Detty December and a New Era of Africa-Diaspora Relations

Countervailing considerations, however, suggest we should be more cautious about labelling the Year of Return an unequivocal success. In an even-keeled article, Aaryan Morrison, a former editor at the student-run Harvard Africa Policy Journal, highlights the possible inflationary pressures of the Year of Return. The Year of Return was bound to draw tourists to Ghana in droves, thus incentivizing local vendors to increase their prices, and, in the process, inadvertently price out local Ghanaians. While a theoretically sound proposition, it’s unclear if it’s been borne out in the data.   

Morrison, perhaps more convincingly, also points out how the Ghanaian government would be better served expending its resources to also address local concerns, such as rising unemployment, poverty and unreliable access to electricity. Other publications documented similar sentiments.  

In an interview, Ghana’s ambassador to the US, Dr. Barfuor Adjei-Barwuah, had some advice for other African countries who were thinking of hosting their own Year of Return. He suggested individuation (‘The nature and content of the Year of Return will vary from country to country based on the genesis of their individual relationships with the diaspora and their state of development and other social considerations.’). He called for empathy, a visionary mindset. (‘But the important thing is to recognize you are inviting people to come have a good visit, to open their eyes and their pockets as they visit, and to try and ignore the hurt and historical pinch of the circumstances. So programmes would have to be designed for people to see a new world altogether.’) Dr Barfour’s words were lightly optimistic, hinting at a future series of Year of Returns, with each African country having the potential to serve as a viable host. Which begs the question: which country, will, or can, pick up Ghana’s baton? 

THE GIANT OF AFRICA?

Nigeria has been christened, by the media and ordinary citizens alike, as the ‘Giant of Africa’. It has the biggest economy in Africa, with a GDP of roughly $440 billion, and is the world’s most populous black nation. Nigeria is a prolific exporter of both oil and music, with a strong specialism in the latter—stars such as Davido, WizKid and Burna Boy have helped elevate Afrobeats from a niche, continental treasure into a global phenomenon. But, despite its impressive economic, demographic and cultural feats, it’s unlikely that Nigeria can successfully host a programme on the scale of the Year of Return.   

Firstly, safety is not guaranteed. Insecurity is rampant in Nigeria, with frequent incidences of robberies and murders. In October and December 2022, over 2,200 people were killed by armed herdsmen, abductors, Boko Haram and other criminals in the country. Secondly, Nigeria’s infrastructure is paltry. Power outages are notorious and rampant. Roads are unpaved and ridden with potholes, causing hour-plus long traffic jams, especially in urban centres like Lagos. As a result, Nigeria is difficult to navigate, making it a taxing destination for those seeking a long-term stay. 

Furthermore, Nigeria lacks the pivotal role that Ghana and its slave castles played during the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Nigeria did house its fair share of slave castles. Badagry served as an important slave port in Nigeria during the slave trade, exporting an estimated 10,000 enslaved Africans to the Caribbean and the Americas between 1518 and 1880.  And Nigeria has successfully commemorated this particular heritage—since 2017, it has hosted the Door of Return festival in Badagry, a two-three day festival intended to ‘commemorate the era of slavery and the slave trade, [and] highlight the diversity of African cultures and the fruitful cultural interactions sparked by history in the diaspora.’ Nonetheless, Nigeria’s slave ports are incomparable to Cape Coast Castle and Elmina Castle, in terms of both emotional poignancy and the volume of enslaved Africans they exported. 

A DETTY DECEMBER

Nigeria lacks the qualities needed to execute a year-long initiative on the scale of the Year of Return. However, there is still a place in Nigeria and, most importantly, a time, for members of the diaspora to join their brethren.  

Detty December. It’s not a beckoning, like the Year of Return, but a sensibility. It’s not a year-long engagement, chugging along at a steady place. It is fleeting and frantic, ephemeral—blink once and it’s over. It is fluid, existing in multiple spaces at once: in the private confines of the home, in the raucous chamber of the club, in the suggestive breeze of the beach house. 

It’s unclear when December in Nigeria acquired this prefix, but it works. It distils a national mood, a collective yearning. Life in Nigeria is hard. On a daily basis, Nigerians are subjected to an indifferent and kleptocratic government, a deadly police force, a stagnating economy, and indiscriminate violence. Thus, for those fortunate enough to partake in its festivities, December offers an opportunity to expel a gradual build up of stress.  

Detty December is outward-looking, and members of the diaspora, sensing its solicitousness, flock to Nigeria. Thus, both Nigerians—those raised at home and those abroad—occupy the same space at Nok restaurant, enjoying its music and delicious orbs of amala. Like a rite of passage, both sets of Nigerians experience the same frenetic rush of concerts, the same phantasmagoria of the club, Vertigo. Social balkanization notwithstanding—Detty December may be an anodyne, but it can’t completely cure the Nigerian pathology of social cliques—both sets of Nigerians get to reap the bounty of December’s harvest.   

Detty December may foreground pleasure, but it doesn’t necessarily crowd out other avenues for engaging with Nigeria’s culture and history. Members of the diaspora can visit the Badagry Heritage Museum or the Old Residency Calabar to explore Nigeria’s relationship with the slave trade. They can tour Fela Kuti’s shrine to pay homage to the progenitor of Afrobeat. They can pass by the Nike Art Gallery to gaze at contemporary Nigerian artwork. They’ll just have to do so on their own accord, rather than being gently steered by the government. 

Detty December is also well suited to mediate Nigeria’s systemic flaws. Its short duration—a month—means that Nigeria’s infrastructure won’t short-circuit under the weight of visitors. Any possible strain is likely temporary. Its short duration also limits tourists’ exposure to Nigeria’s insecurity, making the trip a more palatable option for those who wish to go. Thus, a sustainable arrangement arises: members of the diaspora can visit Nigeria and have a relatively safe, immersive experience, and Nigeria’s economy, in turn, benefits from the uptick in activity, with minimal impact on its infrastructure.  

TWO FRAMEWORKS FOR ENGAGING THE DIASPORA

The Year of Return and Detty December offer two viable modes of engaging the diaspora. The Year of Return is institutionalized and curated, using a generous range of events to engage and inform the diaspora. It is expansive, offering both levity and enlightenment. Detty December, on the other hand, has a much narrower proposition. It offers a sensuous escape, a chance for members of the diaspora to experience the pleasures of Nigeria’s nightlife and the sweet balm of lassitude. The two are not mutually exclusive—during the Year of Return, December in Accra was replete with parties and concerts (even featuring interlopers from Nigeria), serving as a roaring denouement to the program. The two are also finely attuned to their countries’ idiosyncrasies. The Year of Return was a fitting pursuit for Ghana—it aligned well with Ghana’s historical relationship to the slave trade and its legislative overtures to the diaspora. Detty December, in contrast, accommodates Nigeria’s strained infrastructure and boundless nightlife.  

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On Laboma Beach, the party continues. The air is crisp and languid, and echoes of live music rise leisurely into the sky. In a few hours, the sun’s tendrils will start to unravel, inaugurating a new day. However, on the beach’s plush shores, there is only the now—the pressing need, felt by everyone in the crowd, to sing and dance. To experience, ever so precisely, the pleasure of home⎈