Skin of the Sea

“‘It’s just…’ But the words won’t come and instead I find myself saying nothing, trying to keep my lips from trembling. The sapphire is cool in my grip as I look down at it, remembering the woman.

Folasade floats nearer as my hair waves in front of us. ‘May I?’ she asks.

Nodding, I let Folasade sweep my curls away so that we can see each other’s faces clearly. Her eyes are almost black in the water, but they shine with a reverence I know is missing from mine.”

This is the only time Simi interacts with a Mami Wata other than Yemoja. Folasade’s calm reassurance is a foil to Simi’s uncertain emotional state. It is unclear what Folasade is asking permission for, but as she moves Simi’s hair aside directly after asking, it may be that Folasade is seeking permission to enter Simi’s personal space and touch her. The comparison between Folasade’s reverence and Simi’s lack sets Simi up for her journey of self-discovery and shows that, while Simi understands the importance of the Mami Wata duty, she knows she can do more.

“‘Tell me, Simidele. Do you trust me and trust in the task I have given you?’ Yemoja stares down at me, her dark curls swaying in the breeze.

I nod. My faith in the orisa knows no bounds, but it is always easier to surrender to her guidance in the sea when my memories ebb away, pulled by the tides.”

Simi has just questioned the Mami Wata duty. She yearns to do more for those taken, but she never has because she agreed to follow Yemoja’s guidance. Simi’s acceptance of Yemoja’s orders shows her respect for Yemoja and, by extension, toward orisas who do not abuse their power (such as Esu). The final line calls to the power of the sea and how our outlook on a situation changes based on our surroundings. When Simi is in the water, the sea takes her memories, which makes it easier for her to submit to Yemoja’s will. It may also be that Yemoja’s presence is stronger in the water, as it is her domain. However, when Simi is on land, her conflicting emotions and yearning for memories make her question Yemoja because the sea’s power isn’t there to stop her.

“Kola’s frustration is palpable, but I still flinch when he brings his bound fists down on a rock again and again, smashing the black iron of the manacles against the sharpness of the stone. It must hurt him. But he doesn’t stop, letting his anger spur him on, swinging his hands down one last time before he holds the broken irons up. Kola’s outline and the manacles are silhouetted against the moon behind him, and then he casts them into the sea with a strangled shout of rage.

Afterward, his shoulders slump, slack from the exertion. I don’t hold his anger against him. The manacles are a reminder of what he has gone through, and I’m glad to see them cast into the sea.”

Skin of the Sea is not a story about slavery, but the slave trade affects both Simi and Kola. This is one of the few scenes where the impact of the slave trade is seen on the characters. Simi has just brought Kola to Yemoja’s island and agreed to help him summon the orisa. Under Simi’s care, Kola regains enough strength to break the chains placed on him when he was captured. Simi holds reverence for the ocean, but she has no problem when Kola throws the chains into the water because it means that Kola is free from what he endured.

“I stay silent, words building, despair forming an unleashed wave inside me. Yemoja should have told me about the decree. How can I do the right thing if I don’t fully know what it is?”

Simi’ is thoughtful shortly after Yemoja tells her about Olodumare’s decree that no orisa or their creations shall interfere in the lives or deaths of humans. Simi realizes the trouble she has caused by rescuing Kola and feels both guilty and angry. She is guilty because she did not mean to cause problems for Yemoja. Simi did what she believed was right, hoping that Yemoja would see her decision the same way. Simi is angry because she feels as though Yemoja hasn’t been honest with her, and her anger is compounded because she trusted Yemoja, believing the orisa gave her all the information she needed. Simi’s final question calls to the book’s themes, The Choices and Consequences of Duty and Responsibility and Decisions Cannot Be Reversed. Simi took a risk going against her duty, and she cannot undo her decision, which has made everything more difficult.

“I was taken.

This I knew, but it’s one thing to know that it must have happened and another to remember it, to have the images in my mind, to remember that fear.”

