Re: North's vicious circle of Poverty

Re: North's vicious circle of Poverty

By

Ibrahim A. Waziri

In the 26/07/08 edition of Weekly Trust Newspaper is the cover story with the above title, which discussed the poverty phenomenon in Northern Nigeria in the light of the much attention the issue has garnered in recent times, especially when the Central Bank of Nigeria’s governor, Professor Charles Soludo drew attention to it - though reiterating what he once said a year past - at a lecture organised by the Northern Development Initiative in Kaduna, some weeks ago, asking the federal government to declare the situation in the North, a national crisis.

Many people differ on the different causes and solutions to the problem as it affects the region and the country in general. While some of us are quick to identify with positions as that of Mallam Salihu Lukman, a development Economist interviewed in the same edition of the paper, which squarely blamed it on the leadership of Northern Nigeria, that cannot, among other things, fully account for the 17 Trillion Naira it collected from the federal coffers between 1999 to 2007, in the light of efforts at poverty alleviation. Others, as our brothers across the Niger, will rather blame the religion and culture of Northerners as the main culprit, with the justification that the Northern leaders are not any worse than the Southern leaders and yet the Southerners are better up, so the explanation must be in the values, religion and culture of Northerners, or at a stretched imagination, laziness – as seen in certain statement issued by Arewa Consultative Forum (ACF) and reported by The Punch of31/07/08.This perception is further strengthened by the content an interview conducted by the Weekly’s reporter, Ja’afar Ja’afar and published in the same edition, under a title that says it all, ‘I was given N50, 000 capital, but I married with it’, and described Mallam Garba, the interviewed, as “a real-life stereotype of a Hausa man.”, who cares not about, “what to eat or what to wear” and is “very indifferent, unambitious and a man with a simplistic outlook to life.”

This piece intends to scrutinise the two positions advanced, in the hope of providing insight into the nature of the processes that led the North to this sorry state economically.

Here it is important to understand the fact that there is a wide gap of difference between, culture, religion, values on one side, and in this context, from world view, which typifies the behaviour of an average Northerner like Mallam Garba. The truth of the matter is religion or culture has little to do with human taste, instinct and desire to survive on a certain standard. It only governs choices on how to achieve a standard. This is why we see a lot of Northerners who are not like Mallam Garba in style, despite them sharing same religion, culture and values with him.

A close examination will reveal that the mechanism of progress that made the Hausa the most vibrant and enterprising nation in the whole of West Africa, at a time of the past, is still here. It is also not laziness as, today; nobody comes from any region to farm for them the food they survive on daily. It is like those seeking for an answer to why the Northern Nigeria is in its state now despite the fact of its elite holding power in the composition of the present Nigerian nation-state for over 40 years, should try some reading in classical power and relational politics and its implication on groups’ socio-economic development. In this, one will see that the North is where it is today only in respect to the popular saying that one cannot eat their cake and still have it as it is with all other natural phenomena.

The seemingly correct explanation is the Northern elite, who are responsible for expanding the paradigm and worldview of average Northernerssituating them at par with their counter parts across the world, got power, in the composition of Nigerian nation, in the late 1950s and in order to keep to it they chose the option of eliminating the middle class among them, because the likely thing to happen is the middle class, if allowed, might grow in economy, influence and strength enough to wrench power from the upper class. This is what happened when Gowon in the early 70s and Shagari in the late 70s, allowed their own to grow strong in the military. They just did away with them in 1975 and 1984 respectively and clung to power making sure they did not make the same mistake their predecessors made. They continued the practice of axing their own economically, intellectually and otherwise.

On the other side, the other regions, with especial example of Awo of the South West, were not faced with anything of political control of Nigeria and as such they continued to strengthen their middle class as the upper class realized the need to empower their own as a comprehensive defence against the onslaught of Northern upper class elite. The middle class served as an armoury to the upper class. They continued the battle for them until the early nineties when IBB annulled the popular June 12 election.

Then came the climaxes, the June 12 was ethnicised and regionalised,the South West had a good number of media outfits and middle class individuals with the right education and economic resources to sustain the fight while in the North of early nineties, very few among the middle class could do well in countering the others in the intellectual fight at the level of resources. At the end of the day, after the demise of Abacha, the Northern elite were confronted with no option than to dash power to the South West in 1999. They have won the fight.

When Obasanjo realized his bearing and started targeting these Northern elites it still remained that they had none to defend them save the few middle class created during Abacha regime under the Buhari PTF. Many young Northerners then have merited contracts and madea couple of millions. They were the ones who established focused media houses, maintained Newspaper columns, and started getting back at Obasanjo and his policies.

And of course, the era of Obasanjo was the era of South West participating in national politics. Even though they already have a vibrant middle class, and sound economic structure that benefited from the regime's economic considerations at the centre, it is evident that they also suffered from what the North earlier on suffered from as their elite started a war of control of the region's social and cultural resources. This war recorded many casualties as even people like Bola Ige had to take exit, brutally killed. Also the control politics did not allow their governors to work in unison with progress of the region. In fact they were rated among the worst in performance.

On his part, Obasanjo had to seek for his loyalist outside his own region because trusting and elevating his regional men in the centre may lead to excessive ambition which in turn may result in a palace coup akin to what happened to his predecessors like Gowon and Shagari and their people whom they trusted with the leadership of the military.

This is about the story of Northerners in Nigeria and what came up in their economic development. It is also the reason why there was no time when Northerners talked much about their economy more than the time of Obasanjo’s leadership.Being it they left the leadership position of the country and the upper class were being attacked by Obasanjo mercilessly. Of course, it was also then that the leadershipin the North achieved most, more than the many years it clung to power at the centre.

This is why some of us think the North can have meaningful economic development only if power is made to stay away from its elite for several years while others think, Northerners may have learnt their lessons and will now work assiduously to develop the region.

The whole of this truth is particularly important to stress here given the pronouncements of the governor of Niger State, Alhaji Mu’azu Babangida Aliyu, who tried to attribute the present economic predicament of the North, as widely reported by Newspapers around the country, to an obscure international conspiracy.

If indeed there was a conspiracy it was a Northern Political Class Conspiracy which lost itself in the game of control politics over time.

As it is now the solution to the problem is not one of a short term as the generation of youths without the relevant skills necessary for survival in formal economy now as the ones to be produced in the recent future are very much in the league of the 86% - quoted percentage of the poor - among us. So an affirmative action, with the intent of taking care of our distant future, which appeals to laws and legislations, is the only options. The solution, though good, is not totally in the much taunted, revitalisation of the Agricultural Sector in the North, for Anambra State that is among the highest in the country’s economic index is not an agricultural haven or oil reservoir. After all the Agricultural Sector, if revitalised, may end up serving the economic need of others if there is no enough skilled manpower with right national and international market strategies among the Northerners. Here it is particularly important for the government to invest hugely in human capital development as Northerners need to have more of a world class exposure in various disciplines both academic and entrepreneurial, necesary for survival in the capitalist world.

We certainly, also, cannot continue in the pretentions of creating welfare states. No how can a government continue to afford a free education for all as the Bauchi State House of Assembly is recently heard to be saying it would put Qur’anic Schools and its Almajirai in the state’s budget. This is not practicable as even the formal Western Type of schools that are government owned are not maintained adequately. In fact the example of Kano State which tried to do that as reported in the same edition of Weekly Trust is not encouraging.

So instead of us to continue sailing the dream boat, legislations must be made and enforced that will compel parents to bear more the responsibilities of the children they produce – since religiously it is their duty - as they sometimes recklessly and indiscriminately marry without regard to religious injunctions in keeping and maintaining a family. Thus they send the children out to others cities, hawking and scavenging as Almajirai, in the Qur’anic Schools they could always find in their own villages. It is these Almajirai , growing in the streets with a very bad taste of what life is, with wrong upbringing, wrong heroes, wrong worldview and wrong skills of survival in the 21st century world, that form the bulk of the poor people in Northern Nigeria.

Also such legislations must lead to the creation of agencies, as in other Muslim African countries, like Egypt, Libya and Tunisia, which will be saddled with the responsibilities of accessing the economic and mental worth of anybody who intends to marry or add another wife as many among us are tilted toward abusing the privilege associated with polygamy by placing satisfaction that comes from their being with many wives above their responsibilities of seeing to the maintenance of the family. They plan to produce as many children as they can without planning to give them the best as the religion requires of them.As such we end up with many children that cannot be catered for adequately by their parents, growing in the streets with a terrible taste of what life is, with no abilities to think and save themselves or even those around them in the context of the challenges daily living presents.

