This was not about plot, but about characters who are real people who lived prior to and during WWII in colonial Nigeria.
Things I learned about culture:
—One character questions the preference western medicine is given when trying to set up a local herbalist shop with local curatives. One’s Christian beliefs can be called into question if one wants to follow a local cure regimen. Protection from an herbalist is also mentioned which I thought was a connection to Native Americans, who also carry this kind of protection. It came up in the Dark Wind TV series based on Tony Hillerman books.
—With the older generation, the husbands don’t live with their multiple wives and certainly aren’t seen in public with them. Shocker—the school teacher was “not only married to one wife; he actually shared the same roof with her.” Others “walked shamelessly in public with their wives, even holding hands.”
—A theme mentioned more than once is, “He has no future who fails to affect his present.”

About colonialism:
—schools didn’t have enough room or teachers for all children. “The bright ones among them had to be given preference; it was only just.”
—“he says that the church bells only sound in the ear, while the drums of osugbo resound in the pit of one’s stomach.”
—like our saying, the grass is always greener… “The pasture on the farther bank of the river…is always lusher than the one behind one’s backyard.”
—“Whose war is this? What is our stake in this quarrel between white people?”
—“Will these people let go of us? Will they have a change of heart?” (Because of WWII)
—“The average West African is no more fit to govern his own colonies than the average English member of Parliament of today is to handle any part or portion of the British Empire.”
—There was a Spitfire Fund to raise money for fighter jets for Britain. Nigerians were raising money “to prove themselves loyal subjects of the crown and defenders of British possessions.”
—“our African brothers in Christ sometimes strike me as being deficient in their sense of mission. Why fight tooth and nail to remain within shouting distance of his hometown? We go wherever we are sent.”
—“a king should be like a huge iroko, casting a protective shade over all his subjects. Whoever heard of such a tree being nourished on foreign soil?”

4.5/5

In the wake of the Nobel Prize for Literature being canceled this year, I look back on what it has accomplished and what it has destroyed. Like many institutions I have seen fit to outgrow, it served as a wading pool introduction to the broader spectrum of literature, constructing in nice near little rows the tiers of credibility, complete with the comfort zone of ubiquitous white boys, a sprinkle of white women, a small number of exotified men of color, and a lone woman of color with the full force of the world's most supreme military industrial complex of contemporary times behind her. I doubt I've completely escaped the much applauded enforcer of the status quo's orbit, but a year off will temper my expectations and allow me to explore authors on more mortal planes: those who are too young, those who died too soon, those whose election to the ranks would be such a breakthrough that self satisfied complacency dictates cannot happen yet; maybe in a decade or two, but certainly not now in the middle of #MeToo and the Weinstein effect. One thing I will admit to is that I'm glad I indulged in the Nobel when and for as long as I did, so I doubt I would have encountered Wole Soyinka as early as I did, and that, along with a number of others, made such growing pains less bitter, if not less necessary.

I conscientiously chose to read 'The Story of an African Farm' alongside this because I knew I'd need sufficient contrast between that work's self-centered wonderland, however well meaning, and a work that acknowledged the broad spread of the country it was in, from the machinations of a husband with one of his wives to the backdrop of WWII in a colonized landscape. TSoaAF suffered as a result, but since it's doing well enough comparatively on the scale of overall repute, I feel little sympathy. Flaws as the Nobel Prize is, it takes a village to raise a child, so even the rare instance of an actually novel and well thought out choice of prize recipient will suffer in the mainstream chooses to hearken to white boy after white boy and simply pass by those who don't fit the physical characteristics of the demographic of power. In any case, Soyinka's tribute to his father is a marvelous example of the power of historical fiction when it comes to putting flesh on the bones of dry figures and statistics, rendering a portrait so complex in its humanity that one wonders how the adulation can so easily pass over it. One knows, of course, the true reasons for such a trajectory all one can do is read and trumpet out one's reading when appropriate in hopes that some other like minded individuals will hear.

Soyinka's one of those authors whom I've stuck with for a respectable period of time without getting pissed off. As I've said previously, It's nice when an institution of immensely flaws credibility manages to spit up a diamond in the rough every once in a while. I could go on about the grand attention Soyinka paid to the history of politics and economics and post/present/future of his father's burgeoning time on the cusp of decolonization, but either a reader will believe my general judgment of quality or they won't. That's fine. More for me, especially in this year of officialdom drought.

