“If I did not know that you are a chief, I would not allow you to wear that cloth you have on,” announced Chief Joe Bassey through the microphone in the filled auditorium. As the crowd applauded, a mischievous smile appeared on his face, leading him on to other remarks about my presentation to the community of Calabar, Nigeria. In the lecture hall were many men and women in traditional attire, among them leaders of the indigenous government of the entire region, known as the Ékpè or Ngbe (leopard) society in the local languages of Efik, Ejagham, and Efut (Balondo). As did I, they wore ceremonial hats, carried walking sticks, and wore “loin cloth” wrappers tied around the waist. The type I wore, called Ukara, was an indigo dyed cotton that only Ékpè members may wear, since they display symbols and signs related to the mystic workings of the society.

We were in the “Old Residence” of the former colonial District Officer overlooking the Calabar River, now home to the National Museum. Down the hill from us to the west sprawled Atakpa, an ancient Efik settlement with a beachhead that served as the port to embark thousands of enslaved locals to the Americas. In the distance to the east (up river) lay the port of Creek Town, the first Efik settlement before Calabar became a metropolis, and the place from where the majority of enslaved humans were loaded on canoes to be placed forcibly on the European ships that carried them to their fates.

In Calabar with the support of a grant from the West African Research Association, I had been invited by the museum director, How I went to Calabar and became an Ékpè Ambassador to the Cuban Abakuá brotherhood

Mr. Nath Mayo Adediran, to speak about my research topic: the recreation of the Ékpè society in Cuba by enslaved members taken from these shores. I called my talk “Okobio Enyenison Efik Obutong: Cross River History and Language in the Cuban Ékpè Society,” based on a Cuban chant memorializing those who founded Ékpè in Cuba. With the help of speakers of Cross River languages in the USA and now in Calabar, we had made great strides in interpreting many of the Cuban chants, in the belief that these are important links to the history of the region. We confirmed that Obutong was an Efik settlement, some of whose leaders were enslaved during conflicts in the 18th century, and that all terms in this Cuban phrase are coherent in the Efik language.

Local personages were taking this topic very seriously, since they have learned that Cuban Ékpè is a direct link to their own past as a people(s) that promises to become an important contemporary issue as the depth of the cultural transmission to Cuba becomes apparent. Several other scholars have worked on the links between Calabar and Cuba, but I was particularly well received, perhaps because for the first time, we were organizing a trip of leading Cuban members to visit Calabar. With me at the presenters’ table in the lecture hall were Dr. Okon E. Uya, Chair of the History Department at the University of Calabar; Dr. Ekpo Eyo, the former director of the National Museums of Nigeria; Dr. Jill Salmons, senior researcher into Cross River traditional arts; Mr. Larry Esin, the Managing Director of Tourism for Cross River State; and “Etubom” Bassey Ekpo Bassey, an Ékpè leader who presides over the Calabar lodge responsible for the coronation of the Obong, or traditional ruler of the Efik people (Efik society is organized into Houses, groups based on an extended family lineage including ancestors and descendants, as well as incorporated exogenous members [wives, servants, etc]; Etubom is a title meaning “Head of House,” in this case the King James House). In the front row sat a dozen Ékpè leaders in regalia, with many others present discretely wearing street clothes.

Among those dressed to the nines, Joseph Bassey is the Muri (clan leader) of the Efut Ekondo lodge in Calabar, founded by Efut migrants from Cameroon in the nineteenth century and earlier. In Cuba, the Efut are known as “Efó”, and considered “the founders” of Ékpè. Representing the Ékpè lodge of Big Qua Town in Calabar was Chief Imona, whose father had been the Ndidem (paramount ruler) of the Qua Ejagham of Calabar. A week earlier the Qua Ndidem had received me in their lodge the ceremonial way: with Ékpè masquerades, drumming and chanting, food and drink; afterwards Imona told me I was the first foreign researcher they had brought past their portal, a privilege extended due to my recent initiation by another lodge. Imona had worked with many foreign Ékpè researchers in Calabar over the years, including Robert Farris Thompson, Keith Nicklin, Jill Salmons, and Amanda Carlson. The honor accorded to me was a sign of the seriousness with which Cuban Abakuá was regarded. The Ejagham, also migrants from Cameroon, are considered by many to be the founders of Ékpè. They are known locally as Àbàkpà, the term used by the Cubans to name their own society, Abakuá.

As a shared culture in Cross River history, Ékpè was transmitted from one group to another, becoming a key factor for inter-group alliances and trading networks. In tension with this tendency toward co-existence is a more recent one of ethnic nationalism that threatens to destabilize the region, as “leaders” of each group battle over land rights based on which group migrated to Calabar first, which group founded Ékpè, etc., despite the reality of intermarriage among them for centuries. Those at the lecture that night in the Museum were clearly interested in the Cuban narratives of the Cross River past, because within them are perspectives untainted by local politics that bring fresh perspectives about their own precolonial history.

Indeed, the primary message of the Cuban Abakuá is one of brotherhood across ethnic and racial borders. Historically, Abakuá narratives speak of the Efut and Ekoi (Ejagham) as founders, the other tribes entering later through a series of consecrations, with each bringing their own contributions to the aggrandizement of the culture, making it truly a multi-ethnic enterprise. In other words, the issue is not merely to identify a “founder”, but to reach an understanding of Ékpè as a shared culture that ties the region together.

