Title: Appraisal of the Crime of Smuggling in Nigeria

Author: Dr. Musa Omale

Publisher: De-Adroit Innovation, Enugu

Year: 2017

pagination: 388

Reviewer: Betty Abbah

Though Nigeria is West Africa’s biggest economy and one of the economic powerhouses on the continent, it continues to limp in terms of economic performances and as to how its real and potential wealth translates to the welfare of its citizens. One of the culprits is smuggling of goods and services.

It is common knowledge that goods worth billions of naira are smuggled into and outside the country annually without the requisite revenues getting into government coffers. This stems from outright violation of laid down customs laws by smugglers exploiting our porous borders to corruption in the system.

As a way of proffering solution to the leakages in the system, a Customs officer, Dr. Musa Omale, an Assistant Comptroller of Customs (AC), has published a book detailing how the hydra-headed monster can be tackled.

In the book, Appraisals of the Crime of Smuggling in Nigeria, Omale, a Ph.D graduate of Law from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, gave insight into the primary purpose of the establishment of the Nigerian Customs and Excise, the various initiatives to combat smuggling and maximise government revenues/earnings from imported and exported goods among other insightful details.

The author uses the Customs and Excise Management Act (CEMA), the legal instrument for enforcing operations, to establish his facts, observations and recommendations. According to the book: The Act which was established in 1958 under the Queen of England, Elizabeth II (when Sir James Wilson Robertson was the Governor-General and Commander-in-Chief of the country), was enacted to regulate the management and collection of |Customs and Excise Duties, and other purposes ancillary therefore, including prescriptions of penalties for any infringements of the law. The Nigeria Customs Service (NCS) is therefore the Federal Agency and custodian, and administrator of the CEMA which spells out various responsibilities and the formation of sub-bodies and agencies through which it would carry out its work effectively.

The author, who described the book as “the contribution of a serving customs officer, lawyer and scholar to alleviate the dearth of books in this area of law in Nigeria”, attempted to marshal his points via nine chapters. They include General Introduction, Origin and Nature of the Crime of Smuggling, Legal Framework for Combating the Crime of Smuggling, Causes of Smuggling, Effects of Smuggling, Preventive Measures against Smuggling, Enforcement Measures against Smuggling, Institution of Proceedings under the Customs and Excise Management Act and Conclusion.

The book utilises simple language to buttress its points, though, the author is a lawyer that could as well resort to legal jargons. The references, in “Table of Cases”, to cases and litigations, eg. Abu Anakwa Vs State, 1969; Ebiri Vs BOCE, 1969 etc., covering local and international cases is one hallmarks of the author’s research prowess).

The current Comptroller-General of Customs (C-G-C), Col. Ahmad Ali (Rtd), has recommended the book highly. In his foreword to the book, he described the new publication as “an indispensable tool in the hands of Customs and other relevant regulatory bodies. The book is also recommended for not only undergraduates and graduate students, but for legal practitioners and members of the public most of whom are scarcely aware of the peculiar features of the crime of smuggling”.

The book, which is due for launch in Abuja on November 30, is a highly commended effort of Dr. Omale, a celebrated Customs officer and trained lawyer.

Stories by SIMEON MPAMUGOH

Former Minister of State for Education, Professor Jerry Agada, was the cynosure of all eyes at the recent convocation of the Federal University of Education (Technical Akoka), as his alma mata honoured him by naming the institution’s library after him in recognition of his efforts in promoting reading and writing.

The Provost of the institution, Dr. S.O. Olusanya, in his brief remarks, commended him for being a good ambassador of FGTCE, Akoka, which informed the honour done him.

Professor Adaga, was admitted into the college in September, 1973, graduated in June, 1974. In his acceptance speech, he told the crowd he had, indeed, represented the institution to the best of his ability.

He recalled that during his screening at the Senate when he was about to be confirmed as a minister, he credited the institution for contributing immensely  to what he had become in life. Agada said he never knew he was going to be a teacher until he graduated from the school. “This institution launched my career as a minister,” he announced.

“To assure my colleagues here that I didn’t disgrace you, I rose to become a minister, and it was not just ordinary minister but that of education,” he echoed, hinting that during his tenure as a minister, he assisted the institution. Even when he became the Chairman of the Governing Council of the National Commission for Colleges of Education, he said, he gave priority attention to the institution.

As a minister, Professor Agada doubled as the vice president of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) and later its president. During that time, he championed The READ Campaign following his realisation that the falling standard of education was created by people’s inability to read. Thus, making him and other high profile Nigerians to read to the nation.

Professor Agada is a firm believer that reading cuts across, no matter the class and age, and canvassed that throughout his stay in office as a minister. He recalled, “Before I left office as a minister, I was known as the reading minister.” He also  ensured that he donated many books to his alma mata as a prolific author. At that time, he never knew the institution would name a library after him. “So, you can see that the trajectory of history has brought me here today,” he said.

Speaking exclusively to The Sun Literary Review, Agada admitted that the honour done him was a culmination of his strides as an educationist and a minister. “You can recall that the Provost said that library was the intellectual powerhouse of the institution, and to name is after me has made me feel over the moon.  “I am so happy for this honour, for I never expected it,” he said.

Among those honoured by naming landmarks after them included Engineer Numopre Edward Wills, Mrs Marie-Theresa Folake, Mrs Odunaiya Otuyinka, Professor Bappa Aliyu, and Governor Rochas Okorocha.

Prologue

Milan

The lifeless body was discovered a few days later, by the legendary Good Samaritan. The winter cold had preserved the upper parts, like a natural mortuary. The lower half of the torso – around the abdomen, was squashed. The limbs were intact, though at odd angles, one to the other. They were kitted in a pair of net pantyhose. The feet were shoed in very high-heeled boots, style of the early 70s James Bond that was called “knock on wood.” It was making a comeback in the fashion world. But it had never gone out of style for call-girls.

Her face had been heavily made up. Traces of the eyeliner and eye shadow she wore were visible around the dark eyes. A hoop ring hung limply from one ear. The thick African lips were lined in a shade of dark red. The hair was short, à la Grace Jones, but at the nape was a wig dislodged from the head and entangled in the dirt.

A striking aspect was the near-nakedness of the corpse, again in spite of the winter cold. There was a blood-soaked coat held loosely around the body by a belt. Underneath, a bare chest showed a small keloid in the middle. To the police officer who arrived at the scene, this was not puzzling. He suspected, a priori, that this Jane Doe had been a road worker, as prostitutes euphemistically called themselves.

A peremptory search of the environs brought forth a plain, plastic shopping bag. Inside were personal effects: a sweater, a pair of trousers called body-hug, some cosmetic knick-knacks, cigarettes and some papers.

At first sight, it seemed to be a hit-and-run accident. Assuming that is, that this was not murder. Planned. Premeditated.

Back at the police headquarters, the officer filed in his report: corpse discovered at angle of Corso Regina Margherita and Via del Corso of black female, late teens/early twenties. Identification: Certificato di Nazionalita of the Nigerian Consulate. Name: Lovett Jon, born 27-08-81 in Benin City, Nigeria. Probable cause of death: injuries sustained in a hit-and-run accident. Body deposited at the morgue of San Giovanni Hospital.

The officer duly reported to his superior officer.

The superior officer issued instruction: “Contact her country’s Mission to inform her next-of-kin for burial here or repatriation of the corpse. If we don’t hear from them in two days, dispose of corpse as usual.”

Chapter One

When Madam Tayo’s cell phone rings, it plays a Christmas carol. Jingle bells, Jingle bells, jingle all the way…She sighed and picked it up from the bedside table, wondering who was calling. Her girls had gone out to work. She was relaxing with her two male companions and did not want to be disturbed.

“Pronto,” she answered sleepily. It was the Italian equivalent of “hello.”

“There will be a meeting of the madams tomorrow, at Helen’s at 4 pm,” a voice whispered.

“What about?” Tayo asked incredulously, immediately recognizing Lizzy’s voice.

“Strike. Prostitutes’ strike. Tomorrow. 4pm at Helen’s.” The line went dead.

Tayo placed the phone back on the bedside table. Beside her, the two young men were sleeping. Good-for-nothing, lazy drunkards, she hissed. Despite all the money I pay them, and all the food they gobble, all they do is sleep. She shook them awake and berated them for their laziness. The young men lifted up their heads like lizards, stretched and yawned like dogs.

“Prostitutes’ strike,” Tayo repeated to herself thoughtfully, as she reached for the bottle of Guinness by the bed. “Wonders will never end.”

*   * *

The Consular Officer who received the fax was perplexed. It was the seventh mysterious death of a prostitute in recent days, from different parts of the country. What could be the reason? What could be happening? The police never investigated, never came up with suspects, let alone indemnify the victims’ families. She went to see her boss, the fax in hand.

He was expecting her.

“I see you are wondering too,” her boss said.

“This is the seventh this week, sir. Something is fishy somewhere.”

“I agree. One case, maybe two, but seven? That’s overdoing it.” He waved her to a seat. “So, what do you think? A serial killer knocking off pros?”

“The scenes are too wide apart to point to a serial killer, sir. I was thinking of the Mafia or some similar organised crime syndicate. The worrying aspect is that the police never seem to follow up on these incidents. No attempt is made to catch the perpetrators. It’s like the victims count for nothing.”

“Well, you know they are dead, they are prostitutes, and they are black. Triple calamity.” He paused. “What do you plan to do now?”

“Three things, sir. First, contact the Nigerian Community in her region to see what assistance they can render regarding her next-of-kin here in Italy. From our records, her Nigerian address is Benin City, Lawson Rd. No phone number, no fax, no e-mail. Nothing else.”

“I am surprised they are not aware of this. Usually, it is the community that notifies us when someone dies.”

“She probably died far from her place of residence. Perhaps her flatmates are even now looking for her. Unless they assume she has run off with a white man. I will call Osato, their president. Then I will send a fax to headquarters. And then a note to host Foreign Affairs about the increasing spate of our nationals slaughtered on Italian roads.”

“Yes. Ask for copies of police investigations on the cases, assuming there were investigations. I doubt it very much.”

As the Consular Officer turned to leave, Mr. Ufot stopped her. “You said there were two hypotheses: either a serial killer or a crime syndicate like the Mafia. I am prepared to think a crime syndicate may be involved, though not the Mafia. Here, take this file. Go through it. Let us discuss it on Monday.”

“Are we still going on the consular visit to Tuscany next week, sir?”

“I don’t see why not, unless other things come up. But don’t forget the UNICRI seminar tomorrow.”

“On human trafficking. I won’t forget, sir.”

“The who-is-who in human trafficking will be there: Internal Affairs, Foreign Affairs. Carabinieri, Polizia, Caritas, WOTCLEF, Don Benz…”

“Of the Papa Giovanni XXIII Organization, Martha & Mary, Idia Renaissance …” interjected the Consular Officer. “Perhaps I will pick up one or two useful info on these murders or deaths.”

“My dear girl, don’t forget you are a diplomat, not one of Charlie’s Angels.”

“With due respect, sir, we were told in the Academy that a diplomat is an officer…”

“Sent abroad to lie for his country,” completed the Consul.

“Yes, sir, and to protect his country’s interests. I believe my country’s interests need protecting now, sir.”

“Deport these girls. Deport them faster than they come and you’d be doing your country the greatest service,” Mr. Greg Ufot said with emphasis. He twirled his Mont Blanc pen across his lips and shook his head.

“Deporting alone may not do the trick, sir. The effects are not felt. These girls are arriving from all angles, from every corner, through all sorts of ports. You deport fifty a week, while every day ten arrive. The effects are not felt, sir.”

“’How are the mighty fallen in the field of battle!’” quoted Ufot. “To think that our great country could be reduced to supplying prostitutes to Europe… Is this what our people understand by diversifying the export market? Exporting human beings? This is slavery all over again. It is disgusting, to say the least.”

“Disgusting indeed, sir. Disgraceful. Shameful. Because of this, no black woman in Italy has any respect left. We are all considered whores, even when we go about our honest business. We are propositioned at every corner, at the bus stop, at the stations. It’s not a good feeling, I can tell you.”

“My wife told me the other day how she went into a shop and a man trailed her, asking for sexual favours in signs: pointing to his private part and giving the come-on sign and then showing her lira notes. It’s embarrassing, to say the least.”

The Consular Officer sighed.  “What is to be done, à la Karl Marx?”

“Indeed, what is to be done?” echoed the boss. “Beats me. But I think we should form a small committee of three or four. Meet once in a while. You know, a kind of a think-tank. Brainstorm. Get new ideas. Initiate a memo or something on this. God knows I’m at a loss what next to do.”

“I’ll get cracking on that. If there is nothing else, I’d like to seek permission to knock off, sir.”

“I guess that will be all for now. Goodnight. Have a nice weekend!”

“You too, sir. Thanks.”

As Ms Osunde turned to go, Ufot reflected that some of his female subordinates were indeed the most hard-working and most reliable, in spite of family obligations. If half of his staff were as diligent as Osunde, this Mission would succeed. But there was a limit to what a person could do.

It would be hard to have a nice weekend with all the reports and assignments screaming to be done. Several meetings had taken place these past few weeks. Two cabinet ministers had visited and the minutes of the sessions they had with host authorities were still outstanding. There would be no sleep tonight, in any case, not before midnight. Sometimes, it was practical to be single. A spouse at these times could be problematic. 

Greg Ufot was not single. He was what his colleagues jocularly called a married bachelor. He was a slim, short man with a balding egg-shaped head and a jet black complexion. His wife of fifteen years, Mercy, was perpetually on the move. She was overseeing a building project he was putting up in their hometown. He did not trust his relatives to do an honest job of it.  Before he got the plot of land on which to build, it took a lot of years, a lot of storytelling, with the result that almost all his savings from that first posting had gone down the drain, down other people’s throats. They were all swindlers. But what could you do? Take your kith and kin to court? “That would sound the death knell for your lineage,” his brother had warned. Land disputes were more often than not, bloody. This time, he had been wiser. He had put his wife in charge of the building project. No doubt, it meant the disruption of his family life, with Mercy half the time at post and the other half back home. Luckily, there was a live-in maid who took care of Junior and Elsie.

He considered himself blessed to have a good wife. Mercy was a medical doctor who had the ill-fortune of meeting and falling in love with him, Ufot used to joke. He had been a young dashing diplomat then on home leave. Her friends had warned her of what lay ahead of a marriage to a diplomat: an unsettled life. And that is what it had been: three years in Cotonou, three years at headquarters, three and a half years at The Hague, and then this cross-posting to Milan. All these, not counting the two years attachment spent in London. Unsettling, to say the least, for all involved.

But it was much worse for the spouses of diplomats because they were not allowed to enter into official employment at post. Conflict of interest, the Government had said, quoting the Vienna Conventions on Diplomatic and Consular Relations, which guided diplomatic practice from A-Z. And so spouses, professionals in their own right, in their various fields, were made redundant at post. They were forced to keept their careers on hold, for as long as the spouse’s posting lasted. It was a big sacrifice to make for love and for family.

Ufot knew that many of his colleagues’ marriages had been rocked by it. Some had completely broken down. Some colleagues were at their second, third, fourth marriages. Some gave up after the third attempt and chose to remain unattached.

There were many arrangements diplomats made to keep their spouses’ work whilst the posting lasted. It was always better if you were posted to a country nearer home. Spouses, usually wives, (there were not yet so many females in the Foreign Service) would commute from the home country to post on a regular basis for important official functions. Some of his colleagues had actually lobbied to be posted to nearby capitals: Cotonou, Lome΄, Accra, Abidjan, Yaounde΄, Buea. Even Dakar was not too far. In these Missions, you could kill two birds with one stone. You would be at post, earning expatriate salary, while the wife would maintain her job and career prospects, especially if she was in the private sector. Many wives of diplomats worked in banking, insurance and oil.

Spouses in the Civil Service could take an official leave of absence, and then commence one business or the other, usually buying and selling of gift items, watches, perfumes, leather goods, cloths, etc. This was not allowed in the Foreign Service either. Those involved did it surreptitiously. Your bosses may know and turn a blind eye either because it did no harm, or because their own wives were into it too. As long as one was careful not to overdo or deal in contraband to attract attention, no one cared. It was a good way to keep a wife happy and fulfilled. She made money. She, who was a salary earner back home did not need to depend on you for pocket money. It made her happy. It kept her busy. And you had the peace of mind to concentrate on your job.

Still, it was hard for wives. If they survived the first posting with you, they could refuse to accompany you the next time. They had been bored throughout the first posting. They were idle from morning to night, watching television, going shopping, cooking, eating and getting fat.