It is my humble opinion that family is the barometer of all communities, and keeping political correctness aside,we will need to understand governance as meaning making attempts to make subjects of a defined community disciplined and responsible in all of their dealings and this starts with the channels and processes of procreation in the community. Failure to address issues at this level signals the triumph of anarchy as it is seen in the threat we are facing from the monsters of poverty in Northern Nigeria due to,largely, among other things, our neglect of legal provisions in the formation of family units in both religion and our secular living.

Ibrahim A. Waziri is a Web Application Software Developer at Iya Abubakar Computer Center, Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. He can be reached at, iawaziri@yahoo.com, 234- 080- 35167963

potrait of the playwright as a young man

A war, with its attendant human suffering, must, when that evil is unavoidable, be made to fragment more than buildings: it must shatter the foundations of thought and re-create. Only in this way does every individual share in the cataclysm and understand the purpose of sacrifice.

Wole Soyinka (1934 - )
Nigerian novelist, playwright, poet, and lecturer.
The Man Died

Wole Soyinka, born in 1934, Nigerian playwright, poet, novelist, and lecturer, whose writings draw on African tradition and mythology while employing Western literary forms. In 1986 Soyinka became the first African writer and the first black writer to win the Nobel Prize in literature.

Microsoft ® Encarta ® 2007. © 1993-2006 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

Combustive Synergy at JosANA

Combustive Synergy at JosANA

It would seem that the workings of JosANA, Nigeria’s finest literary hotpsot, are quite similar to those of an internal combustion engine – possessing the ability burn the fuel of histories-in-the-making efficiently, running on the steam of dependably intelligent criticism and of course, producing lines of prose and poetry - that most regenerative of exhausts. It is a synergy of many parts.

The meeting {Saturday 23rd Aug.} began late, at about 1:30 pm, on account of the seasonal rains which saw most of our members arriving in windbreakers and cardigans. The usual salutes were exchanged and we settled to the business of the day. Our long absent member, Patricia Ikejiofor, broke the grounds with her reading of a poem "Sweet Bitter Pill", a poem written in quatrains on the theme of death. By far the finest quatrain read –

As the clock ticks tick-tock rhythmically
You masterminded your art, masked in cruelly
Pitter patter ticking of the ticker
The unwelcome guest even in the house of the vicar

Richard Ali set the critique in motion by admiring the use of irregularly placed rhymes which gave a fine musicality to the lines – then he went on to point out instances where a different order of words and the deletion of an entire stanza would, in his opinion, yield an even finer poem. Silas Nnamonu, retired educationist, however pointed out that at one point the poem joined the specific to the general and while this was not wrong, stanza 3 presents death as an interactive, on-going action – it was his opinion that this finicky movements did not work too well. He also noted, very importantly, concerning the poets use of the word "vicissitude" in relation to death that "death is an end-all, not a vicissitude." Sir Nnamonu also questioned the ending of the poem which was superfluously declaratory. Our Chairperson, Bose Tsevende, however came to the defense of Patricia’s ending, saying each poet has the right to a sort of complimentary close. Sir Nnamonu however repartee’d that it wasn’t a question of whether the poet was right or wrong to use a declaratory close – the question was, does it work? Allen Omale, our ex-Chairman, who was at the meeting in company of his wife Rahmah and child Iman, complimented Sir Nnamonu’s contributions to JosANA especially concerning the artistic amenability of language viz sense. Allen affirmed that while poetic freedom existed to be claimed, traditions are also there to be followed. He then added his criticism of the poem – in his opinion, there were too many "un-poetic words" bogging down the poem and he suggested improvement which Mrs. Patricia graciously accepted to consider.

Next came David Onotu, who read another poem, "Mr President Sire" – it was a poem typical of his style, long and interesting to the ears. Yet, unlike his previous work, the poem became the centre of a critical whirlpool. First, Allen Omale said that some long poems are enjoyable, like the Canterbury Tales and Osundare’s Waiting Laughters, while others are not and that what distincts poetry from prose is the use of metaphor and simile to pass across the message. These poetic underpinnings were however absent in David Onotu’s poem. Richard Ali threw in his own salvo, saying the poem possessed an "ambiguous coherence" – that in the long winding trial of it, the reader/audience, is forced to re-discover themes to encompass the entire work which would otherwise be mutually exclusive recitals. Mr. Ali did not believe that such audience-relative "meaning" portended good writing. Alpah Emeka, Jos City novelist, came to the criticism of the work by saying he found the words as being sound social commentary with a fine flow, and that there were different approaches to poetry. Richard Ali returned, saying "an outraged social conscience is not what makes poetry out of prose!". If poetry is the medium of writing a didactic, let it be poetry, not prose, however densely sensitive, masking as poetry. Sir Nnamonu for his part wondered about the title and varying comments were made on the floor concerning the import of the title. Sir Nnamonu asked whether it was meant to be satirical and someone said whether satirical or not, the idea of the title did not run through the poem. On David’s saying the title was sort of satirical, Allen Omale took him up – when you satirize, you praise and in your praising, you really mock, he said. Yet, there was not a jot of praise amongst the litany that comprised "Mr. President Sire." Steve Rwang Pam, for his part, had the conviction that if the poem were cut by half of its length and tightened, there would be more "poetic juice" in it. And thus, with egos and tempers ruffled, ended the critique of JosANA’s most controversial poem yet.

Next, Bose Tsevende, seizing her Chair prerogative, read an absolutely stunning poem titled "The Voice of the Night" –

I heard the voice of the night
It is not silent anymore
The night talked to me
About imminent breaks,
Nations breaking into war
Homes breaking into fragments
Hearts breaking, cannot be mended.

Aunty B’s poem was read to rave criticism. It was a sensitive analysis of the night, a paean to the unseen and eternally knowing, to the hidden, the vile, the enchantedly profane. Allen Omale – I enjoyed it. Silas Nnamonu – I feared it, I feared the message. Allen also said – Aunty B keeps "bringing in the poetic into her poems" and that the subtle way in which she weaves that poetic into her craft is what sets her out as a poet to be reckoned with. He then compared Mrs Tsevende’s poem to David Onotu’s reading, further buttressing his earlier opinions. Sir Nnamonu wondered about the underlying pessimism he sensed in the poem, a sense of something about to collapse, an appeal – it would seem that the poet has appropriated the definite voice of Sibyl. Sir Nnamonu wondered what might be done to avert the doom foretold? Alpha Emeka complimented Aunty B on her exposition of appropriate and unusual themes. Abubakar Adam, who won the 2007 BBC African Performance Playwrighting Competition, said that apart from the beauty of her language, it was also accessible to everyone. We all look forward to Mrs. Tsevende’s upcoming second collection of poems from which "The Voice of the Night" is taken.

In a meeting already rich in the unusual, a poem entitled "The Chiefdom is Suffering from a Shortage of Guinea Corn" was read by Timi Kpakiama, one of our newer members from the Niger Delta. In a correct showing of the avant-gardism that JosANA has been noted for, the poem is based on translation of traditional Ijaw folklore. It naturally brought the house to the boilers. Allen Omale, while restating his unfamiliarity with Ijaw poetry, however wondered about the length of the title, he’d never seen anything quite like it before. Eric Biame wondered if it came from the translation process? Another debate, as to whether the poem was "original" or not, began. David Onotu was Timi’s supporter viz the unusual length of the title. The poem itself was however an interesting one, with the use of oblique personifications referring perhaps to the Delta vis-à-vis Nigeria.

Aborigines dwelling by Lokoja and the Chad
Were nature’s barometers taming and tending
The garden of God; they were Adams ‘heritors
Before we came, bearing dispersion with us
Richard Ali read a badly received poem, "The Kwararafa Sun." Meant to be an epic of Nigerian identity, Mr. Ali just did not pull it off. Allen said it was meant to be an epic but it had been disappointingly overwhelmed by prose and he suggested a re-write. Bose Tsevende however compared the poem to the work of Okello Oculli. David Onotu said it was unusual for Ali to write long poems and maybe being out of his elemental precise poetry, he had blundered? Alpha Emeka said he was sure the poem read was a "first draft". Graciously bowing to the critical fire of the house, Richard Ali pleaded the wayward talent with which he wrestles and promised to rework the poem so that it would read more like what was envisaged in his mind.

Following this, Alpha Emeka and Abubakar Adam took turns to read excerpts from their published and upcoming novels – "Carnival" and "Sons of Silence" respectively. Abubakar’s first novel, "The Quest for Nina" is due out in the United States in a couple of months with a Nigerian edition expected by April 2009. Abubakar’s excerpt started with "Mother started to die when father and his friend started to whisper in the corners . . . . " and in the two thousand words that followed that phrase, Mr. Adam was able to paint a surreal graph of family dysfunction, captured in insightful, evocatively eloquent prose. Compared to his debut, which this writer has read, Abubakar’s best work is still yet to come and it would not be in his acclaimed dramaturgy, but in the realm of prose. Bose Tsevende remarked that it was a sweet story and she loved his technique of giving, in short sentences, deep insights into characters – something reminiscent of Dickens.