My interaction with West African Ékpè members began in 2000, when, after publishing samples of Abakuá phrases from a commercially recorded album (Miller 2000), Nigerian members of the Cross River Ékpè society living in the USA informed me that they had recognized these texts as part of their own history. Thus began a process of interpretation that led to what was perhaps the first meeting between both groups, at the Efik National Association meeting in Brooklyn (2001), then in Michigan (2003), culminating in the first official visit to Calabar of Cuban Abakuá during the Third Annual International Ékpè Festival in December 2004, a trip organized by myself and paid for by the government of Cross River After Dr. Miller’s speech, Dr. Uya made enthusiastic comments about the dimensions of Cross River in the African Diaspora.

State. Fittingly, one of the two was Ogduardo “Román” Díaz, a professional musician from whose 1997 recording I transcribed the chant identified by Nigerians in my 2000 essay. The key to my success as a facilitator of these meetings was by acting as a historian interested not in “secrets”, but in using Abakuá chants to identify source languages and regions, a project of interest to Abakuá themselves. Because I as an American scholar had access to information about Africa that Abakuá did not have, by sharing this with Abakuá, we became colleagues, helping each other through the difficult materials.

Thanks to the support from WARA, I was able to spend three months in Calabar during the summer of 2004. I met Ékpè/Mgbe leaders from many lodges in Calabar, as well as throughout the entire Cross River region, including the villages of Nsofan and Abijang in southern Etung, Oban, Oron, Uruan, Umon, Efut Ibonda, and Creek Town, all in the Akwa Ibom and Cross River States of Nigeria. I also traveled to southwestern Cameroon, lectured at the University of Buea, and traveled to Ekondo Titi, Dibonda-Balondo, Bekura, and other villages to meet with Mgbe elders. As I learned, all these regions were connected through the Calabar trading network during the 18th and 19th centuries, and all of them are reflected in the Cuban Abakuá narratives.

I shared an English translation of my Cuban manuscript with selected Ékpè leaders, who were formally educated, and who grasped the significance of the work. One of them, “Chief Engineer” Bassey E. Bassey, was able to interpret large portions of the Cuban material into the Efik language, the nineteenth century lingua franca of the region (since two different men named Bassey E. Bassey appear in this essay, I put their traditional titles in quotes to distinguish them; as a personal name, Bassey, an Anglicization of the Efik term for God, Abasí, is profuse in Calabar). He was able to make sense of how the language was transformed using an Ékpè system of communication known as ‘nsibidi’, which consists of signs and symbols that are spoken, danced, or drawn. Many other Ékpè leaders helped me identify Cuban terms after I read them aloud, and described their meaning. In this way, we were able to identify the likely source of scores of Cuban lodges founded in the 19th century by Ékpè who left Calabar.

Furthermore, my WARA trip enabled me to set the stage for the official invitation and sponsorship of the Cubans. Since we were successful, they spent ten days in December 2004 performing at the festival, during which time we met with the Minister of Culture, who enthusiastically pledged that this project would receive Federal support. Also, the governor of Cross River State agreed that a delegation should be sent from Calabar to Cuba, after which more Cubans would be invited for the December 2005 festival. All of these projects are pending.

The idea behind this process is simple: as the repositories of knowledge about their own history and culture, the ideal research methodology would be to reunite the leadership of Ékpè and Abakuá, and allow them to compare notes. Because Cuban Abakuá actually came to Calabar, this project was no longer theoretical: the living connections were readily apparent, and as a consequence, news of the Cuban Abakuá spread rapidly throughout southeastern Nigeria.

In spite of these tremendous strides forward, the process has been by no means simple. On the one hand, the history of repression of the Abakuá society from all Cuban governments in the 20th century gives one little hope for official support at the present. On the other, the ongoing and infamous climate of corruption in Nigeria, as well as the radical “Christianity” being used there to attack indigenous culture, leaves little hope for a sustained and historically engaged study of trans-Atlantic culture continuity, as supported financially from Nigeria.

Nevertheless, WARA support has enabled significant strides forward to my project. As I shared news about my research among Cuban Abakuá, and then video tapes I made in Calabar, news of the planned encounters between Cuba and Nigeria spread like wildfire among Abakuá in Cuba, as well as those living in Europe and the USA. Being in Calabar allowed me to focus the Cuban material and organize it into a publishable form. As a facilitator between the masters of Cuban Abakuá and Nigerian Ékpè, we have established communication that will certainly lead to meaningful and largescale interactions among them in the years to come.

Ivor Miller

WARA Post-Doctoral Research Fellow

References

Díaz, Ogduardo ‘Román’. 1997.

“Enyenison enkama II.” Arranger and lead chanter, O. Díaz. Yoruba Andabo: Del Yoruba al Son. Universal CD FMD 75141, La isla de la música, vol. 6.

Miller, Ivor. 2000. “A Secret Society Goes Public: The Relationship Between Abakuá and Cuban Popular Culture.” African Studies Review. vol. 43, no. 1 (April) pp. 161 - 88.

Miller, Ivor. 2000. “Obras de fundación: la Sociedad Abakuá en los años 90.”

Caminos: Revista Cubana de Pensamiento Socioteológico. La Habana: Centro Memorial Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. nos. 13-14 : 24 - 35