Once in a while, an invitation to a cocktail party or a national day celebration would come. Sometimes, the invitation would be to a child’s naming ceremony, or to a meeting. Or you could be in a church committee organizing the church’s bazaar or thanksgiving. Occasionally, the International Women’s Club would organise an outing for the spouses. Those were your choices, you, the erstwhile Credit Manager of the Finance Bank or Senior Accountant at ELF.

Foreign posting was a two-edged sword, no doubt about it. You made money, yes, but the posting could cost you your marriage and happiness. Either way, many wives could not take it. Some would abandon you at the end of the posting. On the eve of your recall, she would disappear into thin air leaving you to go back to your home country alone. You did not need a soothsayer to tell you that the marriage was over.

Nowadays it seemed there was a compromise. Many diplomats settled their families abroad, usually in America, while they braved it alone at different postings. It stabilised the children’s schooling but it had the disadvantage of separating families.

Again, Ufot thanked God for Mercy. She was reliable. Because of her, he was able to commence a building project at home, while at post, with the savings he had made. Mercy was also contributing to the project with the profits she made from her trading. She used to go to Naples and Vicenza to buy stuff which she sold in Nigeria.

In all honesty, he could not complain. God had been good to him. He could hold up his head in the comity of his friends and former schoolmates. He had made good. A diplomat’s life was elitist. Had not someone described diplomacy as wining and dining? The pay was good and one had the opportunity of travelling all over the world, hobnobbing with the crème de la crème of society.

Still, he would have preferred to be posted to a quiet Mission, where one would spend one’s days in relative peace. A corner of the Caribbean came to mind, say Kingston or Port of Spain. Africa used to be good but now manifested a lot of instability. Look at the Congo. Look at Rwanda. Even Côte d’Ivoire that had hitherto enjoyed relative peace had become a land of coups and wars. Lots of wars and threats to peace spoilt Africa. Otherwise, it had a lot going for her, including, ironically, poverty. Low cost of living coupled with a thriving foreign currency black market meant that with two or three hundred dollars, one could feed comfortably in any month, whilst living like a king. Anyone salaried in foreign currency in a country with a dual exchange rate, Ufot reasoned, automatically tripled his purchasing power. You could purchase anything that took your fancy-jewellery, designer wears, leather goods, electronics… and women. That was the reality of the matter. Women were available when and where there was cash. Again, in this field, he could not complain. He remembered one of his ex-girlfriends asking him how many women he had slept with. Though he had given a conservative figure off hand, he knew in all sincerity that even if he tried, he could not remember. They were so numerous, uncountable.

Granted, in his first posting, he had gone as a single man. Then his life had been a long stretch of night-clubbing and partying, with sprinkles of work in between. He had been sent to London, on a two-year Attachment Programme, a novice, an acolyte, an apprentice, to whom much had not been given and from whom little or nothing was expected. He had lived life to the full, with no cares or family ties to hold him back or slow his velocity. The London society was multiracial. He had dated many women: Black, Caribbean, Asian and White, of all shapes and sizes, assorted nationalities and races, of differing creeds and varying professions, sometimes two or three even four, at a time. It had been a juggler’s act.

Yes, sadly, it did not take much to bed a woman nowadays. In many places just a “Hello!” or a bottle of Guinness and some chicken parts sufficed. He wondered how he managed to escape the sexually transmitted diseases now making the rounds. Thank God for His mercies.

Yes, the Foreign Service was good, whether in Africa or overseas. You were, as a rule, comparatively better off. Still, there were ways of upping your income if you dared.

For instance, there was the possibility of smuggling in some scarce commodities, albeit surreptitiously. Your right hand was not to know what your left hand was doing. In this respect, of all the Missions where he had served, Cotonou was unbeatable. Each weekend, he had ferried across the border, bags and bags of rice, hot drinks and tobacco, frozen chicken and other consumables, some bought tax-free and duty-free in the name of the Mission. It was providential that he had not been caught. He had taken serious risks capable of jeopardising his budding career.

True, the frontier customs officials always waved his CD plated Mercedes Benz on, but you could never tell what could happen, especially under a military regime. You could drive in and meet an illiterate khaki man who did not know the meaning of CD. It had never happened to him, but there was no doubt in his head what to do in those circumstances. Money spoke. The almighty dollar would do the trick.

Those were the good old days in the Service. Those were the days when you would be relaxing at home and a call would come through informing you to proceed on a posting to so and so place, and you would beg to remain at home for a while longer. Then one naira exchanged for 1.62 dollars! Who needed the dollar? But now, now, one waited years and years lobbying right, left and centre for “the opportunity to serve”. Opportunity to serve indeed! Guys were looking to line their pockets, to earn the elusive foreign exchange, the almighty dollar, to keep body and soul together. Especially now that one dollar, one little dollar would fetch more than one hundred naira. Opportunity to serve indeed!

It was amazing how much things had changed in so short a time. Yet, in spite of it all, the Foreign Service remained the place to be in the whole of the public service. And if one was lucky to get an ambassadorial appointment at the end, why, that would be icing on the cake. It was difficult now because the ruling party rewarded its members with ambassadorial positions, bypassing the career officers of the ministry. But there was no harm in hoping…

He glanced at the clock on the office wall. Seven-thirty! He had day-dreamed his time away again. He debated within himself whether to head home. It was not such an interesting prospect: TV, dinner, a glass or two of wine and then some magazines before hitting the sack. He had a computer at home so he would be able to check his e-mails and finish his report before going to bed. He decided to call his wife back in Nigeria. Better to do it in the office and save on the home phone bill.

The phone rang for a while before it was picked up by his sister-in-law. Mercy stayed with her family anytime she went home. His house was not yet completed. Mercy was off to Benin City, the voice informed. He wondered what business his wife had in Benin City.

He called his boss to sign off. The latter answered on the third ring, just when Ufot was about to hang up thinking he was gone.

“Your Excellency, calling to sign off, sir.”

“My Honourable Consul, come up for a drink, before you go.”

For Sam Omatseye, the author of Crocodile Girl, which has been recently re-issued by Paresia Books, Nigeria, the novel is all about prejudice and how it can corrode the society.

Responding to question by Laura Angela Bagnetto of Radio France International on what inspired the work in a recent interview, Omatseye said: “The story of the Crocodile Girl was told to me by my father. There was actually a situation in his own village when he was growing up. There was a woman who was so beautiful, she could not be thought human. So, they said that at night she went into the river and became a crocodile, so that was the prejudice that was cast on the woman.

“So, that was where I took the story from. I was in the US when I started thinking about this novel, so I decided that I would use that material to track this prejudice and also look at African history and how prejudice even within African history, especially with slavery also affected relations between black and black as against white and black.”

Omatseye, who described Alero as a very interesting character, said he saw her as the fulcrum of the whole narrative. According to him, “She is the one who is beautiful and charming and she is the one who has to suffer because of her beauty, and she is the one who has a relationship with the white visitor, Tim, and she is the one who has to suffer because of that. The story of the prejudice is here. She simultaneously reflects it and she reflects on other people her own prejudice that she suffers.”

Situating the context of the narrative, Omatseye said, “In the olden days, there was prejudice within the black society, because, historically, people tend to want to glorify the African past like the white just came to Africa to pick slaves but there were people who were profiting from slavery and slave trade who were blacks who made it possible for the white to thrive. So, it was part of that narrative that I was trying to track.

“The other issue is beauty, because one of the main characters, Alero, is constantly told how beautiful she is but the fact that she is a nurse is disregarded and she is almost two dimensional, because people see her with her beauty or her curse as being the daughter of the crocodile woman. It defines her, which is really sad, because, obviously she has more depth than that.”

Shedding light on Tim, the American guy who comes to Orogun in Nigeria,  the novelist explained: “Itse is the link between Alero and Tim and he is the reason that Alero allowed Tim to come to Africa, but, unfortunately, Ise is not able, because of what happened to him, to carry on and he becomes the background around which the narrative of Tim and Alero and how the whole story in the village, including the old man, takes off.”

Veteran is Omatseye’s favourite character, for “He is the liberator of the tale, he is the one that catalyses the narrative because it is on him that the story about how to get to the forest takes place and it was him that makes Tim get adjusted to the environment. It is he who can challenge the local elites, the traditional elites without consequences. So, it is around that man that the whole narrative hinges. He belongs to that generation and he is also a rebel to that generation.”

The author is working on another novel at the moment. :It has a sort of resemblance to this but it is quite a different story,” he said. 

Patrick Oguejiofor is the author of the novels, Sin of a Father and Fast Track and the poetry volumes Drums of Curfew and Maiduguri Requiem. The later shortlisted for the 2017 ANA poetry Prize. His children literature include Cobwebs in the Sky, The Great Hunter, On the Laps of the Gods and the Secret Place. He has been longlisted twice for the Nigerian Prize for Literature. HENRY AKUBUIRO interviewed him in Abuja, where he revealed his breakthrough in book marketing, his involvement with the Okigbo Foundation, of which he serves as the Executive Secretary,  and his latest poetry collection, Maiduguri Requiem.

Your latest poetry volume, Maiduguri Requiem, is a lament predicated on the violence in Borno State.  What set the tone for the lachrymal evocation?

Maiduguri Requiem is a meditation on killings, atrocities and tragedies that have been going on in the Northeast in the last 8 years –the Boko Haram insurgency. Incidentally, I lived in the Northeast for 8 years –I married from there, and I have relations there. So, it is a city I have an attachment to. In this work, I am shocked at the magnitude of the killings to the extent that humanity could descend. I have to lament the waste of lives. The book, in its entirety, is a lament –Blackman against Blackman. It also tries to bring up the issue of identity and cultural colonilisation and misguided enthusiasm of importing religion from a different part of civilisation to another. I am glad it was shortlisted to the ANA Poetry Prize.

Yours is another work of poetry with socio-political concerns. Ben Okri is one of the writers complaining about the surfeit of socio-political themes in new Nigerian writings. Are these theme really over-flogged?

I disagree with him, because a writer must deal with contemporary issues; otherwise, he will become irrelevant. That is the truth. For example, Boko Haram is there. I have to deal with the problem in my work. I can’t pretend it is not there. We have the issues of unemployment, political instability – many social issues. So, it is the duty of a writer to portray them, because, tomorrow, such works become historic. In fact, literature documents history more than history. Take a Tale of Two Cities or Oliver Twist, for example, by the time I read these book, am being reminded of England of two, three hundred years ago. What the writer is trying to do is to respond to the socio-political situations of the day. In my work, Emeka and the Kidnappers, I deal with the issue of kidnapping and in another work, in Secret Place, I deal with fake drugs. A writer must respond to contemporary issues.

But some of the critics of African literature say writers from the western world have since moved away from social discourse. Do you think it’s high time we moved away from such thematic preoccupations?

The fact is that they have their own texts; we have ours. Writers have to follow the trend of readership. The average Nigerian reader wants to read the writers interpretation to what is happening today. For the writer to remain relevant and for people to identify with their works, they have to respond to the situation on ground. The way the western writers respond to their own situations differ from ours. In the case of Boko Haram, there are many causes to it. But, look at the way they responded to it through religious fanaticism! In the Northeast, they have problem of marginalisation, so they are responding to it by agitating for a caliphate. People respond to issues differently. In the Southeast, they are agitating for a country of theirs. That explains it.

Is it possible for the contemporary Nigerian writer to make good money out of his work, given rampant complaints to the contrary?

To begin with, I have made money from my writings. I have publishers, but am not impressed with the money being remitted to me. So, together with my friends, we set up with a publishing firm, Mazaria Books Limited. It now issues my works, and we control distribution and sales. Take Secret Place, for example, which came out in 2015, we have exhausted two editions. The same thing goes for Emeka and the Kidnappers. For The Great Hunter, another of my children’s work, which came out in 2016, the first print is almost gone.

So, what’s your marketing strategy?

First of all, I write mainly children’s literature. I don’t put them in the bookshops; I take them to supermarkets, and they pay me. Booksellers have been paying me, too. Only few booksellers don’t pay, and when I notice you don’t pay, I don’t take the books to you again. I distribute my books myself, and I get my money.

Yes, we often hear writers hardly get remittances from some of bookshops they send their books to. How do you handle such cases?

That is a major problem. The bookshops don’t pay; the booksellers don’t pay. If you know a particular bookshop don’t pay for books sold, stop giving them your books –take your books to only bookshops and supermarkets where they make payments. Booksellers, Abuja, is a good example. They have paid me twice. Last year alone, I made over a million naira from children’s books alone. So, it is all about distribution network. Nigerians read.

But I keep hearing Nigerians don’t read, yet you are making millions of naira from your books. Do Nigerians read?

Yes, Nigerians read. But we have a problem of distribution. We don’t have an organised distribution network. Imagine if I don’t have the energy to be distributing my books, I won’t be selling. So, it is like the Nigerian writer is overburdened: he has to do the writing, look for an assessor, a good editor, a good publisher and, at the same time, has to do the marketing and distribution. This is too much for one person to handle. If you have the energy to do that, you will sell. Nigerians read a lot; they buy books. If Secret Place could sell more than 2,000 copies without any form of publicity, within a year, what does that show you? Even when Okigbo’s Labyrinth was re-issued, readers came to pick. In my own case, only two or three schools had it on their reading list, but they books sold out in the open market. Having said that, we have a problem of distribution: getting the book to the final user.

The Okigbo Prize has just been resuscitated. As the executive secretary of the Okigbo Foundation, how big is this prize going to be?

As you aware, the prize had been in existence before now. It was Professor Wole Soyinka who floated it. But, after three editions, it was rested for many reasons. Now the prize has been resuscitated, and Odia Ofeimun has accepted to be the judge of the maiden prize. Soon, the Okigbo Foundation will issue a proper call for entries where the modalities and the prize money involved will be specified. This time around, it won’t die. That is why we have taken our time to repackage it.

Who is going to finance it?

The Chris Okigbo Foundation is going to finance it. Of course, there are some other financiers. The details will come up later.

Is it going to be an omnibus prize?

For now, it’s going to be a poetry prize. Before, it used to be  the Okigbo All Africa Prize for Literature. Later ,it could be focused on other genres. But, for now, it is going to be only poetry.

Professors Wole Soyinka, JP Clark and Alex Ajayi were some of the big names who attended the recent 50th anniversary event that held at the University of Ibadan. What do you think makes Okigbo an unforgettable writer that he has continued to enjoy a cult following from far and wide?

First of all, Okigbo was a fantastic poet. There is nobody like him anywhere in Africa. As far as I know, he has been rated one of the 10 greatest poets writing in the English language. 10 years ago, Harvard University held 40th anniversary to mark his death. The greatest writers in African literature were present to honour the greatest poet from the continent and one of the greatest writing in the English language. Okigbo was an outstanding poet and a humanist. Secondly, Okigbo became a cult hero, because he died for what he believed in: he died for justice; he died for peace; he died for equity; he died for an open society. These were what he fought for and why he died for. These things put together made him immortal. The 50th anniversary we held for him was not to immortalise him. By virtue of his work and the life he led, he has immortalised himself. However, it was an opportunity for us to bring his friends together, lovers of Okigbo, and to release the 50th anniversary commemorative edition of his collected poems.

I saw the new edition of   and Other Poems, well packaged….

Since we were celebrating the 50th anniversary of his legacy, it was the opinion of the Okigbo Foundation that it would be incomplete without bringing out a commemorative publication. Already, Heinemann had already issued the famous Labyrinth and the Nigerian edition had been published by Apex Books. So, we now chose collected poems, the one published by Heinemann London in 1986 with an introduction by Adewale Maja-Pearce. This time around, it was repackaged, with paintings and drawings by Professor Obiora Udechukwu of the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, and Obiageri Okigbo, architect and daughter of Chris Okigbo, who is also the president of the Christopher Okigbo Foundation. Then, Abubakar Ottman, a poet, critic and scholar, wrote a fantastic introduction to the book. All these went into the beautiful book published by Book Kraft, Ibadan. We are getting requests from all over the world. What we have now are limited edition for the 50th anniversary celebration. In a matter of time, Book Kraft will make it available to the reading public.

In that conference, the iconic poet, JP Clark, wasn’t impressed that his bosom friend, Okigbo, went into a war that had changed nothing. There are many others who thought he made a mistake by fighting for Biafra rather than probably serving in another capacity as an envoy like his contemporaries. How noble do you think that gamble was?

The way I look at it, a man should be able to die for what he believed in. Okigbo had a strong conviction to protect and promote equity and fair play. It was that conviction that made him to drop his pen and every other thing he was doing to go into the battlefront where he died and became a martyr. I think you should be able to die for what you believe in. He had that conviction and courage. All these put together succeeded in pushing him to immortality. I don’t think there is any other African poet who shares that cult followership he has.

