October 1: Metaphorizing Nigeria’s Collective Trauma of Colonization

Abstract

Analogies have been drawn between therapeutic recovery and decolonization. This will mean that one can interrogate psychological effects of trauma on cultures or nations that undergo or have undergone colonization. If decolonization is perceived a form of therapy, colonialism is adjudged potential trauma. This paper is interested in understanding how colonialism could potentially traumatize a nation or given culture. It equally explores decolonization as a form of therapy. It thus analyses the trauma of colonialism in Kunle Afolayan’s October 1 (2014). No scholarly work has been done on the analysis of colonial trauma in Nollywood film texts. This might be as a result of the paucity of film texts that speak to the theme. This paper is therefore interested in understanding how Nollywood ace filmmaker, Kunle Afolayan, uses his October 1 as a metaphor to mirror the traumatic effect of colonialism on Nigeria as a nation. It explores how the film’s major characters’ relations to their traumatic pasts provide insight to Nigeria’s social history. This study attempts to visualize in Afolayan’s characters, a Nigeria traumatized by colonialism. It further envisions the possible paths to Nigeria’s survival of colonial trauma in these characters’ chosen paths to recovery. Using psychoanalysis as framework, this qualitative analysis explores decolonization as therapeutic and contributes to decolonization discourses in African film studies.

Introduction

Since becoming popular following the video boom of the 1990s, Nollywood continues to be summarily dismissed as unserious, amateur, low budget, and unprofessional. Despite great movies like Chris Obi-Rapu’s Living in Bondage (1992) , Amata’s Black November (2012) , Inale (2010) , Okereke-Linus’ Through the Glass (2008) , Afolayan’s The Figurine (2009) , Emelonye’s Last Flight to Abuja (2009) , Kemi Adetiba’s King of Boys (2018) and its sequel, among many others, critics have continued to view and judge Nollywood in the mirror of cinema lingua franca—Hollywood. Iwuh (2012) makes a direct comparison, questioning Nollywood’s place in the light of Hollywood’s established quality. The author captures existing sentiments that Nollywood is a work in progress, but believes that this work will only be productive if filmmakers professionalize their art. Other authors like Jedlowski (2013), Haynes (2014), Igwe (2018), Ezepue (2020), among others, have gone ahead to discuss transformations within the industry and among the filmmakers as well as their films. These authors indicate that a new crop of filmmakers are beginning to reshape the industry, leading to the new Nollywood economic model which has created more controversies among industry players than conversations among industry scholars (Ekwuazi, 2020; Haynes, 2014). Nollywood was coined by Norimitsu Onishi (Haynes, 2007) to represent the video phenomenon which began in the late 1980s but became popular in the early 1990s. Haynes (2014) notes that this phenomenon emerged “out of a general economic, political and social crisis,” displacing celluloid filmmaking and forcing cinemas out of business (p. 53). From 2007, Jedlowski (2013) reports, a general fatigue overtook the industry following an overproduction crisis and a saturation of the markets. This constitutes the economic explanation offered by scholars for the emergence of a new system of operation within Nollywood—the new Nollywood, a strategy developed to maximize profit while being professional in the craft. Some industry players however, believe the new Nollywood is a response to criticisms of the industry.

The intention of this introduction on Nollywood, although very brief, is to update studies such as Iwuh’s (2012) whose impassioned measurement of Nollywood by “international/Hollywood” standards or yardstick, presents the industry as mostly lacking creativity and creative talent. While the author devotes a paragraph to acknowledge the existence of some high quality Nollywood films, he lambastes, almost vindictively, profit- driven-non-professionally made films. Although films in this category, presently classed as old Nollywood business model, have not stopped existing, greater numbers of high budget, “professionally” made films continue to be produced in the industry. Nollywood is a work in progress and old Nollywood marks a period in the history and development of the industry as is the new Nollywood (Igwe, 2018). New Nollywood is rewriting the history of the industry and reshaping views and interests in Nollywood. Film reviews and auteur studies are on the increase as are book projects on select filmmakers.

This paper is a critical exploration of Kunle Afolayan’s October 1 (2014). Authors like Ariyo (2015), Oyeyebi (2017), Sesan (2017), Bature-Uzor (2018), Endong (2019), Ezepue (2022), have engaged with studies of the film, but none has discussed the trauma of colonialism in the film. As a conceptual study, this research draws on the experiences of selected characters in the film to highlight colonial trauma and advance a decolonial strategy for healing. It evaluates the psychological trauma suffered by some of Afolayan’s characters as a metaphor for the trauma Nigeria suffered and continues to suffer as a result of colonialism. Adopting psychoanalysis as a framework, it attempts to answer the overarching research question: In what ways is the psychological trauma suffered by Afolayan’s characters a metaphor for Nigeria’s colonial trauma? To answer the question, this paper will engage with a brief interrogation of trauma in colonial Nigeria. It draws instances where events, policies, rule, decisions posed potential trauma to the nation. It provides an overview of the film, October 1, highlighting the traumatic events that reshaped the lives of the major characters in the film. It then provides a comprehensive analysis of these traumatic events. It further interrogates decolonization as therapy for colonial trauma. Finally, it evaluates Afolayan’s proposition on “moving on” for Nigeria as observable in the recovery paths chosen for selected characters. The intention of this paper is not to review the film October 1, but to discuss selected characters’ psychological trauma as a metaphor for Nigeria’s colonial trauma. With psychoanalysis as framework, this study interrogates the characters’ unconscious thoughts, feelings, and experiences and explores the individual uniqueness of the characters, their trauma and paths to recovery.

