In a season of international productions of Shakespeare’s plays at The Globe Theatre in London, there was one from Nigeria – The Winter’s Tale. The play was performed in Yoruba, with projected subtitles for the audience. I was intrigued by the idea of a Yoruba theatre group performing a play with the word “winter” in the title, because there is no such season as winter in Yoruba regions and I doubt that there is an actual word that could be used to describe it.
Sadly, I can’t remember the name that this production was given. But it also follows that folks who live in Yoruba regions and don’t travel internationally are unlikely to have any idea of what winter actually feels or looks like.
It’s probably different nowadays, with trusty apps such as Whatsapp, that help to circulate video clips, such as the ones I have seen that came from the USA this year, complete with running commentaries about the havoc that was wreaked by the snow and other inclement weather conditions of not so long ago.
For those Africans who live close to the equator, the grass has always seemed greener in those countries that appear not to have receptacles for waste, human or otherwise – (at least in the imaginations of orange faced bumpkin billionaire presidents). Maybe those Whatsapp clips might give a few Africans an inkling of the downside of grazing on the greener grass.
The world as a whole is a work in progress. Not so?