By SIMEON MPAMUGOH

IZU Osuigwe is a lawyer with a bias for intellectual property preservative and property component ownership. For him, literary contents ownership is akin to when one takes money either through savings or bank loans to build a house or invest in intellectual property like movies, soaps, music and all manner of creative contents.
He told Daily Sun in an interview, “So, you use your money and resources to create such contents which become a property; something you own. One could use same money to buy either a car or house but the artiste has decided to use it to create content, it could be visual or audio which are all intellectual properties one uses money to create, a property to the creative.”
There is always the problem of copyright ownership, he hinted, “The fact is that one needs to know who is a producer. The main talents in production are: the cast, crew and the executive producer (EP). The executive producer raises money for financing the production. The producer tends to bring all the factors of production together and the director interprets the story: how it should be pushed out hence it is usually regarded as director’s film because he directs how he wants to shoot the movie and uses the cast and crew to achieve his aim.
“The content is owned by the actual person who raised the resources for the content. But there are sometimes cases when there is a scriptwriter. He tends to have residual ownership in the content and agrees with the EP on certain percentage from whatever sales made from the production. In this case, it is no longer the EP that owns the content alone. The scriptwriter now has a share to the extent of the percentage,” he said.
“In such scenarios, it is not only the EP that owns the production; other variables have come to play: the scriptwriters, cast and crew. And since these parties have stakes, at any time the film is going to be given to a third party with a platform by EP or it acquires the right to the content, the amount the platform is willing to pay, all the parties should be carried along. And it will no longer be a case of one person marketing the movie,” Osuigwe said, maintaining that where EP raised all the money and pays off every body, the content belonged to him.
How have we fared in the digital content distribution space? He said, “It is really an interesting time in the creative content distribution sector, because people are getting paid through all forms of the social media –Youtube; even Facebook is coming on board. Very soon, they would be scouting for contents either through direct payment or social advertisements of contents created and placed on their platform. So, the sector provides an exciting time for anyone who is creative, who can think well. There is no restriction: just think outside of the box, and things people would like to watch, there are places one can place them.”
Osuigwe, who is the Chairman, Board of Trustees (BoT), Media Contents Distributors Association (MCDAN), disclosed that contents were not only about the movie adding that there were lots of them out there such as music, naming ceremony, short stories of human interests etc. “What makes the difference is how it is structured,” he said.
He explained further, “A short story of a woman frying bean cake (Akara) in the streets; how she uses the money made from the akara to take care of her children, pay school fees and back to the place she is frying the bean cake would make interesting watch for television platforms who would want to buy it and if they don’t; take it to Youtube and once people watch, you make your money.”
“For me, digital content distribution is kind of liberalising the way social media has come in to assist artists. Before now, there were contents that were taken to television stations that were rejected but now, we have platforms such platforms can be placed and earn money.”
On content audit to gauge its effectiveness, Osuigwe said, “There are various ways contents can be gauged. This is not restricted only to films but also music and other literary forms of the arts. There are occasions where one hears children singing some genre of music; this automatically tells that the content is going places. Today, everybody uses Smartphone to push two to three minutes’ skits and it makes impacts. The content that would send the message might not be expensive.”

By Olamide Babatunde

Since its inception 18 years ago, The Lagos Book Festival has attraction members of the public, authors, publishers, academicians and book lovers. Activities range from book displays, discussions, workshops, poetry and drama performances, film screening and the notable stampede. On November 6-12th, 2017, Freedom Park, Victoria Island, Lagos, opened its doors to receive guests for the  ear’s culture picnic themed Eruptions: Global Fractures and our Common Humanity, and guest of honour was Niyi Osundare, one of Africa’s renowned poets.

The week-long jamboree did not look like it had piped down a bit even on the last day. The 19th Lagos Book Festival came to an end with the procession to the food court for the poetry grand slam featuring poets from all ages bearing worded messages that transmitted the essence of values binding humanity, irrespective of social class and structure. It was nothing short of an appealing and enchanting delivery of creativity under a clear sky and colourfully lit up outdoor space. While the leaves rustled gently as the cool evening breeze swept through, humans, in twos, threes and fours, were huddled together in the peacefully electrifying ambience of the park where the event had run through the week.

The play time was what it was, much needed,  after the stampede,  the mother of all conversations on literary criticisms from CORA, in partnership with ANA (Association of Nigerian Authors), had taken place at the Kongi’s Harvest Art Gallery that snowballed into the usual heated reactions by discussants and general audience.

On the panel were Dr. Kayode Kofoworola, English Department, University of Lagos; Toafeek Olatunbosun, Lecturer, Fountain Top University; Anote Ajeleruo, Arts Editor, The Guardian Newspaper; Yakub Abdullahi and Deji Toye, the moderator.

Dr Kofoworola led the provocation on the question, “Is the critic dead in Nigeria’s literary firmament?” The issue, although, one that has been addressed overtime on global platforms, seemed like one that needed critical answers within the Nigerian context. The lead panelist stated from his address that critics in the Nigerian literary space were dead, “Critical thinking requires deep introspection, and the attention span of the younger generation today is very low. Literary critics are ordinary people with extraordinary qualities, because they do not relate with text the way others do. He named Ben Tomoloju, Abiola Irede, Isidore Okpewho as critics of old who functioned in the capacities of engaging text to crate worthy and unworthy assertions passionately. This, he said, was “the underlining factor to being a critic, looking out for aesthetic and buoyant structures that can affect social change”.

Abdullahi argued likewise that critical thinking was not anyone’s or everyone’s job; rather, it required training, which he said some media practitioners did not have. Anote, in a reaction, threw the ball back to the academics, saying it was the responsibility of the university to train and equip students for deep levels of introspection; therefore, it wouldn’t be wrong to go with newspaper reviews, which, he said, was History in a hurry. Sitting in the audience, Prof. Hope Eghagha, chipped in with his teaching experience.

“We teach students from Year 2 and in their final year core critical thinking. Most students do not want to get to the nitty gritty of it, and I also think we should know the difference between the academic and the man who writes for the public”. Olatunbosun did not pitch on any of the established sides now. His submission was that the critics were not dead, but dying, which he attributed to poor educational system and society which does not encourage critical thinking.

Within the conversations, more questions were fleshed out about what a newspaper and academic review should be considering, that some in-depth reviews could pass for a critique. Kofoworola spelled out the differences, noting that a media and academic critic article should vary in length but have same basic line of critical thinking, adding, “The critic and his duty is further faced with the challenges of the new media. A virtual space where all and sundry can have a say at anything just by the click of a button, critiques in this space can easily be added to or reduced based on the writers opinion. In some cases too, objective criticism tend to offend the authors who get infuriated for an inconsiderate representation their works. It could end up badly for first-time authors and their publishers.”

In addition, kofoworola remarked that the essence of criticism was to shape the direction of literature whether it engaged from the aesthetic angle or structural, “A critic needs to find a balance, understanding that art is not for art sake or for  just for social change. Toye moderated the discussion towards the audience, who made significant contributions. A member opined that it wasn’t right to submit that only those who are trained can critically think on issues and for young ones who are caught up with the social media, he suggested that  the medium be used to  steer young minds towards social change.

The Lagos Story was also not left out. Justin Okwarachuwku, Larayetan Tope, Miracle Okpala, students of the English Department of University of Lagos, had an interactive session with the audience, where they talked about My Lagos Story, which was moderated by Head of English Department, Unilag, Prof. Hope Eghagha.

Miracle said, in her encounter with Lagos, she had to put a lot of issues to make people sad in her book, which pictures Lagos on a sad state, “but, at the same time, Lagos is not a sad state. Lagos shows that there is unity in disunity. When a foreigner says things negative about Lagos or Nigeria, Lagosians will unite and condemn what the foreigner says about Lagos.”

For Justin, who was born in Port Harcourt, River State has a very different experience from Lagos. “For me, I experienced Lagos molue, and I observed that many times, you see people angry and may start fighting over little issues. My writing is based on my experiences, and music is universal, irrespective of where it is been played,” he said.

A student from unplug said his experience about Lagos is not pleasant. If an individual goes to market, he/she has to be smart so that his/her personal belongings are not stolen by robbers.

Larayetan Tope said Lagos was a story explaining what happens on a daily basis. For example, people are called Lagos lookers because when something happens, they come together and watch what is happening without offering help when the need arises. Lagos is good and bad, it is the mixture that makes it interesting. I enjoin people to come to live in Lagos so that they can experience the mixture.

On his part, Prof Niyi Osundare congratulated Unilag for their contributions towards the growth of literature in the country. “I am fascinated by the age of these students from Unilag. Lagos has been used as the theme for so many songs and what you have done in the spirit of CORA and I hope other universities will emulate Unilag.”

Prof. Eghagha noted Lagos is Lagos ,and people can experience both bad or good spots in Lagos. Lagos is not different from New York because the things you find over there, you also see them in Lagos. One positive thing about Lagos is the commercial viability where a lot of businesses thrive.

MacDonald added there was no complete story about Lagos without the speed at which things happen. It is some how interesting but when it belongs too long, it becomes boring. Former Attorney General and Commissioner for Justice, Lagos State, Olasupo Shasore, SAN in Lagos, you find every tribe in the country.

There are positive stories about Lagos because Lagos works which shows that Nigeria is working. Lagos is a place where there is chaos which brings creativity into people. In conclusion, it was agreed that more infrastructure should be put in place in order for Lagos to be more organised.

By HENRY AKUBUIRO

Though we may decry or laugh at the idiocies of the aberrant child and the vane pursuits of the philandering officer, agents of parody in literature serve as vehicles in the process of transformational change.  Through these fictional archetypes, we see the ease with which man oversteps the borders of civility in dealing with fellow men; through their behaviours and linguistic coding, we come to terms with the tragedy of hubris, making us to be wary of these vaulting missteps ourselves, which can also elicit similar emotions in real life; through them, we are exposed to the vagaries of metropolitan culture. Agents of parody do not necessarily privilege entertainment over pedagogy.

Jerry Alagbaoso’ oeuvre pays witness to a restless, prolific spirit making claims to cannonisation with his imaginative constructs. Alagbaoso’s plays and fiction are designed as parodies and comedies to reflect social trajectories. No doubt, the playwright is a keen observer of the society. In his social mimesis, immorality, exploitation, corruption and inactions prove weighty a problem to everybody. He, thus, functions as a realist depicting characters close to reality.

In his inaugural lecture entitled “Ridentem Dicere Verum: Literature and the Common Welfare”, Charles Nnolim avers that

… imaginative literature is that writing which is more emotionally moving than intellectually instructive; that writing which primarily deals with a make-believe world, whose language is highly connotative rather than denotative, symbolic rather than literal, figurative rather than plain; and whose ultimate aim is to produce a satisfying aesthetic effect and find anchor as a work of art… The ultimate test of literature as a ‘verbal work of art’ is its functionality and its imaginative import (3).

Drama, more than any other genre of literature deployed by Alagbaoso, collaborates Nnolim’s observation that  “… literature exists to please, to lighten the burden of men’s lives, to make us forget for a short while our sorrows and disappointments in life, to help us face our frustrations and uncertain futures” (5). A look at Alagbaoso’s recently reissued plays –Collected Play 1, which contains Specks in Our Eyes, Sorters and Sortees, Ina-aga, Armchair Parents, and The First Lady; Collected Plays II, which contains Oh! My Rolls Royce and My Fairly Old Wife, The First Lady, His Excellency and the Siren, and Honourable Chairman; Collected Plays III, which contains ; as well as the solo play, Tony Wants to Marry, point to the direction of that social function declared by Nnolim.

Alagbaoso’s works do not sanction some utopian existence when society hasn’t yet lifted itself from dystopian vicissitudes. His works reflect the society like a mirror does to a face, be it ugly or beautiful. For him, there is no compromise in character portraitures –the irredeemable is presented the way he is, even if he is used to bib-and-tucker. Kimani Njogu believes that the “artist creates from a socio-historical milieu of which he or she is a product and, similarly, the addressee is a social product also informed by the socio-political events with which he or she is in contact. The literary space, in turn, reshapes the history of the place and time in which it is received” (10).

Little wonder, his plays and fiction share some similarities with contemporary Nollywood films in terms of contents. Writing in the book, Global Nollywood, Matthias Krings and Onookome Onome (editors) reveal that

Nollywood films dramatise shocking transgressions of social norms. The main protagonists are driven by all sorts of human desires and thus share emotions most viewers are likely to have experienced themselves: the aspiration to get rich, envying other people’s success, the longing for a beautiful man or woman (16).

Alagbaoso underpins his writings with satirical trusts to augment the entertainment values of his dramaturgy. He works interrogate the fragrant abuse of power and kowtowing to money worship, hypocrisy in governance, arrogance of women close to the corridors of power, moral retardation among university undergraduates, parental irresponsibility, youthful exuberance, dishonesty in social relations and corruption in low and high places. Using everyday settings –homes, schools and offices –his works place the society on trial, but in this trial, the reader is the judge; he alone reprimands the characters at will and feels empathic with their miserable conditions.   

Societal hawks on the rampage

The tragedy of postcolonial Africa is the disproportionate spread of wealth, with the poor finding it absolutely hard to break into the elect fold. Left with no option, they grovel at the feet of the former to get a taste of the pudding. Subverting the hierarchies is too much task to undertake most times. For the privileged class, they turn themselves into demigods, and the lists of subalterns get wider.  A female in search of job has to resort to the commoditisation of her body to get ahead. These are visible in Alagbaoso’s writings, and the echoes are felt far and wide.

Writing on “Embedding Postcoloniality in Post-Apartheid Literature”, Huma Ibrahim observes that “the idea of cosmopolitanism becomes hollow when one examines poverty, xenophobia, state violence against minorities and systemic class oppressions endemic to most postcolonial societies” (165).

Alagbaoso’s novel, Officers and Men, reveals the craze for materialism, evidenced in the scramble for juicy appointments in civil and paramilitary services. Some of the applicants in a paramilitary agency depicted in Officers and Men are not interested in the job but what they can get out of it. In response to the question by the Assistant Commander-General, Alhaji Sirdee, why he wants a job in the National Caring Service, an applicant, Mr. Yomi, responds: “I think I am old enough to know where it is happening. I had a secondary school classmate at the CMS Grammar School while I left Toronto…. Today, my friend and mate has many wives, a number of girlfriends, a fleet of cars and many houses. So, I wish to emulate him….” (21).

Expectedly, this answer fills the members of the panel with astonishment and disappointment. But he isn’t the only buffoon with a misplaced value. Miss Miriam, responds to the same question: “Since my primary school days, I have loved the uniforms of those working in the military and paramilitary services … In short, it has always been my dream to wear any of these uniforms” (22). Such absurd responses at the interview, the Assistant Commander-General, Mrs Kof, laments,  is just a reflection of a society  steeped in the craze for materialism.

A clear demonstration of favouritism permeating the social fabric is aptly demonstrated in the novel when Dr. Timmy Jimmy, the training officer, shows favouritism to the underperforming Miriam as a prelude to sexual advances: “Dr. Jimmy was thrown into ecstasy. He held Miriam’s soft hands, hugged her, and with shaky hands, proceeded to untying the back of her dress. Soon, his hands were rubbing Miriam’s upper back” (38). Miriam later becomes  the Area Commander’s PA, a position she uses to commit financial crimes, but is absolved on account of her personal relationship with her boss, which earns her an elevation to a second wife.

Specks in Our Eyes, one of the most interesting plays in Collected Play 1, revisits community leadership. It’s not only in high places that the table is muddied with sticky fingers of greed and hypocrisy.  Instead of commending for her exemplary work, the executive members of Ama Ihite Development Union (ADU), decides to gang up against the performing principal, Lady Ijeoyibo. “We have received reports of gross misconduct and arrogance on top of that. She has been accused, also, of charging illegal fees and illegal Parent Teacher Association dues,” the president of the union, Ikeobodo, declares at the meeting (27). In actual fact, she has been supportive to all comers. The conspiracy of the male chauvinists only fail with the intervention of the community’s youths. Akataka, a youth, puts it straight: “… I gathered from the grapevine that few of us in this meeting have approached her with financial requests which she obliged. How dare these same people turn around to ask that she be probed?” (29). It later dawns on all that the principal has even been compelled to buy some committee members cars from fees collected from the school, while some borrowed from the school treasury without repaying.

The four plays in Collected Play II have something to do with power and wealth and how they are misused. The societal hawks, this time, are the nouvre riche and those in authority. The satire, My Rolls Royce and My Fairly Old Wife, features an arrogant moneybag at home with braggadocio, even in the house of God. Reverend Ozor, who superintends over the congregation at the St. Monica’s Church, reduces himself to a mere errand boy to the swashbuckling Chief Ego-na-atakasi, who claims to have billions in different denominations. Just as he lacks respect for men of God, he doesn’t respect the traditional institution either, yet he is worshipped by the congregation.

