AFRICAN WOMEN AND THE FIRE DANCE

It is important to begin this editorial with Fela Anikulapo-Kuti's widely popular tribute to the African woman, given the belief in many quarters that it depicts the true set of attributes of women in Africa.¹ To Fela's credit, the song, Lady, like his early more experimental set of Afrobeat tunes, has a vital, catchy tempo and a convincing social message. It deploys imageries that are so compelling and intuitively true about what many believe to be the masculinist patriarchal continent of Africa. The song plays at multiple levels: it glorifies a certain image of African woman; it denigrates the image of a woman in charge; it instructs us on how a real African woman occupies space and carries herself; it prescribes what the proper relationship is between spouses; and it ridicules any traits that are perceived to be foreign and alien. Like Okot p'Bitek's Lawino, Fela simultaneously presents a glowing picture of an "African woman" as wife, submissive and subordinate, and caricatures "lady," as anemic, untraditional, and a spiritless dancer. As the lyrics make clear:

Now, before we get to the line "but lady no be so," we need to raise some very pertinent questions for Fela Anikulapo-Kuti. Some of the answers to the questions will be very obvious to a Nigerian audience, but not necessarily to the larger global audience of Fela's music. Since this tribute to the African woman purports to state who is an African woman the question to Fela is: Is Béère Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, his mother, an African woman? Or, is she a lady? Given Fela's close relationship with his mother, a woman whom he admired as "quite heavy politically,"² and given his contempt for "lady," there is no question that he would place Béère in the category of a real African woman. In fact, there is no doubt in the mind of any Nigerian who knew her or of her activism that Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti is an extraordinary, impressive Egba/Yoruba woman who superbly did the fire dance. The Béère we know is fire, personified. This Lioness of Lisabiland, as she was then known, could do the fire dance; and in 1947, she and all Egba women, danced the Alake of Abeokuta into abdication.³

WHO EXACTLY ARE THE FIRE DANCERS?

The question then is, How do we reconcile Fela's mother's extensive local, regional and national political commitments with the personality of an African woman that the son sketched out? Does this strong, decisive, awesome woman, who was masterful in her actions, fit the portrait of a submissive housekeeper? How did she undertake all the political commitments she did, including the political authority they entail, yet was at home to minister to "im lord and master," to "cook for am," and to "do anyting he say"? For those who do not know, Béère was a political stalwart of the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons party (NCNC)⁴ in the heartland of the Action Group (AG) political party. Her history was one of activism in the cause of Nigerian women's empowerment and advancement. To this end, she traveled extensively in Nigeria with a group of other women activists, setting up women's groups, linking up with international labor and women's organizations, giving talks, organizing at both the local, regional, national and international levels. In the course of her activities, she traveled to the Peoples' Republic of China, Hungary, Soviet Union, and Britain, as an NCNC delegate to the constitutional talks. Thus, if we examine Fela's mother's life, and use her as an example of an African woman who did the metaphoric fire dance, we find her life at variance with the son's prescriptions? So from where did Fela obtain his ideas? Which sociocultural tradition informed his ideal and opinion?

The objective here is not to place the Ransome-Kuti household under scrutiny, but to call attention to the sorts of fictive, illusory ideas about women that are often bandied about by men, and echoed by some women. The wide discrepancy between what is expansively professed about African women and what actually is the case is often far removed from reality. That fact needs to be exposed. It is not only that history falsifies such expansive claims, but also that the falsity is built into the claims themselves. Titi Ufomata's writings on market women also reinforces the point that the women selling their wares at Dugbe, Tejuosho, Apongbon, Otu Okwodu and other numerous markets in Nigeria hardly minister to their husbands the way that Fela imagined. They cannot be living a demanding existential life, literally doing a demanding "fire dance," and at the same time be preoccupied with the mundane demands of housewifery. As a matter of fact, the act of doing a fire dance is a radicalizing experience that purges one of obeisant and deferential traits. Had Fela focused more on his parent's marital relations, he could have done African women an immense service by telling us more about a father, who held the home-front together while his wife travelled freely to pursue her political goal. What kind of man was he? What kind of traits do men need to play such a supportive role? A lot of men could learn a lot from Reverend Israel Oludotun Kuti, his father. Instead of putting forth a set of fictive precepts for women, Fela could have drawn from his father's life to teach other men the principles of sharing family responsibilities, the value of being supportive husbands, as well as informing them that women value caring loving traits as manly.