Wole Soyinka is good at juxtaposing stories. The book bring to life the culture and traditions of the yoruba people; A long preserved heritage of Soyinka. An excellent read.

Ensikosketus Wole Soyinkaan.

Ja Soyinka ei kyllä päästänyt lukijaa helpolla. Rakenteellisesti rikottu elämäkerta Soyinkan opettajaisästä 1930- ja 1940-luvun Nigeriassa tarjosi mielettömiä tuokiokuvia tuosta ajasta ja paikasta.

Mutta on myönnettävä, että näiden tiettyjen hetkien (joita oli kyllä lukuisia) ulkopuolella olin kyllä lukijana jokseenkin ulapalla. Olisi vaatinut varmasti 1) enemmän taustatietoa Nigeriasta ja sen kulttuurista, sekä 2) syvempää paneutumista, jotta kirjasta olisi saanut täydet tehot irti. Voin ihan rehellisesti myöntää, että en pysynyt kärryillä lukuisista lempinimistä ja aina vain uusista hahmoista. Enkä siitä kuka nyt oli jagun ja mikä on igun ja kuka ehkä kuuluu ogboniin.

Soyinkan Nobelin perusteissa nostetaan esiin se "laaja kulttuurinen perspektiivi", joka hänellä on. Ja kulttuureja ja niiden kohtaamisia tässä kyllä riitti. Oli Nigerian sisäisiä heimoidentiteettejä ja toisaalta sitten suhdetta siirtomaavaltoihin ja alkavaan sotaan Euroopassa. Kiinnostavinta sisältöä kirjassa olivatkin juuri kokemukset siitä miten sodan kauit näkyivät tavallisten nigerialaisten elämässä. Sellaista historiaa, johon harvoin pääsee käsiksi.

Summauksena voisi sanoa, että rikkonaisella tyylillään Soyinka asettaa vastakkain ja limittäin kulttuurisia ilmiöitä, joista muodostuu kiinnostava kudelma; olkookin että kuviointi jäi osaltani vielä hieman sumeaksi.

I really enjoyed this read. I found the writing to be quite beautiful and very readable. Soyinka seems to easily and naturally bring his reader into the mind of his characters: I found myself following tangents as characters got lost in their own thoughts in several scenes (and felt jarred, as the characters did, when these streams of consciousness were interrupted by dialogue from another character). I think the premise is interesting: Soyinka imagines and writes a story based on his father's letters. He does a great job of painting a vivid picture of Nigeria in the first half of the 20th century, on the brink of decolonization. The novel certainly does a good job of exploring the complexities of this time and place. His characters are rich in humanity and thoughtfully positioned within their political and economic landscapes. There are tensions and ambiguities between British colonialists and Africans of this generation at play. This novel is observant and generous to the imagined lives of these characters. I think Soyinka certainly does the people of this time and place justice. He is clearly well-researched, thoughtful, and his writing is smooth.

I did find this novel to be hard to follow at times. There is little context provided for many characters, traditions, and events that happen in the novel, which can be confusing. However, I do think it is important to acknowledge that I do not think it is Soyinka's job to necessarily explain all the customs, traditions, and phrases he uses to a Western audience. Overall, I think Soyinka accomplishes a lot with this piece of writing, and that it is a beautiful exploration of his own heritage.

Isjara is een familiememoires in fictie. Is een portret van een maatschappelijk in transitie.

Soyinka, met behulp van voornamelijk verzonnen namen en gebeurtenissen duikt terug in de levens van zijn vader “Essah” - de bijnaam van de vader- en de generatie van zijn vader tien jaar voor zijn eigen geboorte, en vervolgt hun verhaal tot aan het uitbreken van de Tweede Wereldoorlog.

Uit de brieven, aantekeningen van zijn vader; en uit
boeken, en uit schoolrapporten en commissienotulen reconstrueert hij de levens van Essah en zijn vrienden en tijd als de "vertegenwoordiger" van die hele westers opgeleide generatie die aan de voorhoede van de onafhankelijkheidsbeweging voor en tijdens de Tweede
Wereldoorlog.

De voormalige kinderen van Isjara- hun keuze was ondraaglijk beperkt p8- die zichzelf 'ex-Iles' noemen,
omdat ze samen afgestudeerd zijn aan de Ilesa Teacher Training. Ze zijn (culturele) ballingen als gevolg van de westerse ideeën die ze eigen hebben gemaakt.
Ze zij de schoolmeesters, zakenlieden, bureaucraten, advocaten en vakbondsleden.

