Showing posts with label Osondu Nnamdi Awaraka. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Osondu Nnamdi Awaraka. Show all posts

March 07, 2018

A Decade of Blogging | Incessant Scribble

19 Y.O. The night before I turned 20
Ten years ago in an internet cafe on the University of Nigeria, Nsukka campus I created this blog site and published my first blog post titled My Blogenesis. I was there that night with Onyeka Nwelue but he was at a different computer station because that night the cyber cafe was packed. I had needed convincing by my friends Eromo Egbejule and Nwelue (both of whom had blogs at the time) to begin blogging because my major worry was starting the blog and lapsing into irregularity. I was also secretly worried and nervous about putting myself out there and opening myself to scrutiny and criticism. That night I took a leap of faith because they gave me wings and here I am ten years later. Ten years. I was nineteen years old sitting in the cafe that night, 14 days away from turning twenty. I'm twenty-nine years old right now sitting in my apartment, trying to compose this post before heading out to work, 14 days away from that scary number THIRTY. 30 years old. Ohhh myyy gawdd. "What am I doing with my life?" is a question I've asked myself countless times in the past. It's a question that pops into my mind with increasing frequency as these few last days of my twenties flash by.


29 Y.O. This morning. 
I had long imagined that to celebrate this anniversary I would conjure up a thoughtful and lengthy blog post chronicling the last ten years of my life but when I woke up this morning I knew it wasn't going to happen lol. However, it's necessary that I point out the three years break I took from blogging. I started working on getting into pharmacy school the year I moved to America and by 2010 things were heating up. There was lots of stress and pressure as I combined school, secular work, and increased responsibilities at home for the first time in my life. No matter what I had on my plate I needed amazing grades to get into pharmacy school. I was scared of failure and did not want to be distracted so I abruptly restricted all access to this blog site. I locked it up and threw away the key. I have zero blog posts from August 2010 to March 2013, a span of about three years. My leisure reading dipped really low during that hiatus but I'm glad I kept reading. One of the books I always regret not blogging about is Brian Chikwava's Harare North. I wish I had shared how much I enjoyed that book. It wasn't until the end of my first year of pharmacy school that I returned to blogging as a way to deal with the stress of school. Chimamanda Adichie was about to release Americanah and the email from her Nigerian publishers requesting that I announce their release of her novel was the extra push I needed to get back to blogging. I haven't taken any breaks since then.

I had hoped that by today I would have reviewed at least 100 books on this blog site but 77 book reviews from 18 different African countries isn't too shabby. Incessant Scribble has been an incredible blessing in my life. The fact that I've done all of this single-handedly makes me so proud. So freaking proud. I need to thank Onyeka Nwelue & Eromo Egbejule for the love and these wings. I need to thank all my readers. I need to thank all my favorite bloggers who constantly inspire me to work harder at this. I need to thank everyone who visits this blog, subscribes to this blog, tweets, comments, shares and likes my blog posts. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you soo much. You encourage me in more ways that you know. The next decade of my life will undoubtedly bring a lot of change and I'm not yet certain about my plans for this platform that I've cultivated. Whatever I decide I'll keep you posted.

Much Love,

Dr. Osondu Nnamdi Awaraka

November 14, 2016

Blogger Spotlight on Mary Okeke Reviews


Mary Okeke Reviews is one of my favorite literary blogs out there. Its creator Mary Okeke recently began the Blogger Spotlight series on her blog and yesterday she featured me! It's a really good interview and I'm grateful to Mary for the feature. Head over to Mary Okeke Reviews to find out more about me and my blog Incessant Scribble. Enjoy!

[Image via MaryOkekeReviews]

October 24, 2015

TBR Book Tag!

I got tagged to put up a "To-Be-Read" post by Darkowaa of the beautiful and inspiring blog, African Book Addict. Here are my responses to the TBR questions. Enjoy!

1. How do you keep track of your TBR pile?
I have a post-it widget on my computer that I use for everything. There's a post-it with my To-Do list of everything academic and then there's a post-it with my TBR list for my blog. I'm constantly moving around the titles, adding to the list, and changing my book review choices for any particular month. It's always there when I turn on my computer. I like it a lot. It helps me keep track of everything I need to do.

2. Is your TBR mostly print or e-book?
It's 99% print. I only read e-books when I have to. E-books are actually really convenient but I prefer print. I think I always will.

3. How do you determine which book from your TBR to read next?
I buy the books I'm interested in reading and I keep them on my bookshelf. Selecting what book to read next from my bookshelf is random a lot of the time. Book covers are very enticing so I could reach for a book on my shelf based on that. Sometimes it's based on the number of pages because I have a fixed window of free time between semesters. Sometimes I select a book based on who the author is.

4. A book that has been on your TBR the longest?
Right now it would be between Tolulope Popoola's Nothing Comes Close and Eghosa Imasuen's To Saint Patrick. I'll get to them one day I promise. 

5. A book you recently added to your TBR?
Darkowaa posted today because she got tagged. I read her post and ordered Baking in Kigali by Gaile Parkin AND Kabu Kabu by Nnedi Okoroafor on Amazon before settling down to pen this post. Good job Darkowaa :).  

6. A book on your TBR strictly because of its beautiful cover?
I like the cover of Alain Mabanckou's Tomorrow I'll Be Twenty a lot and so I bought it. It's not the only reason I bought it but it's one of the main reasons. Again I saw it featured on the African Book Addict blog soo... Good job Darkowaa! My money go soon finish. 

7. A book on your TBR that you never plan on reading?
I wouldn't say I "never plan on reading" but I know deep inside that it would have to be the only unread book on my shelf before there's even the slightest chance that I will read it. I won't mention the book title. 

8. An unpublished book on your TBR that you're excited for?
Right now it's The Longings of Jende Jonga by Imbolo Mbue (I'm aware the title has changed but whatever). It's the book whose movie rights were sold for seven figures. I can't wait. I wasn't aware that Teju Cole had a new book coming out until I read Darkowaa's post so I'm excited about that. I hope I can finish Open City before the new release. It has been on my TBR for a while.

9. A book on your TBR that everyone recommends to you?
White Teeth by Zadie Smith and The Famished Road by Ben Okri have been recommended to me since forever. I need to finally read them. I've booked them for 2016. 

10. A book on your TBR that everyone has read but you?
The Famished Road by Ben Okri. 

11. A book on your TBR that you're dying to read?
The Longings of Jende Jonga

12. How many books are in your Goodreads TBR shelf?
I use Shelfari more often than I use Goodreads and I have the Shelfari bookshelf widget on my blog. My Goodreads TBR shelf has 6 books. 

May 15, 2014

My Exodus from the Den of Lions

The week I went to get my things out of the University of Nigeria was the same week the school hosted the NUGA Games. It wasn't coincidental that I was there at that time. I had planned to pick up my things the same week the games were slated to begin. With one last week to spend in the University of Nigeria before leaving for the United States, I decided to have FUN. We might not define "fun" in the same way, but I had fun. I cheered hard for the school team and other high achieving contestants, made new friends, chatted with old friends and said my good-byes in subtle ways. I had a few things I wanted to do before leaving Nigeria and I'm glad to say I did most of them. One of the things on my mental list was to climb the hills of Nsukka.

Enugu, the name of the state the university is situated in, means "on top of the hill". I thought it'd be absurd for me to leave there without ever actually climbing a hill to the very top. On the night the games closed, there was a bonfire party in front of the Akintola hostel. I've been a student there for nearly three years and I've never been to one. All I've known, if I can be honest with you is that students burn motor tires and dance to loud music. That's true but leaving it at that is a little colourless. It's a wild kinda party, people dancing, drinking, shouting and letting off steam the fun way(That's still probably colourless but you can attend one and describe it better).

Back to the hill "mission". On Sunday morning, March 8th, before 8 am, I decided to climb the hill closest to the vet department. I picked my sleeveless hoodie from my temporary room in Zik's flats and boarded a bike to Odim gate. I walked through the gate briskly because the air was really cold that morning. I turned at the junction before the Engineering department and walked far down on the dirt road. I walked past many villagers struggling for water at the pump that morning and continued to the base of the hill, hood on my head, hands in my hood pocket.