In spite of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti's idea that African women have traditionally been subordinate and concerned with housewifery, history presents a different account. Women in many West African nations have historically danced the metaphoric fire dance. Edwesohemaa Yaa Asantewaa did this in 1900 when she defied British colonial hegemony. The battle she led against the British was a response to the exile of the Asantehemma, the Asantehene and the principle courtiers of Asante kingdom. Her extraordinary leadership was demonstrated in the way she rallied the Asante to take up arms in defense of their sovereignty. Yaa Asantewaa's courage speaks to a historic honorable tradition in West Africa of women emerging to lead nations and peoples at critical junctures of crises. This audacious response of women to social upheaval is not limited just to affluent female chiefs and prominent political leaders, as John Oriji and Mojubaolu Okome's contribution to this issue reveal. Ordinary rural women have organized similar effective responses to the corruption and maladminstration of British colonial rule: Igbo and Ibibio women did so in 1929, and Egba women in 1947. Faced with the economic havoc wreaked by taxation, the lack of political representation, the oppressive excesses of warrant chiefs, court clerks and the police, Igbo and Ibibio women collectively went to war to redress their political and economic losses. Two decades later Egba women under Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti rose against the authoritarian, oppressive rule of the Egba Native Authority and Ademola, then Alake of Abeokuta. Buoyed by the support of the colonial government, the Western-educated Ademola had subverted all traditional organs of authority including the consultative powers of Alakeship. In its stead he had created a highly personalized, oppressively autocratic, male-oriented form of governance.

ON HISTORIES OF RESISTANCE

This history of women's resistance to male reconstructions of traditional government level has certainly not abated as Nina Mba showed in Nigeria Women Mobilized. Between 1974-78 in Onitsha in then East Central State, Ikporo Onitsha (Women of Onitsha)⁵ under the leadership of Veronica Uwechia, Umekwulu Odogwu, and Nneka Chugbo and a host of others, led the entire community against the administration of Ukpabi Asika, whose market policy had the disastrous effect of diminishing the economic resources of Onitsha women. In deciding to fight the government policy, it did not matter that Asika was one of their own (an Onitsha man). What Ikporo Onitsha found egregious was the cavalier manner in which the interests and urgent need for resources of mothers, widows, sisters, daughters and wives were dismissed as irrelevant. Many women and a number of right- thinking men were equally outraged at the readiness in which some of the male officials of government traded the welfare of mothers, widows and wives for their own individual material gains. In the course of the protracted struggle, the officers of Ikporo Onitsha, including a number of seventy and eighty year old women, were routinely hounded by the police, arrested and detained on the ground that they had convened an illegal government. Sons, husbands, and brothers played a supportive role: putting up bail, providing legal counsel, ferreting out information from government officials, and lobbying different arms of government. But again, in accord with the tradition of the infamous warrant chiefs and the oppressive Alake, postindependent state governors and local governments chairmen have abused the organs of the state. They have behaved and, are still behaving towards women exactly as in colonial times,⁶ as oppressive conquerors.

These battles by women may seem ineffectual but they are not without casualties. The first casualty in the battle between Ikporo Onitsha and the East Central State government was the Obi of Onitsha, Ofala Okagbue. The community ostracized him to protest his abdication of his constitutional obligation to fight for the traditional rights of Onitsha women. Next was Adazia Enwonwu, the Ndichie who openly taunted women for lacking significance. Following his sudden death, he could not be buried as initially planned by his family until a formal rite of recantation was performed. Next in line were members of the Asika family who publicly supported the Administrator, Ukpabi. They were socially shunned and could not interact witth the rest of the community.⁷ The women continued their action even after Asika's rule abruptly ended following the coup d'etat of General Murtala Muhammed. As events unfolded, the Owelle of Onitsha and the former president of Nigeria, Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe, became a casualty when he assumed that the fall of his nemesis, Ukpabi Asika, automatically implied the end of women's grievances. Although he had once been a firm supporter of Ikporo Onitsha, his new position was defined as self-serving and antagonistic to what the women had defined as promoting their welfare. They asserted that since they were dealing with a government policy that was still in place rather than with an individual, it was mischievous of the Owelle to collapse the two and divert attention from the task at hand. Faced with the women's wrath and their continuous public verbal assaults on his person, the Owelle hastily retreated to Nsukka to live out the rest of his days in peace.

Lacking effective political access in a government, and fighting affluent interest groups who felt the women's goals threatened them economically, Ikporo Onitsha was unable to overturn Asika's market policy, which subsequently led to the impoverishment of Onitsha women. The new incoming military administrations of Ochefu and later of Atom Kpera did not help matters given the male-dominated military mind-set that perceived women, not just as "bloody civilians," but as ignorant, foolish, tiresome, troublesome individuals who are only good to be fucked! Accustomed only to hearing male voices in decision-making, leadership roles, it was difficult for military officers to understand women's political concerns once there is an identifiable male opposition. Consequently, military governors of the state could not fathom the women's point that they a) needed to participate fully in the economic and regulatory aspects of their city; b) that this has always been their historic prerogative given that the market has traditionally been their area of jurisdiction; and c) that having a decisive say in the market would enable them enforce market policies and enhance the well being of the city. It is true to say that over the years, the Asika policy stripped women of their historic role, and also led to the general impoverishment of the city. With an eye to the lucrative revenue generated by the market, key government officials mocked the idea of public accountability as the revenue generated by the market was promptly skimmed off into (male) private pockets and state coffers without reinvesting anything back in the city. Once again the rhetoric of modernization, of streamlining administrative structures to enhance efficiency was adroitly used to entrench corruption, and to marginalize women, the traditional watchdogs of the public purse.