The meeting came to an end with the reading of three poems by our Vice President, Matthew Mzega, one of them titled, in a meeting already rich with highly descriptive titles – "The Smallest Pepper"! It was well received. Matthew, an economist by training, is fast carving a niche for himself, his poetry maturing in strides – as is his sponge-like acceptance of criticism that has no doubt fueled his genius. .Finally, Jos City crooner and JosANA PRO, Steve Rwang-Pam brought the house down with powerful renditions of country music – something beautiful and old that had the words "flowers of gold don’t grow in gardens of stone" in it as well as a fantastic Billy Ray Cyrus piece called "My Achey Breakey Heart."
Talk of synergy and combustion!

Richard Ali is Secretary General of JosANA. Inquiries may be made via rugbali@gmail.com or 08062392145

A Dark Ghazal

Infernal pointsman destroying space-time
Shattering science in a million frissons of glass
This is the end of the fury – the mad scribbling
The chill of waiting to pen perfect roses

Whirlwinds rage on, but I am innocent of dust
My imperfect lines throb as if they still live
The market still pulses with life

I tell you
Fortitude and solitude are one
The same with wine and women and art
Cold mistresses teasing flames in temples
Parched with thinking, longing
And forgetting

So
Life shatters into a million frissons
And I step out into the light
Killing the man in the mirror.

A Dark Ghazal

JosANA gives me a Headache!

JosANA gives me a Headache!

At the end of each meeting of Jos ANA, I have a headache. Every single time. Being an true blue African, I sought scientific inquiry into this curious state of affairs. My herbalist friend, after the obligatory sacrifices, told me that the headache was caused by “osmosis” – he explained that in high pressure situations, especially where mental energy is being focused, like at JosANA meetings, the brain cells are bombarded with electrons of intellection and a side effect of the ensuing friction is the pulsations of the temple called headache. So you see, I am a happy man. My ailment is scientifically recognized. And, yes, following the last ANA meeting on Saturday 12th July, I had a headache.

I arrived late but did not miss much as the usual “hello, hello” salutes were still going on at 1:09 pm. Bose Tsevende was already there together with Alpha and Michael Emeka, David Onotu. Kanchana Ugbabe was also there, having been absent from JosANA for quite a while. In no time the verandah was full with old and new members, especially our members who fall in-between – those who show up once in a while. We had four new members.

The meeting proper began on a poetic note with our member, Emma Kenine, reading her piece, “In Blue She Comes”. The meeting could not have started on a better note because the poem was just perfect – Emma’s poem had that control of sound, imagery and soul that elite poem have which sets them above reproach. The word “blue” was the anvil on which the poem riposted, much like Federico Garcia Lorca’s “a la cinquo de la tarde” from his most famous poem. David Onotu pointed out that Emma Kenine’s poem also shared similarity of style with a Langston Hughes poem that played on connotations of “red”.

Following Emma’s reading, Abubakar Adam took to the center stage with a reading of “Because You Are a Poet” - a verse offering to Aunty B Tsevende who’s 2007 Poems is titled “You Are a Poet”. In that poem, Abubakar successfully married with simile the motions of dance {Mrs. Tsevende lectures dance} to the “dance” motions of lines of verse. The underlying idea was that Aunty B was a poet while he, Abubakar, was not. However, the Jos City barrister, Redzie Jugo, added a last line to Abubakar’s reading by saying “My guy, you are being too modest!” and urged Abubakar to modify the last line accordingly. Another lawyer, Mahan, said that eulogies are associative and Abubakar ought not to dissociate his innate poetic in his panegyric on Aunty B, thus agreeing with Redzie’s submission. I guess Abubakar ought to have said in stock legalese – “As my Lord pleases!”

Next to read and still in the thrall of poesy was David Onotu and his “Hills of Green”, a highly involved and perceptive poem about the Jos plateau. In his trademark style of man-in-the-arena oratury, David succeeded in weaving a complex tapestry of the Plateau, mother of us all – its ambience, its people, the tensions, the places, the drama of everyday life, our hopes and dreams and the particulars of our collective hubris. There was silence, simply, and then there was applause. No further affirmation can greet an upcoming poetaster than the un-begrudged applause of his no mean contemporaries. Steve Rwang Pam was highly touched by this poem and Redzie said there ought to be collaboration with Aunty B to stage it in the Theatre. Richard Ali said indeed it demanded a screenplay. Our member, Patience Egwurube, who is a writer of screenplays nodded her head in concurrence. Bose Tsevende asked Steve Rwang Pam to look into the possibility to having the poem as a jingle of Radio and the Country music crooner said he’d be delighted to do that. Steve also said that David’s poem was the sort of art that was the material for further works of art.

In what is becoming Michael Emeka’s forte, prose, he read an excerpt from his upcoming novel titled “The Tide”. Michael’s ear for prose is perhaps as perceptive as David Onotu’s ear for poetry – such was his presence of mind as he told a tale of a young man walking heedlessly into the whirlpool of petroleum smuggling as opposed to going to Aba to apprentice himself as an auto spare parts dealer. He was able to capture with his prose the drama of the rivalries between parents and in highly effective interior monologues, he captured the mind of his central character. An A1 awareness of description kept the entire excerpt together, stringing his audience along. Prof. Kanchana Ugbabe commented on the psyche of the piece and on Michael’s use of language. She also wondered how the novel would end? Redzie Jugo noted it was a fantastic excerpt only that the beginning seemed too long and detailed. Richard Ali agreed with Redzie and suggested that the opening paragraphs, which describe a journey to a petroleum dump, should be cut by about a third. Steve Rwang Pam said it was a “well spiced” reading and Mahan said that everyone could identify with the story, commending the contemporaneity of Michael’s subject. The truth is, it would be impossible for me to convey in reported prose the reactions to “The Tide.”

Steve Rwang Pam read his second poem this year, an interesting one called “Looking Back”. It was verse steeped in nostalgia for simpler, less complicated times and it set off some debate in the house.

When warmth was for the skin
And allergies were not known
Where goldfinches twit and nightingales sustain
The resonance of divine symphony

Steve said the allusion in the poem was Biblical, that he imagined Adam reciting the poem. Among other things, Richard Ali said if that was so then perhaps the title should be “Adam Looking Back?” but this suggestion was shot down variously and died midair. JosANA is perhaps one of the few places in the country where artists find material for their work even in religion. Indeed, only at the last meeting, Mrs. Tsevende had read a poem full of religious allusions.
Next, Alpha Emeka read his entry for the 2008 Commonwealth Short Story Competition, a 501 word entry titled “A Season of Blessing.” It was one of those existentialist stories – a man leaves the stifling fumes and strictures of the city for the remembered tranquility and ozonic air of the countryside only to find that the monsterface of urbanity had replicated itself there just as well. Among the comments was that though there was a word limit for the CSSC, Alpha could have added the nuance of moral/personal degradation side by side with environmental degradation. But even without that, no one doubts that the next Commonwealth Short Story Prize will be won by a member of JosANA. { If Molara Wood doesn’t, of course!}

Richard Ali, who chaired the meeting, shared out info-fliers about the upcoming Cavalcade literary journal being published by the Abuja Writers Forum – the most serious writer’s body in the Nigerian capital.

On firmer ground now, having left poetry behind, Abubakar read a short story titled “Night Call”. “Night Call” is the story of a young man who falls into the trap of a femme fatale courtesy an inauspicious telephone conversation. At the end of the story, the man is set to hang for a murder he did not commit – of the siren’s husband. I am a lover of the bette noir movies and this story would have had Roman Polanski screaming for his scriptwriter and cameraman! Along the line, in prison, a guard befriends the hapless young man and they form a plan to entrap Farida la femme via a taped confession. BUT, the tape runs out just before her confession! To understand the story, let me recommend my second favorites bette noire – pick out “The Man Who Wasn’t There” when next you are at the Video Club. Following Abubakar’s reading, Richard, who had been silent all the while, bemoaned the fact that writers up north and in JosANA were content to come read their poems bi-weekly and get applause – but a literary reputation is gotten by being in the larger public arena. He said the way to force your work into that arena is to get them published in journals and anthologies, like Cavalcade, African Writing and Sentinel Poetry. Helon Habila had given Jos writers the same advice during his 2007 book tour. And really, I bet you my last Bic biro, some of the stuff routinely read and praised during our meetings, the stuff I write about in my digest – were you to actually read them or hear them being read, it would blow your mind away. Jos City is at the heart of the Nigerian cultural renaissance and JosANA is the natural leader of that reappraisal.