Simi recalls the day she was taken from her home. Before this memory resurfaces, Simi knew she was taken and was made a Mami Wata as a result. Previously, the sea took the pain and fear of the memories away, leaving them as little more than unemotional facts for Simi to know. With the return of the memories, Simi understands her past in a new way. Before, she intellectually understood what happened to her, but her anger was for other people who suffered the same fate. Now, she feels a personal link to all the others who were taken, which increases her determination to protect others.

“The scrape of chains against the wooden planks is accompanied by cries and shouts in Yoruba and Twi. I keep my eyes closed tight, not wanting to see the crush of bodies, limbs heavy with the weight of chains. But I can’t block out the sound of the sea, the clank of manacles and the incessant groans of despair that float on the filthy air. Instead, I swallow my own cries, throat dry and raw, and I know that even if I wanted to scream, I couldn’t.

Two more have died today, and even now I can feel the sickness. It slides under my hot skin, flowing through my blood and mingling with my fear. The only thing I’m more afraid of than dying in the dark, no breath or anyone to say my final prayers, is when the hold opens. A bright rectangle of white light that blinds us. A sign that some of the òyìnbó are coming.”

Simi remembers being aboard a slave ship. The conditions she describes show the inhumane treatment slave traders gave to those they captured. Simi is huddled in the ship's cargo area with many others who have been taken. Her sickness results from days spent in cramped quarters without hygiene, food, or fresh water. Despite these conditions, the hatch door opening is the thing Simi fears most because it means things could get even worse. The conditions on the ship, as bad as they are, are something familiar that Simi has learned to survive.

“When the heat of the day grows to nearly oppressive levels, the abada stops at a split in the river where a smaller stream bends to the left. It paws at the ground in agitation.”

After Simi and Kola’s ship is wrecked, Simi encounters the abada, and the creature leads her to an unknown destination. The abada is skittish, so Simi chooses to remain in the water so as not to scare it away before it takes her where she needs to be. The abada never enters the water, and it may be that the animal does not trust the river or does not wish to get too close to Simi. The abada’s anxiety at the river’s split symbolizes the creature’s fear of Esu. The abada likely doesn’t trust the trickster orisa and is made nervous of anything representing Esu’s trickery and cunning.

“‘Passing in the sea?’

And with those words I’m reminded that I am not the same as him. I wouldn’t die in the sea. I wouldn’t drown. But Kola could.

He is human and I am not.”

This passage comes after Simi and Kola reunite after their boat is torn apart. Simi feared Kola had drowned, but it’s not until Kola speaks that she realizes what Kola's drowning represents. First, it would mean that Simi’s act of saving him and unknowingly defying Olodumare would have been for nothing. Second, this is the moment where Simi realizes exactly how different she and Kola are. While the storm that tore apart their boat was dangerous, Simi never feared for her life because she knew she could dive into the depths. By contrast, Kola had no such option and had to rely on Simi’s strength to save him, fearing what would happen if they were separated or she failed to do so.

“I flop onto my back, squinting against the sun as it warms my skin, my tail splitting into legs. I want to go to Kola, but I have to wait for the bones to split and join, for skin to grow over retreating scales. For the first time, I look down at myself in frustration and annoyance, wishing I didn’t have to change. Wishing I were still human.”

After Simi fights the monster in the river, Simi is frustrated by the process of changing form. While she appreciates the advantages of shifting, it is a nuisance in this moment because she wants to go to Kola, whom she just rescued. Her annoyance shows how one thing may evoke different feelings based on the situation.

“While this is what I wanted, the thought of going any farther without him makes me feel somehow off-balance. Besides, seeing him with Yinka and Bem, how close they are, makes it even more obvious how much I don’t belong. I think of the press of Kola next to me when he was resting and then of Yemoja’s words, of her warning not to get too close to humans. I’m beginning to understand what she was trying to tell me. How it hurts to feel, knowing that you will have to leave them.”

During the meal at Kola’s home before the group journeys to the babalawo, Simi realizes how dependent on Kola’s closeness and presence she’s become. At the same time, she sees the closeness between Kola, Bem, Yinka, and Kola’s family and understands that she cannot have this, no matter how much she may want it. When Yemoja warned Simi not to get close to any human, it was because doing so would revoke Simi’s Mami Wata nature and turn her into foam. Yemoja said nothing about the pain of leaving those Simi gets close to, suggesting that Simi has come to this conclusion on her own. It’s unclear why she attributes this part of her understanding to Yemoja, but perhaps she senses that Yemoja understands this feeling, even though she has no proof that the orisa actually does.

