Coming Together and Falling Apart Something about Brooms and

David T. Doris here is a popular saying in Nigeria, and if you all photos by the author except where otherwise noted spend any time on the streets there you will see it often, painted in bright script on the sides of trucks and buses, or affixed with self-sticking letters to the rear windows of cars: No condition is permanent. Somehow it is always a little disconcerting to see this simple phraseT emerge out of the noise and tumult of the streets. It lends perspective to all the commotion, shapes it, gives the world a caption. As true and pithy observations go, this one is hardly exclusive to this part of the globe, or to any particular histori- cal moment. Indeed, it is probably as close to a declaration of Universal and Inarguable Truth as we humans are likely to get with our pithy observations. The Truth it encapsulates is by turns sobering and liberating. Yes, our lives in this world are fragile and short—we know this, or we come to learn it—but it is not death alone that imparts to our lives a sense of impermanence; it is the ordinary ebb and flow of living in the world. No condition is permanent. We tend to remember this when conditions are lousy, when we need solace and a reason to hope that our lot will improve. Likewise, we tend to forget it, even deny it, when we probably would do best to remember it—when conditions are sweet and ripe, and all seems right with the world. In Nigeria’s southwest, there is a well-known Yoruba proverb that also emphasizes worldly being as perpetual flux, transform- ing a generalizing observation into a culture-specific metaphor: Ayé l’ojà, òrun nílé. The world is a marketplace; heaven is home.

There is neither solace nor admonition in this phrase. In its insistence on materiality, it is even a bit cynical. The marketplace metaphor frames the experience of transience in this world, coolly, without judgment or ethical prescription. Individual for- tunes may rise and fall from moment to moment, with causes

1 Àrùgbá Sàngó (altar figure) and consequences that can be explained and even predicted by Maker unknown; southern Ìgbómìnà region, early 20th century way of any number of knowledge or belief systems. But what wood, fiber, beads; 42.6cm x 10.8cm x 12.1cm (16¾" x 4¼" x 4¾") remains constant and undeniable until the end—when we get to in a social world conceived as a marketplace, many classic yoruba figures model and exalt the qualities of ideal human participation within a network of rest comfortably and forever in one heavenly home or another— exchange. this altar figure depicts a transaction between a woman and her god; is the necessary and ceaseless relationality of exchange. her gesture is one of both humble generosity and calm, confident expecta- Out of the clamor of the marketplace—the Yoruba world fig- tion. the reward for generosity, a thunderstorm of empowering energy, already crowns her head. ured as an arena of fleeting transactions—arises the ideologi- p hoto: reproduced by perMission of the seattle art MuseuM, Gift of Katherine cal foundation of an ethics and of an accompanying aesthetics. white and the boeinG coMpany

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af_42-51.indd 42 5/20/2009 7:39:17 PM Simply and generally stated, that which acknowledges, honors, and maintains the reciprocative flow of appropriate exchange is Useful, Good, and even Beautiful; that which brings it to a halt is Useless, Bad, and something quite other than Beautiful. Stat- ing it this way is absurdly reductive, of course; it does not take into account that acts are judged, and have real consequences, in specific social contexts. But the point is this: An individual’s for- tune might depend upon the quality of his or her exchanges with others —on the coolness, decency, venality, compassion, bitter- ness, cunning, or any other attribute of character (ìwà) brought to bear in each exchange—but it is always contingent upon acts of exchange as such, upon reciprocation and mutual recognition. This basic assumption finds nuanced expression in a wide spectrum of Yoruba social and cultural practices: from the call- and-response pattern of ordinary verbal and gestural greetings, to the inextricably paired processes of divination and sacrifice, to the fluid entanglements of political leaders and their sup- porters and of gods and their supplicants (Barber 1981), to the very notion of Yoruba “tradition” (àsà) as a continuing series of individual choices (sà) made in consensus with, and divergence from, the past (Yai 1994). Even the Yoruba conception of the image as àwòrán articulates a particular relationship of exchange. More or less closely trans- lated as ‘that which we look at and remember,’ the term àwòrán is rich in implications (Adepegba 1983:14; Drewal and Drewal 2 Ààlè eléríko (‘witness not’) or ààlè oògùn (medicinal 1990:1–4; Lawal 2001, 1996:98–99). By definition, the significant ààlè) Maker unknown; near Ìlobù, Òsun state, July 26, 1996 or memorable image engages the viewer in a visual and cognitive broom (ìgbálè), medicinal packet (oògùn), fiber dialogue, recalling the past to mind in the present and prompt- Ààlè are object-assemblages intended to protect proper- ing the viewer’s responsive identification with a legacy of cul- ties from the anti-social actions of thieves. some ààlè are hidden from view; their punishing capacity is drawn tural and social ideals. Identification is expected, of course, but it exclusively from the potent words and medicines they is not inevitable. A viewer may choose to disavow such interpel- contain. the man to whom this ààlè belonged requested lative images, but there are consequences for such disavowals, as that i not reveal his name or the name of his village. we will soon see.1 It is no surprise then that what has come to be regarded as parent exchange. The àwòrán in question are called ààlè. I have the canon of Yoruba art is replete with àwòrán that model and discussed them previously in the pages of African Arts (Doris exalt reciprocity. They make visible fi( ara hòn) the qualities of 2005), and elsewhere as well (Doris 2002, 2006, in press), so I ideal participation in an intersubjective network. As an example, will introduce them only briefly here. I offer an àrùgbá, an altar figure for the òrìsà (personified divin- Ààlè are object-assemblages assigned the task of protect- ity) Sàngó (Fig. 1). Kneeling figures such as this, with gift-laden ing otherwise unwatched properties from thieves. Some ààlè hands held forward in performance of sacrifice, depict also that are packed with punishing words (òrò) and medicines (oògùn), humble gesture’s necessary and anticipated reward. Supplicant and do not need to be seen in order for them to act. Such ààlè and deity are each accountable to the other, and each benefits. oògùn are meant to combat committed thieves, who are widely Empowering gift is met with empowering gift; generosity returns regarded as incorrigible, unresponsive, and useless (kò wúlò), as a crown of thunder. The diversity and persistence of such not quite fully human. Other ààlè are created so that any pass- àwòrán in Yoruba culture over the past two centuries of dramatic erby might see them and recognize the lawful intention they social change suggest that the exchange they depict is both foun- make present in the landscape. Like the àrùgbá outlined above, dational and lasting. They monumentalize the fluidity of trans- such visible ààle (ààlè àmì, literally ‘sign ààlè’) are “things we actions, rendering in concrete, durable form the give-and-take look at and remember”; they call a viewer to acknowledge the that constitutes the person as a person within a network of per- authority of the past before taking action in the world now. But sons, and the world as a functioning marketplace. unlike the honorific àrùgbá, built of durable stuff to praise and With such moral and ethical weight placed on images to rep- perpetuate excellence and social usefulness, ààlè are ephem- resent, reinstall, and indeed reenact an ideal reciprocity within eral displays of ordinary, often deteriorated objects rendered as a viewer’s consciousness, it follows that there are also àwòrán emblems of warning, threat, and condemnation. When installed that detail the social repercussions for denying that ideal. It as ààlè, once-useful objects become object lessons in useless- follows too that the target audience for such àwòrán would be ness; they index their transformations from a previous state of thieves, or rather would-be thieves, men and women whose ethi- fullness to their present state of ruin. There is a clear representa- cal choices and hidden acts disrupt absolutely the flow of trans- tional logic at work here: what has happened to these objects can