Kanchana Ugbabe, professor of Creative Writing, lent a word in agreement with Richard’s exhortation. She came in with recent printouts from the New Yorker – Chimamanda Adichie’s “The Headstrong Historian” and something from Uwem Akpan, the Jesuit priest who is currently the homeboy of Nigerian letters. Her point was that young writers ought to send their work out, to local newspapers and journals as well as to International ones because there really are only two answers to any question. A literary reputation rests on the acclaim that heralds a writer who has made himself synonymous with more “yes” answers than “no.”

Bose Tsevende was in her natural element rendering two poems with intros in Yoruba language. The Jos literary movement is a sort of levitation – comprising the most talented writers who, standing on the shoulders of giants, have a vantage and voice that is distinctly theirs. Bose Tsevende’s poems have even become finer following her 2007 poems and her next collection sure would be a hot pick.

PHIL: {Struggles for a while and then gives up} No use!
RATTY: Say, what do we have for breakfast?
PHIL: Breakfast? Breakfast in the evening?
RATTY: Well, I thought it was morning . . . the moon.
PHIL: There is no moon Ratty! How can there be a moon in the morning?
RATTY: Its not morning Phil. Look! We are still here . . .it’s evening.
PHIL: Have we ever moved? We were here in the morning. . .
RATTY: And afternoon . . .and in the evening.
PHIL: We were here yesterday.
RATTY: We were here all the yesterdays.

YES! The first play read this year at JosANA was Paul Ugbede’s “Two Characters Undefined”. In this powerfully existentialist {the spirit of Sartre was strong} drama that is at once reminiscent of Harold Pinter’s “The Birthday Party”, Paul, Jos City’s most talented young playwright, skillfully took on the entire superstructure of civilization through the perceptions of Phil and Ratty – maybe they are madmen, maybe they are aspects of the same mind? David Onotu, who voiced Ratty, compared it to Samuel Becketts classic “Waiting for Godot.” Paul Ugbede’s talents have also been recognized abroad. He was at the University of Lancaster courtesy the British Council a while back and recently, he got a 2000 pound scholarship to study at the Bath Spa University. {He joins Uche Peter Umez who won one of the scholarships for short story.} The play was very well received by the floor and Mahan said it reminded him of a Hausa joke about two drunks disputing on whether it was a sun or moon in the sky one night – they resolved to ask a third man {who is even more drunken} who assured them that he was merely a visitor to the neighborhood and so could not say whether it was sun or moon!
One thing is for sure, Paul Ugbede is IN the arena!

We returned to poetry with the reading of new member, Derek Idjai’s “Tribute to Fela”. Next came Richard Ali and he read two poems – “Ovonramven” and “When I Die.” The prize winning Esther Chinke, who came in with her sister, Ruth also read. Esther’s poem was titled “Blood on our Street” and it was a haunting verse collage of the 2001 internecine conflict on the plateau. Her line “Laughter fled with the rains” is perhaps the most haunting opening line ever read at JosANA.

The meeting came to an end with Redzie Jugo’s reading of his poem “Useless Use.” An extremely controversial, and thus successful, poem involving the skilful conjuring of sense and wordplay, Barrister Jugo’s poem kept JosANA members disputing long after the meeting ended.
And yes, I did get a headache after the meeting! But thanks to science, I know it is well with my mind.


Richard Ugbede Ali is Secretary General of JosANA and inquiries may be sent to rugbali@gmail.com

Josana Boku Boku Tori

The chairmanship of Bose Ayeni-Tsevende got off to a rip-roaring start on Saturday 14th June at the Nigerian Film Institute grounds where JosANA holds forth. We had new members coming in, old members showing up and consistent members being their usual writerly selves. One couldn’t really ask for more – except that I have got this overwhelming desire to try typing this email-digest in pidgin. I don’t know where it comes from but I shall indulge this very middleclass craving!

The meeting start sharp to one o’clock when Bose Tsevende arrive with Micheal Emeka, Alpha Emeka and David Onotu inside her motor. Them meet Richard Ali as him dey enter gate so as e come dey, all of them join for front of Institute. Them come dey halla each other, dey talk “how you dey?” and general palaver. Aunty B look fine like omoge for her jeans but she come vex small as Richard been tease am, dey call am chairman. But na play play vex sha. Finally all of us come start dey carry chair from inside hall go the balcony because the breeze just dey cool for balcony and you know say writer brain sometimes e dey hot pass oven. Sha, after we don flex our muscle dey carry chairs na him David Onotu been localize one bag of cooked groundnut wey them buy for road. We sit down dey chop the groundnut dey wait for members as we still continue our palaver. Small small the balcony come dey full, five, six, seven, twelve and so on and so forth.

We just wan start the meeting proper na him one woman come come ask for Professor Ugbabe. But Kanchana Ugbabe no come that day. The woman name na Mrs. Joseph and she be nurse for Quan Pan Local Government Area of Plateau State. As we come find out say she ma na writer she be, we come welcome am proper proper give am seat to siddon. She been come with the book wey she write, the name of the book na “Jiji” and na about the myth and legend for lower plateau areas, all these them Langtang, Quan Pan side. We no even finish that salutation when one caucasian omoge wey be our old member come arrive, her name na Carmen McCain and she dey do masters for Wisconsin {America funny name} University – she come Naija come do research for Hausa film industry, all the way from George Bush country! Allahu akbar, Kannywood don go international! Nothing dey happen!

The meeting proper start with Stephanie Onyejekwe and she read one short story wey sweet well well. I don forget the name of the story but I know say “grave” dey inside sha. Anyway, the story sweet well well. The story na about all these yeye people wey dey kill their fellow man pickin because religion. Na so two neighbor, one Christian and one Muslim come take kpai themselves oh – hmm, but as them people come bury them, na for the same graveyard them throway them for ground! You see! Anyhow, Richard been like the story especially as the thing short well well jus dey like miniskirt, everything correct, but him talk say them get some redundancy {scatter scatter grammer} wey dey inside, for example where she talk say “in a pool of their own blood” – him talk say that “their” no dey necessary because if them kpai themselves, the blood na their own! “In a pool of blood”, even though the thing sound like cliché, for better. Abubakar Adam wey win BBC African Performance for 2007 ma join, come point out one place wey Stephanie write say dem bury those yeye people for “empty grave” – to, him talk say for all him experience {dey go burial oh, no be say as undertaker} him never hear where them bury person for grave wey no empty. Na so Alpha Emeka come nack him own on top, him talk say him believe say the short tory still fit to be expanded, say make she add more characters and scenarios, say that go make am short tory wey go sweet belle even pass as e dey now. David Onotu first gree with him palle, Alpha, then him come add say him feel say the inciting incident for the story {na water dem fight on top oh} dey too small, say people no dey fight like that on top water. But then Abubakar come talk say no, say our own Jos crisis here wey we do for 2001, no be woman na him them say insult Muslim man wey dey pray, abi na Muslim man wey spit ablution water on top woman – yet see as them kpai people! Abubakar say the water na valid inciting incident and in fact, na correct metaphor sef as to say them dey fight on top wetin God give for free, him commend Stephanie writing well well. Bose Tsevede plus her comments come correct Stephanie pronunciation of “sword”, say na “sord” e be – hmm, from now on, I go call am “sord”, me ma I don benefit from JosANA, abi how you see am? Stephanie been respond small to the boku comments wey she get from floor.

Next na him Alpha Emeka read small from him second book “Aunty Florence” wey him write in collaboration with Aunty B Tsevende. The part wey him read na one marriage situation wey two ayonge’ omoge call Kiki and Florence dey talk, whether to marry man wey get money or to marry man wey go take them away from the village wey them dey. Na serious matter oh! As always now, we all of us clap for am well well when him finish. Richard, that surutu boy, na him first start criticism. Him talk say the excerpt sweet him belle well well and him hail Alpha but him come point out say for one part Alpha read say a clay pot been “shatter to pieces” – Richard talk say “to pieces” dey redundant one kind like that because say if something shatter, na to pieces now. Writerman no need to talk everything before we sabi, abi how you see am? David Onotu been praise the “consistent atmosphere” for the piece as per say Alpha describe village well well as if him na village boy! The white omoge, Carmen McCain, come commend the use of short precise sentences for the excerpt to denote action and na him everybody come say aha, the thing sef jus dey like Chinua Achebe him Arrow of God. That na perhaps why e sweet like so.

