By Olukorede Yishau
I want to talk about Dance Queen Kafayat Shafau-Ameh or Kaffy. She was Kafayat Shafau when life began for her in 1980 in a home where life was good. Dotting parents. Energetic siblings. Attendance at Grade A private school. Trips to London. Fun. Mad fun, if you wish to describe it that way.
But, a London trip Kafayat’s parents made was a turning point, a turning point for the worst. The first sign of trouble was that when Kaffy’s parents returned from London, her sister, Nike, who went with them, was nowhere to be found.
Soon, school fees became an issue at Chrisland Primary School, Lagos, where Kaffy began her elementary education. At first, teachers rallied around her and paid her fees. When the situation persisted, they withdrew, and her years in the school ended. Abruptly. More troubles were to come.
Their home in an enclave named after Madam Dideolu Awolowo, the matriarch of the great Awo family, became a war zone. Her father and mother became sworn enemies to the consternation of the children who had known nothing but love. So good was the situation that nothing forewarned the children of the home that tears would soon replace laughter; nothing gave the impression that blows, slaps, and kicking would soon be regularly exchanged by the matriarch and the patriarch of the home, and that the kids would be the ones to hide the knives and other sharp weapons in the kitchen so that their mother and father would not harm themselves with these weapons. Their Dideolu Court’s home became too hot for love and it flew away.
Kaffy has told her story in a book aptly titled ‘Alajoota’. It tells the story of this home that was love-filled, where the kids attended one of the best schools available at the time, where the parents were regular faces on the pages of celebrities’ journals of the time because of their status as socialites who sprayed dollars on musicians, where everything seemed to work until love became hate, and the kids became the responsibility of a mother who, for a long time, struggled with getting a grasp of her life; where the kids knew something was wrong but no explanation was offered and the kids were just left to wonder and wonder what was going on.
After the parents went their separate ways, Kaffy and her siblings could not return to their Grade A private school; at some point, they could not go to any school at all and when they eventually started going to school, there was no stability because their mother was always on constant motion. The turn of events was a rude shock for Kaffy and her siblings, and she wished she had been left with her father who she considered her role model, but he felt they were better with their mother. What was wrong with her mother’s shop on Allen Avenue where she was a big-time businesswoman? This was a major question that bogged Kaffy’s young mind as her mother found it difficult to pick the pieces of her life.
In this smooth-reading work, we see religion playing a major role, we see a mother so much in love with dreams and their interpretations that her kids started manufacturing dreams, we see men of God feasting on her belief in the efficacy of what they were offering for sale, and we see a woman who kept moving from one church to the other in the hope that the next one would be able to offer her the much-expected miracle, we also see a home where nothing was too much to be done in as much as protection was assured.
Charms were acceptable; incisions were permissible; and prayers in whatever forms were heartily welcomed. For Kaffy’s mother, what was important was the assurance that she would conquer the enemies who, she believed, could send cockroaches, birds, and others to wreak havoc. It was not out of place for her to burn cockroaches and any other flying insects which invaded her space.
This book will raise the question of why African mothers find it difficult to properly talk to their daughters about sex. Kaffy’s mother spoke to her about sex and pregnancy in a very crude manner; she practically sold her the lie that once a boy touched her, pregnancy was guaranteed. There was no talk about ovulation and those other factors that contribute to pregnancy. But trust girls, water will always find its level when the hormones start raging like the bull. And it was not dissimilar for Kaffy.
So thrilling is the book you are tempted to think you are reading a piece of fiction. There is a magic about the transition between one chapter and the next as almost every chapter ends with a cliff-hanger that will force you to turn the pages to find out what was happening in this home that can be described as Shafaus’ House of Commotion. ‘Alajoota’ is easy to read. The language is simple but not simplistic. Dashes of poetic prose on the pages and a concoction of the simple, compound, and compound-complex sentence structures give the writing and storytelling a sweltering effect.
Several questions occupy my mind before I got to the end of the book: How did Kaffy rise above the violence of her early years? How did she overcome the side effects of changing schools and homes? Did she eventually hear from her beloved father? What has become of him? What happened to Nikki, her sister, who was left in London by their parents shortly before love took flight from their home? And what battles did she have to fight to dance in a society where dancers were and are still considered in unflattering lights? You need to read ‘Alajoota’ to find answers to these questions and many more.
The way she opened up about her marriage is ‘rare’. And this helps to make this book one hell of a story told from the heart with little or no attempt made to colour the events recorded on its pages.
My final take: Kaffy’s riveting ‘Alajoota’ is tear-jerking but inspiring. It is a portrait that will make us better appreciate this great dancer who broke the Guinness Book of Records. Reading her story sure makes me feel I have known her all her life and it also makes me respect her and her hustle more.
It is a book anyone hypersensitive to hilarity should stay away from. ‘Alajoota’ is an exposé worth being aware of.
*Yishau is a columnist and author.