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af_42-51.indd 43 5/20/2009 7:39:27 PM also happen to the viewer. Ààlè portray in appropriately abstract, The Broom has come to be used for sweeping not only dirt in the yard analogical form the thief’s prospect of utter abstraction from the but [is] that which the society can use to sweep away bad elements realm of the useful and the human. in their midst. Everyday houses and rooms are swept to keep them Many ordinary things are used in the creation of ààlè. On habitable. It is not safe to stay with dirt. The yard has to be swept to avoid attracting unwanted habit. When places are not kept regu- the following few pages I will examine just one of them as it larly many unwanted things live around and through decay cause bad unfolds in several contexts as an object, an image, a site of olfactory and cause to come near us those things we resent. Rats and ambivalent metaphor. pests increase in unkept surroundings and can cause disease to peo- ple. Without the use of the broom we might be forced to accommo- SweepingS date rubbish and contact illness and disease. Looked from this point In southern Nigeria, as in much of tropical and equatorial of view the broom becomes the object through which we reject that Africa, people make brooms by grouping together the excised which we hate by sweeping it away. It is through sweeping that envi- midribs of palm fronds and tying them with fiber into a bundle. ronment is restored. The broom is used to sweep and rejuvenation is These bundles are democratic things—they brush aside accu- caused to exist and the newness is sustained within the habitat and society (1990:47). mulated filth on the floors of small family homes and royal pal- aces alike. Brooms are also used to clear exterior spaces, areas of Atuu also notes that the image of the broom played a role in human activity that might be overgrown by plant life, invaded by Tiv politics, employed as a symbol by several parties during the low-lying snakes, scorpions, and the like, or just scattered with the troubled years just before and after Nigerian independence in inevitable detritus of everyday life. In any culture, to use a broom 1960. The symbol was grounded in specific Tiv cultural mean- is to engage in a defining act of civilization; to sweep is to assert ings, says Atuu, and reveals a dangerous aspect: “Broom is used the boundaries of one’s dwelling space and to defend that space to keep surroundings clean but it is feared to be used on per- against the natural forces of entropy. In every Yoruba household I sons” (ibid., p. 48). Called into service as a political emblem, the have ever visited, sweeping is an important daily activity. broom (in Tiv, wancaca) stood as a promise of social and eco- Brooms help keep houses clean in many West African societ- nomic renewal, and threatened swift action against political fig- ies, but that is not all they do. In his brief article “The Symbol of ures who were felt to be corrupt. Indeed, Atuu continues, the the Broom Among the Tiv,” Peter O. Atuu offers an introduction broom and its associated political forces “would sweep away all to the broom that extends beyond the particular culture of the the bad people in Tiv society” (ibid.). Tiv people of Nigeria. His passion, precision, and freshness of In Yoruba culture too, brooms sweep away bad people. Not all language draw us beyond the immediate household use of the bad people, certainly, but enough for the broom to be regarded broom and touch upon broader spheres of metaphor: as a powerful symbol when used as ààlè. The very commonness

3 Adéwolé Bàbá Ajáwésolá Àwàlà, Ààlè eléríko (‘witness not’) or ààlè oògùn (medicinal ààlè) Mid-20th century; Ìséyìn, Òyó state, october 15, 1998 broom (ìgbálè), cowries, fiber, medici- nal contents (oògùn) including snail and tortoise shell; this ààlè was intended to render a private home invulnerable to thieves when occupants were away or sleep- ing. in tying together many individual broom fibers to accomplish a common task, the broom enacts in miniature the consolidation of an ideal, clustered community. each fiber was said to embody an ancestor prepared to work and fight for the living.

4 Ààlè Maker unknown; tanrin street, Ìjèbú- Ìgbó, Ògún state, March 8, 1999 broom (ìgbálè), wood, red cloth on woodpile Many ààlè function as warning signs, deployed in public spaces where they are expected to be seen and under- stood. while many ààlè assemblages translate ruined or useless objects into useful signs of thieves’ social useless- ness, even a new broom such as this will be interpreted in an appropriately negative cast.