RETHINKING PAST ERASURES

To read the formal history of states, kings and chiefs in West Africa as well as the treatises of political scientists, one would think that women did not participate in governance, existed only in shadowy spheres, and meekly accepted whatever their male lords and masters directed. These official treatises do not make it clear that a large part of women's present political and judicial powerlessness are not rooted in the culture, but in the encroaching "modern" male-privileging policies and programs unleashed since colonization. The appearance and actions of women such as Edwesohemaa Yaa Asantewaa the Ibibio, and the Igbo women are almost always exceptionalized and treated as rare. Circumscribing the prevalence of women so that they sporadically appear in history erases the relevant histories and epistemic meanings required to understand their actions. Women's rarity in historical narratives reinforces the view that they are nonexistent, are outside of the political and judicial decision-making processes, and so their responses appear as stemming from an uncritical emotional base. This positioning allows scholars to easily dismiss the possibility that such actions were critically informed, had political content, and derived from traditional roles of authority. Against this stereotypical picture of passive ineffectual women, one finds it difficult to understand from where women derived the power to act in the first place. Scholars implausibly resolve this theoretical dilemma by questioning the authenticity of the powers and challenging the legitimacy of women's actions.

An example of such powers operation occurs in the 1997 case of Umuada (daughters of) Okebunabo who effectively divorced the Obi of Onitsha Ofala Okagbue from his wife of over fifteen years, and over his objections married a new wife for him. Of course, this action of Umuada Okebunabo derived from historic traditional rights, which is never written about, but which authorizes them to act without intervention from any local political body. Precisely because of the historic legitimacy of these powers, the Obi's response to his umuada was to plaintively wail for "missus" to be left alone, then query when she would return, and continually ask the new wife who she is. The point here is not to celebrate Umuada Okebunabo's violation of the Obi marital relations but to draw attention to the existence of such political/judicial authority that are continually denigrated when less than knowledgeable interpreters describe women's political authority as having marginal political content, and as limited only to women. That umuada can enter the political-cum-personal space of a monarch and reorder his household over his objections is a tremendous consolidation of power with far-reaching political consequences. The existence of such powers makes a mockery of the stereotypical sexist claims that women's ultimate role is to serve and pleasure men. No doubt, such claims demonstrate an abysmal lack of knowledge of the culture and role of mothers, umuada (lineage daughters), and inyemedi (lineage wives), and the immense political implication these roles have on the traditional structures of governance. Unfortunately, like women's traditional control of markets, these spaces are being eroded today by masculinist policies and ideologies that hitherto were not part of the indigenous system of life. Interestingly, it is this same masculinist ideology that propelled the former governor of Anambra State Chief C.C. Onoh and his Ohaneze ilk in Enugu House of Assembly to attempt to strip umuada of Enugu state of their rights, for marrying non-indigenes.

The survival of these spaces calls for more extensive research into the sociological character of our political system. That there are complex political and constitutional rights that accorded women significant political powers within the traditional system of governance still needs to be fully articulated. Indeed a proper auditing of the sociology and the complex interrelationships of political and sociological institutions are required, if only to undermine the basis on which much of present day male sexism is rooted, and the egregious deprivations of women's rights they entail. The blatant falsehood of standard male narratives of their superiority in indigenous societies must have been very much evident to Ngwa, Umuahia and Ibibio women who chaffed under the reconstructions of the warrant chiefs. It was very much evident to Ransome-Kuti, who in the 1940s, argued that "under the colonial system Nigerian women had lost their traditional economic and political power[s]" (Mba 1982, 146). In her view, the basis of this loss and of modern Nigerian women's oppression is the male privileging colonial ideology that empowered local men and their male-dominated, male oriented native authorities, agencies and customary courts.

Of course, this is not to suggest that all traditional rights are worthy of preservation. The aim is not to prove that the existence of these historic rights solves women's contemporary political problems; nor do they show that all is well and that the modern woman is not marginalized. In fact Okome essay convincingly makes the point about the present subject-hood of women as she grapples with the question of the causes of the marginalization of Nigerian women within the federal structure of the state and in civil society. The questions the preceding issue raise are: How then do we reconcile this present day powerlessness of women within the state and civil society with the earlier sorts of initiatives and mobilization strategies that women have demonstrated during colonial times, and are displaying today at the local micro community level? How do we account for the lack of appointment of women to cabinet positions in numerous West African states, or their appointment to junior and inconsequential portfolios given their past histories of collective assertions? How is it possible that men reared in political cultures that had stressed consensus, compromise, and mediation could so easily subvert the system, entrench corruption and authoritarianism, and embrace sexist ideologies? How could they impede the progress of our women at the very moment that women and men in other countries are making significant gender equity strides in political, social and economic realms?