Corruption is revisited in The First Lady as the electorate and the elected play the game of lucre.  The politician named Chairman and his wife are products of a society that celebrates mediocrity and materialism in the name of loyalty. The politics of settlement and disillusionment are both interwoven in this socio-political drama. Against his expectation, Ben Ama wins the local government election, but it doesn’t take long before he and his wife begin to abuse the office.

A community setting (Amaokorie) recurs in the play, His Excellency and His Sirens, and the gimmicks of electioneering in which aspirants speak tongue in cheek and the subvertion of people’s wills through rigging is brought to the fore. The character named Representative testifies to His Excellency: “Sir, this is to inform you that what we are witnessing today is not an election or voting but a big fraud –an open one for that matter! Chief Promise Ekenwa’s ballot box has turned out to be a magic and wonder box with a lot of fake voters’ cards….” (131). The revolt of the mob over the His Excellency’s disturbing convoy, which leads to the sacking of the court, is a vote of no confidence on the bad eggs within the establishment. The author calls for a change in orientation.

The society is brimming with fake people –what do we say about Dr. Armstrong, a former lecturer in America, in the play, Honourable Chairman, who, having lost his job, begins to organise fake honorary degrees for some businessmen and politicians? Even a man of God, Pastor Mirage Airze, is no better in Signs and Wonders as he plays the role of a he-goat to a she-goat. The dawn of realisation comes when Commander discovers his wife, Miriam, in a compromising position. “This is sacrilege, Pastor!” he thunders. There are hawks everywhere, Alagbaoso tells us.

Guardians and impotent rods

Two idioms are at the heart of this discourse: spare the rod and spoil the child, and what breeds in the bone will always come out in the flesh. In Alagbaoso’s works, as juvenile immorality mutates under their watch, irresponsible parents merely nutate at the corner. In our society, an only child is pampered by most parents, thinking they are doing him a big favour; but this creates a problem, for the child has everything at his beck and call, thinking that the earth is now a paradise. The tendency to breed a wayward child is high in this type of situation.

In Alagbaoso’s play, Tony Wants to Marry, we are introduced to the consequences of the only child syndrome among African families. Tony, aka Tony Touch, is the only son of Mr. Johnson and Agnes Ezekiel. A spoilt child, compared to his two sisters, Tony is the pre-eminent family’s black sheep. Under the guise of searching for wife, the self-acclaimed handsome Tony becomes randy and reckless with women, bedding them and discarding them at will until he meets a hard nut to crack in the prayerful Miss Tonia Ignatius, who provides that moment of rude awakening for the Casanova.

Tony’s irreverent behaviour couldn’t have been possible if his excesses are not condoned by his mother. His father appears helpless and sometimes adopts a siddon-look posture when his domineering wife seeks to have her way. The family is in trouble when the queen of the house wants to play the role of the king! This comedy explores the dereliction of familial responsibility and the enthronement of inconsequential values. Mr Johnson Ezekiel berates his wife, Agnes, on Tony’s conduct unbecoming:

are you not the only one who is always protecting him whenever I scold him as his father? Is he no more your only son or male child? How does one explain how that idiot –handsome for nothing –habours girls from Monday to Sunday, that is, seven days in a week, in the name of classmates, peer group or course mates? Is Tony not up to the age of settling down in marriage? (13).

Alagbaoso’s carefully creates aesthetics that elicit peals of laughter from the workaday lives of the Ezekiels, but don’t be deceived. The motive is in congruent  with what Nnolim says: “… a good aesthetic experience not only does no one any harm but relieves tensions and suppresses destructive impulses, thus resolving lesser conflicts within us and helping to create an integration or harmony within the self”  (6). Thus, the comedy achieves a happy ending when Tony turns a new leaf: “I hereby … regret my past unbecoming actions… I shall henceforth endeavor to be in the Lord” (70).

The play, Sorters and Sorties, lampoons intellectual laziness among today’s students, who resort to bribery (sorting) to pass exams. But it takes a compromised lecturer to make that possible. The audacity of Becky Moore to have a higher mark in exchange for sex is underscored in her remarks when she visited Dr. Clemento Wise’s office: “Please, Dockee, ensure my mark is upgraded higher than everyone else’s. they must pay for assaulting me… Please, sort me higher than everyone else –male or female, whether more brilliant than me or not. After all, the end justifies the means. I want my ends, I have shown you my means. My grade will not be an exception” (88). In response, the “king of sorting” rewards her with 84 marks. But the bridge is too far the moral dupes to cross the line.

In another play, Ina-aga, contained in Collected Plays 1, Chief Ome-Aku, throws caution to the winds as he goes after university, female undergrads riding on his commercial motorcycle. One of such girls, whom he refused to collect fare from, Edna, describes the elderly man as “putting one yeye coat and slippers”, while Roseline admits giving him a fake address and phone number after he has lavished gifts on him. Well, the ina-aga rider eventually gets his comeuppance, thanks to the female students and their collaborating male friends on the loose. 

Alagbaoso writings drum it into our ears that it takes indifferent parents for immorality to mutate, and the social hawks aren’t despairing yet to lord it over the rest of us. Think of a zero sum game, and that may well be an apt platitude.

Works cited

Alagbaoso, Jerry    Tony Wants to Marry, Kraft Books, Ibadan, 2016

————————-Collected Plays I

———————— Collected Play II

————————-Collected Play III

Mathias Krings & Onookome Okome, Global Nollywood: The Transitional Dimensions of an African Video Film Industry, Indiana University Press, Bloomington Indiana, USA, 2013

Nnolim, Charles, “Inaugural: Ridentem Dicere Verum: Literature and the Common Welfare” in Literature, Literary Criticism and National Development, University of Port Harcourt Press, 2012, p 3

Njogu, Kimani, Reading Poetry as Dialogue: An East African Literary Tradition, Nairobi: JKF, 2004

Ibrahim, Huma, Journal of the African Literature Association, ed. Mohammed Kamara, Vol. 9. No. 3, Summer, 2015

By OLAMIDE BABATUNDE

“Why choose one when I can be both”? This is how Dami, born of parents both from the same town in Ondo State, who studied medicine at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, responds to whether or not he could choose between been a coctor or a poet. When you hear he is a doctor and a poet, it raises an eyebrow as to what medicine has got to do with poetry. Nonetheless, his sophomore collection after Clinical Blues transcends the plane of uncertainty.

He is a lover of soul food, the kind of music that carries deep meaningful lyrics, dipped in precise and rich rhythm that you can bob your head to even if it were in a strange language. It is from one such, Rex Lawson’s Jolly papa he got the nickname Jolly papa. A whole lot of music reviews of the old and new are also available to his credit.

After his first purgation, reflections on love, unrequited love, death earned him the ANA Poetry and Melisa Manuscript Prize, Ajayi has blossomed into something more, much more influenced by music, which explains the less existential lyrical nature of his second offering, less exuberant, and a bit older is how he describes himself to have evolved.

Very bold to say that the new work, three less than fifty, is far different from the first one comparatively. “It was more fun to write, it is a happier book and a shorter book and he hopes everyone will connect,” says Ajayi.

The physician-writer is also a co-founder of Saraba magazine, which was presented at the recent 2017 Ake Book and Arts Festival. The decision to go physical was informed by series of activities that took place in the last three years prior to having operated online. For, Ajayi there was enough time to prepare for this

and the time is just ripe to tick that part of the bucket list as much as to expose some great works privy to Saraba Manuscript Prize and experience the satisfaction of a print copy.

While his writing career seems to be enviable at the moment, Jolly papa is excited about the Nigerian  literary scene, Lagos in particular, where a whole lot is happening, and he feels there is no better time to be a creative person.

Something else the world needs more of, according to the writer, are more poems, plays and prose, and he is quite enthusiastic about  his A woman’s Body is a country where, like other poets, he has laid down his obsession with words, language in the brevity and clarity. His poetry is for everyone who lets themselves in. It is not

something to prescribe or served hot or chill: Ajayi has written something better and more fun, and it is okay to become a fan of one who heals with words like medicine.

Dike Chukwumerije is the author of eight books. A spoken word and performance poetry artist and prose writer, his novel, Urichindere won the 2013 edition of the ANA Prize for Prose Fiction. He runs   a poetry theatre production, Made in Nigeria, which has toured many cities in the country.  He hosts the Abuja Literary Society’s Book Jam and Poetry Slam. He has won several poetry grand slams in Nigeria, including the maiden edition of the African Poet (Nigeria) Grand Slam competition and, has, since 2013, hosted and directed the annual Night of the Spoken Word (NSW) performance poetry event. He also hosts weekly Open Mic performances which include a mix of acts from readings of short stories by their authors to musical performances, poetry and spoken word acts. Chukwumerije is regarded as one of Nigeria’s most prolific Performance Poet with the release of three Performance Poetry videos. In this interview with HENRY AKUBUIRO, he spoke on his fascination with literature, which has eclipsed his childhood ambition to be a medical doctor.

Growing up in the home of the famous politician, late Senator Uche Chukwumerije, I guess it was not easy deciding to be a writer. What was your ambition as a child? Was writing your first love, or it later came to you?

Writing was an early love of mine, inspired by my father (who was a journalist), my mother (who was a teacher), my elder brother Che (who was and still is a writer), and his friend Onesi (a fantastic poet). I didn’t consider it a career though, just a way of self-expression. So, as a child my ambition was to become a medical doctor. Imagine that?

At what point did it occur to you that you were better off as a performance poet than the conventional bard given to showcasing magical tropes and images?

I was invited to a show once to read some of my poems. This must have been some 12 years ago. And I saw other poets reciting their poems from memory, and it was immediately obvious to me that this was a more effective way of communicating poetry, because you can maintain eye contact, and simulate this conversational atmosphere that makes understanding easier. Reading is still something I prioritize though.

What was it like the first time you went on stage as a performance poet?

I felt a bit nervous, having to remember my lines with so many people looking at me. But, at some point, I lost that sense of self-consciousness, and just began to enjoy myself. There is this sense of freedom that one can sometimes stumble upon on stage. It’s a very beautiful feeling.

When you are on stage, do you get energy from the audience to get involved the more?

Yes, audience participation is always energising. When an audience is cold, it can become distracting for you, as you begin to wonder if you’re communicating at all. Obviously, the more nervous you become, the more likely you are to forget your lines.

Do you ever forget lines and improvise sometimes?

Regularly! It’s one of the first things a performance poet must learn, how to recover from forgetting his or her lines! The important thing is not to freeze, to take it in your stride, because the audience watching you often does not know what line or lines should come next. So, if you act like nothing happened, they will believe you.

You also write prose fiction and, in fact, your novel, Urichindere, won the 2013 ANA Prose Prize. What was the inspiration for the novel?

Novels like Chukwuemeka Ike’s Bottled Leopard tell the story of the secondary school experience of that generation. I wanted to do the same for mine. So, Urichindere documents what it felt like to be a boarder in a Federal Government College in the early 1990s. I also wanted to tell the story of the political turmoil of the time, as seen through the eyes of young boy. These were my inspiration.

You are a writer but also involved in assisting fellow writers and writers’ organisations.  How do that add to your role as a writer and community builder?

It adds immensely! Sometimes, as a writer, one is unable to appreciate the amount of work it takes to bring your work to an audience. But, working as an organiser of literary/creative events, you gain an appreciation of the entire value chain. This helps you as a writer in many ways. For one, you learn better how to write in ways that are accessible to your target audience. Also, as you rightly pointed out, one gains a better appreciation of the power of literature as a tool, not just for making the writer rich or famous, but for sparking important conversations and bringing people together over shared perspectives. In a space that is deeply divided other issues of tribe and religion, this is a very important function.

Sometimes you codemix Igbo in your works. Do you think a performance poet like you isn’t African enough until he fulfils certain cultural functions in his art?

No, I don’t think so, because the answer to the question, “What does it mean to be African?” is not a straightforward one. In that sense, “trying to be African” can lead to the production of very shallow and clearly superficial works of art. I tend to focuse more on being honest to whatever emotion or sentiment or value I am trying to express. And, if speaking in Igbo, or tapping into whatever cultural reservoir I have within me, is what I need to achieve honesty, then so be it.

It has been argued that the spoken word scene is getting saturated with artists who repeat the same performance on stage over and over, especially ones liked by the audience, barely offering new things. What do you think accounts for these oft-talked repetitions?

I have no problem with repetitions. After all, we have been reading Things Fall Apart since its publication in 1958. If a creative expression has long-lasting value, why should we artificially shorten its life-time just so we can be seen to be “fresh” all the time? Also, sometimes an artist may produce his/her masterpiece very early in his/her career. That’s just the way it is. So, those who have the capacity to be “fresh” all the time, should do so. And those who feel they have said everything they came to say in that one creative expression should feel free to stay on it for as long as they want.

So far, you have three performance poetry videos to your credit, making you one of the most prolific Nigerian performance poets.  How far do you intend to go with these videos?

As far as Fate will allow. It is the desire of every artist to be heard or watched or read or seen by everyone. That’s why we make art, to touch the lives of our fellow human beings. So, I hope the poetry videos I’ve put out there on Youtube will continue to attract views and reviews. I also hope that it inspires other poets to think of even more creative ways of expressing and communicating their poetry.

“The Wall and The Bridge” easily resonates with Nigerians from different walks of life.  Do you think that’s your Midas touch as far as performance poetry goes?

There’s a lot more where it came from. But the factors that determine what goes viral and what does not are beyond my control.

The Made in Nigeria Poetry Show has been staged several times since last year.  How has the experience being like?

It has actually been staged 11 times in 5 cities with a cast of between 15 and 24, depending on scale and location. So, you can imagine, it’s been quite an experience. First of all, to create a proper spoken word theatre production with a cast, costumes, props, lights and everything, and then to go on a proper road tour, that is, getting into a bus with your cast and equipment and hitting the road; to enter into cities, you’ve not been to before and successfully gather audiences from scratch around your production; to do all this without sponsorship, totally dependent on ticket sales and the ability of your content to move those who see it to recommend it to others, and to do this in the middle of a recession as well! You can imagine that it’s been quite an interesting experience. And it has not ended. Because the show is still touring 13 months after its debut. That, for me, is simply amazing!   

By HENRY AKUBUIRO

It isn’t only Oliver Twist who asks for more all the time. Sometimes literary aficionados are caught hands down. The idyllic ambience of Alliance Francaise, Iyaganku, Ibadan, lent itself to poetic renditions seeking to address our state as hunters of diverse dreams. Schoolchildren raised the falsetto of their voices as they rendered poems on the state of the nation. Adult bards made the birds flee as their verses resonated to the sky. Really, the maiden edition of SOMAFEST (Sam Omatseye Poetry Festival), organised by Poetry Enclave, Ibadan, got all asking for more.

The participating kid poets had excused themselves from exams to participate in the festival, and their voices betrayed no lethargy as soon as the President of Poetry Enclave, Anthony Ebika, set the ball rolling at Iyaganku.

He reminded the audience that the event was a celebration of poetry and life in honour of Omatseye, a poet, novelist, playwright, essayist and journalist of international repute, adding that it was also in commemoration of his thirtieth year in practice of journalism

“Without any iota of doubt, Sam Omatseye is a highly respected and honoured journalist who has made a great impact by contributing an inestimable quota to the progress of journalism in Nigeria,” he said. He hoped that it would reach out to the world with a baggage of good and glad stories. He minced no words in mentioning the support of the frontline journalist, who made the dream of the festival feasible.

Adebola Runke, Awo James and Oyebanjo Ibukun were among the pacesetters on stage, and their voices themed with angst, bewailing lost beauty of their nation and social dysfunction. Yinka Ola showed he was a seasoned voice goon when the spoken word artist mounted the stage to perform. Bliss, a student of Alliance Francaise, performed “Why Is it That We ….” Muyiwa Ojo read a poem, too.

It wasn’t all about poetry. A drama presentation, Ambassador of Poverty, was performed by a student cast. There were subsequent performances by Pathfinder College, Ibadan, and Samanda College, Ibadan, before Ebika Anthony brought the roof down with his own performance, including Sam Omatseye’s “Vulture”, rendered with a duet.

Babatunde Owolabi, director of the soap, Koko Close, and Abiodun Oloyode, former Chairman, Oyo ANA, were present. So was the journalist and publisher, Taiwo Ogundipe, who, encouraged by the turnout, commended Anthony for putting up such an exciting event together in Ibadan in honour of Sam Omatseye, who was marking his thirtieth year in journalism, describing him as a “a thorn in the flesh of politicians”.

Dr. Bayo Adebowale, an associate professor of Creative Writing in English and Founder/Director of the African Heritage Research Library, Adeyipo Village, Ibadan, gave a keynote speech on “Poetry and the State of the Nation”, in which he stated that, like their American and European counterparts, African poets had impacted on society.