Anyway, the next person wey read na David Onotu, the one wey Richard dey call terrible pickin, and him na poem e read – Eve of Iska. The poem na offering to the immortal shrine of our papa of Arewa wey die not long ago, Pa Cyprian Ekwensi. The poem na one long, rambling verse written with the perceptive eye of a person wey poetry dey him blood. Oh boy, see poem! The thing just dey flow dey go like okro soup dey go down big man throat and the powerful allusion plus simile and metaphor wey that boy use – e just dey like correct stockfish for inside the okro soup. I tell you, I just siddon inside the tip of my chair and I fall down sef but nobody see me because everybody dey listen seriously like say na rapture. {David Onotu is by far the most stunning of the up and coming Nigerian poets, seamlessly borrowing the innate ear for rhythm that marks out Osundare at his best with a social perception as keen as Langston Hughes’s.} Abubakar talk say when him hear David read him poems, im dey become aware of how “feeble” im attempt at writing poems be. Bose Tsevende say wistfully about youth and how important e dey to write each poem for him own time because time go come when you no go fit write am again. I gree with that talk oh, hmm, nothing dey make me fear pass to think say when I die God go call all my incomplete and unwritten poems to prosecute me on Judgment Day – I dey fear that fate well well. Alpha Emeka commend Onotu synthesis of sense and rhythm.

We been talk something but I don forget. Carmen and Richard Ugbede Ali been talk something about Chimamanda Adichie and Chinua Achebe. She say she agree in part for some of the things wey him talk about Chi Chi for him article “On Miss Adichie’s Sensibility”. Kai, I don forget.

Abubakar Adam come read one chapter from him novel wey him still dey write. Abubakar first novel, “The Quest for Nina” suppose commot for United States of A publisher by late August. The movement wey him read na about Bala wey hate cockroach with all him life and them come think say him father, ma, na cockroach he be. Him reading come explode critical tory for floor. Richard talk say for the excerpt Abubakar been digress too much come dey talk about the different kind cockroach wey dey {international species} so tey the thing come become lecture. And Richard no like lecture for inside novel at all at all. Alpha come talk say, this cockroach sef, na character of the character? We come dey wonder how long the novel go be if this him long cockroach digression go fit into the whole without looking like hand wey whitlow dey worry am. Sha, Abubakar talk say him still dey write the book so make we keep out ear for amber until him finish – them we go understand properly. I dey wait.

Richard come read from him own novel in progress wey him dey edit and reedit. The name of the novel na “The Legacy of Bolewa” and him read from inside chapter four. Everybody like him reading and writing but “but” dey. Alpha talk say him must to dey careful with “the superfluity of flowery description” so that the novel no go come dey sweet so tey reader go just lost the meaning of the story – you know, like siren wey dey sing for sailorman them for Niger-Delta so them go dey follow him voice until them drown. Richard gree say even him ma dey fear that fate, say na part of why him dey try re edit be that – so that the poetry for him language no go overwhelm the prose of him novel. Bose Tsevende talk say Ricahrd dey more interested in “beings” and not “things” and that na why him dey follow follow the nuance of him character thinking. Redzie talk say the descriptions for the excerpt dey apt but make Richard try to work in “interjections for turbulence”, so reader no go dey choked on the beauty of language. Another tori come break – Abubakar say something about dialog. Richard come talk say him done dey tire for wetin him call “the tyranny of showing”, him say critic this days too dey concentrate for dialog so writers dey write dialog against them will and sometimes against their sense sef. Him talk say critics dey like dragon wey go spit fire on top any prose wey no get “dialog”, that is, the “component of showing”. Redzie been talk say him ma notice the obsession with dialog but still sha that dialog dey dey necessary to show idiosyncrasies of characters. Redzie again talk say good prose suppose dey more concerned with “the skillful handling of the story” in opposition to the skillful handling of dialog. Abubakar talk say balance must to dey between description and action. The caucasian omoge, Carmen, na she talk say the thing come down to the style of the writer – Richard been retort say critics dey anti style and them go write bad reviews. Alpha come talk about him Radiophonics radio play and how him been work in dialog during his draft, him say dialog dey very important, because e dey show the contour of characters. The tori long small sha.

Next na our two pickin for the house, Oreoluwa and Adelaja na them read. Both of them na the pickins of Dr. Agboola and them been come with their mama, Paulette, because their papa don travel. Laja been re-read the poem wey him been read for ANA last week but him come add second stanza. We been encourage am with clap well well but somehow, the second stanza wey him add spoil the poem. The second stanza kuma try to force rhyme “poor/sore” so that the meaning come lost in the process. The boy try well well, him na just 10 years old. But men, na him younger sister, Oreoluwa, na her poem scatter head pass – sophisticated, and she na 7 going to 8 years she be. The title of her poem na “Jewelry Flower” and subtle double rhyme been dey the first line – in short, na fantastic poem, the girl collect plenty clap oh!

Jos city barrister, Redzie Jugo read him poem “O Chief”.

Na then na him Michael Emeka come read one short tory titled “Voices” about taximan Ndu and how him dey try get fuel for him motor during scarcity and about how soldier man dem no fit take people do rofo fofo is them dey unite. Comments been follow – Richard talk say instead of to say “petroleum product”, e for better of him dey more specific if na diesel or petrol. Abubakar been pick out some redundancies while Redzie feel say the short tory for fit end before when e actually actually end. Everybody agree say Michael don get draft of masterpiece for him hand. Bose Tsevende {Chairman} talk say writers of this generation suppose dey address the kind things wey people dey grapple with each day – like Michael do. Finally finally, the house dey unanimous say the title, “Voices”, no do the short tory justice. We been all suggest make him change am to “No More” and him ma talk say yes, he like the new title pass the old one.

The meeting finally break up with Mrs. Joseph reading a poem from inside her novel “Jiji” and then Stephanie read poem called “White Devils.”

I don tire, but I don try nack una small of JosANA plenty plenty tory.

NB: It is quite exhilarating to write in pidgin though sometimes it breaks down when you try to find a pidgin equivalent for an English turn of phrase. I remember back when Nigerian writers were fascinated with the quest for mediums for their work with the high texts of that movement being KSW’s “Sozaboy” and Adaora Ulasi’s “Many Thing You No Understand.” Whatever happened to that? Nigerian letters, it would seem, is a rich graveyard of fads.


Richard Ugbede Ali is Secretary Genarl of Josana and inquiries may be made to rugbali@gmail.com or 08062392145.

Questions on Artistic Responsibility – Chimamanda Adichie’s Imperfect Sun

The emails below recently caused furore in the academic and intellectual circles of Nigeria and I have posted them below in a bid to sample even more opinions on artistic freedom and the responsibility for its use. The context is, of course, primarily Nigerian. But I hope the questions raised are not merely the preoccupations of a Nigerian writer.

On Miss Adichie’s Sensibility


I am currently reading Miss Chimamanda Adichie's second book, "Half
of a Yellow Sun" and I am now just at page 170. In the last fifty
pages I have read her description of the death of Sardauna Bello in
1966 and my principal reaction, after disgust {at her ends] and
distaste {for her bad taste}, is anger. The sort of anger that a few
years ago would have set me off on a 5000-word criticism – yet, such
hagiography is hardly the worthy work of a critic or a critical
reader. That is what anger does. It makes us do unworthy things. But
now I am calm and not angry as I type out this email. In this calm, I
type as I think. Why is it that Miss Adichie finds it in her to
describe – mind you, not the death of Sardauna Bello, but that he
died bleating like a goat in a Rex Lawson song? Why? She repeats it
ad nauseum on page 130 of the Harper Collins edition of that book, a
book I only got after a year of "we no get am, try Modern Bookshop".
Why did she do it? And because I am thinking, I realize it is because
she can. I cherish the artistic freedom above all the HR's so I
understand how she did it. It is because I, in each cell of my body,
affirm she should be able to write anything she wants. But this
writing – this nauseating description I find so disagreeable, is it
sensible - for Miss Adichie to have written it? She is an artist and
inspiration is the reception of special sensitivity, perceiving the
commonplace differently. That is where our writing comes from.
Considering this, do we, should we, not be mindful of the
sensitivity, cultural sensitivity, of others? Is Miss Adichie trying
to set herself up as a martyr? Why? Has she been sensible or
sensitive?