Trauma is a response to distressing or disturbing experience which creates emotional shock, feelings of helplessness, reducing one’s sense of self and ability to freely feel emotions and experiences. It could be caused by anything from accidents to abuse, injuries, death, violence, atrocities, natural disaster. Llyod (2000) defines trauma as a “violent intrusion and a sense of utter objectification that annihilates the person as subject or agent” (p. 214). Llyod further compares this to effects and mechanisms of colonization. Herman’s (1992) illustration of trauma more aptly presents colonialism as a form of trauma. According to the author

At the moment of trauma, the victim is rendered helpless by overwhelming force. When the force is that of nature, we speak of disasters. When the force is that of other human beings, we speak of atrocities. Traumatic events overwhelm the ordinary systems of care that give people a sense of control, connection, and meaning. (p. 33)

Llyod (2000) agrees, positing that the after-effects of colonization on a nation is identical to those experienced by a traumatized individual. Colonialism in this study, refers to the practice of settlers dominating over the natives of a society. According to Borocz and Sarkar (2012), because it involves the superimposition of the settlers’ rules on the natives, colonialism is marked by violence. The authors add that colonized populations endured similar treatment as that which was later condemned as Nazi violence within Europe. The philosopher, Frantz Fanon engaged intensely with colonial violence where the colonized are treated less than humans, thus constituting the wretched of the earth. Colonialism imposes degrees of long-term stress on the colonized nations following the appropriation of their land and resources (Mitchell, 2017). Coercive violence, Llyod maintains, is constantly present in colonized societies. Colonialism erodes existing cultures, forcing a new lifestyle on the colonized people. Llyod (2000) asserts that colonialism attempts to maximize every aspect of the colonized culture for the development of colonial capitalism and whichever aspect it cannot assimilate or translate, is either eroded or branded a “symptom of underdevelopment” (p. 219). Colonization is traumatic to a nation as abuse is to an individual. How traumatic was colonialism on Nigeria?

Instances of Traumatic Events in Nigeria’s Colonial History

The aim of this section is not to provide a historical survey of the activities or tenure of the British in Nigeria. It does not attempt to provide a detailed survey of the economic, psychological, and cultural damage wrought on the country in the many years of colonization. Rather, it selectively highlights instances of events and incidences capable of causing psychological and colonial trauma. The aim here is to establish that colonialism was truly traumatic in/to Nigeria. This study adopts trauma in the same context as Wilks et al. (2020). To them, trauma is “a psychological and/or emotional pathological response to a traumatic event or crisis that is significantly distressing or disturbing and exceeds one’s ability to cope” (p. 10). Trauma may be acute or complex. While acute trauma is a single, one-off, isolated traumatic event, complex trauma arises from experiencing the same traumatic event repeatedly. Quoting the American Psychological Association, Wilks et al. submit that the short term result of a traumatic event are shock and denial. Long term effects will include isolation and avoidance of reminders, unstable emotions, and sometimes, physical symptoms. Although we found no literature which discusses diagnosis of trauma-related disorders in Nigeria during the colonial era, we found that certain details were deliberately left out of the Nigerian colonial history. While this study is not asserting that trauma-related disorders existed at the time, it does not dismiss the possibility, especially considering the extent of trauma some individuals and communities suffered at the time.

In their book, A History of Nigeria, Falola and Heaton (2008) provide several examples of the trauma that Nigerians were put through in colonial Nigeria. For example, the authors share the story of King Jaja of Opobo, who resisted Britain, “maintaining control of his markets more effectively than other local rulers, who had increasingly been brought under the thumb of the British consul through … treaties” (p. 97). However, Jaja was eventually forced to sign a treaty. Upon violating the terms, Jaja was not only deposed of his kingdom, but ultimately exiled to the West Indies “as a warning to other local rulers of the consequences of insubordination” (p. 98). Falola and Heaton’s examples are as many as they are indicative of brutality, greed and abuse. They note that although different tactics were employed in different parts of Nigeria to gain control, “the most common and most effective tool of colonial expansion was the British willingness to use superior military might to subdue any opposition violently” (p. 85). The Colony and Protectorate of Lagos, Southern and Northern Nigeria, which were previously independent states, were forcefully brought under British control. There was violence as well as threats of violence. There were forceful depositions and exiling as well as separation of families. There was destruction, losses of lives and homes, possessions and sources of livelihood.

In his other book on colonialism and violence in Nigeria, Falola (2009) suggests that Britain literally forced itself on Nigerians.