He said, “Poets in Africa and Nigeria are not left out in creating verses which interpret national life and character. Most of the poets have succeeded in bringing out poems of enduring qualities to shape African/Nigerian identity and personality. They have fashioned poems which engender total transformation of national consciousness and nationhood.”

A good number of them, he said, “seem to have put aside the pioneering subjects of culture conflicts, segregation and apartheid, colonialism, neocolonialism, gender imbalance, female empowerment, post-modernism and negritude –to now face the reality of embracing contemporary issues; issues of national interest, of concern and of relevance to the masses and growth of nationhood.”

He encouraged Nigerian poets to be more combative in their writings. “Let revolutionary texture now begin to pervade new Nigerian poetry. Poetic diction now should be ‘fire-darts’: words of iron and words of thunder! Our poets must remember that they are mere ‘griots in the courtyard of transient power’, but active parts of the propelling and vibrant engine of their age!” he declared.

Echoing the myriad of problems besetting the nation, he called on poets to produce works reflecting the Boko Haram insurgence, the menace of cattle rustlers, the restiveness of militant groups, cultism in secret shrines, religious intolerance, subjugation and marginalisation of the masses, political oppression of minority groups, ritual killings, economic downturn, and the like.

Sam Omatseye was impressed with the day’s performances, especially those of the schoolchildren, “I am humbled by the presence of, especially, the children. I am impressed that they understand the society they are living in. I mean, they didn’t take the society for granted. My generation has been woefully bad. The generation that read poetry today, I believe, will bring a new way of doing things.”

Students and schools were rewarded in the Sam Omatseye Poetry Contest held in the run-up to the festival. In the individual category, Olanipekun Ajiboye and Tijani Abdulrasheed came 3rd and 2nd respectively, while the star prize went to Oyekunle Busayo.

Three schools –Glory Academy, Ibadan; Pathfinder College, Ibadan; and Mark Comprehensive High School, Ibadan –came 3rd, 2nd and 1st respectively. The winners were congratulated by the endower of the prizes, Sam Omatseye, who shook their hands. Cash prizes were awarded to the winners, as everybody hoped that SOMAFEST would survive many seasons.   

By Ifeoma Chinwuba

Chapter Two

Many people do not know that there are two independent republics completely surrounded by Italy. One is the Vatican City, the other is the Republic of San Marino. Ambassador Godsonn was his country’s chief representative to the Republic of San Marino. He was not a career diplomat. He was what was called, in diplomatic circles, a political appointee. He had been a contractor-turned-politician, a failed one who had lost the battle for governorship of his home state. He blamed his electoral loss on massive rigging and bribery.

“A poor man should not contest elections in that country, no matter how bogus his ideas and manifesto. Only money delivers votes. You can talk from morning to night, campaign from north to south, east to west, if you don’t have C-A-S-H, go into your mother’s hut and eat soup. Nigerians will not vote for you,” he used to say. “And let me tell you, it is not only the military that can plan coups in that country. Your own political party can topple you even before the main race starts at the Primaries. Palace coup, they call it.”

   The party had compensated him with an ambassadorial post under a loosely defined coalition agreement.

Alas! He was not very knowledgeable in diplomatic affairs.

His personal assistant had told a story of how he had once accompanied His Excellency to an international women’s conference on domestic violence in Genoa. The ambassador had been asked by headquarters to represent the Women’s Minister. At the conference, delegates spoke passionately against wife battery and general violence against women. It was obvious that the ambassador was bored. After a while of listening to the session, he raised his hand to intervene. The PA, consternated, sought to find out what he wished to say, but the Chair had seen the raised hand and had excitedly given the floor to the envoy. Everyone recognized his country’s leadership role in the world. Ambassador Godsonn then proceeded to tell the story of his neighbour back home, a small wiry thing who had married a woman three times his size. Every night, this woman would pound and hammer the poor man who would shout for the whole town to come to his rescue. He concluded by advising women to marry smallish men as a way of escaping domestic violence. He prayed the conference to consider addressing the issue of wives who beat up their husbands. Husband battery, he called it. It was an embarrassment to all present.

On another occasion, when he intervened in an international conference, it was to appeal to the delegates not to smoke along the corridors as this disturbed his breathing. “I have not had breakfast,” he said. “My stomach is turning me.”

His staff, especially the senior ones who had risen through the ranks, propped him up, covering his deficiencies. They wrote his despatches and reports and advised him on matters of protocol. Certainly, there were many political appointees who had a lot to offer on the job. But not Godsonn.

Ambassador Godsonn knew no word of the local language. Once, he had welcomed some businessmen to his office, a big smile on his face, saying arrivederci to them. He thought it meant welcome, since it contained “arrive”. It means goodbye. He depended squarely on his social secretary to decipher the mystery contained in incoming mails. And when unravelled, he would call one of his staff to reply appropriately. All he did was to append his signature.

He ascribed all the sayings whose authors he didn’t know to Shakespeare. “Shakespeare says no condition is permanent. Shakespeare says rub my back, I rub your back…”

To all who cared, he would say he was a bird of passage. He was here to recoup all the money he had lost at the elections and make extra for the electoral battles ahead. He awarded contracts personally, bypassing the Tenders Board. He negotiated his commissions and cuts with the contractors, not trusting his subordinates in this field.

“It is only the Italian language that I do not understand. I speak the language of money very well. Thank you,” he would say.

People said he needed all the money he could lay his hands on, as he had eight children and two wives to cater for, with the attendant coterie of extended family members and in-laws whom he jokingly called outlaws.

He had arrived post with a band of these relations, declaring that his first mission was to find jobs for them to reduce their ‘parasitism’ on him. He sacked the subordinate staff of the embassy for the least misdemeanour and replaced them with his dependants.

His two wives hailed from different parts of the country. The first was from the West, the second from the East. The ambassador himself was from a Northern minority. He was unable to control his wives, especially the second who was given to bouts of violence. On several occasions, she had locked up the chief representative in one of the Residence rooms, threatening to cut off his manhood unless he fulfilled his promise. What the promise was, no one could tell. At such times, the poor fellow would call his embassy for reinforcement, bellowing: “The government is about to fall o! Your president’s Chief Representative is in trouble oh! Send troops to free this important hostage.”

His staff would rush to the Residence, appealing to madam to release His Excellency for a non-existent important meeting with host government officials. The poor fellow would beg the staff not to go back to the embassy without him, as madam could change her mind and re-arrest him.

This same lady would attend the meeting of the International Women’s Club – alongside the first wife. The club had written that only one wife per embassy could be recognised at the meeting; polygamous heads of Mission were to transmit the name of Her Excellency to be recognized and accredited. This fell on deaf ears as Madame number-two maintained that in a polygamous home, everything was taken in turns. If the wives could sleep with the man in turns, then they would also take the benefits of his office in turns. Full stop. The senior wife did not intervene between her husband and her mate. She only told the ambassador: “You passed the shit that is smelling, you have to take it out. Excellency my foot!”

Ambassador Godsonn made jokes of his marital ménage à trois: “You see, it is not good to be charitable,” he would say. “I married that Ngozi woman so that she would not be left on the shelf. You see how she is paying me back now? One day it is lock me in, another it is lock me out. I have told her if she wants to be the man in this house, let her carry all my trousers and wear. Only leave me in peace.”

But he had a good heart, his staff would say. And he liked the bottle. He usually invited his staff to have a glass at the end of the day, and then they would talk of general things. Godsonn would beam with happiness, his domestic worries forgotten for a while. He would pull at his salt-and-pepper goatee and crack one or two jokes. His favourite was the one about two Tiv men. He usually cracked this joke in the presence of the Finance Attaché who hailed from that tribe.

“Two Tiv men from Nigeria went to London,” he would begin. “It was late evening and they needed to change their dollar travellers cheques to pounds sterling cash. They approached a police officer and told him, ‘We are two Tivs from Nigeria, looking for a bank.’ They were promptly arrested.”

Ambassador Godsonn was based in the capital where the embassy was located. However, he made trips to Milan to “check up on things,” as he liked to say. Everyone knew he was running away from his troublesome wives. And then too, Milan was livelier than San Marino in more ways than one. Initially, His Excellency, accompanied by his protocol officer, visited once every three months. Later, he had taken to coming every month. Nowadays, he showed up every fortnight, alone, sometimes unannounced.

The consulate staff did not know what to make of this. The Consul advised his staff to be on their toes since no one knew when the chief would surprise them. “He will come like a thief in the night,” the Consul would joke. Ufot had passed through many bosses and knew that each had his own style. However, as a good officer, he had tried once or twice to voice out his concerns on the security implications of these impromptu travels.

His Excellency had brushed them aside. “My friend, there are no terrorist threats against us that I know of. If you want to start one, let us know. Are you America? Who is interested in kidnapping an African ambassador? If you have nothing to report, go home and eat your garri. Do not alarm colleagues. Or is it Mr President that would want to reach me? He has my mobile phone number. The white man has solved all our problems by inventing the mobile phone. I can be reached anywhere, anytime even when I am on top of a woman.”

A corner office had been furnished for his use while in Milan, complete with a TV set, satellite dish and a computer connected to the Internet. There was a well-stocked bar and a divan. The ambassador was reclining on the divan when Mr Ufot entered.

“Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. There are drinks in the bar. Serve yourself. You know what is there.”

The Consul grabbed a glass and poured himself some Campari. He was not a drinker but he could not turn down the boss’ invitation for a drink. With the Campari, he would be able to keep the ambassador company and still be on his guard. By habit, he always resisted the invitation to drink with his bosses. One could easily go too far.

His Excellency looked worn out. He had a drink in hand, probably his known favourite, Remy Martin. His eyes were riveted on the television, which was showing a tennis duel between Agassi and Arnaud Clément. It was the finals of the Australian Open. They watched the match for a while, and when Agassi finally reached a match point, the ambassador cleared his throat:

“How are things here? Your reports are not as regular as they used to be.”

“I am sorry about that, sir. Recently, as you well know, we have had a series of visitors. However, by Monday, we shall be able to produce all outstanding reports.”

“So everything is ok?”

“Yes sir, more or less. The only worrying report is yet another death of one of our nationals. Apparently a hit-and-run accident.”

“Yes, I now remember seeing a fax on that. One Lovett Jon or something like that. Obviously a prostitute. What do you propose to do?”

“We were thinking of protesting to the Foreign Office and then informing Abuja to try and locate her next-of-kin. We have an address in our records.”

“You can send a note to the FO. But contacting her next¬of-kin, my friend, don’t trouble yourself. They will not show up. Where will they get the money for the ticket or for repatriating the corpse?”

“That is the procedure, Your Excellency.”

“You people in the Civil Service know how to waste time. In the private sector, do you know what we do? We allow the police here to dispose of the corpse. I mean what are we talking about? A prostitute? Listen. The other day I was told that each of these girls has to pay her madam eighty or ninety million lire in two years. That is forty-five thousand US dollars. I did some elementary arithmetic and I concluded that for her to be able to pay that amount in that time, she has to sleep with at least three to four thousand men. In two years! Tell me, a woman who has slept with four thousand men, is there anything left in her? Is she still a woman, a human being? I am telling you now, forget the report to headquarters. Don’t waste government paper. Was it not Shakespeare that said ‘Let the dead bury their dead?’”

It was hard to agree with the ambassador on this subject. Yet, arguing would give the impression of insubordination. Ufot made one last attempt.

“Your Excellency, with due respect, sir, these girls are victims, victims of their madams. They are still human beings. And out here I believe it is our duty as the eyes and ears of our government, to make a fuss, as it were, when an innocent Nigerian life is taken.”

“Innocent indeed! A prostitute, innocent? P-I-e-a-s-e.”

“Sir, your position is a personal one. Officially, I believe we should protest to our hosts and inform our ministry of the action taken.”

“If you insist… It is your career after all. It is your job. I am a bird of passage, here for a while. But you, you will stay on in the Service. So, do what the GO says …”

The GO was the Government Order that contained the rules of the public service; annexed to it was the Foreign Service Regulations. Every public officer had one.

“Another thing, sir. Next week we are off to Florence. There is a deportation exercise scheduled for the weekend.”

“Yes, that I support wholeheartedly,” Godsonn acknowledged. “Deport them. Most of them do not have Residence Permits anyway.”

“No, sir. However, those who do have, we do not deport.”

“I think you should. How can one have a Residence Permit and remain on the street? Can’t they use it to get better jobs? A factory work or some menial job?”

Godsonn and Ufot had been through this conversation before. In his earlier briefings, Ufot had told His Excellency that prostitution, per se, was not a crime in Italy, or in Nigeria, for that matter. The only reason these girls were being deported, was because they did not have the Permesso di Soggiorno as the residence permit was called. There was no reason to deport girls with permits. Ufot reasoned that his boss was a bit tipsy and decided to take his leave. There was no point in arguing with him now. He stood up.

“Thank you for the drink, sir. With your permission, I would like to take my leave now.”

“Oh yes, you have a busy weekend ahead of you.  However, before you go I’ll need some money. I wasn’t able to collect the per diem before leaving. So advise your accountant. Three nights.”

“No problem, sir. I shall deal with that forthwith.  Goodnight, sir.”

“Another thing. Is your wife back? I understand she travelled home.”

“I am expecting her in the next few days, sir.”

“How do you manage? I know you have a nanny, but the other department… especially with all this cold.”

“Oh, one gets used to it, sir.”

“A young man like you? I could never get used to that, my brother. That is why I have two wives, you see. When one is unable, the other is able. Anyway, all these girls you are deporting, make sure you do not collect toll before they enplane … It is dangerous o!”

“That would be suicidal, to say the least.”

“Just a joke, my dear, just a joke. Thanks. Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Excellency.”

*   * *

Chief Godsonn lay back to relax. He flicked the remote from Agassi’s Aussie Cup. He dwelt briefly on the CNN news channel before moving on to the cartoon network. That was his favourite. He dared not watch it in public but now that he was alone, he could indulge. He joined Tom in pursuing Jerry all over the screen, through the roof, eventually locking him up in the oven.

Godsonn was bored. Bored. He had come to Milan to escape from his domestic woes. But here, he knew no one, had nowhere to go. He called up his friend, Franco, but his wife said he went to South America and would not be back before the end of the month. He needed a woman.

When he knew he would be coming to Europe, his friends had told him to try out white women. So far, he had not done so. At the numerous cocktail parties, he usually stood by himself. He seized the opportunity to watch the female guests, trying to gauge who could be available or approachable. So far, nothing. They all looked dowdy, bored and troubled. He liked exciting, giggly, women with body. The younger ones he had seen were accompanied by men. And they were all so skinny like they had AIDS. He had read somewhere, that people with that sickness were usually very thin. He liked women with body. That way, when the lights are out, one will not be stretching his hand all over the place looking for her in the big bed. Ha! Ha! Ha … Here it seemed that thin, sickly, dry women were in vogue. “Count me out,” he said out loud. “Give me a big, sturdy, woman, any day.” He had thought of choosing one of his staff and making her his mistress, but jettisoned the idea immediately. If Ngozi ever found out, that would be the end of his work. She would kill the lady. Madame number-two dreaded the idea of being unseated by a third wife.

He did not feel like bedding his spouses. The senior wife, Awat, had tuned off since the arrival of a mate. She just lay there like a bag of semolina, as if to say, finish quickly let me go and do something profitabe with myself. He knew that if not for her children, she would have walked away from the marriage. It was hard for a woman to have a co-wife. It killed the spirit. She spent the whole day singing and humming religious tunes. She was there, but not available for anything reasonable or concrete.

Ngozi, the second wife, had been great before he brought her into the house. But she was no better. Whenever it was her turn to share his bed, she complained from the beginning to the end: the first wife did this, you bought this for her, her children this or that. He told himself again that he should not have married her. But he had spent so much on her as a mistress: several trips abroad, a second-hand car, and loads and loads of cash. He had even bought her a plot of land in the capital. He could not bear for another man to have her, to inherit all his investment on her. Now, she wanted to study everything under the sun: catering, fashion designing, computer, business studies, everything but stay at home. She had even gone to the Mission asking how much the ambassador’s wife allowance was. Luckily, the embassy staff had not obliged her. Otherwise, she would have insisted on collecting every cent. Was this how polygamous homes operated? Other men with many wives were living in peace, he, in pieces.

He knew what he would do. The next time she babbled, he would give her a sound beating. There was nothing like a sound beating to quieten a troublesome wife, he reasoned. He could do it if she did not get hold of a dangerous object first. That was what frightened him most. He recalled when she wielded a pair of scissors and threatened to cut off his precious penis. My God, why had he complicated his life by marrying that amazon?