Sardauna Bello's death, his murder, his assassination, the eclipse of
his sun – there was a context to it and I have so far appreciated
Miss Adichie's attempt to write a balanced if at times enervating
novel about the sixties, a trying time for Nigeria. But I will go to
that context later. I return to sensibility and sensitivity. Am I
insensibly questioning her sensibility – do I seek to curtail her
freedom by questioning its use? Let me carry out a test. If a German
were to write a book setting out in glory terms the history of the
Third Reich, for the purpose of "memory", and in it he describes the
details of the holocaust in stark, gory detail using the simile that
the tragic equanimity in the faces of Jews just outside the gas
chambers was like the harmony of the first movement of Tchaikovsky's
Swan Lake – what would be the reaction? Outrage! If I or a Fulani
friend of mine were to describe the 1945 or 1966 killing of Igbo's in
Northern Nigeria in the terms that the wail of Igbo women as they
were being raped and disemboweled, the scream of their husbands and
sons, sounded like the sweet music of Dan Maraya's violin – what
would be the reaction? Why, outrage! Yet, here Miss Adichie has
described the death of Sardauna Bello, the son of a sultan and an
almost mythic leader of a still conservative northern Nigeria,
describing his murder by a man he knew personally and trusted, by a
man who had eaten at his table, repeating that that same Sardauna
died bleating like a goat in a Rex Lawson song – what should be the
reaction? But no, I am calm. I am typing calm. Has this test been
unreasonable or insensible or insensitive? The outrage I am spending
typing this email, is it in the first place, unjustified? I also am
an artist and I ask if a people are not entitled to their religious,
political, cultural, all else, sensibilities and its respect – must
the freedom of art be used to bait those sensitivities as you would a
bear with dogs? Miss Adichie, is that simile necessary to your plot,
a must-be-there flourish of your style?

I am going back to the real terms, past and present, context of the
1960's including Sardauna Bello's death. Oftentimes, I hear the
ha'tuppeny demagogues the Nigerian middleclass routinely throws up
relentlessly say that the "North" has ruined Nigeria, you do not need
to prod for them to lay back an reel out their fingers; the war
criminal Gowon, squandermania Shagari, grim dicatator Buhari, wily
minded Nobel laureate compromising IBB, the Ken Saro Wiwa killing
Abacha and soon, perhaps, "the Olusegun Obasanjo foisting
Abdulsalam". But amnesia makes none of them say that of all these
Chief Executives, only Shagari won an election, the rest of them are
soldiers.

But how did soldiers get to be Chief Executives of Nigeria, who
opened the sluices for them to come in? The same men who killed
Sardauna Bello and PM Balewa and Chief Okotie Eboh. The same men who
killed duly elected Nigerian politicians. The same men who murdered
Colonel Pam. THEY opened the sluices! Yet, Miss Adichie has described
the death of an elected premier of a region comprising at least half
of Nigeria's 1966 population with the distasteful, odious simile she
has used. In denigrating the Sardauna, she elevates his murderer: in
rejecting teething politics, she accepts shinbone dictatorship. It is
as simple and horrific as that. My grandfather and the grandfathers
of my friends voted for that man, I took my degree in the university
he built, I and many young people in this country revere him for what
he set out to achieve and what he did achieve – now, is Miss
Adichie's description not baiting? What else is it?

Okay, I follow her. Creative naiveté! Of all the intellectual, talk
less behavioral, crimes which I find most odious, creative naiveté is
by far the most disgusting, the one that sets my hair on fire.
Because it rests on "I did not know . . . " when the most
unreasonable reasonable man OUGHT to know! To this email, Miss
Adichie's response would be either "I did not mean to hurt your Arewa
sensibility, I was merely trying to write a novel with the end of
blaming the British. . . . ." or she could say "I don't give a shit,
I wrote my novel and that's that!" Both possible responses fount from
creative naiveté, the first because she should have taken reasonable
care and the second, because she is a proudly Nigerian writer and the
consequent truth that both sides of the yellow sun, "north" and
south, read her novels. Creative naiveté.

Another example, I want to say why another cause of anger amongst the
youth of my "north". A friend from Nnewi, a true friend who protected
me from my mischief in primary school and who has kept in touch over
the years, has told me on more than one occasion that Nzoegwu and his
murderous crew were stymied, "hijacked in motion", that their ends
were visionary and they indeed were patriots. Nzoegwu, Ifeajuna –
they were educated men, in fact, I discount their altruism. Now, tell
me a single revolution, from Moses to Alexander to Tewodros II to
Marx unto Lenin to Castro, that has not been stymied either by
reactionary forces on the ground or by the force itself, Time? Tell
me a single one. Yet, they, for their brilliant altruism and quarter
baked communism, killed amongst the finest officials and officers in
the North and West. Did you not know the end, Mr. Nzoegwu and Mr.
Ifeajuna, did you not know how it would end, that in blowing up
Sardauna Bello's house in Kaduna, you were opening the gates for a
three and a half decade long soccer game for camouflage wearing black
bats? Ah, I see, I understand, you claim the privilege of creative
naiveté! "We did not KNOW." Miss Adichie, you who were born in '77,
you who know how it ended, do you now see the interlinked matrix of
your pedigree, the correct understanding of your simile, why I am
outraged, why I could be very angry as I type this email? I detest
bumblers. The most atrocious things in history have always begun with
a bumbler, a unit of quirk – Hitler, or syphilis.

My head hurts, I think I am tired. I really wish Miss Adichie would
be more sensitive and sensible in her future writing. She is a
Nigerian writer and we all, in the north and south, are damn proud of
her - for the acclaim and recognition she has garnered
internationally because it inspires us to keep trying to tell the
little Nigerian story each of us has, it validates the little Nigeria
we carry around with us and makes possible the future Nigeria we
dream each night about. Her debut novel was first referred to me by
an ex-girlfriend Hadiza, who is from Bauchi – Hadiza bought 5 copies
of the Kachifo edition when it became available, just to give away,
she loved Miss Adichie's Kambili and Jaja, "Kambili is such a fine
name!" she would say, and maybe her husband would let her name her
child Kambili. But I know for a fact, that she is from Tafawa Balewa
and if Miss Adichie were to use the sort of tasteless simile she has
used for Sardauna Bello to describe the PM's killing in the
subsequent pages of Half of a Yellow Sun, Hadiza would be as
disturbed as I am now.

Miss Adichie might consider the Sardauna mis-reference as a small,
little thing, one page in over four hundred pages. But that is what a
bumble is, a tiny little auspicious quirk. Look at the news from a
few days ago, the Danish embassy bombing in Pakistan – see what a
little quirk does? I get angry sometimes. There are people who
rationalize things, who understand and quite easily discount the
quirks of others; most times, I am that way. But there is a tiny
minority, as tiny really as the inciting incident, a cartoon or
paranoia or a paragraph in a historical fiction, who can be counted
on to creatively use their outrage and tempers to do atrocious
things, the bombing of embassies or the burning of books. I love
people trying to make a living each day, artists burning their brains
to create, I respect innocence and genius too much to kill or burn
books. But I am not everyone.

Nigeria is a beautiful quilt - a hundred and forty million pixels,
two hundred and fifty patches of varying sizes, colors, textures, and
sensitivities. I think it is possible to tell our stories and to
impress each our histories, without losing, without discarding or
downplaying the importance and sensitivity of each other piece of
fabric. We are a quilt in the making. As your people say, "let both
the eagle and the hawk perch, if any says no to the other, may it not
be well for him" – egbe belu, ugo belu.

Now my anger is gone. I will finish the book.


Re: On Miss Adichie's Sensibility

I wish to make further comments on the comments posted viz my post.
However, I will only comment on those posted as at Fri Jun 6, 2008
7:02 pm. If there are any other opinions expressed viz this strand,
I shall respond to them when I am through with HYS, I have just
under 150 pages and will expedite my pace in view of the sampler
I've gotten. Now –

Dear Oga Ike.
I quote you –
"The passage he'schosen, where the cries of the murdered Sardauna
are equated to the bleating of a goat, is the one part of the
book where Adichie is hardest on her own
people, the Igbo. That passage recounts that some Igbos
celebrated the
Sarduana's death, partying to the tune of the Rex Lawson song.
In the
endless competition between our ethnic nationalities over who has
hurt who the most, Adichie in writing that passage . . . "

I hope in breaking your long line, I have not hurt your meaning. My
question to you is – does Miss Adichie's "balancing" the odious
simile on page 130 by "being hard on her people" compensate for the
insensitivity of that misuse? That really is the simple question.
However, for you to have brought it up, you have answered that
question and your answer is "yes". On that score, we are different.
I do not compensate insensitivity and I think no one, in creative
fiction should – what I do is to state or not to state. Compensation
breeds atrophy, whether it is in fiction or in "sharing the national
cake." And for good measure, regarding that passage – I am NOT
compensated!

Then you go on about "ethnic nationalities" competing. This is part
of the problem, the competition between "ethnic nationalities", what
ethnic nationalities? What is competing with what? Ethnic – is it
Igbo words fighting duels with Hausa words? Or is it the Igbo way of
paying "bride price" competing with the Fulani "sharro" ordeal? Or
is it the Igbo concept of having an "obi" versus the Hausa concept
of having a "zaure"? Ethnic. No sir, ethnicities do not compete, do
not duel! It is political interest that duels, that competes;
economic interests are at odds, power play, plays for power – yes.
But not the ethnico-cultural components of superstructures. Is
there, has there ever been any point in time when ethnic components
have clashed? Look at the conquistadors and the indigenous people in
South America – was it ethnicity, or "civilization" that was
competing or clashing? Or was it economics and politics? To assume
that Nigerian history is one of "competing ethnic nationalities" is
to prove a Unified Filed Theory with a false equation ab initio. I
do not think such time wasting conceit is more forgivable because it
has become ingrained.