Door hun eigen ouders beschouwd als "the next thing to oyinbos" (witte mannen) en door het koloniale regime als "zeer welgestelde moderne en professionele Nigerianen”.

Soyinka herschept en laat de dilemma's zien. Hoe ze
meer afgezonderd van de manier van leven van hun ouders; maar ze kunnen het niet weigeren of vervangen.

Het boek is vol met verhalen die de tijd moeten weergeven:
-een lokale zakenman vraagt ​​advies aan een medium over winst en verlies;
-de onderwijzer-vader raadpleegt het plaatselijke orakel om erachter te komen of hij succesvol zal zijn in zijn carrière;
-de grootvader, Pa Josiah, is een opportunistische christen die om politieke redenen, heeft zich laten dopen en stuurt zijn zoon naar een christen seminarie om te leren en hem op de hoogte te houden van de wegen van de witte man.
Tegelijkertijd onderhoudt hij meerdere vrouwen, blijft hij in het geheim frequent sektebijeenkomsten en houdt zich aan traditionele geneeswijzen;
-Odemo is een hoogopgeleide vakbondsman uit Lagos en een slimme moderne politicus.;
-Wanneer Essah het orakel raadpleegt over zijn carrière krijgt hij te horen dat hij "Asabula moet vinden", en diezelfde dag komt hij thuis en vindt een ​​brief van een nieuwe Amerikaanse penvriend, afgestempeld
"Ashtabula, Ohio." Jaren later, wanneer de penvriend onverwachts opduikt in Isara op het hoogtepunt van de koningschapscrisis, de leraar begroet hem met de woorden "Welkom bij Ashtabula," en de betekenis is duidelijk: zijn geboortewereld is nu zelf onderdeel van de grotere moderne orde vertegenwoordigd door de Ohian Ashtabula.
orakels instructie aan Isara, via de schoolmeester, is een bevel om zijn plaats in de wereld te ontdekken.

-het verhaal is dus een reis naar huis, maar om te ontdekken dat "thuis" nu de wereld is. Pa Josiah zegt tegen zijn zoon: 'We bidden allemaal dat onze kinderen verder gaan dan wij.'

-het verhaal van Essah is niet in chronologische volgorde verteld. De jongensjaren, adolescentie en publieke gebeurtenissen: nationalisme, oorlog en de voorbereiding op onafhankelijkheid.

-de woordenlijst van Yoruba-woorden is leerzaam.
-vele personages met veel zorg gedaan.

Ik vond toch geweldig te ontdekken wat de bedoeling is bij Soyinka. Het verhaal van zijn vaders vertellen..
-waardoor was de ene mens toch zo anders dan de andere p267
-koning Duncans kasteel of het heiligdom van Gdogboloe, wat maakt het uit? 276
-vergelijk…. je … de troon van Engeland met…. onze troon van …. Isjara? ‘Waarom niet?’ riepen ze alledrie in koor p243

Nice reading

Beautiful.
As the sub-title suggests, this is a voyage, a voyage into the past and not some fast paced thriller, and as result ones reading of it needs to settle into a particular rhythm in order to properly appreciate it. The story explores the lives of a generation long gone yet not so distant from ours; it leaves much room for contemplation as theirs is a generation that still bears heavily and directly on ours.
I suspect I'll be refering to this book often in the future.

A well written account of childhood in pre independence Yorubaland. Although it is probably not typical, it illustrates the essence of the Yoruba parenting style, a style that makes every adult a parent and every child dutiful. I recommend it.

DNF

Usually, I really enjoy Soyinka’s work. As a Nigerian living in the diaspora, his work usually manages to connect me to the cultural traditions of the Yoruba people, in a way that very few people - or things, manage to do. Particularly liked his book Of Africa, and Ake. However, this book, for lack of a better word, was a jumbled mess. There was no real plot (admittedly, Soyinka explains that this is the case in the foreword), there was no real explanation of some of the Yoruba words used (might have just been the edition I read though?), and the several characters are named, and we get an insight into their lives without a real introduction.

Had to stop reading this book, because even after reading over 90 pages, I still couldn’t get into the book, neither could I get drawn into the narrative Soyinka was weaving.

Reading this book was certainly a different experience. I've read several by Brits and others about life in colonial Africa from their perspective. This is my first written by an African. Perhaps not so oddly, it reminds me of stories of colonial India.

A good book. I was expecting more.
I got bored in the middle and it took me a long time to get back on track with this one.