POLITICS AND WOMEN POLITICIANS

Part of the reason for women's loss of ground in politics and the political arena is economic, as some analysts have correctly argued. According to Joy Ogwu, research professor at the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs, "one of the most significant problems for the participation of women in politics is economic rather than the family structure" (Osinulu & Mba, 1996, 36). It is true that explanations for women's limited participation in politics have been sought in family structures. Osinulu, director and program representative of African American Institute, argues that family responsibilities constitute obstacles to activism and political career. This is because the burden of these responsibilities falls almost exclusively on women. She states that the disproportionate distribution of family responsibilities "frees" men to engage in their own pursuits and goals, a situation which leaves women out of contention (Osinulu & Mba, 1996, 21). Adesina Sambo, political scientist and Senior Lecturer at the University of Lagos, disagrees with this explanation. She contends that the recent upsurge in women's participation as candidates for elective office renders such explanations moot. In her view, women have always found ways to resolve these family issues when necessary, not only in matters of politics but in other arenas as well. For this reason she finds unsatisfactory the ancillary explanations deployed to explain women's political powerlessness, namely that they lack education, job opportunities, and opportunities to prove their leadership skills (Osinulu & Mba, 1996, 98).

However, Ogwu's point on the relevance of economics remains valid. In the views of numerous politicians, the most critical factor is money, especially women's lack of equal opportunities as men to accumulate wealth and increase their net worth potential. Chief (Mrs) Bosede Osinowo, former NRC chairman bluntly puts it: "A woman will deceive herself if she has no money and want [sic] to contest for such position. Where a woman can match men financially she has already scored fifty per cent. If she puts her persuasive skills to play, she would score another twenty per cent. If after scoring seventy per cent she can work hard, move and understand the political game very well, she is bound to win" (Osinulu & Mba, 1996, 252-3). Other Nigerian women politicians would agree with this assessment of the importance of money in both the electoral process and the obstacles it creates. Katherine Wayas had to shelve her presidential aspirations when she could not raise the half a million-naira registration fee required of presidential candidates. After having underestimated the influence of money in politics, Olatokunbo Awolowo-Dosumu found too that name recognition (the illustrious Awolowo name) did not count as much as money. According to her: "You don't need to campaign, all you need is money and godfathers. That is the sad truth" (Osinulu & Mba, 1996, 179).

Some women politicians may find Awolowo-Dosumu's faith in godfathers misplaced on the ground that you cannot leave your fate in the hands of male political operators who still have a problem with women's political ambitions. They too are the problem. For some, Awolowo-Dosumu's pessimism may appear misplaced since as, Ifeoma Chinwuba, Bosede Osinowo, and Sarah Jibril demonstrated, male opponents can be trounced once one convinces party delegates and the electorate that they are a better candidate. All three women would, however, agree with Awolowo Dosumu on the overpowering role of money in elections. Chinwuba was quick to acknowledge that "how to fund a successful election may be an impediment, for campaign costs are daunting and only a few women appear willing to face the attendant risks" (Osinulu & Mba, 1996, 199). Unfortunately, the problem as Chinwuba construes it is not just a matter of willingness to bear financial risks. Basically it is a matter of first having the requisite capital before one can assess whether or not a financial risk could be assumed. In light of this prior need of capital generation before undertaking a risk/need analysis, there has to be opportunities for wealth creation if women are to participate on an equal footing with men. In a context where women's access to money is limited, and one has to contend with male "money bags" who made their wealth from pillaging the nation's treasury, women cannot successfully compete with men.⁸ Indeed, they cannot realistically compete against individuals such as the former Senate President, Chief Chuba Okadigbo, who was in the process of plundering the treasury to the tune of N366 million naira; and the Deputy Senate President Alhaji Haruna Abubakar who had received millions of naira as his share of Sallah/Christmas welfare package.⁹ We know too that other legislators were amply rewarded. With this looting mentality and lack of public accountability, what we have is not only a massive divide between the rich and the poor, but also a raising of the stakes against women's participation in governance. It bears repeating that most of these conscienceless looters of the national and state treasuries are men.

Thus, while recognizing the merits of the economic argument, we cannot ignore the roles godfathers play, and the potentially sexist nature this relationship may create for women. Although Awolowo-Dosumu seems to be suggesting that discriminatory practices are avoided if one has powerful protection, she neglects the manipulative dimensions of such relationships. What does one have to do to get a godfather, especially if one is a woman? How far does one have to play the "good little girl" role? It is true that the party process works on the basis of godfatherism, and that even male politicians have godfathers and godmothers as the case may be. Alhaji Bisiriyu Popoola courted and relied on the political prestige of Chief (Mrs) Ebun Oyagbola to win his election. In any case, the question remains, What do women have to do to be in the good books of godfather? How far should our life goals be subject to the whims and caprices of godfathers?

A number of women politicians have complained bitterly that sexism plays an oppressively heavy role in the Nigerian political process. This occurs because of the preponderance of men at the executive decision-making level of the party and the limited number of women in such positions. Women have been told to shelve their dreams or to put it on hold so a man can run for elective office. Experience has shown women that sexism manifests in godfathers/male politicians' expectations that women should defer to men, and when they refuse, not only are they perceived as threats to (male) authority, the party makes things very difficult for them. Other examples of sexism are when party officials are reluctant to back women candidates for "win-able" electoral seats, preferring to field them in zones they are convinced that the party cannot win. Punishing women also includes such inconsiderate acts as holding interminable meetings at unreasonable hours with the ulterior aim of creating conflict in her family life, and such discriminatory acts as unevenly distributing party resources and funds between men and women. As a result of these sexist acts, women have to rely effectively on their personal funds, spouses, significant others, godfathers, or family wealth, a situation that inordinately tasks personal resources and relations. With all these obstacles in place, it is no wonder that a significant number of women see political activity as involving exceedingly high personal compromises that they are not willing to make.