The British wanted to conquer and the multiple Nigerian nations wanted to defend their sovereignty. Violence in this phase was largely an unlawful use of force by an imperialist power to obtain political dominance and was characterized by episodes of conquest and resistance. African leaders responded on the basis of their understanding of what the invading armies were trying to do. In spite of the gallant efforts of many Nigerian groups, they lost the wars of resistance. Colonial rule was thus established in part by violence, although the British said that the legal basis of their colonial power was based on treaties of surrender signed by kings and chiefs. (p. x)

This claim is ironic considering that kings and rulers who refused to sign the treaty were forced, frustrated or traumatized out of office. In some cases, rulers are instated on the condition that they signed treaties. Oba Akitoye was chosen to replace resistant Kosoko on the condition that he signed a treaty. The King of Old Town in Calabar was forced to sign a treaty as precondition to rebuilding his town which was demolished by Beecroft, a British Consul. In 1903, Lord Lugard’s offensives using British forces, overpowered the caliphate, killing the caliph. British troop fought Ijebu for 4 days and subdued them because the ruler would not discuss terms of trade. These instances of violence, brutality and trauma would explain why kings and chiefs very easily signed treaties. Falola and Heaton (2008) describe it aptly, “when British officials circulated a new treaty of ‘protection’ to the Yoruba states in 1893, most Yoruba leaders saw the writing on the wall and signed away their sovereignty” (p. 98). A corroboration of this assertion can be found in Olasupo Shasore’s docuseries on Nigeria’s journey to independence in Journey of the African Colony (2018).

An Overview of Kunle Afolayan’s October 1

October 1 can be perceived as a story about political injustice and religious hypocrisy. This paper interrogates it as a psychological drama which explores the trauma of colonization and the efficacy of decolonization. Set in a Nigeria that is about to become independent, October 1 is predominantly set in Akote, a once peaceful community in Abeokuta. It is late September and the people are preparing eagerly for October 1, the day Britain formally hands over reins of power back to Nigerians after many years of colonization. But the festive air in Akote is to be interrupted as unexplained rape and murder cases begin to occur. The district head, Captain Winterbottom, delegates Inspector Danladi Waziri, apparently the nation’s finest, to investigate and solve the murder cases.

October 1 uses flashback technique to piece its stories together. On the night of the independence, Inspector Danladi is giving an account of his investigation of the murder of five Akote maidens. The similarities in the murder cases lead the Inspector to believe this might be cases of ritual killings, warranting his wish to interrogate Baba Ifa, the Chief Priest. Waziri meets the disapproval of local Chief of Police, Sergeant Afonja who believes it is disrespectful and sacrilegious. Afonja is suspended for insubordination. Sumonu, the palace guard is arrested after the third murder and released after the fourth. The fifth victim, Chidinma, happens to be of different ethnic group from the previous victims and this heightens tension within the community. A search party hoping to recover Chidinma, finds not only her corpse, but an unfortunate wayfarer, Usman Dangari. Besides being a complete stranger to Akote, Usman was lost when he is found in the dark bush. He has in his possession, the deceased’s necklace which he claims was handed him by a man he had met before his discovery.

Although Waziri is uncertain that Dangari is the serial killer, there is very little time for further investigation. Captain Winterbottom, eager for a resolution asks for Dangari’s transfer to Ibadan for prosecution. But on the day of his transfer, Dangari is murdered by Chidinma’s father. Dangari dies maintaining his innocence, thus motivating Waziri to continue his investigation. From interacting further with the people, he finds that farmer Agbekoya, on whose farm the first victim was discovered, hides secrets. A discussion between them leads to the discovery of the killer, Prince Aderopo. This comes as a surprise to everyone, including Miss Tawa who narrowly escapes being the sixth and final victim. Agbekoya believes Aderopo could potentially be the serial killer considering the complex trauma he suffered. Agbekoya and Aderopo had been taken from Akote to school in Lagos under the guardianship of Reverend Dowling. Agbekoya abandons western education in order to escape Dowling’s sexual molestation, but Aderopo endures. While Agbekoya finds peace by isolating and decolonizing himself and family from Western civilisation, Prince Aderopo embraces the Whiteman’s ways. Although Prince Aderopo dies as did Usman Dangari, Winterbottom wants Dangari named the murderer because he was a “nobody” unlike Aderopo who had royal blood.

Analysis of Traumatic Events in October 1

In engaging with the trauma of colonialism, Kunle Afolayan focuses mostly on the life of Prince Aderopo. Although the farmer, Agbekoya and the inspector, Danladi Waziri are equally traumatized, their traumas appear only secondary to Aderopo’s. This imbalance appears deliberate, to call attention to the implication and lifelong impact of childhood trauma. It equally calls attention to the implications and effect of colonialism, postcolonialism, and neo-colonialism on a country that makes no conscious attempt to decolonize itself. A study by Zlotnick et al. (2008), indicates this much. The authors submit that “physical abuse and sexual assault in childhood rather than such an event in adulthood are more likely to predispose individuals to PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder)” (p. 168). They add that a history of abuse in childhood increases one’s chances of having panic disorder in adulthood and suffering PTSD for life. This submission plays out in the film, October 1.

