allAfrica.com: Nigeria: Our Literature And Its Disappearing Elders (Page 1 of 1)

Perhaps because of their somewhat audacious and largely bohemian character and tendencies, most events that concern those in the world of the arts often come with ironies and tragic posers.

News of the death of Cyprian Ekwensi this week, took time to spread, almost like a non-event, and yet, an Ekwensi event should be accorded the deserved limelight and an open celebration, especially in our literary and media communities. But that is Ekwensi. I'm sure many Nigerians may not have known much about a man called Ntienyong Udo Akpan (forget the historical fact that he was Biafra's secretary of State). N.U. Akpan was a writer. He died and was quietly buried, sometime last year. Or indeed, the recent passage of James Ene Henshaw, buried some weeks ago.

For me, there is so much spirituality between my early literary encounters and these early men of letters. I can put the timeline at some 30 years ago. As an African child, (Camara Laye also made my early world) I had confronted the typical African cosmos of rich and crowded pantheon; the ringing echoes of the rustic rhythm of daily living; sports, warfare and endless scenes of communal and cultural intercourse. All these elements were constant in my dreams, songs, childhood imagination and concrete imageries of the outside world. I grew with that.

N.U. Akpan, James Ene Henshaw and Cyprian Ekwensi, collectively launched me into a world full of pure cerebral enjoyment, the awe of masquerades, and promises of self - contentment and peace, if one were to live and behave like the good heroes of their works. I later came to understand this as necessary moral lessons they deliberately generated, through their tactful survey and understanding of their social atmosphere and cultural environment, from where they took and adapted the commonplace fables, legends and folktales and other forms of their social engagement, as raw materials, to weave their stories.

From Akpan's, The Wooden Gong, through Henshaw's, This is Our Chance, to Ekwensi's, Passport of Malam Ilya, and the Burning Grass, I met characters and saw situations and scenes of human motion and emotions that fitted personal experiences in my little rural community.

I held onto this, until later in college where James Ngugi's (later Ngugi wa Thiong'O) Weep Not Child, further confirmed the character of African literary theme, colour and spirituality, as well as its large overflow of historio-cultural content. Then came the sharp dramatic shock of William Wordsworth's poetry, where I found myself in an entrancing literary suspension between such pretty and smart imaginary pictures, compressed by Wordsworth into short beautiful verses and the powerful waterfalls of African narrative, by writers like Akpan, Laye, Achebe, Ngugi, Henshaw and Ekwensi. My humble world of words, imagination and imagery began; and I've lived, experienced and carried these impressions ever since. But it pains me that these figures who often manifest as fatherly emanations and as teachers in my psyche, are fast depleting... Ever quietly.

For decades, I thought and believed (rightly so), that literature was sacred, and that its craft is a creation of sorts.

I wondered, and still wonder why African writers preoccupy themselves with the portrayal of the simple, quiet, rugged terrain of African life, even where there are big mansions in urban centres and posh Mercedes Benz cars that stream along its highways. What is their attraction to the former that would make them to write with so much profundity? When I met Prof. Ime Ikhide (he wrote the preface to Ngugi's Weep Not Child), the source of their inspiration suddenly hit me. But a strand of this debate still continues.

My interest now has been on the location, role and historical engagement of the Association of Nigerian Authors, (ANA). I remember, way back in the 1980s in Kano, and later in Abuja, when a few people, including my friend, Aliyu Ibrahim (with his fiery anti-apartheid poems), and one Akilu Abdullahi, (Hitler!) - and me, too - tried to organise a reading club. We thought very highly of any engagement in poetry, playwriting, or prose, almost to the point of regarding such people as community seers!

Our early experiences, or hope, were to create a kind of sense of strong community and brotherhood among ourselves, and to be open about our fledgling literary endeavours; to bounce about ideas of good character creation, development of unpredictable and dramatic plots, fresh and creative story lines, and all such things. We thought about these things as being extremely important in the craft. We worried less about getting published - ah! that was lofty and dream-like.

Even today, my vocation has plenty to do with matters like these, and it has proved to me severally, that a good literary product from a good, fertile mind, will find good publishers, readership and a good market. And finally, recognition. Shouldn't this be the natural trajectory in the trade? From a distance as a non-member of ANA, I take light interest in what the association does with our heritage. The last big thing about ANA that I knew of, was the hoopla about whether former President Babangida should be allowed to make a speech at its annual award ceremony or not. Needless debate, it turned out to be.

The business of writing is often self-revelatory, for better or for worse. From ANA's analyses of some of the output of new generation writers, some of the comments I read have been very grave. I hear of grammatical errors, slips and general poor execution of the stories they attempt to tell. This underlines the huge work ANA has to undertake. I've personally read some of today's Nigerian poetry, offered as mere common stories, chopped into pieces as verses.

Please, I don't intend to offend, because there are many beautiful exceptions - deep, refreshing masterpieces. I've also read them. By the way, has anybody read any poem by Chinweizu? Which brings us to the futility of introducing generational markers into Nigerian literature, with the Achebe - Soyinka era, as not only the ultimate benchmark, but the mainframe by which to assess ourselves. Nothing terribly wrong there, but where do you place people like N.U. Akpan, Sa'Adu Zungur, Ene Henshaw and Cyprian Ekwensi?

ANA should re-survey its universe, not necessarily for equitable distribution of the NLNG dollar-denominated award, but for it to capture all its vital constituents. For the awards though, I have my reservations. Already, Niyi Osundare has declined being included in the next one. The point really is this, if this year's went to long-standing personages like Mabel Segun and Akachi Eze-igbo, one can't possibly say these were not deserving, but the devil is, in trying to evaluate the comments about Peter Umez's book, to wit, that it has the potentiality to win the award, in future.

I take this to mean that the next award will go to the young writer's work; but what I don't understand is if it will be so only when he revises the book, or that the future judges should expect poorer entries. I raised this point with a published and widely read poet, Dr. Leonard Emuren, (a medical doctor, like Dr. Ene Henshaw), who visited Nigeria lately, and he simply chuckled.

Our literary community should go back in time, to see how it all began, so as to do justice to the real pioneers. Or how will the ANA, particularly, say goodnight to N.U. Akpan, James Ene Henshaw and Cyprian Ekwensi?

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