Oshogbo
I left Lagos last weekend.
In a bid to escape the daily grind and get some fresh air out of the
city I travelled five hours south of Lagos to Osun State. I visited Osogbo and specifically the
conservation park which holds the Yoruba ‘Sacred Groves’ and sculptures created
and maintained by the late, great (and terribly eccentric) Suzanne Wenger.
We left early on Saturday morning.
I had intended to have an early night the evening before but as usual
that didn’t happen. I had arrived home
at 3am and woke at 6.30 to make the bus for my trip. I made it and took my seat in front of the
all American family I was travelling with; complete with moaning teenager,
crying six year old and over enthusiastic ‘mom’ with a million bags, cool boxes
and information booklets. I braced
myself for an uncomfortable journey but luckily, due to my late night, I slept
for the first three and a half hours.
When I woke I was relieved to see no traffic, plenty of green and some
peaceful looking farm shops and yam stalls through the windows. The last hour of the journey I read a
biography about Ms Wenger. It appears
she was an eccentric but prolific intellectual who was completely immersed in
Yoruba culture. She respected and
adopted Yoruba ways and eventually became a Yoruba ‘priestess’. An honour bestowed on her by her colleagues
and peers.
She lived and worked on her tremendous sculptures and depictions of
Yoruba deities for most of her life and died while working on her last piece in
her nineties. I visited the last
effort. It is huge. While there I could imagine this little, old,
grey haired, white lady clambering over the concrete structure and taking
inspiration from the river it over looked.
A moss covered chair still remains where she used to sit at the water’s
edge.
We were guided and educated through the groves by Wenger’s adopted
children. We also went to her home and
met many of the artists she inspired and encouraged throughout her life.
It was very obvious that Wenger was guided by her creativity and
spirituality but like many creative souls she was also seemed tortured. While visiting her house I stumbled upon her
bedroom, which has remained relatively untouched since she died. The walls had been used as her mental
notepad. There were scribbles and
ravings chalked all over them. It also
contained a hotchpotch of strange artefacts like toy dolls with no eyes and
contorted masks.
We stayed Saturday night in a guest house. It was simple accommodation but the building
stood in beautiful grounds with lush gardens.
Our host was Nike – another famous artist known for her support of
Nigerian artists and culture. We were
treated as her special guests and she certainly looked after us. We ate a traditional feast which included
delicacies such as roast snake and barbecued grasscutter (large rat like
creature). We were also treated to some
traditional drumming and cultural dance.
I was forced into shaking my ass however my American friends won that
competition.
The weekend ended with a trip to Nike’s training college where we
learned about the process of making indigo dye and then one of my favourite
pass times – shopping. We visited
various galleries and shops. I trawled
through various paintings and materials and selected a few items to take back. My favourite painting was valued at
£600. Unfortunately I don’t have that
kind of cash to spend on Art yet. I settled
for much cheaper souvenirs!