And I particularly dislike this mis-adaptation of Joseph Nye and
Bernard Lewis.

Then you go on "justifications given by apologists of the 1966
pogrom is that Igbos were openly rejoicing in the North when the
Sarduna was killed". I tell you, any apologists for the 1966 killing
of Igbo's in Nigeria or any other killings in any country, is a
fool. What apology? People were killed and you are writing and
reading apologies? People were killed, on both sides, two parties
fought a war and you are justifying – what In the name of anything
is there to justify? Who are you justifying or apologizing to – the
dead? Tell me, as a human being, was it not atrocious that the
Sardauna was killed – was it not atrocious that Igbos were rejoicing
in Kano on that day, was not the subsequent retaliatory killings
atrocious?

If we must write historical fiction, let us either be as close to
history and its nuances as possible, or let us so caricature history
that no one would take it seriously. Or let us disclaim history, as
Helon Habila did in the authorial note at the back of his first
novel, and simply write fiction without context. I know there are
scholars who question even the appropriateness of the novel format
when writing about serious history. What in Gods name is more
serious than a civil war? Miss Adichie has not indicated in any way
that her novel was meant to be a burlesque pantomime and I do not
think you should assume so on her behalf.

You go on, I quote "Is Rugbali reading the book Adichie has written
or another book which he thinks she might have written?" I find this
question insulting. When you, Ike, read a book – do you read the
words or what you think is on the page?

You comment on Ama Ede's post, saying some main Igbo characters were
not disposed to Ojukwu. Correct. So, what is Miss Adichie's point of
writing HYS – was it to upset everyone, or to write a screed the
sort only silly academic critics in the West would praise?

Oga Austyn,
To your amazement. You say "Of all the gory scenes and atrocities
committed on both sides, as Miss Adichie graphically portrayed in
Half of a Yellow Sun, without being partisan, it is simply laughable
to me, a non-hero worshipper, that Ali should single out the
reference to how the Sardauna died as the centre point of his
outrage against a book he has not even finished reading!"

Let me test your "amazement". Do you not find it equally "amazing"
that in my 1,000-word post, you only single out my outrage over the
Sardauna's killing? Did I not mention related issues to the
Sardauna's killing including why my part of the north would be
outraged by that sloppy portrayal? Are you not equally amazed by
your own "singling out"? My point is this – we are outraged by
particulars, hardly ever by genera. I read that page and I was upset
by it, I could not go on reading without sending out that post
because not letting it out of me would have colored the rest of the
book.

You go on "When we fly into a fit of outrage upon perceived
insensitivity to our personal sensibilities, do we not sometimes do
so out of the fear of demystification of our supposed heroes? Do we
not often refuse to query our age-long beliefs and norms out of the
fear of new discoveries? Has Ali read Helon Habila's account of the
savageries committed against the ibos in Measuring Time, during the
same period Miss Adichie wrote about? Has he also read R.A
Masagbor's "like rats" in SOLEMN CHANTS? and many other eye-
witnesses accounts?" –

I say: Fine point! If only Miss Adichie had set out on demystifying!
If she had set out on demystifying my "supposed hero" she could have
set out in her prose say perhaps how he was pilfering state funds to
build himself a pyramid in Eqypt, or something like that. How on
earth does her restating with such bad taste that he died bleating
like a goat in a Rex Lawson song demystify the Sardauna? I am
afraid, yes, but not of demystification – I am afraid of the foster
child of disgust arising from her insensitivity. And insensibility.
And there is nothing "personal" about our collective history. You
mention Helon Habila's second novel, I ask you, is there any page in
that book where a description of the war went past the use of
necessary adjectives into the realm of denigrating individual
Igbo's, talk less a Premier, with a simile similar to the one I
refuse to repeat? What I think is that if such a page exists, I
would have heard thunder asking for Mr Habila's head.

Sardauna Bello did the best he could do for his people just as
Awolowo and Zik did the best they could do for their people. They
were men of their times and let us not denigrate them, else we
should not complain of what came after them.

To your use of "ibos", I have been cautioned severally that the
correct word is "Igbo's". But perhaps that was a keyboard error.

My position, thus far, has been well stated by Ama Ede, he says "HYS
is good writing no doubt, nevertheless perhaps the problem is that
authorial position on certain sensitive historical matters are
ambivalent, equivocating. No clear self-positioning on something so
sensitive. That is the problem."

I sincerely hope that at the end of the 400 plus page book, Miss
Adichie would have redeemed this malady in her writing.

I have as yet, made no comments on HYS as a book, that I will do in
good time. What I have done is to comment on an offensive little bit
of HYS.

I hope to finish the novel sometime next week and I will surely keep
my opinion on HYS posted on this board.

Have a fine weekend everyone!

R.Ali


Half of a Yellow Sun -my opinion, related issues

I have been made aware that my previous post on Chimamanda Adichie's
Half of a Yellow Sun has put me in the untenable position of having my
literary objectivity distrusted on account of the passion of opinion
viz Sardauna Bello's murder. I shall comment on this questioned
subjectivity later in this post. Nevertheless, I wish to set out,
first, my opinion on the book – I finished reading it 2 hours ago –
and then I shall move on to related issues.

Half of a Yellow Sun is a very interesting and remarkably
well-researched book. That is my opinion. The only accusation I make
against it is the one of insensitivity and a related insensibility
regarding page 130 where she relates the death of Sardauna Bello. I
have stated my opinion of that flaw and highlighted its significance
even if the second has been lost in the reactions to the first. It is
my opinion that she could have related the same thing without using
that simile. I think HYS is an important book.

Now, a girl, Olohi used to be in charge of fashion a few years ago
when I was Editor of Sardauna Magazine and my memory of her comes down
to two phrases – "Style is personal" and "Your style is up to you."
Agreeing entirely with her, I should not make any comments concerning
the style of Miss Adichie's book published two years ago. But au
contraire, I choose to comment on her style in spite of that futility.
Only in doing so would my idea of the character of her novel come out.

I think it was wrong for me to describe HYS as being "soulless", it
was the wrong word; a phrase is more appropriate, HYS has a "scattered
soul". It does beg the question whether a soul can be scattered and
whether it still would be a soul if it has that scattered quality yet
I feel this distinction is necessary. The characters in HYS are
clearly more delineated than they were in Purple Hibiscus yet it would
seem that in delineating them she has gone so far as to plasticise
them, giving the novel a stage production feel of stock characters.
The literary authorial style is ambivalent, describing event after
event related only because they occur to the same set of people. It
seems surrealist and I, personally, think that surrealism – Dali and
his contemporaries- is Fraud and not Art. I get the distinct feeling
that Miss Adichie is not in this book. I get even, the queasy feeling
that while I am reading it, she is sitting under an udala tree
laughing and saying "They are going to puzzle over this one!" Deux ex
machina is contrived by a playwright but sometimes, the playgoers also
realize it and they can discount or not discount that trick depending
on whether it works for the play or not. Miss Adichie assures me {in
the extra interview-QandA behind the Harper Collins edition} that this
style was deliberate and it somehow comes from her reading of Harvest
of Thorns by Shimmer Chindoya and the intro of a Giovanni Verga novel.

Now, is this style appropriate for the subject of Half of a Yellow
Sun? I don't know, but I am determined to find out.

Christopher Okonkwo in his post has said `In any case, HYS is
categorically a "historical novel"' and I agree with him, sort of.
When writing creative fiction, especially historical fiction, a writer
is faced with his context – whether he wants to be purely historicist
or whether he wants to be creative. There really is no middle way
between the two until Miss Adichie's novel and her novel within a
novel – a historicist novel within a pseudo historicist one. The
historicist one is character Ugwu's novel "The World Was Silent When
We Died" and the pseudo historicist one is the one that has Olanna and
Kainene and ends with Susan Buchan's pictures from Biafra. This
stylistic choice, even before going to the characters themselves,
mires the novel in the ambivalence that seems to me frightfully close
to indifference.