It took me about 3 minutes to climb and it caused my breathing to become faster. I was tempted to sneak a peek at the view as I climbed but I resisted and waited till I got to the top and then I turned taking it all in instantly. It was wonderful guys. It really was. The University of Nigeria lay at my feet. I was alone on top of the hill. There's a circular concrete structure on top of the hill. I went to it and saw the scrawls of hundreds of students who had come up there before me. I picked up one of the mud-red stones abundant on the hill top and searched for a clear patch to scribble my name. There was none. I found two parts of a broken cement block, placed them one upon the other and chose a high spot on the part of the wall that faced the forests. I wrote:

"Osondu Awaraka was here 7:57am 08-03-09"

I stood back to admire it then went forward and retraced the words so that it would stand out more. When I was satisfied, I scattered the blocks. My scribble was the brightest red that day compared to all the others. The rain and sun had weathered the others and I knew my scribble would inevitably be dulled by weather conditions on the hill. The next thing I did was to pee facing outwards. Not facing the school O! I faced the dark green forest that had a heavy mist hanging above it. It was all dense green with tiny footpaths here and there. Relieved, I went to the front of the hill that faced the school and sat down, admiring the layout of the school. I noticed that in some areas, the grass was greener. I sat there watching those large black birds with white breasts that we see all over campus, play above and in front of me towards the steep part of the hill. Everywhere was calm and peaceful. I wonder if that's the same hill Kambili, the protagonist in Purple Hibiscus climbed. I wonder if Chimamanda ever climbed that "Vet Hill". After a while the cold was getting to me and so I savoured one last look and began my descent, singing one of my personal anthems as loud as I could and enjoying the sound of my voice as I walked down the hill without a backward glance.

It was a significant gesture to me. I've left behind the University I longed for since I began considering college. The University my parents went to (it's where they met). The same one my elder sister attended for a while before leaving for the U.S.A. The same one some older members of my extended family graduated from. The University I was so happy to get into that I wrote a fictional piece Into the Den Of Lions and posted it to my blog. I'm leaving behind the familiar to go into the dark and start everything all over again. I have to forget about being Editor-in-chief of the Drumline, a newspaper for the University of Nigeria I was working on with a group of students. I've left behind friends who have left large prints on my personality, friends I "flowed" with from the very beginning, wonderful people in every way. Life continues. Change, they say, is the only thing that is constant. I'll be in touch with everyone. I'll begin college as soon as is possible. Who knows where life will take me?

Originally written and posted to my Facebook account on March 29th, 2009
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I visited Chimamanda Adichie & Chinua Achebe's old house on the University of Nigeria, Nsukka campus! Read my post HERE!

[Image via NG Scholars]

NUGA 2009 - I Went, I Saw, Here's My Report

The 22nd edition of the National Universities Games Association has come and gone. Now we can all return to the drudgery of school (heavy sigh). For those of you still wondering how things went for the duration of the games, here’s a summary of every noteworthy thing that happened while I was there. You can get the distorted version from busybodies when you return.

NUGA was supposed to begin on the 23rd of February but the opening ceremony was deferred to the 28th (big surprise). I got there on the 3rd of March and did not miss much. Everyone I queried for the purpose of this write-up agreed that the opening ceremony was marvelous. I can’t grade it because I wasn’t there but there were fireworks, "impressive ones" they all said, there was a stunt guy on a bike, and there were children performing acrobatics in the center of the half-completed stadium, bla, bla, bla.

I went to the hostels first to see how much Franco had changed. Remember we were told to vacate them so they could be renovated? You are expecting to see painted hostels, abi? You expect to see all those sports facilities that were under construction then completed to 'Olympic standards', abi? You're expecting to see painted school buildings, rusted/missing corridor railings in the hostels replaced and the numerous other changes you fantasized about as you sat at home and put on holiday weight. I love to be the one to break it to you - THINGS HAVEN'T CHANGED THAT MUCH! Ziks flats is still the old disgusting ruin it was. Presidential, Akintola, Akpabio are painted green white green and renovated, yes, but that’s only because Akintola and Akpabio were used to house “Team UNN”.

The front of the Eni Njoku and the Alvan hostels was bustling with sellers. I’m not exaggerating. Northerners were selling perfumes and large ram heads with large, intricately patterned horns. There were people selling DVD’s, sport wears, shoes, clothes, wrist watches, rings etcetera. Later that night, a lot of the people slept in front of Eni Njoku on mats made from woven sacks. Clearly they came from far away. The buses from the various participating schools were parked haphazardly in between Alvan and Njoku. In front of the Alvan hostel, there were large canopies with colourful plastic chairs. Instead of letting the foreign students go far for food, these ingenious people brought the food to their doorstep literally. They brought deep freezers, tables and one even brought a television. Students would come out of the hostel and sit down in groups under the canopies, eating, laughing and chattering. You remember those bukas by the side of Mbanefo? Students were not found there. The front of that old cafeteria by Mbanefo was painted brilliant white to lure in unsuspecting JJC students but no one was deceived. The silly people did not even try to scrub the dirty windows and dark brown floor. The strategic stationing of the canopy food sellers came at a price. Rumours were rife that the University authorities collected 25,000 naira per canopy for the duration of the games. In order to cover cost price and make profit, our enterprising caterers served food at prices from one hundred and fifty upwards. It wasn't cheap, tasteless, bukka meals, they were quite good. Meals that were of Coke Villa standard. God knows the price tag Coke Villa people put on their meals in order to cash in on the influx of students.

All the reading desks in the male hostel rooms were pushed out to the corridors to give the room users more space to maneuver. Alvan is the only Franco hostel that our school authorities bothered to paint, even though it was just the corridor walls. The painters contracted to do the job were so dimwitted, they painted atop the room numbers making it doubly difficult to locate rooms. One good thing was that those motherly female cleaners were sent to mop their rooms as often as possible. Guys you know how when you go to get mattresses from the hostel porter you get flat compressed stuff that’s so black with dirt you wouldn't even use it to wipe your shoe? Well, the school bought thousands of brand new Vitafoam mattresses and pillows and gave them out to every student quartered in our hostels!

I had to find out how neat Franco was first-hand and what better way to do that than by using the facilities. I bathed in bathroom on the 324 -345 wing of the Alvan hostel. Guys, you know how our bathrooms usually are – dirty, smelly and dark, which is why most of us don’t bathe at night (sorry). It was different for these guys. They had showers running almost 24/7 and the bathrooms were well lit. The stench of urine and shit was gone even at night when that area is usually in its worst possible state. The bathroom was actually so clean that even you an old timer would CONSIDER picking your bathing soap if it fell on the floor! I know! It sounds unbelievable but it's true! Each school was given one side of the hall series, for instance IMSU took 324-345 and another school resided in the opposite series 301-324.

There was a free HIV testing service by some people from GHAINS (Global HIV&AIDS Initiative something something….) They even handed out free condoms to all who requested. You know how promiscuous young people can be now... The street lights (the ones that use electricity, not those dead "solar powered" ones) were functioning fine and the entire school was well lit. In all the time I’ve lived in that school - which is nearly three years, I’ve never seen every where as well lit as it was during this period. NEPA seemed to be giving light 24/7.

Now to the memorable sports events. Here’s how it happened. A lot of sports went on simultaneously. The result was that people hopped from one event to another. SWIMMING was one sports event that pulled crowds as large as those who gather for football matches. Was it an ordinary fascination with the sport or just a love for seeing semi-nude/scantily clad humans race each other underwater? Either way, I was with them cheering, whistling and clapping. I watched swimming for most of Wednesday the 11th. The competitors from Uniport are terrific swimmers! They were moving through the water with superb grace and agility. UNN kept coming second, second, second….in the underwater races (deep sigh).

Some competitions were as gripping and revealing as the garbs (tights) of the participants. Take for instance, the track events. It was da bomb! I’m not saying that because our school was winning - our contestants were running as if the FREE-3 times-a-day Chitis food provided by the school for the entire duration of the event, did not digest well. It was "da bomb" because watching people sprinting gives you an incredible adrenaline rush. Everyone in the stands where I sat (mostly UNN guys & babes) were screaming advice and cheering for contestants from other schools and laughing at our own contestants openly. We however strongly defended our school when students from other schools (a.k.a haters) verbally attacked our own Obinna Metu, a superbly gifted sprinter (Yes, he’s the same one that went to the Olympics). The haters were like he shouldn’t be competing because he’s way above this level of competition and all that kind of stuff…that one na their business sha, you know as jealousy dey do people. The boy won us gold medals and we cheered every time we saw him.