October 1 is a film on collective trauma as much as it is about personal or childhood trauma. It opens in Akote, a rural community in Abeokuta which has recently begun to experience early signs of gentrification following new road networks running across the community. It establishes the traumatizing event that has stirred up collective sentiment within the community. The festive air associated with preparations for the forthcoming independence (at the national level) and the return of the prince (in Akote) contrasts with the apprehension that suddenly seizes the land following serial killings in a previously peaceful and safe community. As the story unfolds, the audience is made aware of the trauma suffered by various characters, especially the main characters.

A collective trauma is a psychological event which impacts on or affects a large number of people, up to and including a whole community, state, or nation. It affects how they collectively respond to stimuli or organize themselves. Saul (2014) perceives it as the inevitable which results from natural or man-made disaster. Collective trauma represents a people’s shared injuries which could be either social, cultural, or physical in nature. Xenophobia, racial/ethnic/tribal/religious discrimination, apartheid, colonialism, among others can potentially cause collective trauma. In Africa, bad leadership and corruption continue to traumatize the people. As Njenga (2007) observes

In the late fifties and early sixties, with the promise of independence, Africans lived the life of hope that the triple problems of poverty, ignorance and disease would evaporate under the wise leadership of their new rulers. For most Africans, the dream of a new life remained just that—a dream. Following the death of the fathers of African independence, and as African governments fell in rapid succession, the stage was set for the steady decline of law and order, and the wars and internal strife rapidly gave way to increasing poverty, ignorance and disease. As often happens, and as had been the case during the colonial era, it was the most vulnerable, women and children who bore the brunt of those conflicts. (p. 28)

In October 1, the situation is no different. Although Njenga’s observation is about the postcolonial Africa, October 1 carries the same image for the colonial Nigeria. Nigerians are collectively presented as excited and hopeful over the approaching independence, as were the people of Akote over the arrival of their first graduate and future king, Prince Aderopo. Like Nigeria, there is potential for Akote and there is hope for a prosperous future with Prince Aderopo as king. Aderopo is not only well groomed and disciplined for the throne, he is charismatic and enigmatic, well grounded in the culture, customs, and traditions of Akote, he is fluent in the language, has the good of the land and its people at heart. And importantly, he has acquired Western education and holds a scholarship for further studies in England. In the same light, Nigeria’s blessings are numerous and it had the potential to become, not only the giant of Africa, but one of the greatest countries of the world. Nigeria has rich ethnic and tribal diversity, free of natural disasters, but full of natural resources, has rich soil and ample food supply. However, like Aderopo, Nigeria is not a product of nature, but of force or decree and trauma. In Weaver’s (1961) words

No map of Nigeria could have been drawn prior to 1898—indeed many of our current maps are incorrect—for Nigeria is a nation by decree, and foreign decree at that. No such colony, territory, or protectorate as Nigeria existed prior to 1898. In 1898 the British and French finally came to an agreement on those parts of West Africa which each would expropriate and exploit. It is said that the London Times invented the name Nigeria from the river which flows through it. In the area which the British took were more than four hundred tribes, with about as many social and cultural divergences. (p. 147)

The point in Weaver’s position above is that Nigeria is traumatized from the British and French’s divide and rule policy. Like Aderopo, events in Nigeria’s colonization impacted and continue to impact on the development of the nation. Aderopo is traumatized and suffers post-traumatic stress disorder, while Nigeria’s trauma can best be described as developmental trauma disorder (DTD). DTD derives from complex trauma. Complex trauma describes “the experience of multiple, chronic and prolonged, developmentally adverse traumatic events, most often of an interpersonal nature” (Van der Kolk, 2005, p. 402). Examples of such traumatic events will include war, community violence and we could add colonization. Colonization makes an apt example here because of its effect on the colonized nation. Colonization disrupts the affairs and self-reliance of a nation, causing it to be completely dependent on another sovereign power hence requiring independence at some point in its history. Colonization leads to developmental trauma disorder which sets the grounds for unfocused responses to future stress or trauma (Cicchetti & Toth, 1995). This sort of trauma continues to be only studied among individual patients and never as a collective trauma. Somasundaram (2014) defines collective trauma as a unique form of trauma experienced by a collective body of people or a whole society.

October 1 mirrors Nigeria’s collective trauma in the collective trauma of the people of Akote. Akote is presented as a quiet, but connected town. It is small and the people are largely farmers who trade their farm produce in the local market. They also grow cocoa as cash crop. Akote is peaceful and crime free. The locals have enough to feed and clothe their families, and provide shelters which are built close to one another. There is no electricity and streams constitute their water supply. Akote is only coming gradually to terms with modernization, starting with church and school. The people trust each other and extend such trust to their visitors. Hence, the trust bestowed on Reverend Dowling, the clergyman, and people from other tribes who moved into Akote following new road networks across the region. The image of pre-independent Nigeria is captured in Akote before the return of Prince Aderopo. Nigeria was generally peaceful and the people were largely ignorant of the politics played in the ruling class. The people, like those in Akote, eagerly awaited independence. But was Nigeria ready? Soon-to-be leaders like Waziri, are too traumatized and oppressed, and future leaders like Aderopo and Agbekoya, are too scarred to lead the nation to glory. Hence Aderopo’s insistence that the national independence was coming ten years too soon.