He remembered the women’s conference on domestic violence and wife battery in Genoa. He had been right in telling about old Nick. Many men were suffering in the hands of their wives and the UN was doing nothing about it. Only thing was, that old Nick was no other person than himself.

I need a woman, a plain, simple, loving woman: a woman to love me for myself, not for how much I can supply her and her family: a woman to mother me, to care for me, to love me. He needed a woman somewhere, a refuge, a place he could go and get some quiet, and unwind, be himself. The Residence had become too rowdy, a mini-United Nations, he used to say. He spent half of his time settling quarrels between wives and their siblings. There was no peace. They lived high-tension lives, each suspicious of the other. Even to eat properly, in his house, was a problem, each wife claiming “I fed him yesterday. It is your turn today. What do you do with all the money he gives you?” Then the person whose turn it was would reluctantly shuffle to the kitchen and start something. At four o’clock! He had settled the problem by calling on one of his distant relatives. “Please, make sure that I have lunch when I return from work, even if it means going to the railway station, to the Nigerian restaurant there and buying ‘mama put’.”

As for entertaining guests at home, forget it. He had stopped when a loud shouting match had erupted in the kitchen between his two wives. With guests in the dining room! He had hurriedly excused himself and rushed into the kitchen. The women were at daggers-drawn, wielding knives and hot pans. He had threatened to call the police to lock them up for good, if he so much as heard pim again. The murderous look in his eyes must have convinced them. Since then, all entertainment of guests was done in restaurants in town. After all, government would pay and he would get some happy hour.

How can a man have two wives and be loveless, he asked himself again and again. Indeed, when a man marries his mistress, a vacancy is created.

Yes, he had found a good remedy in Milan. Any time he felt domestic discomfort, he would go on a “consular visit”. It was a good idea that the government had opened this consulate. The capital had become inadequate in catering to the needs of the Nigerian emigrants, majority of whom worked in the factories and enterprises that abounded in the northern part of Italy. It had been a choice between Milan, Turin and Genoa. The Government had chosen Milan. It was a bit more central, though Turin would have served just as well. Turin, Milan, any place to get away from home.

He turned off the lights and locked up. He went down the lift to the courtyard. The duty driver jumped to attention.

“Good evening, sir, Your Excellency.” He was from Albania, his English shaky.

“Let me have the keys. I can take care of myself.”

Halil gave the keys to the ambassador. He had no choice. But he would report to the Head of Chancery in case anything happened … Excellency looked tipsy.

“If you go straight on, sir, it will take you to Viale Manzoni. That’s downtown. Corso di Francia is farther on to the left. The Jolly Hotel is on that road.” Everyone knew that the ambassador usually stayed at the Jolly Hotel.

“Careful please, sir,” added the driver. “Italians are crazy drivers.”

“Now tell me, where do I find our sisters?” Godsonn asked, ignoring the warning.

“Our sisters, sir?” Halil repeated, uncomprehendingly.

“You know, your Albanian sisters and my Nigerian sisters.”

The Albanian driver understood what His Excellency meant. He described the way to the envoy.

Godsonn took over the steering, adjusted the seat and the rear-view mirror. He had not driven in over six months but that was no problem. He had driven many cars in his time. This 406 was a toy. Slowly, cautiously, he slid into the traffic. He knew that the diplomatic plates were not the best. “I must remember to ask for an unmarked car in future,” he told himself. He hoped he was sober enough. He had not had much to drink. But with this cold and the heater at full blast, the effects of a single glass of alcohol could spell trouble. Double trouble. He imagined the headlines. ‘Drunk diplomat in hit-and-run!’ “God forbid such a bad thing,” he said out loud, flipping his thumb against his middle finger. “I will serve out my tour without any mishaps and then go home quietly, to my business and politics.”

His wives did not cross his mind at all, as he headed for the red lights.

By BUKAR USMAN

It is an honour and privilege for me to address this international conference organised to discuss philosophy in Hausa musicology with some prominent Nigerien and Nigerian musicians as case studies. Among the musicians to be discussed are Dr. Mamman Shata from Nigeria and Mahamadou Gao Filingue, Mu’azu Dan Allalo, Garban Bojo and Mahamadou Maitama (Sogolo) from Niger. They all sang and entertained displaying great mastery of the Hausa language. Unfortunately, all of them are no longer alive. Thus, their works will be analysed posthumously. This is a great lesson for humanity. Great deeds and ideas outlive people. By studying their works, we would, deservedly, be paying tributes to them as well as benefitting from virtues they extolled in their music.

In paying philosophical attention to the music of these Hausa artists, the presenters and discussants may unravel for us some of the principles, concepts and beliefs underlying the lyrics of these traditional performers. It would be interesting to know what these artists, through their music, tell us about philosophical concepts of truth, existence, freedom, marriage, and anti-social behaviours, among others. As griots and praise-singers, these artists vocalised their perspectives on the events and important figures of their various societies. By studying their folkloric renditions, we identify the customs and practices behind their songs and what they say about various topics.

The resource persons who have come from far and near are expected to present the forms and philosophical contents of the songs of the various artists and highlight their relevance from socio-economic, political, religious, cultural and literary points of view. I trust that they would tell us much about the work of each artists. I believe that, at the end of this conference, we would have learnt so much to better appreciate the contributions of these Hausa musical performers.

Some people may recall the humble beginnings of some of these singers. Often, they start off as mere street urchins using rudimentary musical items to back up their performances. Soon, people are attracted to their captivating rhythms and meaningful lyrics. Over time, they grow in fame and perform for the rich and other notable personalities. 

Even though the artists being discussed in this conference took to singing as a profession primarily to entertain and earn a living, their lyrics mirrored the society and conditioned social behaviours. They not only focused on some individuals but also topical issues. Sometimes they do so humourously and caused no offence. They extolled virtues worthy of emulation and condemned societal ills. They put forward ideas in a soft and subtle way. They reasoned logically and carried their listeners along.

For example, the nagging issue of women of easy virtue became a subject of an argument between Dr. Mamma Shata and another musician, Ibrahim Danmani Caji. While Shata condemned prostitution, Caji reasoned that the society should not blame those engaged in the trade. To him, it was those who patronised them that should be blamed. His simple explanation was that, if one puts up an item for sale for days and no one turned up to buy, the vendor would not continue to display the goods.

The creativity of these folksingers who blossomed in our environment should be acknowledged. It is of interest to note that none of these artists significantly benefitted from Western education. Probably none of them formally studied music. They were simply gifted composers and singers. Some of them composed and rendered their songs spontaneously.

Though some of them lived in modern times, they relied almost exclusively on usage of traditional musical instruments for their performances. They dressed normally and led simple lives. They became notable artists with unique voices and musical sounds. Some of them became great social mobilisers, especially among the youth whom they advised against anti-social behaviours. Although some of them sang for the rich and important members of the society, others sang for ordinary individuals, elevating them to levels beyond their imagination. Their music and songs were enjoyed by many and mimicked by their admirers beyond the borders of their countries. This gathering is sufficient testimony to the fame and achievements of these folksingers.

However, we stand the risk of losing our indigenous musical heritage unless something is done to preserve this vital aspect of our culture. The youth of today, carried away by Western music, do not seem interested in inheriting their artistry. It, therefore, becomes imperative that we should urgently adopt a means of recording and documenting the musical arts and performances of this brand of folk artists for future generations. Since their songs are orally delivered and hardly written down, documenting the performances of the few folk artists who are still alive, though advanced in age, would enable us to capture their indigenous musical contributions for easy retrieval in future. It is risky to leave the task of preserving our folk musical heritage to oral tradition.

In our appreciation of the musical contributions of artists generally, there is need for caution as some musicians tended to encourage the committal of crimes and other social vices and need not be eulogised to the wider society.

Permit me to end this address by commending the collaborative effort and initiative of the Tahoua University of Niger Republic and Pleasant Library and Book Club, Katsina State of Nigeria. The collaboration is one of the healthy trends which I observed in recent times. Such earlier collaboration between organisations of both countries was that of the indigenous writers of Niger and Nigeria who came together in 2014 to honour a notable Niger academician, Prof. Hambali Jinji. Another was an International Colloquium on Cultural Diversity and National Identity by Abdou Moumouni University, Niamey, Niger Republic in 2016, to which Nigerians were invited. A more recent collaboration between Burkina Faso and Nigeria was that of the National Museum of Burkina Faso and Association Makaranta of Burkina Faso and Al-huda Women Educational Centre, Kano, Nigeria. These groups organised an international Hausa conference and cultural festival in Ouagadougou in April, 2017. It is my fervent hope that the trend would continue as that would promote healthy socio-cultural relationships and the pursuit of knowledge for the benefit of our peoples and countries.

Being a Keynote Address given by Dr. Bukar Usman on the occasion of the International Conference on Philosophy in Hausa Musicology, held at the University of Tahoua, Niger Republic, August 17-20, 2017.

Dr Kayode Kofoworola is a poet, literary critic and lecturer in the Department of English, University of Lagos, Akoka,  where he teaches English Literature, Literary Theory, World Literatures. Recently, he moderated a session on “Is the Critic Dead in Nigeria’s Literary Firmament?” at the 2017 Lagos Books and Arts Festival (LABAF). He was also a judge at the maiden edition of Quaramo Writing Prize where talented young writers were discovered and winners groomed for the future. In this interview with DAMIETE BRAIDE, he spoke on why some writers write for awards and his belief that African literature is not dying but undergoing a renaissance.

Recently you participated in the recent Lagos Books and Art Festival (LABAF). What’s your impression of book festivals in Nigeria?

In a strict sense, LABAF was not just a book festival but a festival of the arts. In that sense, making the idea of books to be appreciated is a fine and laudable one. Generally, book festivals in Nigeria have become emasculated, because they are just simply about selling books and not discussing the impact that books have on the people, and on the nation, and how books can be a mechanism for change. LABAF can be said to be a success: not only books were discussed, it also provided a forum for an interaction between participants and discussants to look at how the idea of book industry has impacted the country socially, economically and politically.

Nigerians still love literary events, as the turnout indicated. I think what is missing is the avenue for opportunities to be harnessed by ordinary people. It is a welcome development that LABAF was able to use Freedom Park at no cost. If this type of events are done in different parts of the country where people can have access to literary events, there will be an opportunity of people participating in literary events when is free. There is a nexus between the literary and music industry in Nigeria, and such an avenue provide opportunities for Nigerians to show their love for arts.

Do you think that books festivals in the country have impacted positively on the reading culture of Nigerians?

It is neither here nor there, because, when we talk about these book festivals, they are still highly limited to a certain audience and, because of this limitations, they have not been able to have the same impact that other book fairs like the Zimbabwe Book Festival or Frankfurt Book Festival, where thousands of visitors all over the world visit to buy books at very affordable prices. Our book fairs have always been a place where books are displayed, authors are not met, and most of the books are expensive.

In my own opinion, I do not think that book festivals, as presently organised in the country, have improved the reading culture. The other side for that is the kind of books that are displayed during the festivals. It looks like book festivals have more often tilted towards academic books rather than general reading books which is what ordinary people needs. It helps them to connect to their environment, society and events happening around their world. Many of the publishers seem to be more concerned about profitability which includes textbooks for secondary schools which students would buy and, in that wise, it has not really improved the reading culture. Also, publishers have skewed students towards passing examinations, which makes it difficult in that sense.

What is your writing regimen like?

My writing regimen is very eclectic. I write when I feel like writing, and I do so mostly in the night, because I have to leave home very early in the morning for work, arriving at work and working all through the day and later go back home late. When I get home on time in the evenings, I take a little rest and wake up in the middle of the night to do my writing. For me, the most convenient time to write is between the hours of 11pm to 5am, because that is when everywhere is quiet and the atmosphere is serene.

You were one of the judges during the maiden edition of Quaramo Initiative where talented up-and-coming writers were discovered. How true is it that judges are partial sometimes?

The Quramo Writers Prize is a welcome development, because it is a writer’s prize that is largely concerned with new writers who have not been published. It is the first of its kind in Nigeria, and I am very proud to be appointed as one of the judges and proud about the quality of work that we did in arriving at the final shortlist and eventual winners. What the organisers bring to the table is that it functions as a hub for young writers to be discovered. Ordinarily, most writers in Nigeria are not discovered: they are either self-publishers, which has its own consequences. Also, some of them are contracted to notable publishing houses who do not have their welfare at heart. Sometimes, it is even difficult to have access to these publishing houses at the initial beginning. The organisers provided a platform for young writers to be discovered and to be mentored. It is not just about winning the prize, but the winners receiving mentorship programmes and exposure for their writings.

It will not be out of place to say judges are humans, and they can be partial in the selection of winners. They don’t fall from the sky. So, they have sentiments.

What are the consequences of self-publishing you mentioned earlier, and do you encourage writers to go into it?

There are consequences for self-publishing, but it is difficult to discourage people from self-publishing, because the publishing industry is not mature enough as it presently stands for publishers to take the responsibility of publishing, distributing works to a wider audience. The danger of self-publishing is multi-faceted. Some of the dangers are the poor quality of language, the lack good proof-reading, disparity in the printing quality –most of the self-published works have so many defects and does not allow for checks and balances. All these things are not found when the books are published by renowned publishing houses. When an author does self-publishing, people would not be able to tell them that the quality of their work is not good, because they have paid for them; but when they submit their work to a publisher for review, the publisher has the right to accept or reject what the author has written, and it enhances the quality of what the author has done. Self-publishing does not guarantee the work from being plagiarised when compared to when a publishing firm should publish that work.

These days, there are so many literary awards in the country which are financially rewarding.Do you agree that writers now write because of these awards?

I agree, and that is the reason why many of the submissions are of poor quality, because these writings lack poor passion, quality and depth. That was why I said during the Quaramo Prize that one of the reasons I love the prize was because it was an attempt to discover writers with passion. When writers write for prizes, they structure their writing towards the requirements of the prize, which is usually structured for a particular genre. For example, some writers who have won the NLNG Prize for Literature structured their writing towards that genre of literature for that year. Many writers today are actually writing for the prize, and that is why most of them are turgid in their writings. Good writings take time to write and some writers complete their first novel in a couple of months, and they have not had all the opportunities to look at the characters, plots or idea to see if there is a connection in the text that they have written. Many people are writing for the purpose of money, and that is why there are a lot of poorly written works in the country.

In your paper, “The Court Jester in Nigerian Drama”, which you presented during a conference in England what was at the back of your mind?

In my paper, “The Court Jester in Nigerian Drama”, I was trying to establish that, unlike the assumption that the court jester was limited to the traditional setup and the idea of the court jester was basically of oral form that we have the court jester in textual examples, and the actual text that have been published, we have elements of court jester reproduced in actual texts that are published within our literary hub, I took the reader through the memory lane and mentioned that it is relevant to the discuss. In that work, I tried to trace the origin of the court jester, formation time, the origin as well as the functions of the court jester in traditional settings and I talked about his functions in terms of performance, his costume, use of language, and certain Nigerian selected texts.

The court jester can be seen as someone who used it as a tool to rally around against social injustice. The arguments that I made is that the court jester is not ordinary person, because even though he is assumed to be a fool, he is very intuitive, smart and wise, because, by virtue of the traditional protection that he has, he is one of the few persons who is able to look at the king in his face and tell him the truth in a humorous way that seems that he is not making meaning, but the people who are at the receiving end of his jokes knows exactly what he is saying. The court jester is strategically positioned to put the royalty in check in relation to issues of social injustice abuse he is protected by tradition to speak.

In “Landline and Booby Traps, Multilingualism and Translation in Nigeria”, you affirmed that we have to be conversant with various languages in the course of translation…

In the work, I was concerned with the way people engage translation of literary texts, especially in a society like ours that is multi-lingual, where a word can have various meanings among different tribes. I was concerned about how importance it is that in engaging in translation in a multilingual society, the translator does not engender a situation that leads to strife and chaos. I also looked at the language policy, publishing industry and translating in a multilingual society itself. I took the reader through the varying levels of translations. For example, if you want to translate a word from Hausa language to Igbo, you have to first interpret that world to English first before translating it to Igbo language that will make it easier for people to understand. I enjoin people that each time they make a translation; the original word still has its own potency, and this can be seen in Wole Soyinka’s Death and the Kings Horsemen. I advised people that there are many booby traps when they want to engage in translation and they must be watchful and mindful not to do a translation that is not acceptable to the audience that it is been translated to.

You have a collection of unpublished poems, when should your readers expect the published poems and which do you prefer to write: long or short poems?

I write a combination of short and long poems. I believe that the short poems are harder to write, but sometimes more fulfilling than the long poems which depends on how I feel moved to write about. Some of my poems are emotional, philosophical and some of my personal experiences. I hope to publish my collection of poems next year.

As a lecturer with specialisation in African and American literature, would you say that African literature is dying?