The NUGA organizers brought three Nigerians who had excelled in sports internationally. Mary Onyali, Mrs. Ogunkoya and a sports man whose name I can't remember. The last two characters were forgettable anyway. Mary Onyali was the most visible sports celeb in the stadium. She was in charge of coordinating the field and track events and she had to walk around a lot, but she didn't let that prevent her from looking so damn good. She’s fashionable and physically fit. So that while Ogunkoya and the other man had many pockets of flab on their sides, their fronts, and other unmentionable body areas, Onyali was fit, full in all the right places, eye-catching, stylishly sophisticated and so chic! A few people told me Chioma Ajunwa, another of Nigeria’s internationally recognized sportswomen, attended the event a few times. The day of the closing ceremony was Onyali’s birthday and the school band serenaded her.

A lot of dignitaries attended the closing ceremony (it was shown live on NTA) and they were very proud people. Their convoys rode onto the race tracks and dropped them in front of the VIP stand, in full glare of everyone. The only one who did not follow that shameless pattern was Chris Ngige, the politician and former Anambra state governor. The crowd cheered and gave him a standing ovation as he walked towards the stands, instead of the angry muttering from the crowd others got for their pompous behaviour.

IMSU won the football match final. The match was played on Franco pitch because the grass on the field in the stadium hadn't grown (it was planted very late). They came into the stadium cheering and we did not give a damn. The dignitaries kept speaking and UNN students eyed them. Then they decided to forcefully grab the attention we robbed them. They ran from the left side of the stadium to the right, waving, chanting, yelling and playing with a ball. They came in front of the VIP stand and they were shooed away by officials. Then they went to a corner and one of their guys took the ball and did tricks we have never seen..... WOW!! Can you guess what happened next? NTA turned away from the dignitaries and focused on them, people ran down from stands onto the field in the middle of the stadium in large numbers and gathered around them. Even the policemen were watching the boy do his tricks. It was rebellious and rude, but it worked! This went on for a long time until the dignitaries got angry and they sent a man to stop them. The crowd which had been whistling, clapping and cheering for this lone performer from the IMSU team, started booing angrily at the security official that ran forward to stop the team. The IMSU teams stopped entertaining everyone, but they had been SEEN, they were recognized. It’s a risk a lot of people would not have dared to take, but the IMSU team had wasn't lacking balls. For a few dazzling minutes, they had the eyeball of everyone in the stadium, dignitaries included, and all those tuned in at home.

For the closing ceremony children came in huge numbers and did a different version of the acrobatics they performed at the opening ceremony. The children did well and we applauded not because we were blown off our seats but because of the effort we knew the children must have put into the synchronized performance. After they left, some old men and two very young girls from an obsolete eastern band came on to entertain but were nearly shooed off the field after several minutes for their boring performance. The band did our school anthem and it was quite good. That and their performance of “We Are The World” are the only memorable numbers they performed. "We Are The World" was memorable not because they performed wonderfully but because of the power of the song itself. Everything else that day was uninspiring. My conclusion? The closing ceremony was nothing like the opening one. Later that night, there was a bonfire in front of the Akintola & Akpabio hostels and a beauty contest tagged "Miss NUGA". Predictably, a University of Nigeria student won even though everyone agrees she wasn't "all that".

UNN tried but we could have done much, much, much, much better.We were second many times to schools like UNIBEN, UNIPORT, UNIMAID, IMSU, MICHAEL OKPARA, and many times we did not even make it into the Top 3 lists. UNIPORT won the competition with 21 gold medals. UNN had 20 gold medals .

NUGA was entertaining even in unconventional ways. No matter what you’re telling yourself right now, the truth is you missed a lot. The next one is in 2010 to be hosted by UNIBEN.

Originally written and posted to my Facebook account on March 10th, 2009. It's a follow-up to my previous blog post Is UNN Ready For NUGA 2008? 
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I visited Chimamanda Adichie & Chinua Achebe's old house on the University of Nigeria, Nsukka campus! Read my post HERE!

[Image via Information Nigeria]

March 01, 2009

Incessant Scribble - Anniversary The First

Exactly twelve months ago, I signed up for a blogspot account. I knew what I wanted the web address to be, but I hadn’t thought about the blog title before accessing the internet. Even though I had forgotten the sheet of paper on which I had scribbled a great part of my first post, I still flowed. The more I typed, the more confident I became, the more certain I was that I was taking the right step. I’ll save the rest of my scribbling history for Oprah.

Entering Blogville has opened my eyes. There is so much talent out there just begging to be discovered. So much. Blogging, in my opinion, gives the blogger some of the same thrill published authors get when they receive responses from people who have read their work. It’s great! Some people think there’s nothing to it, just sign up and readers will come. It’s not easy to shoot into the blogsphere with a bang and then consistently deliver afterwards. What’s easy is becoming complacent and losing the readers that peruse your pages. In the blogville race to be well read, it’s easy, too easy to lag behind.

Many thanks to Onyeka Nwelue and Eromo Egbejule for urging me to do this. I also want to thank my “blog-brothers” (remember you read it here first) - Aloofar, Jaja and Afolabi, my “blog-sister”- nigeriandramaqueen, and all the friends who have always supported this project. Thank you very much. Many thanks to my No.1- Crystal, and to my other regular commenters for keeping it real. I’m grateful.

After spending one year it’s only nice to share a few tips:

For those bloggers who put their intellectual properties for all to peruse, please, please, check out myfreecopyright.com.

For those who haven’t already done so, install a free blog visit tracker, it’s immensely valuable. This profile view thing just isn’t it. Check out sitemeter.com and shinystat.com(There are many others out there).

READ my first post "My Blogenesis"

July 22, 2008

On the Road

I left school for Port Harcourt last week and returned yesterday. I had to travel on the same road as I did last time (You may have read my post 'Robbed'. The Umuahia-Okigwe road is the only one connecting Port Harcourt and Enugu). I wasn't afraid to pass the road again...I wasn't!...seriously... I wasn't afraid. I was...nervous?...worried?... Yeah! worried is the word. To forestall my arriving Enugu penniless, I hid my money - part of it, in my socks. Images of them cutting my leg from my ankle down just to get my money, swam to the surface of my mind. Was that silly? For the first time, the frequent Police stops did not annoy me. I smiled and nodded approvingly a couple of times. Here were Nigerian Police men being Police men! They were dressed smartly; stopping vehicles randomly; checking vehicle documents and occupants; wielding guns to protect us from robbers in case they showed up, ready to blow them into nothingness (Don't scoff!).

Everytime we slowed down to a crawl to get past the many potholes on the road, I peered warily into the dark forest from where I sat in the bus, perhaps I would spot them motioning each other wordlessly. I dragged my eyes away from my reading material often, craning my neck and staring far ahead, maybe I could alert the driver this time and maybe, just maybe we could turn around and speed away like the vehicles behind us did that day. Thankfully, nothing happened. Some conditions were the same as the last time. For starters I was using the same Bus Company as the last time (they are the best in Nigeria), I was sitting in the same seat like the last time and I had the same ticket number. Somewhere between Port Harcourt and Enugu, rain fell, this time it was light. I did not sleep like the last time, I battled it, putting aside my comfort to save other people's necks. Once in a while, I paused to admire the view. I have travelled so frequently along that road that I no longer stare in awe at the breathtaking hills on both sides of the road. I remembered my mp3 player, Sansa C240. It was taken from me then. That gadget was perfect (only Dera Igwe will disagree). I decided while on board the bus to move up the next level by acquring an iPod...Igwe watch out!

I finished The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi on my way. Yeah, I'm just reading The Icarus Girl. It doesn't matter if you read a book the day it is released or ten years later. The important thing is you strike it off your mental list of books you want to read. Hopefully before the year runs out, i'll strike off The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy.

