Curandera

Irenosen Okojie

(Dialogue Books, 2024)

Review by Eric Ngalle Charles

There are books you read and instantly feel you’ve encountered gods and goddesses in a kind of déjà vu. Curandera, Irenosen Okojie’s second novel, is one of those books. A captivating tale that weaves in elements of magical realism, the story follows the personal struggle of Therese, a young woman who discovers she has unique abilities and embarks on a quest to understand her identity and heritage. She experiences a series of magical and transformative events in the course of navigating the culturally diverse complexities of her world, encountering as she does a varied cast of kindred spirits and other characters. The enchantment of the narrative is palpable, drawing you in with its sense of wonder. As I read, I found myself shouting Mezringwane! Mezrazringwane! Mezringwane! inviting the spirits of the departed, good and bad, to come, sit by the fire, and listen as their daughter Irenosen pours libation at the portals of entry into their world. Barefoot, we sing to Oni!

The spiritual being, Oni, a goddess in the world of this book, flies when needed across cosmologies with branches on her lips, with birds of peace bickering truths. In anger, she can drown the world and its inhabitants with outpourings from her breasts. Jejayeeeeeeeee! I screamed as I feasted my senses on the magic of Irenosen Okojie’s pen, which just kept flowing. Curandera carried me to the Kortoh of Wondemba village, beside my grandfather’s grave. It became an umbilical cord, calling our names, a bird guiding by its feathers the return to our shrine houses, where it all began. Oni, I realised, has been there since the dawn of time. As a dog heart, in a masquerade, a bird beak, doubling as a Japanese samurai; when a man sets himself on fire, Oni, in one of her manifestations, gathers the ashes and transforms them into sage in a floating monastery in the Himalayas: a source of magic and subtle satire, Oni keeps her promise.

Spiritual presence and, yes, humans also can exist in two places simultaneously. One of Therese’s kindred spirits, Emilien: ‘had a faraway look in his eyes, which indicated while he was here physically, he was somewhere else mentally, always travelling internally to another location, another crossing in life.’ There are plenty of Emiliens looking lost on our high streets. I have seen them many times, encountering worms with butterfly wings, in dialogue with a dilapidated homestead, an impostor sun, or red ladybirds becoming fingerprints on the other side of the mind. Curandera has the remarkable ability to transform the mundane of our world into the magical world of our other minds. 

The novel takes us to familiar places such as Leadenhall Market and the Guildhall in London and, more obscurely, ‘The Knight’s Head’, where Therese encounters her kindred spirits – her kin. As you read, you pause to notice everything Irenosen notices: a haggard female street urchin, women in pink cancer research T-shirts, and a dark-haired chameleon. Familiar and unknown places become imbued with an inspiring sense of wonder and magic, enchanting the reading experience.

Among memorable, well-written characters – Azacca, Finn, Domingos and Sueli – I panted at the mention of Ethan, the orthodox Jew who plays football with the ferocity of a Danger Mouse, as the author then takes us on a tour of Middle Eastern literature. I paused here and wondered about the bloody spillages in today’s Middle East and when it would all end – and begged for Oni to descend with unquenchable rage on the offenders’ heads.

The language is immersive: ‘A pelican dance, I know you from birth, pink marrows shaped like octopuses limping towards the blind spot of a lush mountain peak, the woman’s face flickered in her subconscious, a delicately featured black woman with molasses brown skin, high cheekbone, and tempestuous golden eye.’ Until I read Curandera, I had never heard of ‘Tall Poppy Syndrome’, a phrase I now know describes societal pressures to conform and not stand out. It is a theme that resonates with the central character’s struggles and the book’s defiant explorations of language and cultural norms. From culinary delight (the book tantalises the reader’s taste buds with descriptions of exotic dishes and the unique flavours of diverse cultures) to magic and on to the best kind of nature writing, Irenosen Okojie’s Curandera is filled with an endless Zugunruhe (a concept I do know) – a migratory restlessness – whether it is crossing cosmologies or the great seas from Port-au-Prince to London, Zanzibar to distant Morocco.

For one who believes there are things between heaven and earth that cannot be explained, this book spoke directly and resonated with me. It took me back to the days when we used to sit bare buttocks by the fire, in the days of matriarchs and great seers like Liengu La Mwanja and Nyango na Mwanna, both goddesses of the sea. Just as Oni’s debts must be paid, I am off to a cave on the Gower Peninsula in Wales, looking for wild mushrooms to cook as offerings. And as a writer I intend to transform water into wine by using the blending skills I have picked up reading Irenosen Okojie’s Curandera. 

https://www.dialoguebooks.co.uk/titles/irenosen-okojie/curandera/9780349700946/