In the place of optimism and anticipation, the future leaders of Nigeria, Aderopo and Agbekoya, nurse feelings of anger, persistent sadness, moodiness and despair, constant flashbacks and nightmares, the desire to cleanse, lack of control over emotions, angry outbursts, feelings of guilt, shame, hopelessness, and isolation. Aderopo fights his battle within him. He nurses his bitterness and anger, grooming them over the years while he studies at Ibadan. He is constantly dressed in white attire, perhaps to mask the darkness inside or overshadow the evil breeding in him. His abuse notwithstanding, Aderopo succeeds in his education, securing a scholarship for graduate studies abroad. His determination to succeed may have been motivated by his position in the society. Being a member of a prominent royal family and an heir to the throne, more is expected of him than Agbekoya. Although Aderopo endures his abuse and abuser, it impacts on his emotional, rational, behavioral, cognitive, and physical wellbeing. He achieves his goal, but emerges a damaged man.

Developmental trauma disorder is to children what post-traumatic stress disorder is to adults. Aderopo is abused for 6 years, his entire adolescence. Van Der Kolk (2005) posits that multiple exposures to interpersonal trauma like sexual abuse, present the abused with consistent and predictable consequences which impact on other areas or aspects of life. Aderopo’s abuse makes him bitter and he transfers all aggression on the women of Akote. The reason for this remains unclear, except that women in Africa are brunt bearers. Aderopo’s decision to rape and murder six virgins (women), one for each year he endured sexual violation, only goes to reinforce the place of women in the Nigerian society. Virginity in Africa is idealized and respected, it represents deep cultural connections. Through the rape of virgin girls, October 1 indicates the violation of Nigerian traditional values and cultural and spiritual connections. Agbekoya abandons education and the desecration in order to preserve the sacredness and sanctity of his values.

As a representation of Nigeria, Inspector Danladi Waziri is shamed, humiliated, ridiculed, psychologically assaulted and left at a loss over how to salvage a young and already broken nation. Despite his attempts to rise above the dysfunctionality, division, hatred, and bitterness already established among the people, Waziri is made aware that independent or not, the nation is still under subjugation. The colonial District Head threatens to “crush” Waziri if he dared cross him by going against his dictates. Although Winterbottom avers that he is protecting a fragile nation from collapse, Waziri is convinced otherwise and protests Winterbottom’s real motive—protecting the integrity and memory of his countryman, Rev. Dowling. Winterbottom’s general lack of respect for Nigeria abuses a nation that provides for him. Winterbottom does not have the modesty to disguise his contempt for the Nigerian people. In line with Frantz Fanon, Nigel Gibson, and Abiola Irele’s philosophy on the colonizer-colonized relationship, Winterbottom does not consider the people human enough to be served. Hence, he conveniently serves scotch to his fellow countrymen, Tomkin and Ackerman, but nods Waziri to a water dispenser upon his request for water.

As Nigeria, Waziri shows signs of both short and long term effects of abuse. He suffers guilt from a previous assignment in Enugu where a man is beheaded for seeking justice for his late father. Despite receiving commendation, promotion, and medals, Inspector Waziri insists it was not his finest hour. This guilt spurs his determination to accurately resolve the murder cases in Akote. But this resolution only worsens his trauma. He lives with the guilt of knowing that Usman Dangari was wrongfully accused and murdered, and remains unable to vindicate him even in death. He feels the same helplessness and hopelessness he felt over the deaths of his family members. The trauma of losing his wife and son causes him to withdraw from people. In the closing scene, after the image of the Queen and the Union Jack are taken down, Waziri looks on forlornly. Staring at the empty space that once held the image of Her Majesty, Waziri shows no feelings of fulfillment or ecstasy over the independence. Instead, he is exhausted from attempting to prove himself or rise above the shadow of the colonialist. He can only dream of and hope for a new, truly independent Nigeria.

Coping With Trauma: Lessons in October 1

In this section, this study will concentrate on three main characters—Prince Aderopo, Agbekoya the farmer, and Inspector Waziri—to discuss what lessons can be drawn for Nigeria’s colonial trauma. October 1 may tell a Nigerian story, but it reflects the reality of many African countries. Colonial trauma is an African reality (Moruwawon, 2012), some countries suffering more than others. Afolayan offers only a slight insight into this reality through the character—Lord Sebastian Tomkins, the DCO (District Coordination Officer) in Mombasa, Kenya. Ezepue (2022) surmises that, “Tomkins’ riposte at Waziri’s audacious retort (to Winterbottom), indicates that colonial abuse (trauma) is not peculiar to Nigeria” (p. 210). Ackerman suggests that the Nigerian independence deserves “commiserations” rather than congratulatory messages. He describes Waziri as insolent, deserving to be flogged—the discipline which his subjects usually got in Kenya, a brutality vividly described by Routley (2013). His dislike for Waziri indicates what he feels for the colonies in general—contempt and hatred. Despite Waziri’s profile, for which he gets a congratulatory handshake and commendation from retired detective, Inspector Fred Ackerman, very little respect is accorded him. It is interesting to note how casually Winterbottom introduces Waziri in comparison to the flamboyant introductions for his fellow countrymen.