The second half of my journey- from Enugu to Nsukka was uneventful. The road was bad and had many potholes; the driver was speeding dangerously, causing our bodies to sway roughly from side to side. Deaf to our pleas to slow down, he cursed drivers who swerved to avoid him and sped on recklessly, braking only when we got to Police stops. Our seat did not have any cushion, so my buttocks began to ache early in the nearly two hours long journey. Nigerians don't nag about uncomfortable journeys many times over(except this jobless writer), they nag about more important stuff like - where our oil money is going or where our country is headed...those perplexing national issues. The unpleasant bus experience is a frequent occurence for those of us on the pedestrian level- and we are many. But don't listen to what you hear on Cable, there are many people here who have cars and don't have to go through this.

I like travelling. I remember one of my trips to the South. Throwing caution and everything my loving parents had ever taught me about dealing with strangers to the wind, I accepted groundnut from the lady seated beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother's eyes widen in shock(his seat was across from mine). I remember seeing him try to get my attention surreptitiously - tapping his booted foot, shaking his arm so his silver wristwatch would catch my eye. When he noticed I was ignoring him, he shook his head sadly and turned back to his PSP. I have to admit I began to worry about being bewitched after the pleasant taste of the groundnut had worn off.

I wasn't tempted to accept groundnuts from her because she was beautiful or persuasive, but because we hit if off immediately the journey began and I was really hungry. We were both up-to-date on international and local celeb gossip...sorry gist; we had both been robbed in the past month; we stood on the same side of most issues - embezzlement in Aso Rock, displeasure at why the only road to the South should be in such a terrible condition, it would delay us for four hours. My only regret is I did not collect her number.

July 07, 2008

Robbed

The most appropriate title for this post would be "An Eventful Bus Ride". It's funny that eleven days after I posted the piece "An Uneventful Bus Ride" I was robbed by armed men aboard a bus taking me back to school. I and thirteen other passengers were made to lie on the road, under the heavy rain for a little over ten minutes while we were dispossesed of our belongings by gun toting bandits. I have never been robbed before and I will never forget this experience. Lying with my face on the tarred road while one of the men searched my pockets roughly; murmuring prayers fervently along with the other passengers- a couple of whom were weeping, while the cold rain beat us; rushing back into the bus after the bandits retreated into the forests; hitting my head on the bus door in my blind hurry to get back into the bus so we could speed away from that scene. In that fleeting moment, nothing material mattered. All we were begging God for, was LIFE. We were begging for the chance to see our loved ones again, we were begging for the forgiveness of our many sins. Many minutes later after the shock of the whole experience diminished, we were wringing our wet clothes, laughing and talking about how scared we had been. Inevitably, we began to discuss the contents of our bags, wallets, the monetary value of our stolen phones. . . we were thanking God none of us were beaten or shot.

Dear Readers, I'm sorry I haven't posted anything for so long. It must have been disappointing or perhaps irritating to visit my blog and see nothing new. I'm really sorry. The robbers took all the traveling bags on the bus including mine. Contained in my own bag were all the notebooks I write in. Those were the most valuable things I lost. All my book ideas, the completed plot sketch of my novel "Lost Prose", the uncompleted short story series I was working on to post later on my blog. . . and so many other literary stuff I was working on. All of them were lost. I have bought a new notebook and I have started scribbling stuff. The yet to be titled short story series is coming on just fine, you'll read it later.

Another reason why I haven't posted any piece in such a long time is that I stayed back at home for five weeks while school was going on because I lost my dear Aunt and had to remain back for the funeral. I have missed lectures and i'm trying to catch up. I have an important exam soon so I might not be blogging actively, Please bear with me. I'll keep scribbling and i'll post as often as I can.

Thank you all very much.

Yours truly,
Osondu Nnamdi Awaraka

May 05, 2008

Celebrating 50 Years of Things Fall Apart

Photos, Quotes & Keynote Address from the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) Celebration at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka (April 25th & 26th, 2008)


Yours truly, Osondu Nnamdi Awaraka
From left to right: Onyeka Nwelue, Professor Kanchana Ugbabe (Department of English, University of Jos, Nigeria) and Osondu Awaraka.
Onyeka Nwelue, Ladi and Oguche (ANA members Abuja)
Henry Akubuiro of the Sun and Onyeka Nwelue
Onyeka Nwelue and Maryam Ali Ali (author, The Faces of Naira)

Professor Ernest Emeyonu (Chair of the African Studies department in the University of Michigan-Flint) giving the keynote address in the Princess Alexandra Hall, UNN
I strike a pose with Odia Ofeimun
Dr. Chattopadhyay, Chief Charity Ada Onwu, Maryam Ali Ali (author of The Faces of Naira) and other writers.
Professor Okey Ndibe and Onyeka Nwelue
Onyeka Nwelue and Dr. Grace Adichie (first female registrar of the University of Nigeria and mother of the award-winning author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie)

From left to right: Dr. Debasish Chattopadhyay (Head of Department, English Language, Raja Peary Mohan College, Uttarpara, Hooghly, West Bengal, India), Chief Charity Ada Onwu and Osondu Awaraka.
Dr. Chattopadhyay, Chief Onwu and Onyeka Nwelue, author of the forthcoming novel, The Abyssinian Boy.
Odia Ofeimun (Polemicist, Poet and social commentator) and Eromo Egbejule (blogger and writer)
Okey Ndibe (Columnist and novelist) and a representative of the Chinua Achebe Foundation

Professor Okey Ndibe and Eromo Egbejule

Dr. Grace Adichie (Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's mother), Mr. Ebika and another guest at the event

All photos (c) Onyeka Nwelue 2008

QUOTES from Guest Speakers
"We cannot tell the world the African story if we cannot tell it in our indigenous languages." - Moses Tsenongu, Translator of Things Fall Apart into Tiv language.

"TFA has been the greatest teacher of the Golden Age of African dances"- Arnold Udoka, Director of the National Troupe of Nigeria.

"Okonkwo's father was an artist and would have loved to live in a society where artistes were appreciated. To him, everyone did not have to be a farmer."- Odia Ofeimun, Nigerian poet and political activist.

On the first day of the event held in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, Professor Ernest Emenyonu, Chair of Africana Studies at the University of Michigan-Flint gave the keynote address. In the two days of celebratory events, it was the only address that received a standing ovation. His delivery was powerful and incredibly motivating. Fortunately for you Incessant Scribble obtained the keynote address. Enjoy!


THINGS FALL APART: CHINUA ACHEBE’S ‘MUSTARD SEED’
Another parable He put forth to them, saying “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the least of all the seeds; but when it is grown it is greater than the herbs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches. “Parable of the Mustard Seed”—Matthew 13:31-32.

Distinguished Ladies and Gentlemen!
I would like to begin by expressing my profound gratitude to the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) for the singular honor and privilege to present this Keynote Address today. This is the second time in my literary career that I have been asked to introduce Chinua Achebe and his fiction to an intimidating world audience from both sides of the Atlantic. I will talk about the first occasion towards the end of my Address.

When the President of the Association of Nigerian Authors, Hon. Wale Okediran, invited me in a letter dated January 14, 2008, to present this Address, he said, “The Association of Nigerian Authors will appreciate it if you can kindly deliver the Keynote Address in Nsukka under the theme, “50 years of Things Fall Apart: Telling the African Story.” My chosen title is "Things Fall Apart (1958): Chinua Achebe's Mustard Seed.” But before I get substantively into that, let me reveal a unique situation prior to my coming here today. It opened my eyes very clearly to the dilemma that our Igbo elders had in mind when they expressed the metaphor of a man summoned simultaneously by his father in-law and his Chi, his ‘personal god.’ More than a year ago, I accepted a request in a letter by Ike Okonta, of the Chinua Achebe Foundation in London, England, to co-ordinate in the United States, the events commemorating the Golden Jubilee of the publication of Things Fall Apart. I quickly contacted the organizers of this year’s African Literature Association annual conference at Western Illinois University, Macomb, requesting a prominent space in the program to set up two panels to discuss the ramifications of the literary phenomenon called Things Fall Apart, and a Roundtable panel of distinguished scholars to discuss Chinua Achebe’s Legacies in the Development of 20th Century Modern African Literature. All three panels would be chaired by me. There would also be a huge cake with fifty candles on the stage. The cake would be cut by Chinua Achebe or a member of his family, but where that was not possible, I had at the back of my mind that Professor Emmanual Obiechina would be invited to perform the ritual. Professor Obiechina as you may know, is best described as the Dean of the Critics of African Literature, and the Nze of the scholars of Igbo studies. Then nine months later, in January 2008, after all these have been entrenched in the program of the 2008 African Literature Association Conference, I received the invitation of the Association of Nigerian Authors for this occasion. The unique thing about this is that the conference in the United States and this Nsukka Conference are meeting at the same time. Now you can see and appreciate the dilemma of the man who received the simultaneous summons to appear before his father in-law and his Chi at precisely the same time. The Igbo parable never told us which call the miserable man answered first, so I will not answer the question apparent in your minds namely, which one is my chi and which one is my father in-law, the Association of Nigerian Authors or the African Literature Association? Now, let us turn to my adaptation of the parable of the Mustard Seed.