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af_42-51.indd 44 5/20/2009 7:39:36 PM and utility of the broom assure that it will not go unrecognized in any sector of society; as such, the broom readily lends itself to metaphor. In what follows we will explore how brooms are con- sidered when employed as visible ààlè and also as ààlè intended to act beyond the realm of visuality to protect the interior spaces of private homes. Further, as Atuu suggests, the metaphor of the broom sweeping away bad people has an expressly political dimension. That metaphor is salient not only in the small-scale contexts of Yoruba farms and homes but also on the grander scale of Nigeria in the late 1990s, as the nation was struggling to combat the thievery and corruption that had beset the streets of its cities and the halls of its government. In these several con- texts, the broom, the most ordinary of household objects, comes to represent a fragile social ideal, its brute negation, and the hopeful but thorny possibility of its defense and restoration. 5 Ààlè According to the hunter and Ògbóni member Amusan Mrs. bíólá awólówò; old buka, obafemi awolowo university, ilé-ifè, Òsun state, december 4, 1998 Adépòjù of Òkèigbó, the broom holds a privileged place in the corncob, palm-frond mid-ribs (òwá), peppers, plastic fiber spectrum of made objects used by , and must be when used as ààlè, a broom’s ephemerality is brought to the fore, treated with appropriate respect (owò).2 He offered an incanta- portending a future of misery and ultimate disintegration for a thief. as it sweeps the floor, says a yoruba proverb, “the broom falls apart tion (ofò) to this effect: “The wood of the broom is always hon- one strand at a time.” three broom fibers are sufficient to bring such ored, we don’t use it as firewood” (Òwò ni tìgì owò, a kìí figi owò knowledge to mind, elegantly attached to peppers that signify suf- dáná; the phrase offers a punning play betweenowò, ‘broom’ and fering, and to a corncob that is likened to a human body deprived of children and clothing. òwò, ‘honor’). In its made-ness, the broom retains all the materi- ality of its origins as part of a tree; but while the broom is clearly 6 Ààlè ìsé (“poverty”) wooden, it shares a different fate from other woods. The divi- babaláwo adérèmí fágbadé; Òkèigbó, Òndó state, July 24, 1998 old broom, worn-out shoe, cloth, comb (òòyà), fiber, wood nation specialist (babaláwo) Adérèmí Fágbadé, also of Òkèigbó, brought together with other objects that signify the suffering of elaborated on the ofò cited by Adépòjù, demonstrating how it poverty, a worn-out broom becomes one descriptive element in an abstract portrait of the thief’s future life of abstraction. as a comb would be applied to the creation of an ààlè: separates hairs from each other, so will a thief be separated from the Eku kìí wolé eye; broader community of useful, engaged human beings. Eye kìí wolé eku. Òwò ni tìgì owò; A kìí figi owò dáná. Owò ló ní e fòwò wolé ni yìí o. Kí olè ó má wolé mi. Kí nnkan burúkú ó má wolé mi yìí o.

Rat will not enter bird’s house; Bird will not enter rat’s house. Broom is honored; Nobody dares use broom fibers to make fire. Broom said that you must honor this, my house. May no thief enter my house. May no evil thing enter my house.3

Just as fast-burning broom fibers would never be used practi- cally as firewood, so no thief would ever be able to enter the house protected by such an object. According to Adépòjù, the ààlè for which these words are spoken is called eléríko (literally, ‘witness not’). Fágbadé agreed, and noted the specific use of theààlè : Maybe we want to travel to or New York, and we put some pre- cious things inside the house. We will hang that ààlè on our lintel and the thieves will not break in to the house. It will repel thieves, even if the building were to have a wall of gold.4

Brooms are used as ààlè throughout Yorubaland, in several different contexts. They may be deployed as visible signs of warning, placed in a farm, on market goods, or on piles of fire- wood; their efficacy as warnings resides largely in their visibility,

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af_42-51.indd 45 5/20/2009 7:39:56 PM 7 Ààlè Maker unknown; itaìdíòpè farm, near Ìjèbú-Ìgbó, Ògún state, february 3, 1999 broom (ìgbálè), palm-frond (màrìwò), rubber here a veil of fresh palm-fronds acts as a visually command- ing backdrop for the simple broom it holds aloft in a cassava farm. tied together, palm-fronds and broom comprise the ààlè, establishing a stark and meaningful contrast. the broom fibers, once green, moist, living components of a palm tree, are now brown, brittle and decrepit. the tied palm-fronds also index the work of human hands, and suggest the presence of powerful but unseen forces.

in their legibility as signs. In contrast, medicinally empowered of tying in the middle guaranteed that the individual broom ààlè (ààlè oògùn) like eléríko, are positioned within the interior fibers would work together, in balance, to accomplish their pro- confines of a domestic space, often hung above the lintels of tective task in every direction. In the incantation (ofò) recited entrance doors or passages between individual rooms, or set on to empower the ààlè, the onísègùn elaborated an image of the or above window frames. Located in these liminal spaces, ààlè assembly and consolidation of protective forces, which would such as these (Fig. 2) are usually hidden from view. They may or ultimately render the home impenetrable to thieves: may not be “witnessed” by an intruder, but the visual aspect of Òjò iwájú kìí pahun; the object is not the efficacious element here. Rather, the protec- Òjò èyìn kìí pàgbín, tive capacity of such ààlè ilé (‘ààlè of the house’) is drawn from Bówò bá panupò wón n túnlé se ni, the generative power (àse) of the words and the oògùn implanted E panupò kéé má jé ó bàjé, within the object. Èmi n lo sùn. Testimonies to the power of these brooms are common throughout Yorubaland. It seemed that most adults with whom The rain from the front does not fall on the tortoise; I spoke of such things had heard something about them or had The rain from the rear does not fall on the snail. When strands of a broom come together they keep the floor clean. read something about them or knew someone who knew some- Come together and let nothing spoil. one else who had experienced their punitive powers. The stories I am going to sleep. were more or less consistent: A thief enters a household with the intention to steal. The instant the thief touches the object of his Contained within the broom were fragments of snail and tor- desire, he puts it back down, walks over to the broom (which toise shells, which protect their otherwise vulnerable inhabit- he has not previously seen), and lifts it from its place. With this ants as Àwàlà wished his own home to be protected. Similarly, broom, the thief begins to sweep the house—compulsively, inces- the tying together of the individual broom fibers created a solid santly—until the owner of the household returns. And then, of mass that comprised a protective barrier between the thief and course, the thief receives some sort of punishment. It’s a great the household. The ààlè belonged to Àwàlà’s father, a hunter, and story, a kind of weird slapstick vignette on a looping reel. Nige- called into service the spiritual powers of that ancestor as well as ria’s many tabloid journals occasionally print reports of unfortu- the powers of his colleagues. “Each strand of the broom stands nate confrontations with such medicated brooms. Some of them for a person,” said the onísègùn, “because parts of a human body are pretty amusing, too, if that’s the sort of thing you find funny. are also among the ingredients. Things of deceased elderly hunt- ers are used.” The fibers of the broom embodied those potent Coming together spiritual forces, which Àwàlà alternately called àlùjònnú or irún- “It is a cruel medicine [oògùn ìkà ní],” said the medicinal spe- malè. When tightly bound as a broom, the collected fibers effec- cialist (onísègùn) Jáwésolá Àwàlà of Ìséyín, showing me a broom tively formed a standing army, which together could “keep the wrapped around the center with cord and decorated with three floor clean.” For Àwàlà, such power was unquestionable: “When cowrie shells (Fig. 3). “Whenever I want to sleep,” he said, “I the thieves come, the number of people who will come out [to will use it to sweep the floor, and then hang it, that’s all.” Àwàlà fight the thieves] will correspond to the number of strands on assured me this one ààlè had the power to protect his entire the broom, I am certain.”6 household from intruders: “If thieves come from the front, they The bundled broom (òsùsù owò) is thus a fighting unit, a set of will be captured. If they come from the back, they will be cap- individual fibers come together to accomplish a common goal— tured. That is why we use the rope to tie it in the middle.”5 to rid the house of dust or to protect the house from the intru- Àwàlà did not relate the act of tying rope around the middle sion of thieves. As a cohesive assemblage of distinct units, the of the broom to the actual capture of the thief—the thief might broom is positioned as an emblem of an ideal social body. Baba- or might not be metaphorically “tied down,” rendered immo- tunde Lawal points out that in traditional Yoruba social thought bile and vulnerable by the ààlè’s àse. Rather, for Àwàlà, the act “all beings are destined to exist in clusters” (1996:20). He cites