I wouldn’t say that African literature is dying, but African literature inspires of all its weaknesses. It is experiencing a measure of renaissance. Now, we have more people in African literature perhaps. Because of the atmosphere of poverty, lack and unemployment, we have more people willing to engage the arts to write, express themselves and to put it on paper. There is also a lot of going back to the roots with oral assets being deployed in writing. For example, in Prof. Niyi Osundare’s poems, you will see how complex his deployment of oral arts in his poetry.

By OLAMIDE BABATUNDE

Kunle Yusuf, the Lead Consultant of Above Media, has revisited Nigeria’s image laundering projectwith the release of the book,Appraisal of the Rebranding Campaign of the Federal Government of Nigeria. The book launch holds early next year in Lagos, Nigeria.

The offering examines the image crisis in Nigeria, attempts in laundering the image via rebranding, the reactions that the rebranding elicited and a prognosis on what could be done. This is, however, against the background of the image crisis the country suffered from between 1993 and 1999.

According to Kunle Yusuf, who is presently a PhD student of Public Affairs and Administration, Walden University, the image crisis during that period was largely attributed to Nigeria’s lack of democratic progress.

While arguing that the rebranding campaign seemed to be more of a cosmetic remedy, the author recommends, among others,that, beyond sloganeering, Nigerian government needs address the issues that gave rise to the image crisis in the first instance. This is the only way Nigeria can get out of the image quagmire.

Yusuf posited: a brand must be able to deliver on it promises. Has the country, as a brand, delivered on its promises of being a great nation? The above position and query summarise the skepticism with whichthe rebranding programmes of the past and successive governments anchored on.The rebranding project is important to the extent that a nation’s foreign image is a major index in judging her standing vis-à-vis other nations.

To that extent, therefore, the rebranding project of this administration –“Change Begins with Me”, was not only commendable but worthwhile. But, then, some questions must be posed: How did Nigeria acquire for herself an image crisis?  What has been the success of the rebranding project so far?

In the 123-page book, the author traces back the image crisis of the country to after independence. Nigerians had the picture of a positive image for Nigeria in the 1960s. The image was tarnished, in a way, by the country’s civil war. Especially under General Muritala Mohammed regime, the country’s image soared high in the world. Not only was the principle of Africa as centerpiece of Nigeria’s foreign policy eloquently given practical demonstration, Nigeria, indeed, assumed the properrole of an Africa leader. Her views were always sought on African affairs, even by the former colonisers.

According to Yusuf, in 1980s and 1990s, Nigeria’s image deteriorated –what could have brought this about for a nation, which, in the 1970s, was practically the toast of the international community? This book offers explanations for the negative image, which Nigeria projected in the 1990s.

Elucidating, Yusuf, said, to some extent, it could be argued that the negative image of Nigeria was part of the biases of the global system towards the African continent. We need, however, divert attention from the negative activities of a few bad eggs giving Nigeria a bad name and extol our virtues, he concludes.

Public Policy Formulation in Nigeria, Bukar Usman, Klamidas Communications, 2017, pp. 68

By Henry Akubuiro

The ability to levitate across multiple frontiers of knowledge is the hallmark of genius. Though not a university scholar, Bukar Usman makes scholarship look so easy from his closet. From creative writing, pan-African narratives, history, culture, governance, to security issues, he has demonstrated a cerebral nous in discourse. Public Policy Formulation in Nigeria is another testament of the depth of his profound wit.

On May 23, 2017, the author presented a paper on the same topic at the Institute for Security Studies (ISS), Bwari, Abuja. This handy book is based on the text of that lecture. Like he always does, Usman ensures his conference papers are secured for posterity and a wider audience by publishing them in book form.

Approaching public formulation in Nigeria with primary focus on constitution making as the major framework for public policy formulation for the country, he examines the metamorphosis of policy formulations in Nigeria from the pre-independence till date.

The treatise tees off with the definition of terms aimed at highlighting Nigeria’s historical background and the changes that trailed the socio-political and constitutional framework for the formulation of public policy in the country. While the pre-independence phase covers the advent of British colonial administration in Nigeria, the independence phase encompasses the independence era itself, civil rule in post-independence Nigeria and military rule in post-independence Nigeria.

Before a public policy statement is announced, it has to pass through seven stages, of which the crucial stages include agenda setting, consultation and policy enactment, says Usman.

The series of constitutions that were issued between 1914 and 1960, according to the book, sufficiently attest to the serious challenges faced in policy formulation. He writes: “Under the Indirect Rule system on which Lugard’s rule over the vast territory of Nigeria was anchored, traditional rulers were involved more in policy implementation than formulation. Under the system of governance, the traditional rulers enjoyed great latitude in running the affairs of their areas as sole authorities, under the watchful eyes of the British administrators…” (p 24). Notable constitutions that came into existence within this period were the Clifford Constitution (1922), The Richards Constitution (1947), the Macpherson Constitution (1952), and the Lyttleton Constitution (1954).

Examining the public policy formulation in post-independence Nigeria, which covers the period between 1960 till date, Usman describes it as a period of alternate fortunes for Nigeria, as the country rotated from democratic to military rule, leading to adverse effect on the evolution and institutionalisation of a sound framework for policy formulation that provides maximal satisfaction to the expectations of the people.

Thus: “There were no radical policy shifts following the immediate years after independence (1960-1963). In the critical area of the economy, government policies showed little signs of deviation from what obtained in pre-colonial times… The new indigenous rulers’ failure to generate turnkey policies in national consolidation and economic freedom resulted more from lack of cohesive political vision than from any relational disharmony between the executive and the legislature” (p.27).

Nigeria’s post-independence constitutions, writes the author, include the Independence Constitution (1960), the Republican Constitution (1963), the Presidential Constitution (1979) and the Presidential Constitution (1999). However, Usman regrets that “the nation is yet to strike the right balance in constitution-making in Nigeria for over a century”, especially the difficulty in accommodating, as much as possible, the socio-cultural diversity of the country.

The two phases of civil rule, he notes in the fifth chapter, are the parliamentary phase (1960-1966, the First Republic) modelled after the British parliamentary system, and the presidential phase (1979-1983, 1999-date) modelled after the American presidential system.

Aside the communications received from the executive, the legislature on its own could initiate a policy by motions and bills or resolutions, says Usman. The judiciary, too, has a role to play, he adds. Political party’s manifestoes also form part of the public policy after they have been smoothen out by bureaucracy.

The fifth chapter focuses on military rule in post-independence Nigeria, with the author assessing policy formulation in the nearly 28 years of military interventions in politics, which is autocratic and unitary-driven, but instrumental to state and local government creations; while the concluding chapters address confidentiality in policy formulation in which public servants are expected to be secretive about government secrets. It also examines the gaps, challenges and prospects of nationhood.

This book is a veritable research material for political scientists, public administrators, and the reading pleasure of the general reader.

Olamide Babatunde

It’s that time of the year that comes with Christmas trees, bright lights and holidays, which can only mean one thing: another festive season is here. Dubbed the most wonderful time of the year, most people attempt more acts of kindness if they haven’t done much through the year and, for the already philanthropic, it is one more reason to be nicer.

Invariably, one thing that is persistent with this season is the act of giving and sharing. Families spend time with each another, friends, loved ones exchange gift items with one another, and it is usually a merry time for all.

Following this, there is a surge in the number of shoppers wanting to get items for household consumption and gifting, making the commercial side of Christmas very attractive and lucrative. Nigerians, known to have a knack for festivity, go all out to patronise vendors of all scales who have wares displayed amidst bright red and shiny decors in order to meet up with the Christmas celebrations, with food supplies and clothing items topping the list of most shoppers after which thoughts and pennies are spared for gift items.

Mama Efe is a mother of three, and nothing is of utmost importance to her than food supplies and how to clothe her twins and the eldest. “I try to buy things early so that I can avoid the last-minute rush, because prices are cheaper at this time. I get my children clothes first, then drinks and food supplies that can take us into the New Year come later.”

Undoubtedly, this reality is not too different with many shoppers whose bucket list of items to tick largely is based on personality, needs and budget which determines how lavish they spend, but how lavish do people get when it comes to buying and gifting books during Christmas and New Year celebrations? There isn’t any limit to what can be gifted, but it seems the standard is set to gifting people with mostly edibles and things to adorn the body.

Ogechukwu Agwu is a freelancer, and she admits that she has never gotten a book(s) gift for Christmas. “Books are not usually in hampers, which fly around a lot; however, if you roll with a set of people who love books, you can get a book gift. It’s not like people do not read – I just think, generally, people prefer to gift

edibles or things people can immediately use during the festive period. Most of the book gifts I got are mostly in PDF because I do not like the hard copy”.

A stakeholder in the book business, Acting Managing Director, CSS Bookshop, Marina Lagos, Oludare Oluwatuyi, seems to agree with Agwu on the paucity of gifting books during festive season. He says, “Giving books as gifts or presents among Nigerians is not a common thing but they prefer to give gift like money, food items, clothes, drinks and beverages. Except for a few people who give books as gifts during Yuletide season I can say that it is a rare occurrence.

“Over the years, CSS Bookshop has tried to encourage customers to use books as gifts. We do package different types of books and give them as discount, so that they buy and give them to their friends. We found out that the patronage is very low, and it is not encouraging. However, people buy Bibles, motivational books, religious literature, and give them as gifts during Christmas. In order to encourage people to buy books as gifts during festive seasons, when they buy books, we help them to wrap and package the books at no cost for them to give out to their friends as gifts.

“As for me, I have received books/Bibles as gifts from friends, and I also give books as gifts to friends as well. Whenever we have a new consignment of books and I see books that are of interest to me, I will buy copies and give to them.

“I will encourage Nigerians to use books as gifts during festive periods and not just edible items alone. Many people will like to read but because their purchasing power is low, what is competing with their money is much, so, if they have a free gift as books, they will read them. Children read a lot of books; rather than give clothes or games, they should be given books which they will read.”

For Lola Akande, a lecturer with the University of Lagos, “Yes, I support books should be given as gifts during festive seasons, except that it is not common with Nigerians, because it is an evolving culture; it has not been with Nigerians from the beginning as the way people appreciate beverages, rice, food as gift items. For those people who appreciate books –that a book can actually change a life –they  will be glad if they are able to get a book free when compared to when they buy these books.

“Giving of books should be a culture that we should promote and encourage. It is also not about giving people books to read but also encourage them to read these books, because that is the essence. When food items, beverages clothes are given as gifts, they will use it, but, for some people, when they are given books, they will simply dump the books. I will say that people should give more of books as gifts so that it will change their lives when they read it and become better people in general. I have received books as gifts, but it is not tied to the season. I have been receiving and giving books. I don’t think the culture of giving of books during festive seasons is common with Nigerians.

“I admonish Nigerians to inculcate the habit of giving books as our way of life because books can actually help people more than the bags of rice. When they read these books, they will come across people’s experiences, and it will help them to resolve their own dilemma when faced with similar situations.”

Yacoub Adeleke also agrees with foregoing notions of giving, noting that it is not a part of us, and it boils down to the understanding people have of Yuletide season as a time to eat drink and make merry. For this reason, it hardly comes to the mind to give something as much or less as a book. He says that he has given books out on the occasion of birthdays to people who would appreciate by reading to motivate them.

“Also, I give books to people so that we can try and open some discussions and make reference to something they may not understand in that book,” he adds.  A tone of slight conviction almost on the contrary came from  Ikyeleve David, an artist and painter, who hints that books are usually given as gifts during Christmas and New Year celebrations, but  mainly for “academic purposes to  students from their uncles and aunties but on the secular level, I don’t think people do it, although I have received motivational/inspirational books as gifts from friends during Christmas period. I read them and have gained a lot from these books as they have helped me in my day-to-day activities,” he concludes.

Sometimes, when people know the mindset of their friends, they can give them books that they know they love to read. Obviously, the trend is on a low mark and already points towards the fact that the reading culture has a lacuna that needs urgently to be filled if the future generation are to have intellectuals worthy Yuletide season should be encouraged to take the mantle of leadership.

There is need to encourage the trend according to Lekan Akinyeye, an entrepreneur and business man, who also believes the situation in the country and the stress that people encounter has killed the interest and ability to enjoy reading. He remarks that “giving of gifts as books is the best gift people can get, because the books will develop them when they read them and opens their eyes to new things.”

With Otunba Tunji Sotinmirin, the story is quite the same: “It is very insignificant number of Nigerians who give books as gifts during festive seasons, because they believe that it is a season when they have to celebrate, and their concept is to give things like food, clothes that people really need at that point in time. The least that they can think of is giving of books. I have received from books, Bibles from friends/pastors as gift items perhaps not during Christmas period which I have read. You cannot force people who do not have the orientation of giving books to people to read, because they believe that it will improve their understanding of certain things.

“I advise that people should continue to give books as gifts, as some people will appreciate the books they are given, because they will read it. Inasmuch as people will continue to give food, clothes as gifts during festive seasons, likewise people should continue to give books as gifts as well. In future, you will marvel at the response and reactions of people who receive such gifts and translate the ideas they come across in the books that will be beneficial to them.”

Without losing the essence of this festive season as time to make merry and exchange gifts, what goes around should not only be supplies for the body –the mind should also be put into consideration and, as such, trained to function at its best for the benefit of all. A mind filled with wisdom will do much better than a belly full of food.

Eriata Oribhabor is one of Nigeria’s prominent literary activists. A former Chairman, Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA),Abuja Chapter, he has driven PIN (Poets in Nigeria), Nigerian Students Poetry Prize, Poetry Festival Calabar, among others, to a new height. Also one the most visible proponents of Pidgin English (Naija languej) as a as a medium of literary communication, Oribhabor is interviewed by HENRY AKUBUIRO in Lagos on his love for poetry, which has seen him channel so much energy and resources to making it endearing to Nigerians, especially, especially the younger generation. This, he admits, comes with a prize: he has to starve his family to make it possible. 

You have been at the forefront of literary activism in Nigeria for a decade now. How has the journey been? I am particularly fascinated by what you have achieved with PIN within a short time…

PIN started in Lagos in October 2015, and I came to Lagos January 2014. In Abuja, prior to my chairmanship of ANA Abuja, I was deep in promoting Pidgin English (Naija lanquej format), trying to standardise it as a form of literary communication. Thereafter, I became the chairman of the Association of Nigerian Authors, Abuja chapter. I was also the coordinator of 1000 Poets for Change, a foreign initiative. The literary activism actually predated my chairmanship of ANA, because I was doing so many things. Then I wrote a book, Abuja na Kpamgba; edited another book on Naija languej entitled If You Hear Say I dey Prison. You can see I started promoting literary activities before coming to Lagos.

While in Abuja, I encountered many people, who considered themselves the gods of ANA in Abuja, who were not comfortable having somebody they never knew well to come and head the association in Abuja. So, they were out to frustrate my efforts, but I came with new perspectives, completely different from their style, and mine became a successful tenure. My team sensitised younger ones from the city centre to the suburbs (as far as Suleja, where we had secondary schools coming from that area). We even set up a branch of ANA at Gwagwalada, which we called Junior ANA of the Federal College of Education.

So, at every reading, we had different people coming from all over the town, and Abuja became so exciting due to literary activities. At that time, we brought new perspectives to hosting authors. I spent personal resources to turn the association around, for ANA, as a body, did not have the resources. What was interesting was that we discovered that, once a credible body was in place where people could verify how their money was spent, people started paying their dues, and we made it as a rule that, if you were not financially up-to-date, you would not enjoy the same benefit as others. Finance, therefore, was a major problem. Personally, I was committed to bringing in new ideas to turn the association around. Even when Remi Raji, the former ANA President, was hosted in Abuja, he admitted that he had been hosted outside the country but not in Nigeria, even in Ibadan. He acknowledged that he had never seen that kind of hosting in Nigeria before. The hall was filled to capacity. We hosted many authors. We also utilised the social media to the fullest, creating beautiful banners that were unknown before.

The bring-down syndrome was the major problem from the otherwise gods of ANA –I don’t want to mention names; they know themselves. Some of them also felt you could not become an executive member of ANA or the leader except they endorse you. Even, if they endorse you, you have to grovel at their feet to get their full support. But I came from nowhere with the endorsement of Denja Abdullahi, who, actually, was behind my becoming the president of the association due to his determination to restore the dignity of ANA Abuja. I think ANA, as a body, helped to bring me to literary limelight in Nigeria in the sense that it also made people know you don’t really need to be a writer to manage a writers’ body. What you need is somebody passionate about what he is doing, somebody who has management skills with different bodies. Even though I had not written any book before then, when I reeled off my CV, they were delighted to have me chair the Abuja chapter of the association.

Talking about Pidgin English, you have been committed to having it as a medium of communication. What’s the latest on the actualisation of Naija languej?