Having thus established that the film October 1 is a metaphor for Nigeria’s colonial trauma, the authors will discuss below how Aderopo, Agbekoya, and Waziri coped with their personal trauma and what lessons their approaches hold for Nigeria.

Inspector Danladi Waziri

Inspector Waziri is a very important character in the film. Through him, the director extends his call for decolonization. He is a metaphor for true liberation. Inspector’s character reiterates the need to begin the process of emancipation. He advocates an urgency for Nigerians to begin the process of decolonization and self/identity discovery.

In Waziri, October 1 offers a healing mechanism that defies Eurocentric counseling/therapy, psychoeducation and medication. Waziri starts out by relying on denial and medication for his pains and insomnia. He avoids discussions which remind him of the traumatic events in his life, blocks off thoughts and memories of them, and avoids places and events that could remind him of his personal losses and traumas. He refuses counseling from the Christian pastor who willingly offered therapy to help him heal. Waziri does not turn to Islam either as he refuses to discuss his faith or a lack of it. He is not shown to pray regularly as a typical Muslim does—5 times a day. At the climax of events, Waziri’s medication fails and the sergeant’s wife brews a mixture of local herbs that helps Waziri feel better and improve his cognition. While helping Agbekoya heal, Waziri attains his own healing by speaking about the loss of his family for the first time in many years. He attains a liberation, a freedom from his self-imposed captivity, and for the first time, he stands up to Captain Winterbottom. In Waziri, October 1 presents Nigeria the option of self-healing. It advocates for an inward rather than an outward search for liberation. By abandoning his medication and refusing counseling from the pastor, Waziri calls on Nigeria and Nigerians to heal by depending on their inner strength, abilities and resources. Self-dependence is essential for independence to be meaningful. Self-reliance is a key to self-decolonization—the process of purging oneself of all acquired identities which conflict with the true perception of oneself.

In Inspector Waziri, October 1 presents for Nigeria the personal/internal resource assessment option—a call to grow and develop the country using whatever resources are internally available. There is a deliberate emphasis on the healing power of meaningful conversation or dialogue. Nigerians must look beyond ethnic, cultural, religious differences and engage in conversations that could therapize trauma occasioned by colonialism.

Agbekoya

Agbekoya’s character is important as it demonstrates the negative impact of subjugation, trauma, and suppression. He is an embodiment of capabilities, possibilities, and potential. Agbekoya was one of the beneficiaries of Reverend Dowling’s scholarship. Unlike Aderopo, another beneficiary, he does not endure Dowling’s sexual assault, he leaves Lagos and goes back to Akote. As is typical of trauma victims, he isolates himself hoping that the pain/memory will disappear by not sharing the experience. This is his way of cleansing and purging himself of the psychological assault. Like Aderopo, he is angry with his community for trusting him to a stranger, the same trust which brought the country under British colonization. For a total disconnection, he returns to farming as occupation, speaks only the local, indigenous Yoruba language and does not expose his son to Western education because according to him, “Western education is bad.” He discards all Western affiliations for two reasons; first, to discover himself again and secondly, to erase from his memory the trauma, assault and psychological bondage he experienced.

Self-isolation and withdrawal from society and friends notwithstanding, Agbekoya never stops having nightmares. Despite his effort to decolonize and erode memories of the trauma, Agbekoya kills Reverend Dowling several years later. Although he does not plan to kill the Reverend, Agbekoya is overcome by emotions. He goes to get closure on his trauma, but whatever healing he attained during his many years of withdrawal and silence vanishes within moments of seeing Rev. Dowling. His conscious effort to decolonize and return to his roots however, allows Agbekoya retain elements of humanity and conscience. He is sorry for the murder and is willing to surrender to justice. He has empathy for Aderopo and is willing to offer counsel toward healing.

Agbekoya is a metaphor for a decolonizing Nigeria. He offers a template which proposes functional education rather than one tailored to Western standard. He advocates for empathy, humanity and unity rather than violence. Agbekoya’s healing process is remarkable, but denies him opportunities which modernization, intercultural interaction and globalization offer. His choice to decolonize via exclusion and isolation does not ensure a complete healing from the trauma he experienced. His strategy—self-isolation, shielding his family from westernization, and even murdering his molester—does not end his misery, his bitterness, pain, anger/rage, and the nightmares. Despite many years of attempting to decolonize himself, Agbekoya only begins to truly heal after Inspector Waziri provokes him into sharing his past.