When a novel relies solely on its received historical context {what
each reader/critic knows about it], aspersions are cast as to the
talent or sincerity of the writer. It is the same thing as saying to a
child, "This is Magic Beans, it turns into gold at night. But only
good people as we both can see it. Anybody who cannot see it is not a
good person." HYS context is the sixties and Biafra. Let us compare
HYS with its contemporaries. Sefi Atta's context is Nigeria between
the 1970's and 1995, the erosion of constitutional rights in that
period – take away that historical context and you still have a
powerful story of Enitan and Sheri and their relationships with women
and men. Helon Habila's Waiting for An Angel is set in Abacha's
dictatorship but if you remove that context, you still have an
engaging story of Lomba and the other characters living interrelated
lives. But take away Biafra from HYS and what we have is sibling
rivalry {Olanna and Kainene} in its stark triteness – pretty sister
versus "ugly" sister, "kiss ass" sister versus "don't give a damn"
sister. And as a creative writing, I do not think that that theme is
remarkable in any way. And neither has it been handled in a remarkable
way.

But then, why should I want to remove the context from a novel – don't
mind me, only for critical purposes. Let us replace the context. The
bloody stillbirth of Biafra and what I think Madeibo calls "the
Nigerian revolution" that predated it are very sensitive issues,
remain sensitive issues today. It remains sensitive because is we stop
snipping little pieces of it we would still see that the great rend
made to our politics by the murderers in January 1966 is still here
with us. Every single goddamn coup, every silly dictator sporting a
grim face, gap tooth or dark goggles traces his antecedence to that
coup. Nigeria's progress has been held back for no reason greater than
the ineptitude of the military regimes since independence. Nigeria's
progress has been held back because of the events of the sixties which
for the backdrop to HYS.

Let me digress into Constitutional Law, what each of those military
regimes did was to simply modify Aguiyi-Ironsi's constitution
suspension Decree which had remained part of our body of laws, not a
single junta promulgated a new decree to take power, they simply
"suspended and modified". Even with the current state of international
jus cogens, you cannot try anyone in the Nigerian judiciary, from
Gowon to Abacha for taking over power in Nigeria via a coup – the
persons primarily culpable are Nzoegwu and his pals and I think all of
them are dead now. Today, there are many of us who are unhappy with
Nigeria as it is. The point of this digression is to show how germane
and sensitive the stuff Miss Adichie is playing around with is to the
collective sensibility of Nigerians. Yet, for this, she has willfully
chosen a leisurely style, one based on "balancing" atrocities so we
remember!

Am I wrong to say that what she has succeeded in doing is to poke at
an old national wound without having any medicine for it – and that
for memory, "just so you remember you were wounded before?"

If I think of it, her entire authorial and narrative perspective is
VERY offensive. But I refuse to think of it because I am afraid that
if I do, I will be "subjective."

I wish to make comments concerning my objectivity-subjectivity in the
post titled "On Miss Adichie's Sensibility" posted here on Krazi.

TYAbiola has doubted my ability to be objective in giving an opinion
on HYS because of my posts regarding the simile HYS repeats viz the
assassination of the Northern region premier and in his words, the
objectivity of my criticism might be doubted on account of the "too
much passion, too much subjectivity, too much pre-conceived opinion"
that I bring to the topic. Well, if I did not have passion, why would
I comment in the first place? I hardly think that anyone can read
literature, especially historical fiction without passion. Yet, does
passion, the expression of it, equal "subjectivity" and a
"preconceived opinion"? "Preconceived" at what point? What makes this
aspersion doubly interesting to me is not so much that it has been
stated by Mr. Abiola as that is merely being re-stated by him – I have
heard it before said by other persons. Methinks such an aspersion
comes either from my opining, or, the nature of my opining. If it were
the first then it would be a moot intellectual point. And critics
perhaps hundreds of years ago would have come out to say "Every
opinion should be distrusted because it is subjective" – I am not
aware of our predecessors having with this phrase knocked off the
basis of discourse. So, it must be the second – the nature of my
opining. At this point, I would like to say my next point is exploring
a general symptom in Nigerian letters and has long left the particular
prognosis of Mr. Abiola.

When I hear on the Beebs that some scholars in the west are
re-appraising Edward Said's "Orientalism" and its theme of
preconceived stereotypes of the East in the West, I find myself
thinking of the "Northernism" {sic} in Nigerian letters, preconceived
stereotypes of the "north" of the Niger by intellectuals by that
river's south. It has become ingrained that anything written, which
has its centerpiece as a northern Nigerian figure or nuance, such as
the Sardauna or the issue of Sharia or even a different perception of
the paper cut notions of what makes a page in a book like HYS
insensitive or insensible is viewed by the southern intelligentsi with
that curious "they have started again" which smacks of preconceived
prejudice. I have wondered often the innate assumptions of superior
"objectivity" so easily wielded by my southern countrymen, an
assumption so latent that Ike feels Miss Adichie's {to me} denigration
of Sardauna Bello should be borne by the offended me because she has
been equally "hard on her own people" or Oga Austyn's even more
remarkable assumption "The northern elite has a choice to either
understand it in the context in which it is written, or throw it to
the Almajeris with a covering note. Mischief is also a function of
sensibilities, political or religious"! In simpler English, what Oga
Austyn's quote means is that in not "understanding" the "context" {of
Miss Adichie's simile}, I {assuming I am part of that "northern
elite"} would effectively be being mischievous! I would like to know,
please, Oga Austyn, if I have misunderstood your phrase. These
comments, these posturing, these perspectives have become ingrained –
I do not think any of these three fine people are any more aware of it
that they are the inner working of their digestive systems.

Oya, I am interested now and it is Oga Austyn's quote, the last one,
that interests me. Am I being mischievous by not understanding Miss
Adichie's "balanced" context? And if I accuse Miss Adichie and Austyn
himself of being indifferent, creatively or really, to my own context
nko? Is my reactionary context a "preconceived" notion while Miss
Adichie's radically "balanced" one is not?

My problem is not so much with HYS as with that odious simile on page
130 – I cannot understand why Miss Adichie had to repeat it.

And a story {novel} is very important business; do you remember what
the bard says about the primacy of the story and the storyteller – I
think it was in Anthills of the Savannah. He said when a storyteller
looks around and sees no one in his age group; he will transform
chicken pox spots to wounds he suffered when "our men beat their men"!
I take Achebe very seriously and in the same breath that he eulogizes
the story, he advises that we tell our stories and keep our stories,
if others tell them, true. The man at the center of this post,
Sardauna Bello, once said "Tell us the truth about others; tell others
the truth about us." Not just us, as persons, but Us, as history.

I am a Nigerian writer and will proudly stand on that pedestal against
any person in the West, I would stand with any of my countrymen on
that pedestal anywhere. Yet, within my country, I speak for a part of
the country that has largely not spoken for itself and against the
rude assumptions consequent upon that incapacity to speak, I make a
stand. Yes, damnit, it is related to the Civil War – the same thing
Miss Adichie is playing around with. Over the last two decades, longer
for some, attempts have been made by many writers of southern
extraction in their writings to foist the North {excluding the defacto
West} with a guilt that it does not feel for that war or
alternatively, for the intervening dictatorships. This aspersion of
guilt is never attempted with the Yoruba in the southwest – on what do
these attempts lie? On the denigration, little by little, of our
memory of that war – in the Lagos-Ibadan press, on page 130 of Miss
Adichie's second novel.

That is my personal context and unlike many in the north, who are
content to remain in Zaria and Kaduna and Abuja, I am not so content –
I demand to engage with the south with my historical context in tow.

I like testing. Let me test something again. June 12th is around the
corner, please, those of you who can still buy more than one newspaper
a day, do note the media coverage/editorials of that watershed in
Nigerian history. Most of what you will read will be about Basorun
Abiola and how his mandate was snatched from him by the "north"
{meaning the little dictator erstwhile friend of the Basorun's} and
such other cant. Yet, and we were all here, none of us were born
yesterday – two people were murdered by the Nigerian state in the
aftermath of Sani Abacha's death. They were Basorun Abiola and General
Yar'adua. You wont hear the latter's name in the southern press. Yet,
in real terms, how did the Basorun get to win the 1993 election? On
whose machinery did he ride – certainly not on his own! But Yar'adua
is conveniently forgotten in the creative coverage of the June 12th
and he more than anyone else, more than all the silly pundits and
NGO's, is linked to the death to that mandate. Go on, observe the
papers over the next week or so and say if I am wrong.

Why do I bring this up? Because that is my context! My context is of
my historical and cultural sensibilities being eroded by others whose
historical and cultural sensibilities are no more authentic, are at
best complementary, to mine.

I really think this email has gone on for too long, let me recap.
Chimamanda's novel is, as I said, "interesting" and "well researched".
But page 130, which I have a problem with, projects a certain
mis-perception of historical fact that is a part of an ongoing
discontextualization of comprehensive Nigerian history. Perhaps it is
not her fault, she writes what is conditioned in her.

But do not accuse me of subjectivity because I point her error out.

Thank you.