The process we are at the moment is the collection of corpus from all over the country being done by the Institute of French Research, coordinated by Professor Bernard Caron, a professor of anthropology, who actually suggested Naija languej during the conference on Nigerian Pidgin in Ibadan in 2009 as the name for our pidgin English, for “Naija” was, according to him, the most popular word every Nigerian was associated with. The corpus being collected at the moment was to get the variants of the language from all over the country so that it would become really a standard language. At that time, they came up with spellings. These spellings are still being updated now to see that they will be accepted to the generality of the people.

As an individual, my work in Pidgin English started before I attended that conference in Ibadan. I was to do a dictionary of Pidgin English, which I had done. With the new perspectives coming from the Institute of French Research, I had to hold on.  I have been working with a lexicographer in Benin for many years to see how I could get my own version of the Naija languej dictionary. Frankly, a lot of extensive work is ongoing by the Institute of French Research. Bernard Caron used to be the chairman, but no longer, though he had gotten some funding to keep the research going before he left. We are hoping that, all things being equal, my partnership with the Benin lexicographer will get my dictionary of Naija languej out.

In Southern Cameroun, Pidgin English is already a lingua franca. Would you like such a replication in Nigeria?

That’s the goal: to make Pidgin English the official lingua franca. In fact, Pidgin English is already the unofficial lingua franca, but becoming the official lingua franca, it requires government buying, because the people will not force the government to do what it doesn’t want to do. It is those in government who will decide that it will be the official lingua franca with the required statistics to make it so. Yes, that’s the goal for any promoter of Pidgin English to see it becoming the official lingua franca.

Why do you support it as the official lingua franca?

This is so because more Nigerians speak Pidgin English more than the official lingua franca itself. Of course, millions of Hausa speak Hausa language and some people who are not Hausa understand Pidgin English; the Igbo and Yoruba –the two other major tribes –speak their languages, but they also speak Pidgin English. Pidgin is more at home south of Nigeria than the north. So, if it becomes the official lingua franca, it means that many people won’t have the tension and struggle they go through to communicate with one another. It is already a language of communication that should be endorsed by the government. It shows –even in the National Assembly. Outside the formal sectors, everybody speaks Pidgin. It’s just like you came out from the classroom, because you didn’t understand what the lecturer taught you, then someone else who understood it started explaining it to you in Pidgin English. So, why didn’t the lecturer teach you in Pidgin English?

The truth of the matter is that Pidgin is what runs this country –everybody knows that. Its value economically is so wide that, if you look at it in the area of translation, there will be a lot of translators; people will get employment. Translators either from Hausa to Pidgin or Pidgin to Hausa. The same goes for other languages. I know of a female poet, a Mexican-American, who lives on translation, translating from Spanish to English and English to Spanish. How would it look like to have thousands of Nigerians translating Pidgin to English –they may be doing it unofficially –and we have teachers of Pidgin English in school? Honestly, the country will be better off. What of in tourism? What about the music industry or comedy? 

For most plays that are run on the television, whenever there is a spice of Pidgin, everybody is elated. This is the language that runs in the vein and blood of the people. Why should government turn a blind eye to it? The blue chip companies –MTN, GLO, name them –all use pidgin to drive their products. It, then, means that Pidgin is not something to be treated with levity. Look at what the comedians are doing with Pidgin! There are so many reasons why Pidgin English will be made the official lingua franca, especially when it is standardised in the Naija languej version. It will not only be widely spoken but will be used as medium of communication.

You are the brain behind the Nigerian Students Poetry Prize –the second edition was held in Enugu this year. How has the fire caught up with budding bards in the universities as expected?

Nigerian Students Poetry Prize was an initiative of a young man called Kolade Olarenwaju Freedom, who sold the idea to me, and he wanted it to be driven by PIN; and I bought into the idea, because I felt, if you wanted to promote writing or performance of poetry in this country, it was better to go back to tertiary institutions. We could have gone to secondary schools, but we settled for tertiary institutions. To the amazement of many people, they never knew a host of students write poetry. They felt poetry wasn’t popular. What inspired this was to take poetry to the younger generation and to see a day will come where we will not only be talking about Wole Soyinka and Chinua Achebe, and others. We also have create platforms for the younger generation to hone and showcase their skills. So, with this kind of initiative, we believe that the younger generation of students will be thrown up as poets, who could hold their own when we talk about poetry and literature.

PIN caused a stir during the recent Lagos Book Festival with the unique programme on the poetry of Chris Okigbo…

According to the call, it believed that after fifty years of Okigbo’s death, there should be young poets who have read his works and should write adaptations of some of his works. When I announced it, young poets were excited at the invitation and, within a month or two, they started turning in their entries, which were published in the anthology presented at Freedom Park, Lagos, during the book festival. J.P. Clark, who was present that day, was delighted with the performance of these poets that he kept referencing them in subsequent events at the festival. The vision of PIN is to be Nigeria’s foremost literary hub driven by poetry, and the mission is to provide easily accessible literary form dedicated to poetry and poets in Nigeria towards enhancing the reading and performance of poetry and connecting poets for business. 

The PIN Quarterly, our literary magazine, is now in its eight edition, and is available online, with people sending entries from different parts of the world. It is considered a major reference material. According to reports from the secretary of the organisation, students’ feedback suggested that it is being used in the university to make references.

What keeps you going as a literary promoter, because you are involved in some many activities at the same time?

Most of these events are financed by me. I starve myself and my family to keep them going. If my immediate family members know what I put in for poetry, it may startle them. But the truth of the matter is that I still meet my domestic needs, and they encourage me, because they also see that I derive happiness from the things I do. So my happiness becomes the happiness of the family. I am also grateful to having young, committed people around me. Right now, we don’t get any support from corporate bodies. Sometimes I get support from individuals. The Nigeria Students Poetry Prize will be hosted by Godfrey Okoye University, Enugu, in 2018.

By Henry AKUBUIRO

The opening gambit of the performance was a hypnotic scene. With frenetic steps, the cast of seven poets suddenly appeared at the dim lit Subterranea wing of SPAR, Ilupeju, Lagos, venue of the performance of the poetry play, Finding Home, standing sentinel for a while before a voice rang out interrogating the tempora mutantur.

The cast –Efe Azino, Titilope Sonuga, Tanasogol Sabbagh (a German), Obi Ifejika, Chika Jones, Ndukwe Onuoha, Adesola Fakile –are better known as performance poets. But, with Finding Home, poetry segued with drama, and the thespian transition came with relative ease. Elevated diction was a given on the night; song was thrown into the mix and theatrics trailed vocal renditions. Sentimental tunes played in the background to add to the surreal atmosphere. It was an eclectic experiment.

Much of the story was told in English, but the German poet, Sabbagh, codeswitched with Deutsche. If you couldn’t understand a word of what she said in Deutsche, relax: you could feel the energy and alternating emotions in her voice and gesticulations, which goes to show that it wasn’t hunky-dory yet. Still, it isn’t in real life.

Finding Home was first put together in 2014 by Efe Azino and his poetic ensemble, borne of the desire to explore the idea of identity, what with the tales of Africans forcefully migrating to Europe and its perilous aftermath either on the sea or in Europe itself. Some even perish in the Sahara desert before getting to Libya. 

The recent CNN report of Africans being sold as slaves in Libya against their will elicited a backlash all over the world. What were they doing in Libya in the first place? Yes, they saw Libya as a gateway to cross over the Mediterranean Sea on their way to Europe. Many perish on the sea, while some make it only to lead a life of uncertainty in the west.

Africans aren’t the only ones fleeing their continents for greener pastures these days, though. No thanks to the Egyptian revolution in 2011, which saw the same happening in the Arab world, leading to civil unrests and wars in some cases, disillusionment has exacerbated, and everybody is heading to Europe for succour.

Finding Home explores the conditions that force them out of relative comfort into uncertainty in Europe, especially from an African perspective. In September, 2017, it was enacted in Berlin, Germany, with the support of Goethe Insitut. It was the turn of the Lagos audience to see the show once again on December 9 and 10, 2017.

Said Azino: “When you look at Libya crisis with many Africans crossing over to Europe, sometimes in the sea, it is very pathetic. It is one of the responsibilities of arts not just reflect society or interpret society but to also help shape it. That’s what we are trying to do.”

The storyline is verismilitudinal, for it echoes contemporary African realities. The ride on the defunct Nigeria Airways from their abode to Lagos was the catalyst to sing the blues of yesteryears, even today’s.  Mind you, home is a metaphor for comfort, but when it turns to discomfort, do you still get rooted to the spot? For some, getting trapped in a dingy station of life isn’t worth it. A better home has to be found.

In the case of the characters in Finding Home, the dystopian reality in the countryside has made it inevitable to leave for the city. Lagos is the first port of call. Life, they soon find out, isn’t a bed of roses in the city, and the trajectory leads up north on the way to an imaginary oasis.

In the west, they are also unwelcomed guests. Doing menial jobs to survive and send money home, and taking to prostitution and crimes become a resort. Even at that, the police is after the illegal émigré.  Running from pillar to post to escape the hands of the law becomes inevitable, but for how long? At the end, disillusionment stares them in the face and the flux never ends: where is home?

One of the narrators reminds us at the nadir of their hope abroad that “…desperation stalks us in this illusion” with “deflated optimism and punctured enthusiasm”. The bizarre twist to this tale is having promising African youths playing the Clarus and Gringory in Europe. Sad as it is, the dereliction of responsibility by African authorities is something of a concern here –not only the African youths with pipe dreams of Eldorado deserve the stick! Finding Home is germane to today’s socio-political talking point. 

By Damiete Braide

The last edition of Literary Crossroads Nigeria, organised by Goethe Institut, Nigeria, was an explosive one, as Africa’s renowned poet, scholar, Prof Niyi Osundare, took the audience memory lane on his writings, views about literature in Africa and his comparison between the first generation of writers and the second generation of Nigerian writers.

The conversation was moderated by Kunle Ajibade, with Prof Niyi reading excerpts from his latest poetry collection, I Wake Up This Morning, which is about his travels in Africa. He recalled, “The essence of art is to connect, and literature makes it possible for all minds to link up.”

He disclosed that his poem, “I think of Change” was one of his most anthologised poems. “It has been on the London Tube twice, it run for six weeks during the London 2012 Olympics and it has been translated in different languages in the world. I got a letter from an individual who wrote that he thought that I am a pastor and I responded, I am not far from it,” he said.

The moderator, who began by describing Osundare as one of the most accomplished and famous members of the progressive and radical generation of writers after Chinua Achebe and Soyinka’s, together with Femi Osofisan, Odia Ofeimum, Tanure Ojaide, Osi Enekwe, Chimalum Nwankwo, among others, usually referred to as “the altar-nate” generation, sought to know the context of their radicalisation.

Responding, Osundare said, “I think every generation has to look at what it has inherited, and then think of what it has to do with it –as Frank Fanon would say, you either betray it or fulfil it. Our relationship with the first generation of African writers is a long love relationship. It looks like a Freudian thing. For every new generation of writers or artistes, the first thing that they want to do is some desk-clearing. They want to say a few words about those who preceded them so that they can create some space for themselves.

“Ours was not so deliberately, maybe it was deliberate; but it wasn’t similar. I have so much respect for  late Prof Chinua Achebe, because he had influenced many, and I told him before his death, ‘Thank you for writing Things Fall Apart, or I would not have been a poet or probably would have been a different poet.’ He would say that his work was a novel, and I would say, “Yes, I am looking at the style in it.”

Osundare admitted theirs was a rebellious generation. He recalled, “When I was in secondary school, some of my class mates and I went to meet our principal and told him, ‘We have been studying British Empire’s history, literature etc., what about something African?’ Our principal told us, ‘well, the books had already been allocated to us, and we have bought them’, and we told him that we wanted to study African history and literature. The first question he asked us was, ‘Who is going to teach the subject?’ And it was not an idle question at all. African literature, as we know it, did not exist at that time. African history was even more absent.

“After one week, we went back to meet our principal, and he said, ‘Take it, you are on your own.’ And we were on our own, and we literary studied African literature on our own. We went into poaching books from different places, going to other schools to look at their notes, and we discovered things like the empires of Ghana, Mali, Songai, Benin, Yoruba kingdoms, Zulu Kingdom etc. And we said, ‘You mean all these existed, yet some people said there was no African history?’ That was how the radicalisation began.”

The poet was miffed that Africans always left “what is ours, disdained it, and dispossess it of all value, and, then, hunger for something that is out there.” He explained, “Among our people, a poem is not a poem until it is shared, and the hard and fact mechanical distinction between song and poetry does not exist in most African languages that I know. Our generation saw this, and there was revolution in two ways: revolution in the subject that we had to deal with, and we have to move really closer to the people who suffered. Secondly, we cannot do this unless we speak in the language that our people will understand.”

Interrogating Osundare further, Ajibade recalled Osundare’s preface to Midlife,  (1989), where he echoed that “The world I see is bent…”, and asked him to react  to the world that of today and how writers, philosophers and other humanists could strengthen a world now contemptuous of the elite, to which Osundare responded, “If I were to write now, I don’t know if I can really write the same way. I was about 40 years, and the sun was right above my head; there was something heady, something almost over confident about the statement and also something visionary.

“I asked myself, who are you that you think that you are going to do this? Who are you that you think that you are going to change the world? I think it is human to ask those questions, but we must never leave them there because of the truth of possibility. It is possible. Societies don’t change in one day. I am a student of history, and I know that it has always taken a vanguard of a few who think and are able to project their ideas and sell these ideas to the people to allow the society to change.

“Each time I refer to the French Revolution, I often tell people, when did the French revolution begin, and they will say, 1789. But I will say no; it began 300 years before then, when people suffered because of the ideas they were projecting; when monarchy was absolute and one word from the king could lead people to cut your head even if you were in London.”

He reminded all that the world saw in 1789 was “an outburst into the world”, adding, “everything had boiled over and the boil had ripened, and was about to burst. If a revolution is not prepared for, it will claim its own children; it wouldn’t succeed. It takes a vanguard of people, and this is why writing is so important. Education makes people easy to lead but impossible to enslave. When I was working on it, I was asking myself, now I am 40, how old is our world? What have I done in these 40 years? Am I looking forward to the next 40 years?

“I looked around me, particularly our country Nigeria and Africa, and I see suffering all the time and, at times, we managed to smile even as we suffered. And asked again, is it not possible to live differently? What about the injustice in our world? All these things were in my mind when I wrote it. I made a solemn pledge to myself that the people would find solace in my songs. That was about the time that I started my poetry column in a newspaper, and some people would, ‘What are they writing? Nobody will read them.’ It is a lie; people read in this country. Our world would have been different if we had not been writing and shouting.

“So many things are happening in our world today that I never knew would ever happen. The coming of President Trump should be taken seriously by every human being in this world. Hitler did not happen by accident; Idi Amin did not happen by accident; Abacha did not happen by accident. Each time, I go to the Holocaust Museum, I ask myself, ‘One man did all these?’ One man cannot make an army! One man cannot lead people to the gas chambers. One man cannot constitute a death squad like Abacha did and put people in prison. I used to despair, what can we do? Now, I am beyond despair; I have come to the state of challenge. If this world is right and just, it is we who know we are responsible for it. If this world is crooked and wicked, it is also our responsibility. It doesn’t matter our gender, ethnic or race, religion; we have to take our fate in our hands.” 

Asked to assess Nigerian literature now and his advice to young writers, Osundare responded, “It is a mixed bag. I think a lot is happening; our people are writing. It is more difficult to write, and the circumstances under which we find ourselves. The most difficult thing to do in this country is to think. Our country makes it difficult for people to think, stand and stare. Writing is difficult; it’s never gets easier. Some people would say, when you have done it for so many years, you get used to it. Writing is not like learning to ride a bicycle, after some time, it becomes a reflex action. Every work you have to create, create its own problem.

“There is noise pollution in the environment from churches and mosques, we haven’t achieved the status of a country that encourages creativity or reflectiveness and meditation. We are too loud and too perfunctory in this country. Our environment is hostile to thinking. Africa is a dangerous place to think and act, but, then, should we then leave it at that? No! People are still thinking and acting at the same time.

“Nigerian literature is buoyant. In terms of equation, I think so much poetry is been written. In certain years, the number of poetry produced will equal the number of books written in other genres. Nigerian writers are working hard, but quality is an issue. So many books are pushed out when they are not really ripe yet.  It takes time to write a good poem, story or play. They need patience and wisdom as writers. When you have read a good work of art, you can never be the same person. It takes humility, and writers should be the first critic of themselves before other people will see their work. Writers should not be envious of themselves, because the sky is enough for a thousand birds to fly. They should wait for their time, and they will make it.”