FEATHER WOMAN OF THE JUNGLE - AMOS TUTUOLA

Making my way through all the Tutuola has been a multi year project at this point. I think I’m up to 4/11 so I’ve got a ways to go. He’s sadly not as popular, at least here in the US as I feel like he should be. Part of the problem, besides the obvious chauvinism of Amerikans especially w/r/t Afrika, might have to do with him writing in a genre and mood that is outside of what people expect from a “novel.” In the ~400 years that the Western novel has existed we’ve come to expect certain elements that Tutuola simply isn’t interested in. Novels typically are long narratives following individuals or groups, Tutuola’s form is closer to Sinbad stories or closer to replicating the experience of tellin’ tales with your buddies (one of my favorite things to do). The frame in this story is an older man, who is now chief, relaying the experience he had as a younger man who went on adventures outside of his village when he was younger to seek his fortune. He tells his stories over a series of nights, after and before people drink palm-wine and dance. Again, very Sinbad and very close to real life. The tales are similar in theme but each rich enough in colorful detail that you’d listen to this sort of thing forever. Basically, he leaves to make money, finds another village or setting that is strange and threatening, is captured or held in some way, before he uses his wit and cunning to escape back to his village, where he enjoys life until he runs out of money and needs to go on another quest. There’s a great line about how this is humanities nature, to quest out and get into new stuff, “”I wonder, why every human being never satisfy with whatever his Creator had provided for him!” But I replied, “This was how our Creator had created all human beings.[sic. throughout]” The stories themselves are lots of fun. The Feather Woman turns our narrator into an image of himself (which seems like a sly take on the idea of novelizing an experience) and rides a mean ostrich, there’s a diamond goddess who rules a diamond city but, confusingly, despite being a god also worships different gods. There’s stories about the path the first YT men used to come down from heaven, underground hairy giants, the bush of quietness, and all sorts  of weird shit. I’m forever glad that Tutuola didn’t try to fit his clearly immense understanding of West African myths into a more conventional format. It renders his books unique and sui generis, tho I’m disappointed he’s not more well known in the larger English speaking world. I’ll continue to work my way through his stuff but so far, so good. 10 unmapped bushes.