Reconnecting to Caribbean Folklore with ‘When We Were Birds’
Photo of When We Were Birds by Ayanna Llyod Banwo, taken by Shannon Meade-Graham, Intersect Antigua
“You have not forgotten how to fly. For what is more woman than holding death and life, sky and earth in your body same time, to fly while earthbound?” — Ayanna Llyod Banwo, When We Were Birds
I wanted to reflect on a book that caught my eye and drew me back into the realm of Caribbean folklore in an incredibly refreshing way. When first I saw When We Were Birds appear on my Instagram feed, it immediately grabbed my attention. From the soft pink text announcing its title to the lush Caribbean landscape and old colonial style house that graced its cover, I was captivated. Shallow — I know — to judge a book by its cover, but there was something haunting about this image that really drew me in. At the time, the book was being showcased by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literature Festival, so I also felt that my pause to appreciate the gorgeous cover was vindicated and allowed my curiosity to take over. I am definitely one of those book enthusiasts (ahem, shout out to all my secret librarians out there) who scrolls through Instagram and saves every book under the sun that catches my eye. My digital archive is impressive, and I thank the book and algorithm gods that this one made its way to my feed last year. So, I finally ventured out with my friend and fellow book lover, Rachel, to acquire it.
The story follows the lives of Yejide and Darwin, a pair of young Trinidadians who have been drawn to one another by some unknown force — an unfolding tale that had me thoroughly enthralled. They share an unwanted bond with death. Darwin is a young Rastafarian who has reluctantly accepted a job in a cemetery, while Yejide is tied to the mysterious responsibilities she will inherit upon her mother’s death — one whose secrets her mother has refused to share with her. It is a beautiful story; one could say Modern Gothic transposed into a Caribbean setting that breathes new life into the genre, weaving together the supernatural and reality seamlessly. The apparitions of both the living and the dead, the twisted nature of the cityscape, and the moral sickness of the city dwellers ooze with the dark gothic lore of old.
I enjoyed the reinterpretation of the legend of the Corbeaux through a modern-day lens. Lloyd Banwo shakes off the dusty cobwebs in this retelling to reinvigorate that lost connection to our Caribbean/West Indian folklore that has, in recent times, been supplanted by shiny new things like Marvel heroes and TikTok videos. In my younger years, I overlooked mythical culture in the West Indies — young in the eyes of the world as it is. (Think ancient Greek Mythologies, legends from ancient China, Arthurian lore, and gods of the Ancient Africans. All are mythlore that stretch back in millennia in time.)
Photo of When We Were Birds by Ayana Lloyd Banwo, taken by Shannon Meade-Graham, Intersect Antigua
This novel reminded me of the rich, world building narratives that can be found in the Caribbean. This is one such narrative that, for me at least, had lain dormant for too long. It blends the stories from our ancestors — recollections from the enslaved, the indentured, and the colonial masters, as well as remnants of indigenous memory. From the very opening of When We Were Birds, we are reminded of this supernatural heritage that is present in our culture. We see Yejide rebel and try to turn away from an inheritance she doesn’t quite fully know, and it really made me think. What are we, as Caribbean people (particularly those of us who go abroad), turning away from when we look away from our homelands and towards a world outside of these islands? What are we overlooking? What have we pushed aside and away from ourselves in order to exist in the world that we live in today? I’m not sure if this was Lloyd Banwo’s intention — in fact, it probably wasn’t at all — but it made me reflect on my own dislocation from my homeland and the ways in which I could resurrect that bond I feel that I have, at times, overlooked.
To say I just enjoyed When We Were Birds would be an understatement; a ghost story camouflaged as a love story was just what I didn't know I needed to get swept back up into Caribbean folklore and myth. If you haven’t already, I beg you to read this book — read it and revel in the gorgeous, dark beauty and depth of our folklore. This book, for me, was the beginning of a homecoming of sorts, and as I shout its praises from the tiny peak that stands behind my home in England, I just know that this is a book you won’t regret reading.