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af_42-51.indd 46 5/20/2009 7:40:01 PM 8 Ààlè babaláwo adérèmí fágbadé; Òkèigbó, Òndó state, June 11, 1998 snail shell (ìkarawun ìgbín), worn-out broom (ìgbálè), cowries, cloth, fiber, wood the objects employed in this ààlè were described as “children of the same mother,” implying that the various sufferings they signaled referred back to a single common source. they were said to belong to sònpònná, the òrìsà responsible for the spread of contagious, deadly diseases such as smallpox and aids. with a broom sònpònná sweeps disease around the world; he uses the broom as a weapon, directly attacking the integrity of a body’s surface.

an àyájó àsùwàdà (a community incantation or poem, usually recited at the consecration of a new human settlement to ensure peace and togetherness); in the following snippet of verse, the human community is imaged in a short list of similes (àfiwé): Àsùwà ni toyin. Àsùwà leéran n hù nínú oko. Àsùwà ni tòsùsù owò.

Bees always cluster together. Eéran leaves grow in a bunch. nity. A knowledgeable specialist such as Àwàlà can call forth The broom exists as a bundle (Lawal 1996:21). the àse of the dead as protective medicine and embed that àse inside the fibers of a broom. Thus empowered, Àwàlà’s broom “is In the àyájó àsùwàdà, the aspirations of a newly formed watching over [ó jé ìsó] the whole area.” community are associated with models of peaceful coexis- The three cowries added to the surface of the broom acknowl- tence and mutual support. The broom, like the cluster of bees edge and signify the powers contained within. They are the only and the leaves of eéran (Digitaria Gramineae) stands for (dúró visual hint that this is not an ordinary broom (ìgbálè làásán). fún) the idealized, unified force of a community, the consolida- Since the work of this ààlè is performed at night, said Àwàlà, tion of individual elements into an effective social body (Verger it would likely not be seen at all. However, he added, “If those 1995:539). A single midrib of a palm frond cannot function as a thieves are powerful and they have the power of ritually clarified broom. Bound together with others, however, that single fiber sight [ti wón sì wejú], when they see the three cowrie shells, they plays a necessary role as part of an irresistible sweeping force. will know that ‘the world’ [ayé]8 is the owner and the hands of its In Yoruba tradition (àsà), the dead are included within the people outnumber the thieves.”9 ranks of such a community. When the powers of the dead are appropriately honored, the dead reciprocate by bringing those Falling apart powers to work for the living. In this way, as Àwàlà suggested, an Àwàlà regarded his father’s broom as a clustering of healthy, individual who honors his commitment to the dead will never powerful individuals, an efficiently organized phalanx of protec- be in want of a supportive community. Àwàlà noted that his own tive but hidden spirits. This massing of souls was unified by the conjuration of the ancestors into this ààlè was a healing act of onísègùn’s singular intention to protect his home and his fam- medical efficacy, an act that called forth the presence of spirits ily from thieves and other intruders. Designed for use in and to support the seemingly isolated person in need of protection. around his home, Àwàlà’s broom was fundamentally medicinal According to Àwàlà, or spiritual in content. Its value as a visual sign was limited, since We believe that if somebody is feeling cold and is not ready to use it was used principally at night, when others might not see it. But medicine, we will cover that person with a cloth. [Similarly,] if some- brooms are also used in exterior spaces such as farms or are set body has a headache or is feeling body pain due to heat, we may fan atop piles of firewood or on market goods (Fig. 4). In such cases, that person so that she will be relieved. But we also believe there is the brooms are not only seen but are also recognized as images something one can do [for oneself] without anyone else being around of human suffering, of the fragmentation and impoverishment [to help]. If you believe that there is something [like aspirin] that one of an individual human life. can give to a person, so it was with our forefathers when they con- As a privileged object of medicinal power, Àwàlà’s broom had 7 jured the àlùjònnú …We can call them irúnmalè. not been subjected to the same sort of hard labor an ordinary broom undergoes. It had been built expressly for the purpose of As Àwàlà’s broom demonstrates, the dead are vital—indeed, protecting Àwàlà’s household—quickly, gently whisked along the revitalizing—forces within the life of a person or of a commu- ground, and then set in an appropriate place—rather than for