“The river. A wide ribbon that snakes through the forest. Mud mixes with the scent of fresh water filtered through stones, and the burble of the water seems almost to be calling my name. I wish I could just dive in. My skin feels tight, the bones awkwardly arranged. Despite all the times I lay on Yemoja’s island, letting memories of my human life come back to me, all I can think about now is being underneath the water’s surface. Tail flexing. Scales flashing. Free from worry, free from care. But I remember the fear on Kola’s face when he first saw me, and the wrath on Yemoja’s at the fact that I had revealed myself to a human.”

This section of Simi’s thoughts reveals a few things. First, it again shows Simi at war with herself. When she could enter the water at any time, doing so was a luxury, and she appreciated being on land because she knew she could rejuvenate herself at any time. The awkward feeling of her skin and bones is an effect of her being on land for so long. Mami Wata may shift into human form, but it is not their natural existence. The longer Simi stays out of the water, the more her body reminds her that she is not human and that she belongs in the water. Her desire to dive into the water is irony because she has dedicated so many of her thoughts to wishing she could be on land. Her desire to be free of her worries and cares shows the draw of such a mental state. Here, the river represents the longing Simi (or anyone) has to dismiss stress in favor of calm.

“‘If he obtains the rings, his power will be such that he will be worshipped with as much reverence as the Supreme God, have as much influence over humankind and orisas. With no one to answer to, he’ll be free to do anything he wants.’

‘Perhaps he would…do good?’ I ask, hope lifting my voice. ‘He’s not evil. He keeps the balance between the ajogun and orisas. This brings a level of peace to the world.’

‘He does. But what if he decided not to do this anymore? On a whim or just for his own entertainment? There is no telling. That is the gamble.’”

This conversation between Simi and the babalawo highlights aspects of Esu and his character and the difference between chaos and evil. Esu is the trickster orisa, but he is not inherently evil. In Yoruba myth, the ajogun represents malevolent forces, 601 warriors who wage war against humankind. Esu keeps the peace between the ajogun and orisas, which allows humans to live free of this conflict and from the ajogun threat. Rather than evil for the sake of evilness, Esu is arrogant and desperate for recognition. His very humanlike failings cause him to promote himself while bringing harm, intentional or otherwise, to others. The greatest threat to Simi’s world is not Esu himself but who Esu could become under the influence of ultimate power. If Esu has shirked one duty, he could shirk others, and if he does not do what he is supposed to do, the world could fall apart around him.

“‘Remember who Esu is.’

‘The trickster,’ says Kola.

‘The guardian of the crossroads of life,’ adds Yinka.

‘Master of language and messenger to Olodumare,’ finishes Bem.”

The group is preparing for their impending journey to Esu’s island. Discussing the various aspects of Esu reminds them of what they are up against and warns them to be mindful of how Esu could fight them with the many gifts he possesses. This passage represents how a person (orisa or human) is not just one thing. Esu is a trickster, but he also guards crossroads, relays messages, and, as seen earlier, keeps the peace. These many aspects of Esu’s personality mean that he is also not entirely good or evil, and they symbolize how any one of these things could be the driving motivation behind Esu’s actions.

“Almost all of the villagers are gathered around the gates to Kola’s family compound. The street is filled with the low rumbling of complaints tinged with fear, and a few of the men have gone as far as the steps, held back only by Oko’s guards.”

In this section, Simi and her companions have returned from the babalawo, and the strange rot and death they noticed earlier have spread to encompass the village crops. The people are afraid and have gathered outside Kola’s family home because they want answers. Kola’s family cannot help, but the people going to them shows how fear and desperation lead people to seek answers from sources they know have none. The people blame Kola’s family, even though they don’t say so out loud. When Kola’s family cannot immediately fix the problem, the people get even more angry and afraid, and these emotions make them wonder why their leaders don’t have answers.