Fifty years ago, in the year of Our Lord, 1958, an unknown unpractised farmer, Chinua Achebe, took a seed yam and planted it in a patch of untested soil. And then the tendrils blossomed and the tuber grew to immense proportions, producing side tubers which produced other side tubers, until several barns were filled with enormously big Abakiliki-type of yams; and in effect the pillar which was once rejected by European builders became the corner stone of a most gigantic world edifice, which is the reason we are all here today.

That, in a nut-shell, is the story of Things Fall Apart. At conception, it was one long narrative stretching into many, many pages. Before the mother went into labor, the midwives saw the signs and likelihood of multiple births. The young mother concurred and when the time was due, delivered the first baby called Things Fall Apart, also known as Okonkwo, and not long after, the second baby, No Longer at Ease, also known as Obi, was born. But then the young mother wasn’t done yet. Some fertile embryo still remained in the womb. Patiently, the young mother nurtured this young embryo which had got stuck in the womb when the younger sibling was evacuated. At its own time, it was delivered and named Arrow of God, also known as Ezeulu. That was how Obi came to be born first before his truly elder brother, Ezeulu.

The enormous success of Things Fall Apart has stunned the whole world, not the least many European literary scholars at the time of its publication, who had believed that like the biblical Nazareth of old, nothing good, particularly literary, can come out of Ogidi, or Nigeria, or Africa for that matter.

As we celebrate the Golden Jubilee of the birth of Things Fall Apart, this year with all the fanfare, let’s not forget the rock-like skepticism of the European and Western readers, scholars, and publishers fifty years ago who did not foresee for the novel a chance of celebrating its second birthday. The Heinemann Publishers, London (the striking heroes today), were convinced that the venture of publishing the novel, was a daring and risky gamble, and so printed only 2000 copies in hardback and stood poised to write off the business loss eventually. Today, there are scores of hard and paperback editions, and sales in millions of copies in diverse world languages. On reading Things Fall Apart when it was first released, a British woman was so infuriated, she fouly castigated Chinua Achebe for daring to suggest that things fell apart at the British advent into Africa early in the 20th century. Why, she wondered, was Achebe still wearing European type of clothes and not the raffia attires of his beloved ancestors? We are lucky that Chinua Achebe was not distracted by such preposterous insults and attacks.

There were other Westerners who kept the heat on Achebe, blasting him and fuming at his audacity, scorning and taunting him as the personification of the misguided irreverent pretentious emergent African elite who had chosen to bite the finger that fed them. And Achebe was among the first generation of graduates of the University College, Ibadan, technically a Campus of London University. What an ingrate!

But there were others from the high echelons of the literati who literally hauled bricks at Achebe for audaciously daring to indict the emperor. How dare he insinuate in his novel that the tactics of the early Europeans in their encounter with Africans were well designed strategies for the fall of Africa? Who did Chinua Achebe think he was to seek through his novel to deconstruct Social Darwinism, the ideological stance for Euro-imperialism, conquest and domination of Africa? How dare he plant ideas in the minds of barbaric rural Africans to perceive the psychology of imperial conquest and its implications from the African perspective? How could an unknown literary quantity who had been brought up in the great traditions of British literature have the effrontery to begin his literary career with a novel that sought to deconstruct the Eurocentric perspective of Africa?

One of these offended Western intellectuals was a Lecturer in the English Department here at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka during my undergraduate days. Dr. Austin J. Shelton had an aura of elevated intellectualism and had built for himself a reputation for intimidating erudition. Some of us majoring in English at the time who had missed out on his courses somehow began to feel academically deficient and incomplete. That was until the wind blew and revealed the entrails of the fowl, as the saying goes.

In the decade following the publication of Things Fall Apart, Shelton had written a series of critical articles on African literature many of which were designed to interprete first, for Africans and then others elsewhere, the true nature of the emerging African writing. And since Things Fall Apart stood out prominently he tried to interprete the nuances of the story to all and sundry and in the process, arrogated to himself the important duty of educating everybody, beginning with Chinua Achebe, on the correct interpretations of the symbolisms, Igbo religious rituals and cosmology embedded in the narrative of Things Fall Apart. He asserted that Chinua Achebe had missed the correct dimensions in his portrayal of some of these in the novel. Spurred on by this sense of mission he published a spate of articles perhaps to set the pace for the criticism of modern African literature in general, and Achebe’s fiction in particular. The articles included: “The Offended Chi in Achebe’s Novels(1964), “Behaviour and Cultural Value in West African Stories(1964), “The Articulation of Traditional and Modern in Igbo Literature(1969), and “Failures and Individualism in Achebe’s Stories(1971). Nowhere was he more absurd and blatant than in the article, “The Offended Chi in Achebe Novels.” He began the article by declaring that he was “aware of Achebe’s sensitivity about non-Igbo speaking literary critics ...” which was a rather cheap and devious attempt to turn literary critics of non-Igbo origin (Westerners and Africans alike) against Chinua Achebe, and portray him as a writer who depended only on his kinsmen and women for validation and authenticity. Then he took on Achebe on specifics, asserting that Achebe’s definition of Chi as ‘personal god’ in Igbo traditional religion was a blasphemy (emphasis mine), and that the correct definition was “God Within.” To him Achebe was not only blasphemous, but he also had “a jaundiced attitude toward his own people’s religion.” But he did not stop there. He went further to say, “One might properly comment that Unoka (Okonkwo’s father in Things Fall Apart) actually did not have a “bad chi” as Achebe says, because a chi is not evil except from a narrow and erroneous human point of view (apparently Achebe’s), even if that point of view is of the Ibo.” Still Shelton wasn’t done with Achebe. Paragraphs later in the article he had this to say: “Ironically, Okonkwo’s very individualism causes him to perform an action which was sacrilegious in relation to Ane (sic) and the very alusi (spirit, not “earth goddess,” as Achebe puts it) whom his father had abominated, by beating one of his wives during the “Week of Peace.” (p.37) (emphasis mine).

Perhaps Austin J. Shelton is not worth this much space at a celebration of the excellence of Chinua Achebe as an artist in his first novel, Things Fall Apart. It is not so much what he says as his manner and attitude of saying it. He portrays Achebe as lacking in the proper knowledge of Igbo religious traditions and culture, and this by a white man who could not even understand Igbo proverbs. But Shelton was not naive or dumb. He had read Things Fall Apart very closely and realised that both the novel and its author were set to threaten existing European distortions of Africa in reality and fiction; that in Things Fall Apart, Achebe had provided Africans with a veritable tool for the deconstruction of Eurocentric perspectives of Africa, and a tool for understanding the Africa of today, issues in cultural confusion and conflicts; a tool for understanding the passing of the old order in Africa and the forceful emergence of the new. If Things Fall Apart survived and won the day, and Achebe continued in his eloquent creative imagination, then the era of the dominance of such novelists about Africa, as Joyce Cary and Josef Conrad was eternally over. So if Chinua Achebe’s integrity as a novelist was destroyed at the very beginning of his career, then Europe or the West had nothing to be afraid of in upcoming African writers. Shelton left no one in doubt about this in the concluding paragraph of his article where he fanatically chides Achebe with:

Achebe makes a vainglorious attempt in Things Fall Apart and No Longer at Ease, and I suspect he will continue so in The (sic) Arrow of God, to ascribe all the evils which occurred in Ibo society to the coming of the whiteman. But he stacks the cards in the novels, hinting here and there at the truth, yet not explaining fully the substratum of divine forces working to influence the characters. His own motives perhaps are linked with his patent desire to indicate that writers outside can never understand the works of Igbo-speaking writers (whose novels are in English); although one must properly leave the subject of authors’ motivations to psychiatrists. Whatever the case may be, however, what caused “things to fall apart” and what made the Ibo man “no longer at ease” in the case of Achebe’s works were the evil actions of Okonkwo, who brought the wrath of Chukwu, the alusi, and the ndichie upon his own lineage. (37)

We hear in Austin J. Shelton’s utterances the voice of an outside mourner weeping louder than the bereaved. Yet he could not even remotely counter Achebe’s summary declaration in Things Fall Apart, on how things fell apart in Africa. In one of the most articulate and beautiful pieces of prose in 20th century literature in English, Achebe pointedly declares:

Does the whiteman understand out custom about land? How can he when he does not even speak our tongue? But he says that our customs are bad; and our own brothers who have taken up his religion also say that our customs are bad. How do you think we can fight when our own brothers have turned against us? The whiteman is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart. (176)

Anyone who teaches Things Fall Apart anywhere on the continent of Africa today, should make the students memorize and internalize this passage. It is an incontrovertible eternal historic, political and cultural truth about the way and manner of the human conquest of Africa by Europe in the 19th and 20th centuries.

Austin Shelton’s mindset was that of a biased and prejudiced scholar from the Western world who behaved true to type fifty years ago. But today, there seem to be some people inside Africa whose understanding and appreciation of Things Fall Apart and Chinua Achebe’s achievements in the field of African Literature in particular, and World Literature in general, remain as shallow as Shelton’s, but perhaps worse, because they ought to, and they are in a position, to know better. I am referring specifically to one David Kaiza of Kenya whose recent article in February 2008, entitled “Achebe: Why he was no Literary Genius,” published in Nation, a Kenyan publication, prompted Odoh Diego Okenyodo a journalist in Abuja to e-mail me in the United States seeking an urgent rebuttal of Kaiza’s apparent ridiculing of these celebrations for Things Fall Apart. In Kaiza’s understanding of success in literature, “a single novel that sells eleven million copies” is no big deal, and a twenty-one gun salute for its author, is a waste of precious gun powder much like the outrage at the woman in the biblical story in Bethany at the house of Simon the leper, who was sharply criticized and rebuked for wasting a costly and precious alabaster fragrant oil (perfume) on Jesus’ head and feet!

Although I responded by saying that David Kaiza was a distraction not worthy of attention and that the literary world should leave him to his mighty mass of ignorance and move on, yet it seems necessary to show how irrelevant his points of view are in the present discourse. My friend, Charles Nnolim, about whom I will speak briefly later, once said that a traveler who stops at every barking dog will never get to his or her destination. Yet, once in a while it may become necessary to hush up the bellowing dog for our peace of mind.

Kaiza saw Achebe as merely a chance beneficiary of an accident of history. He claims that after the two World Wars, Western intellectuals had begun to tone down their idiosyncratic attitudes to, and lurid perceptions of Africa. Then he concluded, “... had it appeared before the Second World War, Things Fall Apart might have been ignored.” Well, Mr. Kaiza, Things Fall Apart, did not appear before the Second World War, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact!” Next, Kaiza states that writers like Wole Soyinka and Okot p’Bitek achieved more in terms of creativity” (than Chinua Achebe). In a number of instances in his article, Kaiza tries to compare Achebe with Wole Soyinka concluding that Soyinka is the genius that Achebe couldn’t and wouldn’t become. In one paragraph of the article, he was no longer talking just about Things Fall Apart. He said, “When you read his books outside the colonial context, Achebe comes across as a small-scale entrepreneur of the novel.” Then almost with an oracular authority, he declares: “He (Achebe) was no literary industrialist like Soyinka. He was a retailer of proverbs, bucolic wisdom and anecdotes.” He later adds that “there is a gripping lack of strength in his (Achebe’s) voice.” Again, David Kaiza, the whole world disagrees with you for you don’t seem to have listened carefully to Achebe’s voice in Things Fall Apart. One uniquely fascinating thing about Chinua Achebe’s narrative voice is that every reader can hear him clearly, audibly, and meaningfully in his or her dialect or language whether in Nigeria, Africa, Europe, Asia, Russia or North and South America. It is the vibrant stimulation from that voice that has made Chinua Achebe an honorary literary citizen of the world, and Things Fall Apart every nation’s story in the so-called Third World today.

This celebration is not about comparing Chinua Achebe with Wole Soyinka. It is not a relay race between Chinua Achebe’s novels and the works of other African writers. It is not about showing how Okot p’Bitek, or Ayi Kwei Armah, or Ngugi wa Thiong’o, or any other African writer stands in relation to Chinua Achebe. This celebration is simply about a fifty-year old African novel whose classic eminence has endured the test of time; a fifty-year old African novel which has been translated into more than fifty languages and sold more than twelve million copies; a fifty-year old African novel whose passionate story of colonial arrogance and ethnocentrism has touched the hearts of people world-wide, and resonated with readers of all age groups regardless of race, creed or class. “Mr. Kaiza, give us any other African novel with this type of stature and world-wide appeal fifty years after its publication, and we will celebrate it!”

One final comment and we will move on. Kaiza remarked that “Achebe has been called the father of African literature, while later writers have been described as the ‘sons of Achebe’.” Kaiza seemingly did not want Ngugi wa Thiong’o from his country, numbered among these “sons of Achebe,” so again he put his foot in his mouth and declared, “It would be too much to call a man like wa Thiong’o, a “son of Achebe” because, although his book came out later, books take long to take shape in writers’ minds, and Ngugi appears to have formed his ideas long before he heard of Achebe.” I had said earlier that this celebration is not about comparing African writers, and we should not devalue the integrity of this discourse by succumbing to low-level distractions. But it is important to set some records straight. In January 1967, Chinua Achebe was interviewed in Nairobi, Kenya, by Tony Hall. That interview was published on January 15, 1967 in Sunday Nation (the same magazine which published David Kaiza’s article on February 25, 2008). Tony Hall asked Achebe:

We have had some pretty fierce arguments going on here about the alleged poverty of African writers in East Africa. You are editor of African writings for a London publisher. What are your views about this?

Achebe replied:

Yes, I do see a lot of manuscripts. In fact, I’m not taking credit for James Ngugi, but I did see his work before he was published, and I put him in touch with my publisher. I know he has a new thing coming out. I don’t think really one should worry. I think it’s the difference in the level of mass education between West and East Africa. It’s a matter of time – not decades, it’s going to take just a few years. I mean it’s only 15 years since the first Nigerian novel was published in English. Yet in that time a lot has happened. There are now a number of new and some very exciting writers coming on. (25)

However, this thing about the “sons of Achebe” (and now some people have also found Achebe’s daughter or granddaughter in Ngozi Chimamanda Adichie!), was started by my good friend, Charles Nnolim, and he won’t probably stop until Dr. (Mrs.) Christie Achebe knocks at his door one day to ask whether Chinua had these “sons” before or after he and Christie were married in 1961? Whichever way Nnolim answers it, he will still be in trouble. Elechi Amadi has for years, been saying to Nnolim, “Look at my white hair! I didn’t need to ask my mother for evidence that I am not Chinua Achebe’s son.” He had even mentioned that he was at Government College, Umuahia with Chinua Achebe for secondary education, and later at the University College, Ibadan with Achebe again for university education, and that a father and his son cannot be in secondary school or university at the same time at least not in Nigeria in the 1940’s and ‘50’s! It seems that it was Nnolim’s inclusion of Ngugi wa Thiong’o as one of those “sons” of Achebe that equally offended David Kaiza. He seems to have reasoned that such a classification does harm to Ngugi’s stature as a Kenyan writer for it makes him perceived as an apprentice-artist under Chinua Achebe of Nigeria. Still, that is no reason to assert as Kaiza does, that Chinua Achebe is improperly recognized as the father of the modern African novel.

Let’s now give some final thoughts on David Kaiza. Kaiza is unrelenting in his denigration of both Chinua Achebe as a writer and Things Fall Apart as a classic African novel. Pruning here and piling there, he is at pains to find evidence to prove his verdict that Achebe is “no literary genius” especially on the strength or merits of Things Fall Apart. If Kaiza finds any good qualities at all in Achebe as a writer, they are not such as would lift him beyond the rank of an average writer who beat everybody else in retelling the fables of his “tribe.”

