By Emma Klitzke
 

...for many in other lands had never seen my portrait,
neither of when I was paradise
nor now as I lay dejected;
they only knew of the treasure found in me.

-Kaine Agary, speaking for the Niger Delta in "My Blessing, My Curse"

In an interview in 2011, Kaine Agary discussed her life as a native Nigerian, currently living in Lagos. Throughout her life, she has devoted much time to writing about the Niger River Delta and the struggles that Nigeria has faced because of the oil boom. In her essay, "My Blessing, My Curse," she uses a woman's perspective to highlight the injustices that the people of Nigeria have faced since the struggle for oil began in this country.

"My Blessing, My Curse" reads much like "Lament" by Debra Marquart, a poem about the oil boom in North Dakota. Both works are about how the struggle for oil tears apart the beautiful land that encases the resource, and both works draw emotional response in their readers by comparing the devastated land to a woman. Agary's essay is narrated by the personified country of Nigeria herself, using very human concepts to illustrate the country's beauty (and fated destruction). In the beginning, Nigeria describes herself as paradise: Her head is covered in "great bunches of plantain;" her legs "[stand] long and strong, the healthiest of rubber trees;" and "between [her] legs [is] a secret treasure." This treasure is the oil for which the Western world has been exploiting her for decades. But Nigeria gets trapped in a marriage to a "white lover" who plans to use her for the precious treasure she keeps secret. Before long, even her sons, native Nigerians, are using their own mother for wealth and power, with "eyes...devoid of compassion." The essay ends in despair, and a cry for help.

The comparison of Nigeria to a woman is persuasive and emotional. It reaches out to the people of Nigeria, especially to the Ken Saro-Wiwa supporters who face roadblocks and hardship every day of their lives, and it shows them that they aren't fighting alone. But Agary doesn't only write for the masses; she writes also for individual people (and, perhaps, for women as a whole). Her novel, Yellow-Yellow, is the narrative of a young Nigerian woman, Zilayefa, whose village home is destroyed by an oil spill. Inspired by those who'd found a better life before her, she relocates to Port Harcourt, a bustling city with opportunities around every corner. But these opportunities only accentuate the reality of Nigeria's situation: The oil companies virtually rule this once beautiful, independent country. Not only do these companies alone support Nigeria's economy, but they also supply the best jobs for the people; so in order to live a prosperous life in Nigeria, one's best option is to keep feeding the corrupt businesses that are destroying their country in the first place.

If we recall the concept of the "white lover" from My Blessing, My Curse, we can see how this same idea also plays a role in Yellow-Yellow. We first see it in the form of Zilayefa's absent father, a Greek sailor who visits an Ijaw village for just long enough to impregnate a young, dark-skinned Nigerian woman before he leaves without a trace. Zilayefa is only half Nigerian, making her skin much paler than most of her friends and acquaintances (thus the nickname, Yellow-Yellow). This is the first presence of the "white lover" in Zilayefa's life, and she grows up and her life begins to form around her, more and more white lovers appear. Her first kiss is a much older white man from Spain, who, like her father to her mother, shows her a great time for two nights and then disappears with no warning.

Agary wants her readers to see the effects of the Westerners who exploit poorer countries in order to improve their own lives, and she shows this through the exploitation of women. This feminist approach brings the injustices that Nigeria faces into a new, fresh light, connecting to readers not just in the second or third world, but in the Western world as well. Western oil consumers can draw a connection between the "white lover" and themselves; because of our desire for faster, wealthier, better lives, we've lost track of the wellbeing of the land that gave us this resource, not to mention the wildlife and people that still live there. It forces the Western reader to see Nigeria not as foreign and unimportant, but as a real place with real people, and real, irreversible damage.


Works Cited:

Agary, Kaine. Yellow-yellow: A Novel. Lagos: Dtalkshop, 2006. Print.

Agary, Kaine. "My Blessing, My Curse." Curse of the Black Gold: 50 Years of Oil in the Niger Delta, first edition. Ed Kashi and Michael Watts. Brooklyn: powerHouse Books, 2008. Print.

Reads, Geosi. "In an Interview with Nigerian Writer, Kaine Agary." Geosi Reads. WordPress.com, 09 Feb 2011. Web. 05 April 2016.


[Comment: I like the argument you are developing here--especially in terms of the ecofeminist comparison of the earth to a woman and to women in society (though you might say more about this latter comparison--does the novel do more to move from the allegory of the "white lover" exploiting Nigeria's "treasure" and into the effect on the lives and health of women in the Delta?). Can you develop your argument about the novel Yellow-Yellow a bit further? Draw in some postcolonial theory to discuss the neocolonial pressures from the multinational corporations, global demand for oil supply, and asymetical global political power. It sounds like the novel provides an analysis of how the global economy perpetuates the corruption and neglect of those who live in the environmental sacrifice zone. What implications and conclusions can you draw from this analysis to inform our larger project here? Be sure to introduce all of your sources--for example, where did you get the information in the first two sentences? Respond also to the chapter in Ogaga Okuyade's collection. Include references --js]