Have you ever picked up a book or decided to watch a movie simply because of a review you read?
Reviews can be powerful. They help book and movie lovers decide what is worth their time, while offering an honest glimpse into what to expect. But reviews are not just for the audience. They also give writers, filmmakers and other creatives valuable feedback on their work—what worked, what didn’t, and what could have been done better. A good review does more than say, “I liked it” or “I didn’t like it.” It looks at the work thoughtfully, highlights its strengths and weaknesses, and helps us appreciate the creative choices behind it.
In many ways, reviews create a conversation between the creator and the audience—and sometimes, that conversation can make the next story even better.
Here is a book review done by Nathananiel Bivan
Review: Black Overlords, Runaway Slaves in Jaja’s Historical Novel
Nathaniel Bivan
Let’s begin with a history question—Have you ever heard about the Maroon communities?
These were a group of ex-slaves during the transatlantic slave trade. They and their descendants gained freedom by fleeing enslavement and building their own ‘free’ territories. These were usually remote mountains or dense, overgrown tropical terrains near the plantations. Today, many such groups are found throughout the Americas: North, South, and Central America. The Caribbean, too.
But when they broke free, the slaves didn’t call themselves maroon communities. Maroon is a French word derived from Marron, which refers to runaway black slaves. In ‘A Wade Across Freedom,’ Sasi Miet Jaja’s historical fiction novel, the over two dozen men who fled from Kalabar call their new ‘country’ Obio Ukem Unen, the land of equal rights and opportunities.
Set in the South-eastern coastal towns of Nigeria, the geopolitical zone known today as the South-South, Jaja’s fictional depiction of the slave era beams a searchlight on one topic that is sometimes relegated to the background: the role of Africans in the advancement of the transatlantic slave trade that lasted for over 300 years, from the 16th to the 19th century.
Triggered by his elder brother’s unwillingness to relinquish total control of their late father’s estate, Okoh Cobhams rallies together his brother’s slaves with the help of Seawolf, the most powerful and influential slave. One of the wealthiest men in Kalabar, Edem Cobhams, like their father, became wealthy on the back of the slave trade courtesy of the Europeans and their slave ships. While wars were historically a goldmine for slave labour, some Africans, in search of protection, were compelled to surrender themselves as slaves to powerful men among the black race. This was how Okoh and Edem’s father built his wealth and power, and now everything lies at the feet of the first of the two sons.
So, when Okoh reaches out to Seawolf, it doesn’t take much to convince the dogged slave who has tried to escape multiple times in the past. It seems that all this time, Okoh has believed in another kind of trade that doesn’t necessarily involve trafficking in human beings. But seeing that this dream won’t be actualised under his elder brother’s leadership, he decides to take the bull by the horns. The chop nut test soon becomes the catalyst for realising that dream.
Edem’s wife was found dead after her husband handed over their albino baby as a sacrificial lamb to the chief priest, servant of Ndem Efik, a deity believed to preside over the affairs of Old Kalabar. Worried by the lack of European slave ships at their shores, the priest sacrifices infants, specifically albinos, to appease the gods of the white slave traders. This is well captured on page 7:
Four days earlier, the king had informed all chiefs, gentlemen and citizens of the necessity of offering a sacrifice to the white gods if trade with Europeans was to continue. In former times, an offering of bright copper manillas to Ndem Efik had been enough to summon the distant masts of foreign ships. Lately, however, the manillas had failed, and the horizon remained empty. Consequently, the chief priest had declared a new remedy. The gods of the white men must be appeased at the Parrot Island by the sacrifice of an albino child.
The logic, though cruel, was accepted. Albinos were seen as the nearest African resemblance to white men. A dark-complexioned child, it was believed, would not suffice. Thus, the sacrifice of albino children became ritual law, feared yet observed with grim determination whenever European ships failed to appear.
This idea that Kalabar needs to make a sacrifice to the white man’s gods speaks to some of the dark traditions that marked Africa’s history. One of them was the killing of twins, which is reportedly still prevalent in some remote parts of Nigeria, as well as the sacrifice of humans when a king dies, or the killing of children accused of being witches and wizards. The list goes on. Jaja does an excellent job of playing on the black man’s fetish to explore betrayal, greed, and sabotage from the inside. No, this time it isn’t just about the cruelty of the slavers who dump live humans in the sea to escape authorities at the tail end of the slave trade, or the cramping of shackled bodies in tiny spaces on ships, and their eventual torture and misery on plantations far away from home. Blacks, Africans here at home, accelerated and benefited from a crime against their own kind that remains a timeless subject of discourse.
When Seawolf refuses to focus on farming, trade, or even wealth after their successful escape, it mirrors the anger that some Africans still harbour today. He wants nothing more than the opportunity to destroy his enemies, hence his obsession with piracy. This might be indicative of the victimhood some Africans allow themselves to wallow in almost perpetually, and the question is, “When do we stop pointing fingers and come awake to the reality that our future is now in our hands?” Seawolf wants to continue leading the men to free slaves and capture goods on European ships, and Okoh longs to participate in honest trade and amass enough wealth to buy and free slaves. The former thirsts for revenge and easy fortune, the latter believes in a peaceful and strategic approach to building a nation-state.
Worthy of emphasis is that Okoh Cobhams was never a slave and is the brother of Seawolf’s former black master, Edem Cobhams. In today’s Africa or Nigeria, Okoh represents those who aspire to chart a new and progressive course, while Edem stands for the dictators and corrupt public officials who continuously carve out resources for their pockets.
