Sankofa, The Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Drama Turned Classic Black Liberation Film

Official film release poster courtesy of Amazon.com

The only way out is through. Haile Gerima’s 1993 film explores the horrors of slavery through the lens of a culturally ignorant model that gets more than she bargained for when visiting Ghana for a photoshoot. Sankofa features many elements of traditional historical slave films, while still adding an undertone of uneasiness, causing the viewer to constantly feel that they’re holding their breath.

The film follows Mona, a slightly oblivious American model played by Oyafunmike Ogunlano who finds herself in Ghana and stumbles upon a historic landmark that is connected to the capturing and transporting of slaves from the country. Throughout the film we are reintroduced to the concept of the buzzard being the source of transformation to and from slavery for Mona.

The primary languages spoken in the film are English and Akan, a language spoken in the southern half of Ghana. Chants sung in the start of the film by Sankofa, the self-proclaimed protector of the sacred grounds (played by Guy Warren) are examples of call-and-response, a concept that we as a class became familiar with through our readings this semester. The chants are sung exclusively in the Akan language and set the groundwork for the theme of “respecting the history of our ancestors”.

Many heavy topics are explored in Sankofa, from colorism, rebellion, sexual assault, and unrequited love to psychological trauma and murder of family members. We watch these themes play out through the eyes of the main character, Mona, who is called “Shola” when transported back in time to the Lafayette Plantation.

Most of the film takes place here but, interestingly enough, we as the audience aren’t given an explanation as to how Mona got there, and during her time at the plantation she herself never questions it. I assume it was supposed to be some kind of metaphor for Mona putting herself in the shoes of her ancestors, but this could’ve been made clearer by the director.

A slave called Nunu, played by Ghanaian actress Alexendra Duah serves as a mother figure for those on the plantation, and is frequently sought after for advice from other slaves. She is the mother of Joe, a slave of high rank whose conception was the result of a brutal rape by slavers during Nunu’s passage from Ghana to America.

Nunu, being born in Africa and remembering the feeling of freedom, yearns to free those enslaved at the plantation, while Shola (Mona) remains complacent until near the end of the movie. Nunu is one of the main players in a slave rebellion that will emancipate the enslaved from the horrors of the Lafayette plantation, but her plan is slightly changed when a shocking event changes everything.

While the rebellion is gearing up, Shola falls in love with Shango, a Jamaican slave that is called a troublemaker for his unwillingness to submit to the circumstances of slavery. Shango is also a huge player in the creation and execution of the rebellion and ties our story together by educating Shola (Mona) on the disgusting trauma of slavery and what it will take to abolish it.

The journey of Sankofa has many layers and tackles many of the nuances that existed during slavery that are still part of the African American experience in today’s society. In the end our main character Mona walks away from the experience having a newfound respect and understanding for the hardships that our ancestors had to endure. She would never again refer to herself as a “non-African” as she did early in the film.

Overall, Ethiopian filmmaker Haile Gerima paints a beautiful, yet gritty picture of what it meant to be liberated both physically and in spirit in the world of Sankofa, beautifully illustrating the sentiments held by so many of our ancestors across the diaspora. The film is available to watch on Netflix, and is a fitting send off to Black History Month.

Brazil's Liberation

I always considered Blackness in South American countries to be extremely nuance-- Brazil is no exception. With a brutal history of centuries of slavery and continued prejudice, Brazil's African roots have found a way to thrive despite numerous efforts to stomp them out.

Beginning around 1540, eventually 5.5 million slaves would be brought to Brazil. This number is more than ten times the amount of enslaved Africans that were brought to the United States.

The country has the second largest Black-African population in the world, second to Nigeria.

While the enslaved were forcibly brought to Brazil and stripped of their rights and previous identities, pieces of African culture remained.

Photo courtesy of BrazilSelection.com

Candomblé, Brazil's main Afro-Brazilian religion, combines elements of Yoruba, Bantu, and Fon. Many of the same gods and deities that are praised in the Yoruba religion are also worshiped in Candomblé, only by different names. For example, Oshun, an important river goddess of divinity and femininity, is referred to as Oxum in the Candomblé religion.

Another fun fact, the name Candomblé literally translates to "dance in honor of the gods". No wonder dancing is an integral part of the religion's celebrations!

Though many Afro-Brazilians identify as Black, it is interesting that Black Brazilians are not present in American media when portraying Brazilians. They are always shown as olive-skinned, maybe tan people with straight black hair. It is disheartening to see their identities continue to be erased by the media.

Earlier in this post I mentioned continued prejudice against Afro-Brazilians from their fair-skinned counterparts. This phenomenon is a common theme across the African Diaspora. Wherever we go that we are not the majority, we are doomed to experience systemic racism. Brazil's instance was amplified with "Blanqueamiento", which translates to "whitening".

In an effort to dilute the African-ness of the country, the Brazilian elite proposed the idea of strengthening the white race in Brazil, to eventually be rid of Black or dark-skinned Brazilians in the future. This came directly after Brazil's abolishment of slavery in 1888, with whites fearing that when the enslaved Africans would be free, they would band together to expand the Black population, eventually overpowering the white slaveholders. This seems to be a recurring fear that Europeans have of Black people.

Black features were seen as ugly and inferior to white, and was a gene to be exterminated and erased from Brazil in the eyes of these white "farmers". Between 1890 and 1914, 1 million Europeans arrived in Brazil, with the Brazilian elite having hope that they would whiten the Brazilian population, and perhaps create mixed children that would eventually procreate with other white Brazilians, lessening their African genes.

As a Black person, seeing the efforts of our fellow man be spent on oppressing us and ensuring that we do not rise to power in any way, is frankly depressing. I often wonder why we were chosen to suffer in this way, to be so internationally hated for our African ancestry.

I admire Afro-Brazilians for thriving in the face of adversity, and never allowing their African roots to be buried.

Blackness in Peru

I learned so much this week. On Tuesday, I had the pleasure of interviewing Professor Mariela Noles Cotito. The research that went into creating the questions for the interview required me to really put my self into the shoes of Afro-Peruvians. I am so happy that I had the chance to speak with Professor Noles Cotito, and it really stuck with me when she said that, in Peru, she doesn't think she'd ever seen six Black youths in the same room. She also spoke about the soul music in Peru.

I wish that I'd gotten her information so that if I ever find myself in Peru I could connect with her. After the interview she told me if I ever traveled there she would take me dancing. What a great week!