“Above, the night is rich with stars that rip through the sky, stretching into infinity with their dying bursts of light. Suspended between the sea and the glittering expanse of sky, I feel unimportant. Tiny. And then I think of Yemoja under the same blanket of stars, of the twins and the fear they must feel, and I am filled with a purpose that spreads to every part of me.”

Simi is aboard the boat with the group on their way to Esu’s island. Sandwiched between the expanse of the sky and an equally large expanse of the sea, Simi feels tiny, which symbolizes how, no matter how large our problems feel, we are tiny specks compared to the Earth. Simi thinks of Yemoja and the twins, and in doing so, she links all beings, human and orisa alike. Yemoja is a powerful orisa, but even she is small compared to the vastness of the sea and sky. The twins are just children, and they are even smaller than Simi. The perceived helplessness of abducted children makes Simi mad, and that anger gives her purpose. Simi’s emotions show how having a cause gives us something to fight for and adds importance to our lives.

“I think of the strange fish and the blue glow from the squid. ‘In the water there are many things that mankind doesn’t know about.’ The image of the bones resting quietly beneath the weight of the water comes back to me, of Olokun’s black pearls and the chains that lace his body. ‘When you peel back the skin of the sea, you never know what you will find.’”

Simi brings meaning to the novel’s title. The skin of the sea refers to the layers that hide what goes on beneath. Water is transparent in small quantities, but in massive amounts, like the sea, it hides itself in layers of ever-thickening waves. Simi may or may not realize the information she is privy to here. Kola and the others know of Mami Wata and Olokun, but while they understand these orisas and creations exist, they do not understand the complicated layers within each. The sea hides things from humans. As a Mami Wata, Simi can sense things within the water, but it is likely even she does not know all the secrets the water hides.

“‘It feels as if…I belong. To the water. That I’m a part of it and it’s a part of me.’ My brows knit together. ‘Although for that to happen, it also feels like an abandoning of what I was. Most of my memories are lost, although some come back to me when I’m in human form. My thoughts are mainly of the sea, the other creatures in it.’ I swim back toward the bank, twirling in the gentle current, careful not to catch myself on the rocks. ‘Sometimes I feel as if I’m lost. As if, when I can’t recall who I was, did I even exist?’”

Simi explains to Yinka what it’s like to transform into her Mami Wata form. Simi comes to understand her insecurities about forgetting here, and the passage calls to the fragility of memory and existence. When Simi is in the water, she feels complete and as if she belongs, but being in the water also makes her feel as if she is missing a part of herself. On land, she feels out of place, but it also lets her remember things she cannot in the water, which keeps her from feeling like she is drifting away from everything. Her final words question what makes a life. Simi wonders if forgetting herself means that the world forgets her. If she cannot prove to herself that she exists, she doesn’t see how anyone else could prove that she exists either.

“The pack leader is on all fours now, head hanging down as she opens her mouth to growl. With her long back arched, gray fur lining the ridges of her spine, she is not a woman anymore, but I wonder if there is still a human consciousness there. One that hates what Esu has compelled them to do.”

These lines come as the group runs through Esu’s island with the bultungin in pursuit. The bultungin have lost their ability to remain in human form, and Simi questions what the creatures become when in hyena form. Simi doesn’t realize it, but she compares the bultungin to herself. When in the water, Simi forgets who she was as her thoughts turn toward the water and her duty. The bultungin may experience something similar. As humans, they have memories and consciousness just like Simi does when human, but when they transform, they may, like Simi, lose their ability to remember who they are. They may only have a vague feeling of hating being forced to do Esu’s bidding.

“‘I’m choosing the story of how Esu tricked Olodumare and became the divine messenger, responsible for carrying news between heaven and earth.’ I don’t wait for an answer; instead I step on the image of Esu creeping among some flowers and trees.

‘Here is a story. Story it is…’ My mother’s words and her tale come back to me, her voice calming me as I try to focus.”

As Simi prepares to cross the bridge to Esu’s palace, she calls upon the storytelling ability she learned from her mother, which strengthens her. Repeating her mother’s words as she begins the story helps her focus and stay true to the story as her mother told it. The beginning “Here is a story. Story it is...” is the Yoruba version of “once upon a time.” It is seen earlier in Simi’s memory of her mother telling stories and is the traditional opening for fairy tales, myths, and legends told among the Yoruba people.