How then should we regard David Kaiza? If you teach postgraduate students anywhere on the continent, I advise you to have your students read Kaiza’s article to help them appreciate how, even though wisdom is like a goat-skin bag and everyone carries his/her own, there are some people whose goat-skin bags came with holes through which all the wisdom seeped away before they arrived for the meeting at the village square. Why did David Kaiza stoop so low in his article? My answer is simple. Like Austin Shelton he is not dumb and he has keen insights enough to realize that this is a monumental world-centered moment for African literary discourse. There are however, some people who have nothing worthwhile to contribute but they wouldn’t want to be found missing in action. So they say something, just about anything, so as to be counted among those who once upon a time said something during a very important discussion. After all, self preservation is the first law of nature.

Since the beginning of the year, the celebration of Things Fall Apart, has taken various forms in countries all over the world – England, Portugal, Australia, and the United States to mention but a few. And two weeks ago, the Library of Congress in the United States announced epoch-making plans to honor both Chinua Achebe and Things Fall Apart on November 14, this year, two days before Chinua Achebe’s birthday. This raises the question: “Where is Nigeria in this scheme of things?” I am aware of the Public Lecture organized by the Department of English at the University of Uyo in February this year and the April 17 special literary events organized by the Department of English at the University of Ibadan, to commemorate and celebrate Achebe’s gift of Things Fall Apart to the world fifty years ago. And of course we are all here today because of the various initiatives of the Association of Nigerian Authors in different forms and locations in Nigeria since the beginning of this month. But you, Nigeria, where are you in this scheme of things? The Igbo name Unakanamba (fame that is recognized and resounds only in a foreign land) is a name that philosophically rebukes any enchantment with the bird of beautiful feathers, as the late incomparable novelist, Cyprian Ekwensi, called one of his novels. This bird has glamorous feathers outside while remaining filthy and stinking inside. Permit me to speak now not only as a Professor of African Literature but a devoted and patriotic Nigerian who has spent the last thirty years teaching, researching and publicizing African Literature both at home and abroad.

Nigeria has been independent for forty-eight years, more than three decades of that period, under military dictatorships. During those years of brutal military rule, the Federal Government contributed virtually nothing to enhance the recognition, growth and development of African Literature in Nigeria, in both the cultural and educational arenas. If anything, it did a lot relentlessly to lower, dishonor, and damage the image of the writer in Nigeria in particular, and the dignity of African Literature in general, in the eyes of the world. We now have a civilian government and it is essential that the Federal Government be not seen as continuing the apathy to African Literature and the arts, which characterized the military regimes. And so far in this year’s world-wide celebration of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, the Federal Government seems to be missing in action. We will give even the devil his due and totally agree with David Kaiza when he says in his infamous article:

Going by the preparations taking place, one might think the celebrations have something to do with a beloved monarch: Events have been lined up for the whole of 2008; a commemoration scheduled for April has been sponsored by the New York City Hall; Western universities are vying to host speakers as the media jostle for interviews; and Postsecondary Education Network international is selling lecture tickets online.... It is unfortunate that Achebe is being commemorated in the West, but little is being done in Africa to recognize him. (1, 4).

Let me use an analogy that will strike home in stating what Nigeria has done in comparison with other countries in this celebration. If this were a soccer competition, Nigeria would have been beaten and trounced by teams that fielded only six (instead of eleven) players for their matches.

The late American President, J. F. Kennedy, once admonished his country men and women: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” It is appropriate to reverse that statement in our present context and admonish the Federal Government of Nigeria: “Ask not what your writers and African Literature can do for you; ask what you can do for your writers (in this case, Chinua Achebe) and African Literature (and specifically, Things Fall Apart). And to do this effectively, the Federal Government has to be reminded of a few instances of the enormous savagery of the military rulers towards Nigerian writers, and African Literature.

The whole world stood aghast in November 1995 while the organs of the Federal government executed Ken Saro Wiwa one of the most brilliant and versatile African writers of the second half of the 20th Century. That year, I had been elected on August 18, in far away Sri Lanka as the President of the Association for Commonwealth Literature and Language Studies (ACLALS) which prestigiously, would have brought the Headquarters of the Association to Nigeria. Following the execution of Ken Saro Wiwa, the Association repudiated the membership of Nigeria, and its Headquarters never landed on the Nigerian soil. That same period too, witnessed the first black person in history to win the Nobel Prize for Literature, Wole Soyinka of Nigeria, hounded into exile by State organs of the Federal Government. If anybody had brought his head on a platter, the Federal Government then would have gladly received it in exchange for oil and gold!! During that era too, on November 17, 1993, the organs of the State Government locked out the corpse of Africa’s first black female novelist, Flora Nwapa, from the Multi Purpose Hall Owerri, Imo State, where mourners had gathered in thousands to pay their last respects. And to crown it all, the military even “slaughtered” one of its own, the erudite and versatile poet, Mamman Vatsa. But those might be said to be yester-years. What about today? Though on a lesser scale but no less sadly symbolic, January 4, 2008 saw Africa’s most celebrated urban novelist, the inimitable writer of children’s fiction, the first ever Director of Information for the Federal Republic of Nigeria, a member of the historic panel that chose Abuja as the new Federal capital of Nigeria, Chief Cyprian O. D. Ekwensi, buried in his hometown Nkwelle, Anambra State, without a Federal government representative and not even a Condolence Message at the occasion.

Perhaps the Federal Government can seize this opportunity and use the year of the celebration of Things Fall Apart to make amends and atone for the past aversion to Nigerian writers, and the abysmal neglect of African Literature as an autonomous field of study in the Nigerian educational system. Nigerian writers are true cultural and intellectual ambassadors of their country inside and outside the Nigerian borders. Many doors today fly open for Nigeria because of such names as Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Gabriel Okara, J. P. Clark, Michael Echeruo, Chukwuemeka Ike, Obi Egbuna, Elechi Amadi, T. M. Aluko, Onuora Nzekwu, Buchi Emecheta, Mabel Segun, Kalu Uka, Ifeoma Okoye, Anezi Okoro, Zynab Alkali, I.N.C.Aniebo, Adaora Ulasi, Ossie Enekwe, Niyi Osundare, Tanure Ojaide, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Chimalum Nwankwo, Tunde Fatunde, Akachi Adimora-Ezeigbo, Catherine Acholonu, Sam Ukalla, Chris Nwamuo, Karen King-Aribisala, Odia Ofeimun, Isidore Okpewho, Festus Iyayi, Anelechi Chukuezi, Kole Omotoso, Femi Osofisan, Tess Onwueme, Sefi Atta, Irene Salami, Promise Onwudiwe-Okekwe... and the list goes on and on, plus those who have joined the Great Beyond but their impacts are still felt: D. O. Fagunwa, Pita Nwana, D. N. Achara, Leopold Bell-Gam, Tony Ubesie, Amos Tutuola, John Munonye, Zulu Sofola, Flora Nwapa, Christopher Okigbo, Ene Henshaw, Ada Ugah, Ezenwa Ohaeto, Cyprian Ekwensi .... and others. For their sakes, and for their great contributions to the growth and development of African Literature, now acclaimed world-wide, I respectfully call on (no, I humbly plead with) President Umaru Musa Yar’Adua, to please ‘bring home’, African Literature! Remove the stigmatization of African Literature and Nigerian Writers as the proverbial Unakanamba, praised and recognized world-wide but neglected at home. African Literature should be an autonomous and independent subject in the Nigerian school curriculum studied at all levels of the educational system. It has become a huge irony and indeed anachronistic for Nigerian scholars to travel abroad to foreign universities to research on African Literature and Nigerian writers, for advanced degrees. There should be established in Nigeria an International Center for African Literature Research and Documentation, one of whose responsibilities should be the location, retrieval and collection of the original manuscripts of published Nigerian creative works and the letters (correspondence) of Nigerian writers. The Center should also have an active unit for the translation of exceptional creative works of African Literature into Nigerian languages. The film industry in Nigeria should be legitimized, empowered and assisted to produce film versions of important Nigerian creative works especially novels, as well as documentaries on Nigerian writers for use in schools and the promotion of tourism. And in this regard, a well produced authentic film version of Things Fall Apart is long overdue.