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af_42-51.indd 47 5/20/2009 7:40:06 PM For Fágbadé, assembling these specific objects constituted a more complete rendering of the “the thief” as a social outcast. “That is how they should be combined together parapò[ ],” he said. “The function of each differs, but combined together they have become an evil man [okùnrin burúkú].” Fágbadé laughed, which I took to mean, “Obviously it’s not an evil man; it’s an image of an evil man.” He then summed up the assemblage before us. “All of these things have elements of suffering ìyà[ ]. All of them are com- bined as a force. Anyone who contacts it is in trouble.”13 In Ìjèbú-Ìgbó the farmer Joseph Olùdáyo pointed to a pre- pared broom, suspended between two vertical sticks and set against a frame of delicately draped màrìwò, on a neighboring cassava farm (Fig. 7). “The broom has been prepared with some oògùn [medicine],” said Olùdáyo. “The person will become lean 9 Sorry sir ... ‘leke Moses like a broom until he dies. The person will dry out, losing blood 14 editorial cartoon, The Post Express, december 4, 1998 and water.” The suffering of a broom is a continuing process of the paramilitary force operation sweep was established in 1996 dissolution, a slow death by overwork; as the broom is dragged to fight increasing crime in lagos. it met with some success, but soon plunged into corruption, becoming complicit in the crimes it along the floor, it is worn down and leaves strands of itself was meant to combat. this cartoon expresses with pitiless clarity behind. The thief or transgressor similarly “will be losing differ- the popular distrust of operation sweep. ent strands” of his or her life.15 The transgressor is figured both as the dissipating broom and as the individual broom straw that the intensive daily labor of sweeping the floor. A work of careful has dropped away from the mass, the strand that not even the craftsmanship, packed with medicines (oògùn), words (òrò), and broom will accommodate. One’s body falls away from the con- power (àse), the broom had remained intact over many years gregated bundle of humanity. The broom’s suffering is addressed of service. This is not the case with ordinary brooms, which are in an incantation (ofò; Òpádòtun 1986:10): hasty constructions that begin to fall apart almost immediately Kì í san fún eésan, after being dragged across the floors of house and yard. Kì í wò fún owò. Mrs. Bíólá Awólówò, a vendor of fruits and roasted corn at the Old Buka market at Obafemi Awolowo University, created an The shell of the palm nut will never prosper, ààlè in which she bound three individual broom fibers and three And so will it be for the broom. ripe red peppers to half a corncob (Fig. 5). It is an eerily elegant work, the broom fibers extending thin and whiplike beyond the In order to extract the rich oil from a palm nut, one must crack desiccated body of the corncob. But its elegance belies the suf- open its shell. Destroyed in this way, the shell is then useful only as fering it heralds for the thief. “The broom is used to sweep the kindling for fires. Similarly, a worn-out broom is useful to no one, floor,” said Mrs. Awólówò, “and its strands will fall out one after except as ààlè. It bears witness only to its own history of suffering, the other. They say, ‘The broom falls apart one strand at a time’ and promises a comparable future for one who would disregard its [Ìkòòkan ni ìgbálè n yo].”10 When used as ààlè, a broom’s ephem- warning. “We know that suffering has reduced this broom to what erality is brought to the fore; it is a hardworking instrument, it is now,” said Fágbadé, and it portends the same for the thief. “It whose only reward for its labor is its own disintegration. will be used to sweep the toilet,” the babaláwo continued, Babaláwo Adérèmí Fágbadé remarked on the slow deteriora- and it will be used to sweep goats’ shit, fowl’s shit, and all sorts of tion of the broom used in an ààlè he had named “Poverty” (ààlè dirty things on the ground, until it becomes worn out from working. ìsé; Fig. 6); here it was a model of the thief’s own imminent col- The thief will work and work until he is worn out, but there will be lapse into destitution: “If someone has gone to steal where they nothing to show for all the work he has done. Suffering will be pursu- have put a broom as ààlè on something, the person who steals ing him, and it will never relent.16 there will be suffering. He will not be able to gather his wealth, because whatever a broom does, it falls apart [ó túká].”11 Fágbadé also employed a severely diminished broom in To this potent sign Fágbadé had added a filthy rag (àkísà aso), another ààlè, this one to represent the punishment of degenera- a worn-out sandal (àjákù bàtà), and a comb (òòyà), lending tive disease (Fig. 8). According to him, the broom, cowrie shells, nuance to his visual description (àpèjúwè) of wretchedness. red cloth, and snail shell that comprised the ààlè were “children A person in poverty will wear rags and worn-out shoes. May of the same mother”; that is, they were all attributes of Sòn- Olódùmáre not allow the suffering this shoe has experienced to pònná, the òrìsà responsible for the spread of contagious, deadly come upon me. The shoe has stepped on the shit of goats and human diseases such as smallpox and AIDS. Among these diverse beings. It has trekked the town until suffering has reduced it to this objects, the broom is Sònpònná’s weapon of choice; with it he condition. Cloth is also used until it becomes a rag and torn. We sweeps disease to the corners of the earth (Buckley 1985:110–12, know also that suffering has reduced this broom to what it is now. Thompson 1983:63). “Anyone who steals there will be punished The broom can be used to sweep any place; it will sweep the toilet and by Sònpònná,” said the babaláwo. “That is Sònpònná’s broom.” sweep where we urinate. And the comb [òòyà], on its own—the issue Babaláwo Kóláwolé Oshìtólá suggested that it is Sònpònná’s of suffering [ìyà] never departs [yà] from it.12

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af_42-51.indd 48 5/20/2009 7:40:08 PM broom itself that comes in contact with the body, leaving in its wake the disfiguring marks of disease: rashes, sores, roughness of skin, the sweat of fever. “Something is poking the body [nnkan n gùn lára],” he said.17 The broom inscribes disruption on the body’s surface—it pierces the surface, sweeps it away, reveals as visible symptoms the disturbances fermenting beneath the skin (Buckley 1985:101–102). And, clearly, it suffers all the while.

