider them to be and, therefore, fraught with possibly embarrassing outcomes.
Ené
has written a lively and instructive reference book that belongs to every
library and coffee table. Though a slender volume of merely 111 pages,
Kolanut – Food of the Gods is a gold mine of facts about the kolanut, its
myths, and realities. It would be difficult to overstate the influence this book
will have on those who seek to understand the custom and especially the doxology
of correctly consecrating the kolanut and the dos and don’ts. Let me whip out a
cliché to buttress my point about this book: It is better to have it and not
need it than to need it and not have it. What is more important is that it is a
book you pick up and only put down after you have reached the last page. Ené’s
narrative is elegant, silky, and devoid of any form of boredom or tedious
weight. Kolanut – Food of the Gods is highly recommended, especially
considering that it is a limited edition and might already be out of print. As a
gift, it will be a sure best bet.
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*Mr. Oseloka Obaze, an aspiring writer, is a member of the Kwenu.com Book Review Forum, which is dedicated to the promotion of books with Igbo and Afrocentric themes. He is also a supporting Member of the African Writers Endowment (AWE). From 1999 to 2005 he served on the editorial board of INYEAKA, the journal of Songhai Charities, Inc., a New Jersey community-based charity founded and run by Nigerians based in New York Tri-state area in the United States, first as its founding Publisher and later as the Editor-At-Large. He is also on the editorial board of The Amaka Gazette, the journal of the Christ the King College, Onitsha Alumni Association in America. His collection of poems, “Regarscent Past: A Collection of Poems” was among the top three finalists in the poetry category in the African Writers Endowment Publishing Grant Program for 2004. He reviews books and arts strictly as a hobby.