A celebration for the presence of African
Art at the De Young Museum in San Francisco, turns into
a reflection of its negative aspects.
TWO HOURS was the reported wait time to get in: one could
assume that it might have been an exaggeration. On arrival
to the location housing the de Young museum at San Francisco’s
Golden Gate park, any thought of getting in sooner than
said time diminished rapidly. It seemed like it took indeed
two hours just to find the end of the queue wrapped around
numerous blocks and bends. After about two and a half
hours of cuddling, singing, dancing, talking, whining,
warding off chills emanating from the bay, all in the
name of queuing to get in, it was finally sounds and yelps
of joy as adults hopped in, like kids into a sea of toys.
Although the main highlight of the night: a dance performance
by the Alafia dance group had been about 2 hours into
history, the sounds of African drums coming from a mysterious
location in the spacious and multilevel de Young building
served as a guide to a location calling out to an African
soul. With a renewed surge of energy and purpose channeled
into jogging…we happened on a dance and drum circle that
had could immediately set the thump to any heart, stomp
to any feet, and whine to every waist. This joy was cut
short as we only happened to catch the end of the music
and dance celebration, which was followed by a prayer
to the ancestors employing the statues of ancestral gods.
As the adrenaline slowed to a base level, there was the
opportunity to finally take a look around the museum and
explore the displays. The act of looking at displays,
which brought about a feeling of mixed emotions: a feeling
of pride, and identification with names and places that
one could call her own.
But on second thought, a faint knowledge of how these
items ‘traveled’ here. A question of why these items are
here. What purpose they serve encased in clear cubes,
with a description plate that is meant to narrate its
existence to a looker seeking knowledge…or not.
A trip that started out with excitement, happiness, and
purpose was marred with visions of blood and oppression,
of greed and weapons, confusion and a seed of anger in
the soul of this African child.
Email Nkeiruka at Nigentnk@gmail.com