Abina and the Important Men: A Graphic History

“I thought everyone here was free.”

Abina uses her voice to advocate for herself and challenge the veracity of British law. She’s including herself in the term “everyone,” because even though many discount children, especially young girls, she is someone, and she lets her opposers know it.

“Abina…There’s nothing we can do. Quamina Eddoo is an important man, and the British do not like alienating important men.”

This quote speaks to the theme of Justice in a World Built for Others. Theoretically, the British outlawed slavery in the Gold Coast, but there are exceptions made for important men. The adjective “important” isn’t about intrinsic worth, but these men’s assigned worth as a tool to their colony. If Quamina Eddoo’s operation is challenged and his enslaved peoples are freed, this sets a precedent that could cost such men their workforce.

“I don’t understand them either. But the fact is that most of them don’t really care about this too much. Look, all you need is a good lawyer anyway, and he’ll get you off. But as for me, I have to follow orders.”

This callous statement reflects the attitudes of the time period. The British didn’t truly care about disrupting institutions of slavery so long as they benefited from them economically.

“Mr. Davis, instruct your witness that she cannot bring this charge. Even you are only acting as prosecutor of the court.”

Judge Melton’s statement reflects his annoyance when Abina speaks up for herself. Although a more nuanced picture of Judge Melton is painted later in the novel, he still acts in favor of an institution that upholds the prejudices of the time—including those that believe children, especially girls, should be quiet in court.

“Sir, the word is difficult to translate…In our language the word we use for ‘master’ can mean just about any important man.”

Abina’s lawyer, James Davis, conveys the complex nature of translation and its bearing on courtroom implications. The quote’s link between “master” and “important man” taps into the theme of The Nature of Freedom. Even if Abina were free, she’d still be a prisoner to society and the expectation that she marry.

“Mr. Brew, as a child of Europe and of Africa, you are the bridge across our societies. I hope you can help me to understand what happened, and what is going on in this girl’s mind.”

Judge Melton’s reliance on James Hutton Brew to serve as an interpreter of cultures on Abina’s behalf is problematic. He comes from an earnest place, but puts his faith in the wrong sources (Brew and a homogenous jury) and ultimately does wrong as a result.

“There are thousands of young girls out there working in those houses and fields of the Protectorate…They are not slaves, but rather are under the protection of the important men to whom they have been entrusted by parents, or as orphans…If they thought they could run away to the city anytime they wanted and could sue their guardians for any little beating or for being made to work, there would be chaos!”

This deliberation from the jury showcases the unjust nature of Abina’s case. It’s not so much that they don’t believe Abina, but they oppose her disruption of the status quo. Abina’s resistance to being enslaved threatens the fabric of her society, as the idea of more children and marginalized groups advocating for themselves frightens these men.

“It was a pretty mean trick to pull, keeping the other witnesses away…And the jury doesn’t seem sympathetic to us. But I must believe we can rely on English justice!”

James Davis’s unrelenting faith in the English system isn’t founded on reason. He knows the case against Abina is stacked, especially given the jury’s wealthy, land-owning members dependent on the labor of enslaved people. However, he adheres to his faith because to do any less would be disruptive. Davis possesses Judge Melton’s earnestness, but at least tries to help Abina because he knows it’s right.

“...And who is this group of important men? What do they know of suffering? Of freedom?”

These questions address The Nature of Freedom. Those with some form of power (like money and time) get to make laws and oversee their enforcement, an influence that ultimately shapes who is free, and who is not. Though these questions are somewhat rhetorical, they invite discussion of agency and empathy.

“Much of the history of the Gold Coast is written about (and by) men like Brew, and Davis, and Melton, for they are important men. But not Abina Mansah. She appears only in one place: a document detailing the case she brought against her master, and setting out her testimony. For 125 years, her testimony was hidden on a shelf, and her voice was silent. Bits of her case were even lost at times. But a voice like hers cannot be silenced forever.”

This reminder may be jolting, to think that the antagonists of Abina’s story have dictated and shaped much of historical record, but this statement isn’t hopeless. Rather, it’s a call to action that The Authors of History can still uncover marginalized voices and share them.

“Abina stated that he purchased the goods and she carried them and that she was afterwards sold. Which is the correct statement?”

James Hutton Brew’s questioning of Adjuah, the girl enslaved alongside Abina, is a trap designed to pit Adjuah’s statement against Abina’s, even though their conflicting points (whether Abina was carrying goods or not) have little bearing on the outcome. These semantic games are a part of Brew’s playbook as he tries to dismantle the girls’ credibility.

“Did you not say that you were taking away the beads I had on my legs and I said to you ‘I am your wife. You say you left me with Eddoo to take care of me and you would return [so] how is it you are going to cut off my beads?’ and you said that you were going to take the beads with you in remembrance.”

Abina stands up to her husband Yaw Awoah (Yowahwah), and the tone of her voice, her hurt and honesty, cuts through her language. She knows he’s lying and tries to use concrete evidence, her former beads, to prove it. Her accusatory language (repetition of the word “you”) directly confronts his lies and shows her rightful anger.

“Out of the chaos left by the Asante retreat, the British managed to create a system of agreements with local rulers that was formalized in the creation of a Colony and a Protectorate.”