Decolonization, like any psychotherapy, is a slow process and in a multicultural nation like Nigeria, it requires regions, tribes, and peoples working together and conquering their fears in partnership with each other. In Agbekoya, October 1 presents Nigeria the option of collective decolonization. There is a need to repair the internal damage Nigeria had suffered, rebuild her self-esteem, unity, trust, and self-worth. There is a need to rewire, re-assess, restructure, and repurpose the nation and its system the way it should work for the Nigerian people based on who they are and what they desire for their nation. This decolonization is a collective task, a process which requires collaboration, patience, and tolerance.

Prince Aderopo

Aderopo is a child of hope, dreams, and aspirations. He is the people’s assurance of a good life. He is the only son of Oba Akote, and heir apparent to the throne of Akote kingdom. Being one of the brightest boys in Akote, he is selected to benefit from the Reverend Dowling’s scholarship program. Thus, Aderopo embarks on the journey to secure not just his future but that of his people. He is the apple of his father’s eye and the pride of Akote. Aderopo embarks on the journey of self-actualization, but returns a damaged man. He finishes his college program in Lagos, graduates from the University of Ibadan, and returns to Akote to celebrate his success with his people. But he is haunted by the trauma of 6 years of sexual violation. Like Agbekoya, he blames his community in general for the pains he had to endure. Like Agbekoya, he does not share this pain. Unlike Agbekoya whose strategy was to purge himself through decolonization, Aderopo chooses to cleanse and right himself with the gods through propitiatory sacrifice.

Kingship in Yoruba land is a spiritual affair. Lloyd (1960) offers details of the rites and rituals required for the ascension to the throne of an Oba. The essence of these rituals is to ensure that unqualified or unsuitable persons are not crowned the Oba. The rituals are important so that in the eventuality that the chiefs fail to choose the right candidate, the gods can unseat the newly crowned Oba by death. Aderopo is heir apparent to the throne, being the Oba’s only son. While the Chiefs cannot disqualify him, the gods can. Being grounded in the culture and traditions of his people, Aderopo is aware of this. Hence, his choice to atone for the defilement which can present him unsuited for the throne.

Although Aderopo is supposedly taken to a missionary school, the film does not categorically state that he is a convert. Born into a royal, traditional family, Aderopo witnesses Ifa divinations and consultations regularly. He is aware of his father’s reverence for the gods and his faith in their guidance. He must have witnessed numerous sacrifices, a fundamental aspect of African Traditional Religion. According to Akin-Otiko (2019), sacrifice is an integral part of life which is necessary for survival on earth. The author cites a popular saying among the Yoruba—“‘ebo rírú ló ngbe ni’—it is sacrifice that resolves issues” (p. 17).

Awolalu (1996) provides details of the various kinds of sacrifices among Yoruba people. His propitiatory sacrifice (ebo ètùtù), a sacrifice of atonement is the same as Fatokun’s (2010) expiatory sacrifice. This sacrifice is significant for pacifying or placating the gods. It is made to expunge defilement and atone for sins. Usually, it requires blood sacrifice. Fatokun thus says, “the blood of the sacrificial victim stands to substitute for both the life of the offender and that of his or her entire community now under the wrath of the gods” (p. 131). An expiatory sacrifice (ebo ìràpadà) is the functional sacrifice required for a relationship between humans and supernatural beings. Akin-Otiko (2019) notes that this sort of sacrifice requires a virtuous life and a virtuous sacrifice. Why Aderopo defiles his sacrifice via rape is uncertain. However, while discussing rituals associated with Èsù and Oràmfę, Ojo (2005) shares that, the ritual victim was paraded across the streets, giving the people the opportunity to transfer their sins to the sacrificial lamb who would later be killed at the sacred grove. Perhaps, rape was Aderopo’s way of transferring his defilement to the sacrifice.

Aderopo crests a cross on the victims. This cross is wrongly termed crucifix in the film. A cross is usually bare, but a crucifix includes the image of Jesus on the cross. It is unclear in the film what the true affiliation of Rev Dowling is. While he is presented as a catholic priest, the church he presided in at Akote has a Presbyterian set-up. Mix-ups such as this in the film, confuses rather than convinces the audiences. The cresting of cross on Aderopo’s victims can be perceived as his way of marking his sacrifice for the god in the absence of a proper ritual altar. It could mean a mockery on Christianity or a prayer. But the lack of clarity on details such as Aderopo’s spiritual/religious inclination or affiliation, makes it difficult to tell exactly what the cross signifies.

His choice of white clothing significantly supports the ritual/sacrifice theory. In their article on water, spirit and plain white cloth, Renne (1991) suggests that plain white cloth has the power to heal bodies, placate spirits, transcend the human world, and connect it to that of the spirit. The god whom Aderopo tries to placate, Olodumare, has been described as “Essentially White Object, White Material without Pattern” (Idowu, 1962, p. 154). His choice of white clothing could also be to mask the filth he feels, an externalization of his inner longing for purity and purification, and a nostalgia for lost innocence.

