A Viewer Perspective on Voline Ogutu’s Film Anyango and the Ogre
Sundays are usually quiet at Hilltop, offering a peaceful rest to allow the fufu to digest gently. It often brings a few business partners who come to collect goods for the week ahead, or some church members continuing the good work of the Lord by being each other’s keeper.
“Mother is calling you” could mean two things in our household: either to reaffirm something you should—or should not—do, or to open a whole new conversation. I had checked all the boxes of being a “super cool girl” these last few months, especially after college.
There she sat, on the brown leather couch, unbraiding her hair and watching something on screen at the same time. “Tenase!” I prayed it wasn’t a second sermon. And even if it was, I hoped it would be brief so grace could be said—that, to me, is life’s real value.
“Wo twene de3n?”
What are you waiting for? You’ve successfully completed college. I hoped you’d have someone by now—settled down. Family is important, and the best place to find suitors is in college. You’re pretty, educated, and smart. So why the wait? Do you want to make all the money in the world before you settle, or have you set the bar too high for these men?
Questions flowed like a running stream. Perhaps they were rooted in pain, maybe frustration. Either way, I got up and walked off.
When women are educated, people say we become difficult or too opinionated on sensitive topics concerning us. But education, to us, is liberation. It’s the power to rediscover ourselves, choose our own paths, and question social norms without fear. I often wonder: is the value of a woman’s life only measured by marriage and childbirth? With no disrespect to culture, legacy, and religion, must we all subscribe to a linear mindset about women’s roles and worth? Are we all turning into ogres—fattening ourselves on the unique dreams and purpose of every woman in society?
A shift in traditional narrative.
Anyango and the Ogre is a reimagined folktale told through film by Kenyan writer Voline Ogutu. The mention of “ogre” didn’t make me think of one terrifying individual. Instead, it felt like a metaphor for a society whose outdated terms and expectations no longer align with modern life.
Kanu (790) explains that folktales are often moral stories told through animals, mirroring real-life lessons and daily experiences across African communities. Ogutu’s transformation of these tales into digital film is not just a retelling, but a revival. This is not your fireside storytelling of old. It is an exploration of sensitive themes like gender equality, domestic violence, collective memory, and diverse viewpoints.
Using reader-response, collective memory, and feminist theory, I hope to contribute to the larger conversation about how these stories are told—and why they matter.
From Blue Bliss to Grey Truth
The film opens with a beautiful mother of three driving into her marital home on a dusty road. Her eldest son Otis reads Anyango and the Ogre to his siblings, using gestures and expressions to both educate and entertain.
Suddenly, we see middle-aged women in grey and black clothes, disheveled and weary. They stare helplessly as she passes. A grand board reads: “BLUE ZONE: Home to Marital Bliss.” But something feels off.
As the story unfolds, it’s clear that this supposed bliss is a façade. Behind the smiles are bruises. Otis’ mother is silently enduring abuse. The “Blue Zone” becomes a metaphor for the societal pressure to appear fulfilled simply because you’re married and have children. Many women die slowly within such roles, their suffering masked by social expectations.
“Otis, come sit. You wouldn’t want to get your father angry.” This line, though simple, brims with fear. Otis is visibly shaken by his father’s violence, and his mother’s anxiety reveals how normal this terror has become. The contrast between “blue” and “grey” is not just symbolic—it’s generational.
Perspective in time
Every time Otis narrates his tale, the visuals take us to a traditional setting—huts, thatched roofs, cowries. But juxtaposed against this is the radio in the car, signaling a modern-day problem. This issue isn’t new. We’ve just given it new forms.
Chen (2024) writes that traditional film narratives are male-dominated, where female characters are often positioned as visual objects of male desire. Ogutu’s film resists this. Here, women are central—not just as characters, but as decision-makers and survivors. A woman shares government policies over a loudspeaker. Mothers make sacrifices. Boundaries are set, and sometimes delayed.
The mother’s hesitation to leave after promising Otis is telling. Her view of the women in the Grey Zone—starved, rejected, and stripped of purpose—terrifies her. Yet by the end, she joins them. And the smiles of those “grey women” become the brightest moment of the film.
Patterns
The “single story” is dangerous. So is living in fear of the unknown. Otis’s shirt—striped in both blue and grey—symbolizes equality. And still, I’m uncomfortable that villains must always die for women to be liberated. Otis pushes his father into a table, killing him. It reminded me of Purple Hibiscus where Papa Eugene, an abusive father, is poisoned, and his son Jaja takes the blame to protect their mother.
Why must the villain always die? I wish they would live long enough to witness the resilience of those they tried to silence—and maybe change.
Lasting image
I can’t forget the warm laughter of the women in the Grey Zone at the film’s end. They were truly living. Not everything can be changed, not even with supernatural help. But we can redefine destiny through awareness and courage.
Ogutu’s digital storytelling bridges past and present. She shows that while ogres still exist, their power is not eternal. And sometimes, the stories we tell can stop them from feasting on the next generation.
So the next time you look at the sky, notice how blue and grey blend to create the perfect weather.
Greys are as beautiful as Blues. It is the quality of our choices that truly matter.
Key Term
“Sit down” → Tenase
“What are you waiting for?” → Wo twene de3n?
References
- Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. Purple Hibiscus. Algonquin Books, 2003.
- African Folktales, Reimagined. Netflix, 29 Mar. 2023, www.netflix.com/title/81629205.
- Chen, Meihaoran. “Redefining Female Identity Through the Female Gaze: A Comparative Analysis of Gender Narratives in Feminist Cinema.” Communications in Humanities Research, vol. 43, 2024, pp. 168–173.
- Kanu, Ikechukwu Anthony. “Educational Value of African Folktales.” Innovations, no. 77, June 2024, pp. 787–804. journal-innovations.com/assets/uploads/doc/57e85-787-804.11558.pdf.
Leave a comment