In a short sentence, Trevor R. Getz conveys a great deal of information about the history of the Gold Coast. Getz frequently presents dense information with simple definitions for readers to latch onto, like the idea of a Colony and a Protectorate, which he sets up here and defines later in the paragraph.

“By the mid-nineteenth century, similar language was being applied in the colonies, where Africans, South Asians, and others were spoken of as being ‘childlike,’ ‘savages,’ or ‘feminine’ and thus unworthy of full participation or rights.”

The charged use of “savages” alongside the term “feminine” reveals a great deal about the attitudes at the time. People who weren’t European, as well as women and children, were dehumanized by society. Language carries the weight of culture, and these words showcase how European men diminished those they deemed “other.”

“First, in contrast to plantation slavery in the Americas, Akan ‘slavery’ was not necessarily or primarily economic, but rather political and social. Slaves may have worked as agricultural laborers and gold miners, but they usually did so alongside the families and individuals to whom they belonged. Second, slavery of this sort remained very limited until the late seventeenth century. Finally, slavery in the Gold Coast was generally assimilative, in that the enslaved could often become full members of the society—and even family—in which they lived over the course of their lives or perhaps a few generations.”

This explanation contextualizes slavery in the Gold Coast to combat arguments regarding the origins of slavery, and how slavery in Africa differed from that in the United States. Social mobility existed for enslaved peoples at this point in history, but was slow.

“Not only did American buyers prefer males, but also powerful Africans preferred to retain women (whom they perceived as harder workers and potential wives) within their societies. Thus slavery came more and more to be a ‘female’ condition in the region.”

Getz’s simple, yet detailed explanation of how slavery came to be a predominately “‘female’ condition” considers the broader scope of history. American enslavers were willing to pay for enslaved men, and this bias, coupled with biases about women in Africa, led to a gender divide. This explanation reminds readers that life in the Gold Coast in the 1800s didn’t exist in a vacuum: Many moving pieces in the world shaped the area’s dynamics.

“We have an obligation to the people who lived through those events to talk about their experiences accurately and perhaps empathetically. We also have a duty to our readers to help them to construct their own understandings of the past rather than simply imposing ours upon them.”

Getz’s diction shows the severity of the duty of The Authors of History. Words like “obligation” and “imposing” convey historians taking care to be inclusive and empathetic, rather than asserting facts as flat truths without dimension.

“When asked to comment on whether the other girls in the house might have been slaves—in order to paint her as merely a complainer—she said she could not tell how Eddoo had treated them ‘but as for me he did nothing good for me.’ Some of these quotes may actually be proverbs that were widespread in local society, and may represent a wider ‘voice’ or ‘truth’ than Abina’s alone. Nevertheless, it is these moments that help make Abina’s story enduring despite the many layers that cover up her voice.”

The extension of Abina’s statement to a probable proverb doesn’t undermine her voice; instead, it adds layers to it. This statement suggests that Abina’s treatment is a societal problem because proverbs arise from sociocultural institutions, as well as language. It also frames Abina’s individual story as important, carrying the weight of many untold stories.

“So for example, it’s possible to argue that the interpretation of Abina’s story in this book tells us more about the author’s and illustrator’s values of freedom, multicultural diversity, and gender equity than anything about nineteenth-century West Africa.”

This quote is an example of Getz’s transparency as an author. He knows one could interpret the novel as an agenda, and acknowledges this point. Despite his goal and perspective, his statement doesn’t undermine his credibility as an author. Rather, it acknowledges the truth that all The Authors of History have a particular angle, conscious or not, formed by their life experiences, assumptions, and biases.

“These comments and other feedback helped us to refine our narrative and increase the accuracy of our interpretation and contextual information. However, two interventions went further and actually caused us to rethink the meaning of Abina’s experiences.”

Getz’s reflection on the process of writing the novel’s second edition and implementing feedback to improve it reinforces his credibility as an author. Rather than doubling down, he is open to receiving and incorporating input to build a broader discussion about Abina’s life.

“In other words, when we talk about gender, we aren’t talking so much about actual, physical differences but rather about the ways that societies understand and represent men, women, and other gendered categories.”

Gender is a term that carries nuance within conversations about identities and cultures. This quote calls attention to this fact and places readers on common ground, so more detailed discussions of gender can happen in productive ways.

“Women in afona awadie marriages were both slaves and wives. Thus they existed somewhere in a continuum between exploitation and protection, between shame and responsibility.”

This notion of dual identity shows The Nature of Freedom, or lack thereof, for women at the time. Even outside of marriage, women were under men’s control and lacked the rights to vote and own land. The tenuous position of women provides a backdrop for understanding Abina’s situation.

“The cutting and removal of Abina’s waist beads represented a severance from her ‘marriage’ to Yaw Awoah and a greater loss of control over her body and female sexuality, since it is the imposition of a new husband (Tando) upon Abina that provoked her numerous use of the phrase ‘my own’ in reference to her ‘(free) will’ and her ‘body.’”

The cutting of Abina’s beads is a significant symbol of her suffering, as her husband Yaw Awoah sells her into slavery. Although the important men in the novel frame Abina as unable to understand the philosophical concept of free will, she demonstrates a clear understanding of The Nature of Freedom and advocates for herself. The beads symbolize her loss of control, and their theft ultimately leads her to seek emancipation.