“‘Olodumare rained powers down on earth as if they were nothing,’ spits Esu, glaring down at us. ‘Nothing. Letting orisas scramble about in the dirt to collect what they could. How is that fair? And those that use their powers revel in the adoration of humans, doing little more than establishing their status as orisa, bestowing favors and blessings here and there. Meanwhile I stop the ajogun from destroying humanity, and report all that happens on earth to Olodumare.’ His chest heaves, swelling with anger. ‘And while I am doing this, mankind runs amok. I will not allow it!’”

Simi has just told Esu that his bid for power and the rings is unfair, and Esu responds with his true feelings, revealing his motivation for obtaining power. In Yoruba myth, Olodumare rained down powers, and the orisas were left to collect what they could, which explains why each orisa has domain over such varied elements. Esu has watched how other orisas use those powers, and he feels that they abuse them, only offering aid when they feel like it and otherwise just collecting admiration from worshipers. This has led Esu to feel undervalued and as though he could do better. He feels his status as a simple messenger is unfair because he understands the people better than the other orisas do, and he is sure that by overpowering Olodumare, he could lead the land to greatness.

“‘Do you even take mankind’s messages to Olodumare anymore? You say they don’t listen, but do you even speak? You curse the Supreme God and act as if other orisas don’t care, but does Olodumare even know what’s happening?’

‘Not all messages are worthy of being heard and relayed.’”

Simi accuses Esu of not doing his job—taking messages to Olodumare. She calls him out on his opinion of the other orisas by pointing out that he has been little better. Esu’s arrogance keeps him from seeing the truth in Simi’s words, and his response calls into question who has the right to make decisions and about what. Esu is supposed to relay all messages to Olodumare, but instead, he has been picking and choosing the messages he deems worthy, likely based on his feelings about what he wants Olodumare to know. As a result, many prayers are not heard by Olodumare, which has led to people and orisas becoming frustrated or disillusioned with the creator. Esu’s choice to cherry-pick what is worthy of being relayed illustrates a common problem with communication when messages must go through multiple channels. The more people who have access to a message, the greater the likelihood that the message will be lost or misinterpreted.

“‘The greatest mathematicians of this land passed all they know on to me, and in that lies your answer. Our world is full of repeating patterns that we discover in nature and that we create.’ [...] ‘And while the shape may change, as it repeats, it always remains the same. It’s the reason our people lay out cities the way they do, the reason they use certain designs in their art, their hair. The patterns of life are everywhere and they are never-ending. And because of this, there is one true path that can only lead to Olodumare.’”

Esu’s dialogue comes after Simi poses her riddle about the path that can lead to Olodumare. Yoruba culture uses fractals, repeating patterns that, as Esu says here, are found in nature and made by humans. The use of fractals suggests that the Yoruba people understood advanced mathematical concepts of infinity long before Europeans discovered them, and Bowen includes this in Esu’s explanation as a celebration of the ingenuity and intelligence of the Yoruba people. Esu’s words also show the intentional use of fractals in Yoruba culture. Cities were laid out in concentric circles, and patterns woven into fabric and hair represented the infinite nature of numbers and the universe. It is likely that Olodumare, as the creator, made these patterns and that people incorporated them into their everyday lives to ensure they always had a path back to the creator.

“In the moments as we fall, as my fingers anchor into the flesh of Esu, who I was and who I am pulses through my mind.

I will take him home with me. Home to the sea, which will swallow him whole.

I am more than memories.

I am more.”

These lines of Simi’s thoughts mark the completion of her character arc. She has just pulled Esu from the palace, and as they fall toward the water, Simi comes to terms with who she is as a Mami Wata. She refers to the sea as home while also acknowledging its destructive capabilities. Simi also realizes that her present matters just as much as her past. Who she is now is not defined by who she was, and who she becomes is not defined by her present moment. She is more than what she remembers because as long as she exists, she is having experiences that make up who she is at any given time.