I would plead specifically with Governor Peter Obi of Anambra State, to please stop at nothing to ensure the location and retrieval of the original manuscript of Things Fall Apart hidden somewhere today in a town in the Francophone part of the Cameroons. This is of the greatest importance in Chinua Achebe’s heart today. The recovery of the original manuscript of Things Fall Apart and its repartriation to Nigeria will be the crowning point of this celebration this year. On November 16, 1930, Ogidi and the entire Anambra State, gave to the world Chinua Achebe, once described as “one of the ten greatest novelists in the world today dead or alive.” The history of the literary super-eminence of Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart will forever remain incomplete, until its original manuscript adorns a museum or archives somewhere in Anambra State for tourists, researchers, teachers, students and the whole world to come and behold the amazing wonders of the African mind. The Israelites of old wept pathetically in Psalm 137:

We wept when we remembered Zion....
For those who carried us away captive
Asked of us a song
And those who plundered us requested mirth
Saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?

I ask the President of the Association of Nigerian Authors, I ask Governor Peter Obi of Anambra State, I ask the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, how can this treasure Things Fall Apart, described by one of the most eminent critics of African Literature in the world today, Charles Ekwusiaga Nnolim of Umuchu, Anambra State, as “an Igbo national epic,” be allowed to be held in captivity in a foreign land? Bakassi we may give up, but Things Fall Apart we can’t. Chukwu Nna Ekwela ka ihere nka me anyi! (May God forbid this potential eternal shame!) When one of the greatest African American writers of the 20th Century, Langston Hughes, died in 1967, his body was cremated and his ashes stored in an urn in Providence, Rhode Island, an all-white neighborhood. Through the collective will and efforts of dedicated African Americans, the ashes were brought home years later and are now lying peacefully at the Schomburg Center for the Study of African American Culture and Arts in New York City where Langston Hughes lived till his death. Let us borrow a leaf from that magnanimous, heroic and culturally affirmative act, and bring home the original manuscript of Things Fall Apart. Home is Nigeria where it proudly belongs.

History has bestowed on the University of Nigeria, the honor and responsibility of “restoring the dignity of man” as its motto eloquently declares. As an alumnus of this great University and true to its motto, I call on the Vice Chancellor of the University of Nigeria, Prof. Chinedu Nebo, to set up in this University a Center for the Study of African Literature and give breath and life again to such journals as Okike and Uwa Ndi Igbo both founded by Chinua Achebe during his years at the University first as a Research Fellow, and later, a Professor of English.

Finally I call on my colleagues in the Departments of English and Literary Studies in all Nigerian universities and other tertiary institutions, to make themselves relevant in the current vibrant world-wide study of Modern African Literature. Our young readers need abridged and simplified editions of great Nigerian works beginning with Things Fall Apart. It falls in the territory of Nigerian scholars to research and tell the world how many languages Things Fall Apart has so far been translated into and published; how many copies of the novel have been sold to date in different nationalities and cumulatively; and the comparative values that readers inside and outside the Nigerian borders respectively find in Things Fall Apart. What is it about Things Fall Apart that captures the interest of readers in South Korea, India, Germany, France, the Caribbean, Russia, Canada, England, Portugal, etc. different from readers in Nigeria or Africa as a whole? How can these relative interests and attitudes shape the pedagogical approaches to Things Fall Apart in the classroom? And let me state in the strongest of terms possible, that after fifty years of its publication; after over fifty translations in other world languages; after its recent publication in Yoruba language; the non existence of an Igbo Language edition of Things Fall Apart casts a shadow of doubt on the integrity of scholars of Igbo Language and Linguistics. I cannot perceive it any other way.

I believe that if the forum for this Keynote Address had allowed questions from the audience, probably the first question would be, given the universal appeal of Things Fall Apart all these years, why has its author Chinua Achebe not been honored with the Nobel Prize for Literature? He has after all, more than any other writer in the second half of the 20th century, influenced for better the course of World Literature in English, and remains an African novelist, who has more than any other writer of this era, “provided a renewed sense of African heritage, history, and tradition.”

So why has he not been honored with the Nobel Prize for Literature? Let me allow you to hear this anecdote directly from Chinua Achebe as he recounted it to J. O. J. Nwachukwu-Agbada in an interview in October 1985 here at the University of Nigeria in Achebe’s Office as Emeritus Professor of African Literature:

Many years ago I was in Stockholm along with some other writers. I think it was to honor a Nobel Prize winner then, Heinrich Boll, a West German writer who died in 1984. During a discussion with an audience, one of the most powerful members of the Swedish Academy which normally picks the Nobel Prize winners said something which annoyed me and I told him off. And people came to me later on and said that the man was very powerful, that he was one of those who decided on who won the prize. And I said, so what? (139-140).

I leave you to draw your own conclusions. But whatever the case, I hope the Swedish Academy is watching and taking note of what the whole world is saying in 2008 about Chinua Achebe and Things Fall Apart.

I mentioned at the beginning of this Address that this occasion is the second of its kind that I have been called upon to introduce Chinua Achebe and his fiction to a seminal world audience. On March 17, 1998, at the 24th Annual Conference of the African Literature Association (U.S.A.), held at the University of Texas, Austin, the organizer, Bernth Lindfors, asked me to introduce Chinua Achebe who was the Keynote Speaker. After highlighting the marvelously unprecedented things that Achebe had done for African Literature in particular, and World Literature in general, I borrowed the words of the late Prof. Ola Rotimi to close my introduction. I will do the same thing today:

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, I find nothing more appropriate to present our noble speaker to you than the words of Professor Ola Rotimi, Orator of the University of Port Harcourt, Nigeria in February 1991, when the University bestowed on Chinua Achebe an honorary doctorate degree.

Chinua, son of Achebe, let me from this point on, address you in the style of traditional African Oratory... Speaker in proverbs, we salute you. Exponent of the values of African cultural heritage, I say, it is you we greet. You who ventured into the forest of world literature and came back a hero, our knees are on the ground.

If danger aims its arrows at you again,
They will not fly.
If they fly,
They will not hit you.
If they hit you,
They will not wound you.
If they wound you,
You will not weaken.
If you do weaken,
You will not fall down.
If you do fall down,
You will not faint.
If you do faint,
You will not ... die!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Long live the Association of Nigerian Authors,
Long live Chinua Achebe, Long Live the Federal Republic of Nigeria!

WORKS CITED
Achebe, Chinua. Things Fall Apart. London: Heinemann Publisher, 1958. (Quotations from Anchor Books Edition, New York, 1994)
Kaiza, David. “Achebe: Why he was no Literary Genius.” Nation, The East African Magazine. Feb. 25, 2008.
Hall, Tony. “Interview with Achebe.” In Conversations with Chinua Achebe. Ed. Bernth Lindfors. Jackson: Jackson University Press of Mississippi, 1997: 18-26.
Nwachukwu, J.O.J. “Interview with Chinua Achebe.” In Conversations with Chinua Achebe. Ed. Bernth Lindfors. Jackson: Jackson University Press of Mississippi, 1997: 130-140.
Shelton, Austin J. “The Offended CHI in Achebe’s Novels.” Transition, III, No. 13, March 1964: 36-37.
- - -. “Behaviour and Cultural Value in West African Stories: Literary Sources for the Study of Culture Contact.” AFRICA, xxxiv, No. 4, Oct. 1964: 353-359.
- - -. “The Articulation of Traditional and Modern in Igbo Literature.” The Conch. Vol. 1, March 1969: 30-44.
- - -. “Failures and Individualism in Achebe’s Stories.” Studies in Black Literature. Vol. 2, 1971: 5-9.


Dear Reader, I hope you enjoyed this keynote address. It's not the same as listening to Professor Emenyonu delivering it, but it's better than nothing. Blogger does not let it users retain the format of their work when they copy from a Microsoft Word document, I had to read through this address and re-italicize and re-bolden the words, to make it the same format my copy is. I therefore claim responsibility for any wrong emphasis of words.

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I visited Chimamanda Adichie & Chinua Achebe's old house on the University of Nigeria, Nsukka campus! Read my post HERE!