o peration Sweep: kill and go It is a simple image, and hard to resist for its simplicity: a broom to sweep away all the evil, all the corruption, all the unwanted elements of a household or a community. A broom 10 I am now the new Sweeper here! can be sent to someone as an object-message (àrokò), an unmis- laobis obilonu takable indication that the receiver’s presence is no longer valued editorial cartoon, The Vanguard, december 29, 1998:8. (see Olómólà 1979, Òpádòtun 1986, Doris in press). It is a mes- when operation sweep was shut down in december 1998, the vacuum was quickly filled. criminals called “area boys” returned in sage of chastisement, says Olátúnjí Òpádòtun. “The sender does force to the streets of lagos, extorting shopkeepers with threats not want to see the recipient in his house again. He has used the of violence. in this cartoon, an area boy holds a club and a broom broom to sweep his feet out of the house” (“… eni tí ó pàrokò kò at the ready to “sweep the pockets” of an ordinary citizen. fé rí eni tí ó pa àrokò náà ránsé si mó nínú ilé rè, àti pé ó ti fi owò gbá esè eni náà dànù”; 1986:29). In a second instance, the broom crime units were known respectively—and not without an inad- signifies that the recipient should pack up and leave town; again, vertent touch of irony—as Operation Wipe and Operation Flush. “the broom will be used to sweep him or her out of the town.” A Despite the influx of cash and good intentions, the promise broom, it follows, would never be sent as a housewarming gift. of order was soon transformed into an exercise in chaos, as the As an ordinary, good, and useful object that also transports men of Operation Sweep were themselves accused of engaging such a range of easily readable negative associations, the broom’s in petty extortion, theft, and ultimately murder. Even under the symbolic reach extends far beyond “traditional” Yoruba contexts. ostensibly improved conditions, officers were compelled to use At the end of the twentieth century, the ambivalent metaphor of force to provide for themselves and their families. According to sweeping away troubles—inspiring both hopeful possibility and one especially candid officer, police could only fearful finality—was also applied to criminality far greater and indulge in corrupt practices because they find themselves often in more endemic to Nigeria at large than the petty thievery target- tight corners, since they are poorly paid. You will always find a situa- ing local homes and farms. In such contexts, brooms themselves tion whereby [a] man who has a family to feed will as soon as he gets were not needed as tangible objects; instead, a word or an image to the office abandon his job to look for money first. Since they have would suffice. It is to those contexts that we now turn. no other place to turn to, the police will use their guns and uniform The potent significance of the broom was not lost on former to extort money from the public”(quoted in Mba-Afolabi 1998:13). Lagos State military administrator Brigadier General Olagunsoye Oyinlola, who in early 1996 created an elite police and paramili- In 1998 and 1999, roadblocks organized by Operation Sweep tary force called “Operation Sweep” to combat increasing waves and other military and police organizations were ubiquitous on of armed robberies and car snatchings in Lagos. Operation Sweep the streets of Lagos and on the highways leading further into the had little effect on the rate of crime until Colonel Mohammed country. Such roadblocks were in most cases opportunities for Marwa, the new Lagos State military administrator, took the reins armed officers to engage in small-scale extortion, demanding in August 1996. Marwa supported the efforts of Operation Sweep sums of ten or twenty naira in exchange for passage. In Opera- by supplying it with much-needed cash; purchasing new cars, tion Sweep, the metaphor of sweeping the streets of Lagos and radios, and bulletproof vests; and providing the armed officers a Nigeria, of Good Cops swiftly and definitively brushing aside daily stipend of about 100 naira (at the time, roughly US$1.25). It Bad Robbers, was turned on its head. “They sweep our pockets,” has been said that under Marwa’s close supervision, Operation was an accusation I heard in many casual conversations with Sweep “dislodged most criminals and reduced [the] crime rate in Nigerians in the southwest and further east in Abia State. the state by 70 percent” (Mba-Afolabi 1998:15). Widely regarded as undependable and dangerous, Opera- Hoping to reproduce the excellent results of Marwa’s Lagos- tion Sweep, like the police more generally, was felt to be actively based Operation Sweep, state military administrators through- working against the public interest. It soon became as feared as out Nigeria established their own programs of intensive security. the criminals themselves. Indeed, in the two years following the The names of the units bespoke an aura of decisive, unwavering inception of Operation Sweep, crime rates increased in several action. In Òyó and Òsun states, Operation Gbálè (Sweep) was states, especially in Lagos, partly due to the barely disguised put to work, while Ògún State had Operation Wedge, and Òndó complicity of police in criminal practices. In an editorial cartoon State had Operation Crush. There were others: Operation Storm by ‘Leke Moses in the Post Express, we see an armed and hel- in Imo State, Operation Watch in , and Operation meted soldier, his camouflage jacket marked operation sweep, Sting in Anambra State. In Delta and Rivers States, the troubled prostrating himself before an even more heavily armed thug. oil-rich sector of Nigeria known as the “south-south,” the anti- “Sorry sir,” the soldier pleads, “it is not armed robbers like you