In this argument about women's loss of ground in the political arena, we need to also recognize the role of violence and brutalization that pervades politics in Africa. All sorts of intimidatory strategies are used to derail women with political aspirations. Bands of thugs are freely used to beat up opponents, invade polling centers, and abscond with election result sheets in a process in which women become easy targets. When these tactics fail, there is little hesitation about using state apparatus punitively. For example, market women in some parts of Nigeria have been threatened with revocation of their stall permits should they vote for a targeted woman candidate. Gladys Jusu-Sheriff, of Women's Association for National Development (WAND-Sierra Leone) finds such practices "anomalous.when state institutions that were designed to protect and enhance the security of the citizenry" become sources of abuse. In her view, it is a situation of helplessness and hopelessness for women living under these conditions. (Continental Initiative conference at Accra, Ghana, December 1995). Still, there are women who are undaunted by the prospects of violence. In Nigeria, in the 1950s, high profile examples include Mrs. Patricia Obinwa who, in 1957-58 was jailed with hard labor in Jos for her political activities even though she was pregnant. Others include Hajiya Sawaba Gambo who has been hospitalized a number of times following vicious attacks by political thugs as well as constantly harassed and jailed. In the 1979 election some women were burnt to death in their cars and homes for being in the "wrong" party. In the case of the female victims, the basis of the resentment was their choice of a political party that did not coincide with the popular party in the state or region. In some other cases, especially in Islamic areas, the resentment revolves around the perceived customary role of women to be in purdah and to abide by the dictates of husbands.

MILITARY RULE AND THE CULTURE OF SEXISM

The interrelatedness of the economic factor, family responsibility, violence and sexism in explaining women's powerlessness means that it is misguided to separate the strands from the whole, or to try to localize the root of the problem in any one factor. All the strands matter. But there is another, rarely mentioned institution that has played a formidable role in stymieing women's political advancement, and that is the military. Before concluding this analysis, it is important to look at the role of the military in breeding sexism in nations' political culture. Such an analysis is crucial given the past histories of military rule, wars, and the attendant culture of militarization in West Africa in the last twenty years. Not only are the cases of brutalization and family displacement created in Sierra Leone and Liberia cause for concern; in the other relatively stable "democracies" where former military leaders have switched the khaki uniform for civilian clothes (Ghana, Nigeria, Togo and Benin), the societies are still grappling with the woman-devaluing attitudes fostered by military culture.

In "The military and women in politics," Margaret Vogt looks at how the male-oriented military culture normativized sexism in ways that impede women's economic, political, and social advancement (Osinulu & Mba 1996, 64-76). She limits her analysis to the formal political effect of military rule - administrative policies and programs - without looking at the deeper sociological implications of its male-oriented culture. Yet, military rule creates valuational changes that generate distortions in the state apparatus and in civil society. In most cases, the long duration of military rule means that societies are psychologically attuned to seeing women in subordinate marginal positions and spaces, and as functioning in the public sphere only as tokens. Under past military regimes, women were hardly appointed to significant positions of leadership, nor were they members of the national Armed Forces ruling councils. In the few instances a ministerial portfolio was given to a woman, it is a junior and sometimes, inconsequential portfolio. As a matter of fact the only major public role reserved for women were as wives. Women such as Nana Konadu of Ghana, and Maryam Babangida and Maryam Abacha of Nigeria, rose to enviable positions of prominence but only as wives.¹⁰ These First Ladies instituted a culture that glorifies their status as wives.¹¹ The "women empowerment" programs they founded depended largely for its success on a militarized chain of command. The wives of the military governors, reported directly to their leader, the wife of the head of state, and they all utilized bedroom politics to obtain whatever concessions and funds their organizations needed.

It is difficult to see how these organizations - The Better Life for Rural Women program of Maryam Babangida, the Family Support program of Maryam Abacha, and the December 31^st Movement of Nana Konadu - could claim to have women's empowerment as their goal. Given their structure and character of legitimation, these First Ladies' organizations were very much tied to their person, and as the first two programs established, and collapsed on the demise of their spouse's rule. Thus, not only are these "women empowerment" programs personality cults, they also provide avenues for these women's irregular appropriation of government funds for personal use. What is, perhaps, most demoralizing is that the existence of these structures is exclusively dependent not on publicly defined ground of Nigerian and Ghanaian women's right to state resources, but on pillow talk and the position of the day. The problem with these First Ladies organizations is that they promote an inherently demeaning social message that it is only as wife, as an appendage to some male military personnel, could women rise to positions of prominence and power. It is disheartening that this social message has, in turn, had the disastrous effect of reinforcing women's subordination by tying the concept of women's empowerment to sexual politics. In promoting a false view of empowerment, this insidious sexualization of women devalues the idea of women's capabilities and self-achievement. In a social environment where minimally educated and well educated women wield enormous influence on the basis of "bottom power", women's successes are no longer measured in terms of professional skills, but in terms of the astuteness of their cunt politics and strategies of sexual donations. Extremely important, in this existential scheme is how successful they are in latching themselves, even as mistresses, onto some high-ranking officers. There is much to be learned from the fact that this culture of sexism, which promotes the subordination of women, rests on the sexualized-wife aspect of a woman's identity. Its promotion of wife-identity as self-identity is not only at variance with the daughter-cum- profession-oriented-identity as self-identity from which women in traditional times derived much of their traditional authority. It is worth noting too that this sexualized-wife identity diminishes the full range of women's personality and self worth.