As a metaphor for Nigeria traumatized by colonialism, Aderopo’s management of his trauma comes into question. Why was he angry against the community rather than his father? Was enduring 6 years of torment worth the lives of six Akote virgins, including his childhood sweetheart? Despite his anger at being entrusted to his abuser, Rev Dowling, Aderopo is excited about travelling to Britain. In Aderopo, Afolayan interrogates the spate of bad decisions that have plagued Nigeria since independence. Are the people mentally, emotionally and psychologically fit to govern the country? Imagine Akote under the leadership of traumatized Prince Aderopo. Would the serial murder end with six virgins? Or will other psychological traumas arising from the trauma of molestation drive him into future murders? For Nigeria, there is need to address the trauma of bad leadership, corruption, and ethnic division that have plagued the nation for so long. As illustrated in Aderopo, Agbekoya, and Waziri, a trauma unchecked is a smothering fire waiting to rekindle. Aderopo’s ultimate death indicates the possibility of a negative outcome for Nigeria. There is need for a therapeutic recovery, in this case, decolonization of the mind, to enable the nation heal, rediscover itself and refocus its vision.

Decolonization—Dealing With Colonial Trauma in Nigeria

In the Wretched of the Earth, Fanon (2004) notes that mental disorders will be prevalent among the colonized population who struggle to bandage “the countless and sometimes indelible wounds inflicted” by “colonialist onslaught” (p. 181). Perspectives on decolonization have shifted since its coming to existence in the 1930s. At the time, decolonization referred to the process of attaining political independence from the colonialists. But colonialism goes beyond the political to the psychological, occupying both land and self (Gibson, 2003) and impacting on how Africans experienced the world and themselves (Irele, 1965). Hence, in recent times, decolonization has taken a new perspective—the critical evaluation of Western institutions and culture with the aim of unseating legacies which project former colonies as inferior.

For Fanon, decolonization is about reclaiming a past which is essential for the psycho-affective wellbeing of a once colonized people. The broad sense in which decolonization is perceived in this study is guided by Frantz Fanon’s decolonial ideals, Nigel Gibson’s postcolonial imagination, and Abiola Irele’s black culture glorifying movement—Negritude. Their thoughts have continued to inform the adoption of decolonization in modern times. Unlike in the beginning when it suffered contradictions (Gibson, 2003), decolonization has become more precise in its political and social concerns. With globalization and technological awareness, decolonization is recording more successes beyond politics. In recent times, there have been rising revolutionary struggles across the world—like the ENDSARS protest in Nigeria, Black Lives Matter campaigns across various countries of the world, Rhodes Must Fall protest in South Africa, United States, and England, among others. Contemporary decolonization struggles adopt a framework which centers on “Pan-Africanism, Black Consciousness and Black radical feminism” (Ahmed, 2019, p. 282), indeed the negritude essence. But before reaching the larger sphere, decolonization requires that an individual attains the Fanonian Moment—that point of being determined to address internalized inferiority and liberation, a mindset which begins with the individual. This is the element that makes decolonization therapeutic. However new and different, local and global, new and unique they are, decolonial revolutions validate Fanon’s fears about the mental disorder that could arise from the depth of colonial trauma inflicted on Africa. Gibson’s (2021) collection of essays in Fanon Today, explores how Fanon’s ideologies continue to be employed at various levels in the development of new lines of political actions and thoughts and the healing of Africa—home and pride of the black race.

Decolonization struggles as seen in Agbekoya and Aderopo go to highlight the essence and relevance of “home” in a world of battered and stereotyped identity. Fanon had urged for the free return of his patients to their families, opposing hospitalization and isolation. For Irele (2011), this means being entitled to an identity in which the individual could take pride. Decolonization as therapy should therefore be about upholding black identity/essence/roots and the humanity therein. By this, Waziri and Agbekoya jointly experience a renaissance, a Fanonian moment and begin their journey toward healing from their traumas. While Agbekoya eases back into social life, Waziri faces the harsh reality of imaginary decolonization and neocolonialism disguised as independence. In essence, Waziri’s colonial trauma does not cease for therapy to begin, but only changes perpetrators—the “national bourgeoise” (Fanon, 1963). Aderopo on the other hand, overtaken by anger, resorts to violence which Fanon says, is not enough to relieve colonial trauma. Aderopo replaces one system of exploitation—his exploitation, by another—the exploitation of others, hence further removing himself from realizing that Fanonian Moment necessary for decolonization as therapy.

Conclusion

As is typical of Kunle Afolayan films, October 1 opens up several conversations on the nation, its past, present, and future. It advocates for decolonization, both as a process for national recovery and as a therapy for healing collective trauma. The film’s position on decolonization is one which takes globalization and hybridization of cultures into cognizance. It calls for a healthy interaction between cultures where one is not subsumed into the other. It beckons on Nigeria, a nation bedeviled with post-colonial and neo-colonial bureaucracies, to attend to rather than ignore its signs of trauma. There is need for therapy, a sincere conversation around its many woes, failures, and challenges and forge a way forward. It is indeed an “arise o compatriots” call to all Nigerians to uphold everything that unites and find strength in weaknesses and differences. It is a call to re-evaluate supposed independence, work toward being totally and truly independent and toward a new Nigeria where decisions are not made to hurt any minority.