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af_42-51.indd 49 5/20/2009 7:40:09 PM obaSanjo’S broom During the late 1990s, the broom once again found its way into the political imagery of a Nigeria teetering on the brink of sev- eral sorts of chaos, struggling to find stability. This time, jour- nalists related the broom broadly to the healing of a disastrously corrupt Nigerian political body. A cartoon published in the Post Express, just days after the election to the presidency of the former General Olusegun Obasanjo, is exemplary (Fig. 11). In it a smil- ing Obasanjo holds a long-handled broom and gestures toward a throne marked “POWER” while considering the mandate posted on the wall: “presidential election results: gen. obasanjo wins presidential race.” He stands at the ready, quivering, wide-eyed, showering sweat and confetti, graced by a little floating heart that declares, one imagines, the curative powers of a lead- er’s love. A word bubble draws our attention to the magnitude of Obasanjo’s task: “Now, it’s time to clear the Augean Stable!” Indeed, the labors awaiting the new president were Herculean 11 Now, it’s time ... in scope: restore Nigeria to economic prosperity, rid it of the per- suji Godrico vasive corruption in its government and military, restructure the editorial cartoon, The Post Express, March 5, 1999:8. with the election of a new president in 1999, broom imagery reap- nationalized electrical power and telephone utilities, reestablish peared in public discourse, related to the healing of a disastrously the flow of petroleum products within the country—the list con- corrupt nigerian political body. here, the new president joyfully prepares to make a clean sweep of corruption—ironic, since few in tinues, painfully. There was little reason to expect that Obasanjo nigeria actually trusted him, or expected him to act as a miracle- would meet the challenge. He had once before held the office, working hercules. between 1976 and 1979—a term begun with great promise but ultimately marked by corruption and infamy, opening a new era we’re after, but those defenceless bloody civilians!” (Fig. 9). The of political cynicism in Nigeria. Twenty years later, Yoruba vot- criminal is perplexed by the soldier’s supplication—the hiero- ers clearly did not want Obasanjo, a Yoruba man, back in office— glyphic question mark and exclamation point that flash above Ògún State, Obasanjo’s home, was the only predominantly Yoruba his head tell us as much. Most urban Nigerian readers would not state to grant him a majority vote, and even that victory was sus- be so perplexed. pect. Despite trading in his army uniform for embroidered civilian After much public and media objection to the terrifying meth- clothing, despite his release from the prison where General Sani ods of Operation Sweep in some of the more densely populated Abacha had cast him on charges of conspiracy, despite his pub- areas of Lagos such as Yaba, site of one of the city’s busiest mar- lic embrace of Jesus as his personal savior and so on, few in the kets, Governor Marwa shut it down in December 1998. Almost southwest or anywhere else in Nigeria believed he would act dif- immediately, the “touts,” thieves, and “area boys” were back in ferently than he had in his earlier incarnation. business, extorting cash from taxi drivers and traders. One way This little cartoon, then, is touched by a special sort of mad- or another, the people of Lagos were not faring well in the battle ness. There really ought to be something ironic in its presen- against crime: “We were better off with Operation Sweep,” one tation of Obasanjo as a broom-wielding Hercules—this is a Yaba shopkeeper told me in March 1999. political cartoon, after all, and its subject is no hero—but the In the absence of any protective agencies, the traders fended irony is just not there. Instead, it is a celebration, as if the murky for themselves, forming vigilante groups, directly and violently past is forgotten, replaced by an earnest but unfounded faith in confronting the criminals. Here’s another editorial cartoon from the possibility of a sparkling future. Here is Obasanjo, purify- one of Nigeria’s most respected newspapers, the Vanguard (Fig. ing broom in hand, a tireless champion prepared to work for the 10). Appearing just a day after a particularly spectacular con- good of the nation—in its gleeful innocence, the image could not frontation between thieves and shopkeepers in Yaba Market, the be more absurd. It denies the reality of disenchantment, insist- image shows us Area Boy grabbing Citizen by the shirt. The citi- ing instead on the illusion of a fresh start, a clean sweep of the zen is carrying a bag filled with naira, while the criminal sports world’s ills. And that is its madness, a desperation that often goes all the signifiers of the classic plug-ugly: the tight T-shirt and by the name of hope. vest, the thickly muscled arms, the mustache, the cap, the dark sunglasses. Behind his back, the bully holds his instruments of no Condition iS permanent intimidation: a heavy spiked club and a traditional broom. His In early November of this past year, just a few days after the words: “I am now the new Sweeper here!” The citizen, toting a United States presidential election, I called a friend of mine in bag full of naira, is surprised at being grabbed—there are those Nigeria. It had been about a year and a half since Obasanjo had two punctuation marks again, ubiquitous in Nigerian editorial stepped down after completing his second term in office, and to cartoons of the time. no one’s surprise, Nigeria’s Augean Stable was still in dire need of But look also at the eyes of that small citizen: two tiny black a good, thorough sweeping. But now in the US, after eight years dots and a few scratched lines. See the anger there. of political and economic devastation, President-Elect Barack

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af_42-51.indd 50 5/20/2009 7:40:09 PM Obama had an Augean Stable of his own to sweep. In two very Maybe now you òyìnbós will get things done properly!” different contexts, the basic stakes were the same: years of cor- I laughed too—relieved, hopeful, a little nervous about the future. ruption and lack of accountability at the highest levels of govern- “Àse-o!” I said, which in Yoruba is how one says: May it happen. ment had crippled the economies of what were once productive, “But then, ah, look at Nigeria now,” he added. “We only ever wealthy nations. The greed of a few had battered the lives of mil- get black presidents, and see where we are.” lions. In the US, we too were now desperate to hang on to what “Na wá-o!” I chided him, “You know that is not because they we had worked so hard to earn. And in the weeks before the are black now. It is because they are thieves.” election, many of us suddenly found ourselves using the word “Eh heh, that is true,” he said. “Thieves are too many in Nigeria.” “hope” without a trace of irony. Once all the numbers were in, The conversation had turned gloomy, so I tried to lighten it up the president-elect quickly and publicly set to gathering the a bit. “But Bàbá, make you no forget what they say: ‘No condi- broom straws that would help get the Stable swept. tion is permanent.’” My friend, a man in his early sixties, was exuberant about the “Mmmm,” said my friend, and sighed heavily into the phone. US election results, and through the phone I could hear him smiling as he spoke. He congratulated the American people for David T. Doris is an associate professor in the Department of the His- tory of Art and the Center for Afroamerican and African Studies at the electing to office a man who seemed genuinely intent on setting University of Michigan. His book, Vigilant Things: The Strange Fates of things right both at home and abroad. Ordinary Objects in Nigeria, is forthcoming from the University of Wash- “A black president!” he laughed. “Amazing! You have tried-o! ington Press. [email protected]