In masculinizing power and authority, military rule and its attendant culture creates an environment in which smart young women come to believe that careerism and professionalism are hardly the proper pathways to economic and sociopolitical advancement. Simultaneously, it promotes a set of values that encourage young women to proudly believe that "working hard on their backs" is the sole pathway to success. At the same time, a corollary set of values is created for bright young men, who pass up opportunities for meaningful careers in other professional fields on the basis that life in the military is the fastest route to the helms of power. The corrupting influence of this ideology is not that it portrays the military as an attractive career option, but that it propels them into male-oriented, male-dominated patterns of life where the intense military conditioning of male-bonding reproduces sexist worldviews. The normativized culture of sexism this conditioning spawns inhibits the full maturity of our society as the skewed gender relations it foster undermines the ability of politically ambitious military officers to hear and attend to the genuine existential concerns of women. Many of these men find it extremely difficult to recognize women as accomplished individuals. Even President Olusegun Obasanjo is afflicted with this ailment. During his military regime, between 1976-79, he was insensitive to the importance of appointing women as federal commissioners. He failed to appoint women to serve on the constitution drafting committee in which he had appointed fifty men. Even after a media blitz and the criticism he received from women's organizations, he still failed to correct the omission. Again, in his new 1999 cycle of reincarnation as a democratically elected president, he still conducts the affairs of state in a male-dominated, male-oriented military- type environment. His record on appointment of women to important portfolios improved slightly, but only after tangling with the media, women's organizations, and disconcerting international scrutiny.

There is much about the military that fails to endear it to democracy groups: the brutality of soldiers, the armed thievery and corruption of high ranking officers, the insensitivity of the military to the due process of law, their subversion of constitutional processes, and their indifference to human life. Add to this the sexism and the institution's subversion of women's progress and empowerment, and it becomes clear that military rule is not only an anti-democratic mode of governance, it is one that sets women back.

THE SPECIAL ISSUE

Concerned about the implication of unequal access that is built into Nigerian federalism, Mojubaolu Okome tackles the deliberate and conscious exclusion of women from participation in the political system as full citizens. In a context where most Nigerians stand in relation to the state, as subjects, not citizens, she argues that if done right, decentralization through the creation of ever-smaller political subunits may provide a key to bringing government closer to the people in Nigeria. In her view, this is possible because the rights of citizenship will then be extended to all Nigerians who can then participate fully in the political process. Without decentralization, not only will the state remain remote from the people, it will also fail to reach its full potential since the continued exclusion of women would mean that the state and the Nigerian federation would remain incomplete. The tragedy of failing to learn from, and move beyond its colonial heritage is that the Nigerian state is yet to live up to its rhetorical promise of bringing government closer to the people and consequently, deepening the rights of citizenship.

John Oriji revisits the 1929 Women's War to bring to light a crucial aspect of the revolt that has received little attention. Dubbing this war an event unparalleled in Igbo history until the Nigeria-Biafra war, he set to uncover what type of women led the revolt. His concern, which has relevance for contemporary life, is to ascertain how the women's leadership enhanced their social status during and after the revolt. What legacies did the war leave in Igbo society before Nigerian independence in 1960, and how have the legacies helped women to attain a better social standing in modern Igbo society? These questions are important, not only because they provide a richer account of the history of women's militancy in Igboland, but also because they underscore the pertinent fact that women's participation in the political process of their communities have had a social impact on the collective life of all citizens.

Much has been made about market women, their agency in the market place, and their role in the larger economy. Titi Ufomata focuses on Nigerian market women because they represent a constituency of women who stand as counterexamples to commonly held stereotypes of women as weak and passive. They are assertive, competent and financially independent in spite of their limited western education. Using her stories as pedagogical tools, she establishes that heroines abound among ordinary women of Africa today. The stories offer a depth of analysis, which when combined with the methodologies of the social sciences, provide a rounder and more accurate picture of our social life. The stories offer relevant ideas on the woman question, which in her view the market women are often not in a position to articulate. Her findings show that these women are generally in control of their economy, that they are most concerned about attaining a better life for their children, and that they still consider being married the ultimate goal in spite of their economic independence.

