What do you do when you are caught between two worlds but don’t belong in either of them?
Florence Olajide’s brutally honest book, Coconut, tells her story of growing up as one of the UK’s ‘Farmed’ children, a term that describes children from African heritage whose parents came to the UK from Nigeria to attend further education. These Nigerian students often had to study during the day and work at night, so they entered into private fostering arrangements with white families, a practice that was not unlawful when Florence was a child in the 1960s.
Farming was largely unheard of in the UK despite it being commonplace among thousands of African families who desired to make a better future for their children.
Coconut shines a light on how early childhood experiences can impact and shape your identity, character, and life choices.
After initially living with a white family miles away from her parents’ home, social services instruct her parents to place her closer. Fumni is then placed by her parents with Nan and Pop, a kindly couple with grown-up children. Nan renames her Ann (her parents call her Fumni). She has happy memories of her cherished formative years recalling treats from the shop, weekly visits to the chip shop, a night-time routine of bath, story, and bed. But most of all she remembers the ‘Which hug is it’ game – a squishy one, a bear hug – evidence of a simple upbringing where she experiences, love, security, and acceptance.
Despite the security of her upbringing Ann feels different from her peers, made worse when a fall out with a friend result in her being called a ‘black monkey’. When Ann refuses to own this new name her ex-friend responds with ‘why is your skin so dark if you are not?’ This causes Ann to question her identity even asking her Nan ‘why am I not white like everybody else?’ ‘If I scrub really hard can I wash the black skin off?’
Ann’s world is rocked further when visiting her parents who now have three other children living at home, she is told that she won’t be going back to her foster family, and they were moving to Nigeria. This marks a new chapter of a very different life for Ann who is now known as Fumni.
Fumni’s arrival in Nigeria overwhelms her, she is hit immediately by a sea of black faces, multicoloured fabrics, of strange sights, smells, and sounds. She cannot understand the language and encounters a host of relatives all there to welcome the young family home to Nigeria. One of her relatives declares her ‘Oyinbo’ meaning White person, an invisible stamp that marks her different from her family, peers, and her community.
Nigerian life was a harrowing experience for Fumni, she was the victim of severe beatings from Mama, her grandmother on her father’s side. She endured beatings from heavy-handed schoolteachers. Her life was schoolwork, chores, beatings, and a constant feeling of not belonging. This is highlighted when she becomes the butt of the family’s jokes because she failed to successfully carry water on her head something that came naturally to her Nigerian-born cousins.
The complex hierarchy of Yoruba culture was difficult for young Fumni to grasp. She constantly struggled to understand and accept the family pecking order which further antagonised her Mama. Her parents were loving but often absent due to long working hours, leaving mama in charge. She was strong-willed and stubborn, and it takes her a long while to learn to pick her battles with Mama.
Fumni did not like her life in Nigeria and constantly thought of home, in England, with her beloved nan. She had such beautiful memories of a happy secure childhood, growing up with Nan and Pop, yet this seemingly secure start disadvantaged her for many years as she was deprived of the opportunity to understand her African heritage which left her feeling like and being treated like an outsider, leaving you wondering how her experience in Nigeria would have been different if she had some understanding of her cultural heritage before moving there.
The idealised view of the UK – a place she sees as home – that Fumni had held throughout her childhood is challenged when she moves back with her husband and children to seek work as a teacher. She struggles to fit into the country that she once considered home. She quickly realises that as much as she was regarded as an ‘Oyinbo’ white person in Nigeria, she was considered foreign in the UK, bristling every time someone asks her where she comes from.
Coconut tells the story of one woman’s experience as she negotiates life as a transracial person. Through the eyes of a young child, teenager and then adult we get to see how this impacts her life, relationships, and the choices she makes. As the story unfolds you witness Ann who becomes Fumni grow, mature, blossom and ultimately become secure in her identity until she can declare over herself, I am black, I am Yoruba, I am British, I am me.
Coconut is a gripping read, a true story that has you feeling compassion for the main character, but also a sense of admiration for her stubborn determination to become the best version of herself and to pick and choose the parts from both cultures that helped her to do that. I had the privilege of being able to talk with the author of Coconut and get answers to some questions that I had.
Interview with Florence Olajide
The title of your book is ‘Coconut‘ which is seen as a derogatory and indeed racist term – Why this title? Did you have any concerns that the negative implications of the term might stop some people from reading this book?
Yes. I am aware that in Britain the term can be used in a derogatory and racist manner and I did agonise over whether to change the title. But there were several compelling reasons not to. When I first used the analogy to describe myself, I was seventeen, ruminating over the juxtaposition between my two origin countries. One saw me as Black, the other saw me as white so the image of a coconut described this conflict well. Having grown up in Nigeria, I had no awareness of it being a racial slur elsewhere. Over time, the coconut became a metaphor for my life – the hard outer shell I had to develop to protect myself mentally through the years of hardship, the inner flesh that represents who I am at the core – my beliefs and values, and the life-sustaining water that represents my attempts to help others struggling with cultural identity issues. To me, Coconut is so much more than a racial slur. It is an affirming picture of my life and after much thought, I realised no other title would do. I appreciate that the title could be off-putting to some. But you know what they say – ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’ I’d argue that includes the title!
In the 1970s thousands of children experienced temporary private adoptions (known as farming) and yet it is not commonly heard about. Why do you think this is? Do you think that ‘Farming’ was a good thing for families?
You are right that it is not a commonly known phenomenon and I can only guess the reasons why. I don’t think people who were ‘farmed’ talk enough about it. I discovered other extended family members and friends who had been farmed, only after I published my memoir. These are people I have known for decades. A lot of people have also reached out to say it happened to them, but they thought they were the only ones. I think Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje’s film, Farming, has brought it more to light in recent years.
Was it a good thing for families? My parents’ generation faced untold difficulties in the UK back then. As such, they made decisions as best as they could, and in the short term, these arrangements solved their immediate problems. However, I think they were naïve about the potential risks they were exposing their children to, and I doubt they had much awareness of the possible long-term psychological impact. Undoubtedly, it was not a good thing for the many children who ended up in uncaring foster homes and those who suffered abuse and difficulties, either in their British foster homes or on their return to Nigeria.
You identify with two diverse cultures what is your worst and your best thing about each?
I prefer to think about what I appreciate in both cultures rather than the best and worst characteristics of each. Yoruba culture is colourful and effusive and families make a concerted effort to support one another through the challenges of life. I also appreciate that British culture allows me to explore my uniqueness as an individual and gives me the space to be unapologetically me.
Buy the book: Coconut by Florence Olajide
Connect with Florence: https://www.florenceolajide.com/