Notes 8 The term ayé, literally ‘the world’, is used Spectacular Departures from the Human in Yoruba euphemistically to refer to a category of people who Culture.” RES 49/50:115–38. Some of this essay has been drawn from a section of are endowed with powers associated with great age or my book, Vigilant Things: The Strange Fates of Ordinary ______. in press. Vigilant Things: The Strange Fates arcane knowledge. Here, Àwàlà was referring to the Objects in Nigeria, forthcoming from the University of Ordinary Objects in Nigeria. Seattle: University of powers of the elder men and women of the Ògbóni of Washington Press. Institutional support came in Washington Press. society, who are represented by the number three. all manner of guises from the University of Michigan’s 9 Onísègùn Jáwésolá Àwàlà, interview with Drewal, Henry J., and Margaret T. Drewal. 1990. Gelede: Department of the History of Art and the Center for Afro- author, Ìséyín, October 15, 1998. Art and Female Power Among the Yoruba. Bloomington: american and African Studies (CAAS), and I am grateful 10 Mrs. Bíólá Awólówò, interview with author, Ilé- University of Indiana Press. for all of it. Likewise, I am obliged to my colleagues at Ifè, December 4, 1998. Michigan who, against the odds, manage across the board Gbadegesin, Segun. 1998. “Ènìyàn: The Yoruba Concept 11 Babaláwo Adérèmí Fágbadé, interview with to be both brilliant and humane. Many Large Thanks to of a Person.” In Philosophy from Africa: A Text with author, Òkèigbó, July 24, 1998. Allyson Purpura and Christine Mullen Kreamer for invi- Readings, ed. P.H. Coetzee and A.P.J. Roux, pp. 149–68. 12 Ibid. ting me to participate in this issue of African Arts, and Johannesburg: International Thomson Publishers. 13 Ibid. for being patient as I plodded away at the work under 14 Joseph Olùdáyo, interview with author, Ìjèbú- Lawal, Babatunde. 1996. The Gèlèdé Spectacle: Art, Gen- weird circumstances. To the Nigerian men and women Ìgbó, February 3, 1999. der, and Social Harmony in an African Culture. Seattle: who shared with me their understanding of the matters 15 Babaláwo Kóláwolé Oshìtólá, interview with University of Washington Press. at hand, my debt is endless; without them, these pages author, Challenge, , January 12, 1999. would be blank, and I’d be out of a job. For helping out in ______. 2001. “Àwòrán: Representing the Self and Its 16 Babaláwo Adérèmí Fágbadé, interview with ways too numerous to recount, Gold Stars go out to Glenn Metaphysical Other in Yoruba Art.” The Art Bulletin 83 author, Òkèigbó, June 11, 1998. Adamson, Martha and Thomas Armstrong, Lowell Bas- (3):498–526. 17 Babaláwo Kóláwolé Oshìtólá, interview with sett, Kevin G. Carr, the Swiss Family DelVecchio, Arlene author, Challenge, Ibadan, January 12, 1999. Mba-Afolabi, Janet. 1998. “The Saviour as Problem.” and Martin Doris, Pamela McClusky, Adam W. Miller, Newswatch 28 (21):8–15. and Raymond A. Silverman. And to Melissa Doris and References cited Marcella Doris—my lady, my baby—I can hardly begin Olómólà, Ìsòlà. 1979. “Àrokò: an Indigenous Yorùbá here to express my thanks and my love. This essay is dedi- Abíódún, Rowland. 1990. “The Future of African Art Semiotic Device.” Odu: A Journal of West African Stud- cated with admiration and affection to Diane (The Wolf) Studies: An African Perspective.” In African Art Studies: ies 19:78–102. Mark-Walker: thank you for continuing to be. The State of the Discipline, pp. 63–89. Washington DC: Òpádòtun, Olátúnjí (“Eléwì Odò”). 1986. Àrokò: Àwon 1 See Doris 2002, 2005, 2006, in press. A person National Museum of African Art. Àmi àti Ìró Ìbánisóró l’Áyé Ìjelòó. Ibadan: Vantage who responds appropriately to the call of such implica- Adepegba, C.O. 1983. “The Essence of the Image in the Publishers. [Àrokò: Signs and Communicative Sounds tive images is said to possess ìlutí, ‘good hearing’, the Religious Sculptures of the Yoruba of Nigeria.” Nigeria of the Old Days. Trans. Fabunmi Abidemi and Salawu hallmark of fine, pleasing, generous character (ìwàpèlé; Magazine 144:13–21. Segun. Unpublished manuscript. Department of Abíodún 1990:78-79). To express such responsive char- African Languages and Literatures, Obafemi Awolowo acter in cultural dialogue is to be recognized as being Atuu, Peter O. 1990. “The Symbol of the Broom Among University, Ilé-Ifè, Nigeria, August 1996.] a person in full (ènìyàn). In contrast, as philosopher the Tiv.” Nigeria 58 (1/2):47–49. Segun Gbadegesin points out (1998:149), the person Thompson, Robert Farris. 1983. Flash of the Spirit: Barber, Karin. 1981. “How Man Makes God in West who “[falls] short of what it takes to be recognized” as African and African-American Art and Philosophy. New Africa: Yoruba Attitudes Toward the Òrìsà.” Africa a person will draw from others the comment, “Kì í se York: Vintage. 51:724–45. ènìyàn” (‘he or she is not a person’). Verger, Pierre Fatumbi. 1995. Ewé: the Use of Plants in 2 Amusan Adépòjù, interview with author, Buckley, Anthony D. 1985. Yoruba Medicine. Oxford: Yoruba Society. São Paulo: Editora Schwarcz. Òkèigbó, August 31, 1998. Clarendon Press. Yai, Olabiyi Babalola. 1994. “In Praise of Metonymy: The 3 Babaláwo Adérèmí Fágbadé, interview with Doris, David T. 2002. Vigilant Things: The Strange Fates author, Òkèigbó, May 28, 1998. Concepts of ‘Tradition’ and ‘Creativity’ in the Transmis- of Ordinary Objects in Southwestern Nigeria. PhD diss. sion of Yoruba Artistry over Time and Space.” In The 4 Ibid. Yale University. 5 Onísègùn Jáwésolá Àwàlà, interview with Yoruba Artist: New Theoretical Perspectives on African author, Ìséyín, October 15, 1998. ______. 2005. “Symptoms and Strangeness in Yorùbá Arts, ed. Rowland Abíódún, Henry Drewal, and John 6 Ibid. Anti-aesthetics.” African Arts 38 (4): 24–31, 92. Pemberton III, pp. 107–15. Washington DC: Smithson- ian Institution Press. 7 Ibid. ______. 2006. “The Unfunctioning Baby and Other

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