Moving from the local to the global, Madonna Larbi provides an account of how one can integrate human rights activism in the world of development politics. As Executive Director of MATCH International Centre, a 24-year-old women's development organization based in Canada, she works with several women's groups whose membership and leadership cover English-speaking and Francophone Africa, Asia, the Caribbean and South America. Guided by a feminist vision of sustainable development, MATCH collaborates with women's groups who are committed to women's full and active participation in the development of their societies, who recognize the inequities that exists in their communities, and who are finding creative ways to challenge the structures that impede the equal participation of women. Though much success has been achieved much remains to be done. Concerned about the growing culture of sexism unleashed by numerous civil and regional wars in Africa, MATCH, convened a Continental Initiative meeting in 1995 to discuss the following themes: structural adjustment – the economics of poverty/economic reform; militarization, violence and chaos; women's health; and good governance and democracy. The recommendations originating from the meeting have been carried out and MATCH has not only shared the proceedings with many women's organizations on the continent, but also has financially and morally supported groups to achieve these objectives.

Biko Agozino examines what Women's Studies has to offer men. In his view the topic of discussion is really proof that women's studies are moving closer to the principled position advocated by black women on the need to see men as comrades. This welcome inclusiveness means that male students will no longer be excluded or discouraged from taking courses of their choice simply because they are the wrong gender. Agozino comes to his position by recalling his personal experiences, and the rejections he had faced in his attempts to learn from women's studies. He welcomes the removal of barriers as this would expand the boundaries of knowledge for young men who are interested in gender research.

The controversy over Hillary Rodham Clinton's book, It Takes A Village, is the point of interest for Obioma Nnaemeka who is more concerned with instructing Americans on how to learn from Africa. Nnaemeka's sees former Senator Robert Dole's critique at the 1996 Republican Convention as emanating from a lack of knowledge of the environment that gave birth to the proverb - "It takes a village to raise a child." In her view, Dole failed to grasp that an expansive notion of family and family responsibility does not imply the abandonment of parental responsibility by biological parents. Rather, it stresses that a combination of parental (biological) and communal responsibility ensures the survival and wellbeing of any child. Drawing insights from Igbo culture, Nnaemeka informs readers that the worldview underlying the proverb prescribes that children be cared for at all times by all, and encourages nonbiological parents to see each child as their own. This relationality cements community relations and impedes the development of an environment that is crisis driven, in which the caring spirit and watchful eyes of adults do not slumber only to be awakened and spurred to action after preventable tragedies had befallen children (as was the case in the Columbine school killings and similar tragedies).

In a world where men are deaf to women, and men like Dole attempt to throw out the baby with the bath water, Carolyn Kumah moves to discuss the status of women's authorship, and the nature of the authors' depiction within the African literary tradition. The degree to which works by women are critically received, and the roles these book occupy within the general body of African literature, are reflective of societal attitudes toward women. Unfortunately, she sees the African literary canon as characterized by an inadequate representation of female-authored works. Additionally, the works in this canon often perpetuate gender myths that are projected onto African societies via the Western gaze. Kumah argues that women writers are marginalized by their male counterparts and their works either remain unacknowledged or tokenized by literary critics. In her view it is imperative that the illumination of female-authored works becomes the rule rather than the exception. She sees the classroom as a venue through which African women authors can be better known.

Using Guillaume Oyônô-Mbia's Three Suitors: One Husband, Tola Mosadomi joins the author in examining the role and function of "tradition" in the institution of marriage. She sees him as problematizing the term "tradition"' and exploring ways to modernize African values. In her view, modernizing African values constitutes having a voice, and when you have a voice, you can make a choice. Mosadomi believes that in many societies in Africa, women do not have a voice even in matters relating to themselves, even when they are educated. Thus, she wants African women to be treated as "valuable human beings."

Three review essays of books accompany this special issue. The books are Ifi Amadiume's Reinventing Africa: Matriarchy, Religion, Culture (London: Zed Books Ltd., 1997); Mahmood Mamdani's Citizen and Subject: Contemporary Africa and the Legacy of Late Colonialism (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1996) and Wole Soyinka's The Open Sore of a Continent: A Personal Narrative of the Nigerian Crisis (New York & Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1996); and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak's A Critique of Post- colonial Reason: Towards a History of the Vanishing Present (Harvard University Press, 1999).

Nzegwu evaluates Amadiume's objective to establish that, historically, matriarchy was the dominant ethos of sociopolitical organization and moral life in Africa, and that it constitutes a viable basis for the empowerment of modern African women. She examines the historical and epistemological assumptions that warrant the author's position, and then determines whether adequate account was taken of the processes of social transformations as discussed in the author' s claims. Nzegwu's assessment is that Amadiume's project short-circuits because the set goals of recovering Africa' s matriarchal consciousness and establishing an empowering basis for women does not take due cognizance of the society's internal logic. In her view the project is fraught with difficulties, that it amounts to a theoretical chasing of shadows.

Comparing Wole Soyinka's Open Sore of a Continent and Mamdani's Citizen and Subject, Olakunle George contends that the conceptual motions of Mamdani's Citizen and Subject suggest a way of doing theory from which literary criticism can learn. His primary concern with the book revolves on the conceptual implications of the story Mamdani tells for ongoing discussions of nationalism and nationalist discourses. Feeling unsatisfied with Soyinka's analysis of the challenges of ethnic chauvinism and of the role `democracy' plays in his work, he turns to Mamdani's historicization of the nation-state in modern Africa. George appreciates that Mamdani does not simply pronounce on what "the people" need to do to emancipate themselves, but asks why the people chose what they did. As a result, he uses Mamdani's argument to think about cultures and representations, their modes of constitution, and reproduction and the implications of Mamdani's position on the context of what we teach as "modern African literature" in the literary establishments of the first and third worlds. According to George, if we say that the failure of African states lies in their inability to achieve or sustain genuine democratic societies, what are the conceptual issues brought to light by that failure? On the issue of black Africa's political failures, he wonders what sorts of questions one might raise about the normative status that "democracy" as a mode of social management has acquired since at least the end of World War II?

Biko Agozino finds that Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak's book contains a generous dose of contempt for Africa that borders on "epistemic violence." What, no Frantz Fanon or Kwame Nkrumah in a book that promises to critique postcolonial reason? He queries in alarm. Just a bunch of dead white men after another bunch telling us about universal reason. In Agozino's views since those theorists had very little to say about colonialism, Spivak could have presented a better and clearer analysis from the perspectives of the victims of colonialism. For him, the book would be less troubling if the author had limited the scope of her analyses and illustrations to India or Euro-Asia about which very much was said in the book. Such a book about colonialism in India could still work even with one or two references to African theorists but such a book cannot masquerade as a general History of postcolonial theory. Agozino charges that if Spivak had paid attention to postcolonial literature from outside Europe, she could have used them the way she studied and appropriated European authors. The point he is making is not that it is wrong to cite European authors, but that it is dubious scholarship to neglect postcolonial writers and promote colonial ones while claiming to write about postcolonialism.

Finally, two interviews round up the selection of articles in this special issue. They are Walusako Mwalilino's interview with Claude Ake; and Paul Onyemechi Onovoh's interview with Ezenwa-Ohaeto, literary critic, poet, columnist and biographer.

In concluding, after reviewing the success of the Continental Initiative meeting held in Accra, Ghana in 1995, Madonna Larbi asserts that "women in Africa will no longer dance to the music of male politicians" (this issue). According to her, women will instead dance to their own music and will expect leaders to place the well being of their citizens above self-interest and political posturing (Larbi). Fela Anikulapo-Kuti got it right when he intimated that African women tend to do the fire dance, although he was wrong in assuming that this dance is directed toward the pleasure of men. Most times we African women undertake the fire dance to put our homes in order; to call attention to the need for our communities to rally together to address the well-being of all; to put food on the table; and to instruct and ensure that our children receive the education they deserve to become responsible citizens. In focusing on the immediate needs of the family, we may have seemed oblivious and uninterested in the political and military crises engulfing our lives. But it is now time to shift our attention to the political structures of our lives to revisit the legacy of Edwesohemaa Yaa Asantewaa, whose centenary this is, in rallying the moral of Asante nation. Having learned from the past and the mistakes our predecessors made, it is now time for us women to do the "fire dance" and take possession of both the 21^st century and the millennium.

References

Johnson-Odim, Cheryl and Nina Emma Mba, For Women and the Nation: Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti of Nigeria (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1997).

Mba, Nina E. "Olufunmilayo Ransome-Kuti" in ed. Bolanle Awe Nigerian Women in Historical Perspective, (Sankore Sankore/Bookcraft 1992), 133-148

-------------. Nigerian Women Mobilized: Women's Political Activities in Southern Nigeria, 1900-1965 (Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, University of California, 1982).

Osinulu, Clara & Nina Mba. Nigerian Women in Politics: 1986-1993 (Lagos: Malthouse Press, Ltd., 1996).

Vogt, Margaret. "The military and women in politics." In Nigerian Women in Politics: 1986-1993, ed. Osinulu, Clara & Nina Mba (Lagos: Malthouse Press, Ltd., 1996).


	President Olusegun Obasanjo's treatment of women's organizations and women's matter has been a sore point of contention in his two administrations. During his military regime, between 1976- 79, he appointed no woman as a federal commissioner; and he established a constitution drafting committee of fifty members, in which no woman was appointed to serve on the committee. Even after the media and women's organizations criticized this omission, no corrective step was taken. In his new reincarnation as a civilian, and a democratically elected president, he still conducts the affairs of state in the male- dominated, male-oriented military type of framework.


	To avoid charges of illegally promulgating laws, the decision to shun supporters of the Administrator of the state was left at the individual level. No one was formally ostracized, but any individual who consorted with the opposition was equally shunned. This way the responsibility to advice members of the opposition to leave a premise, event or occasion was left to the owner who instructed the offender that they were unwelcome, and to leave his or her premises. The strategy achieved its objective. To be admitted back to the community's fold one had to publicly profess their error and pay the requisite fine.


	The fraud charges against Florence Ita-Giwa, the Deputy Leader of the All People's Party (APP) is clearly not the kind of opportunity that women are asking for. Her actions do not nullify my argument, nor does it prove that women will be as inept as men. What it does show is the extent to which the present political process is money driven, and in the absence of legitimate ways of raising money, people will engage in fraudulent acts to keep their political ambition alive. We need to remember that women have been in the forefront of those calling for the radical revision of the process, since its present emphasis on wealth is an impediment to their goals.

West Africa Review (2000)

ISSN: 1525-4488