Last Friday, just like last year, I happened on the live broadcast of the NLNG Grand Awards Night. I last attended the event at MUSON Centre, Lagos many years back. But between then and now, the event has become even more grand, in tandem with the tradition of excellence that the Nigeria LNG Limited (NLNG) has come to be known for. This year, the NLNG is celebrating 35 years of its incorporation as a company, 25 years in operation, and 20 years of The Nigeria Prizes. It is worthy of commendation that the NLNG has remained dedicated to the narrow path of excellence in its operations these 25 years, which has seen it maintain an unprecedented record of performance and profitability. It is a thing of joy that the NLNG has continued to keep faith with the Nigeria Prizes instituted to recognise and promote excellence in Literature and Science 20 years ago.
The NLNG Limited stands out as a model public-private partnership, proof that the government and the private sector can team up and leverage natural and management resources to deliver a successful and profitable enterprise. It is proof that we can make something work if we want to make it work. Visiting Bonny Island, home to NLNG Limited two decades ago, seeing first-hand what was on the ground and how efforts at the development of the community, along with Joint Industry companies, I left relieved that the spirit of excellence is not alien to us. It is good to see that there has been fidelity to that spirit of excellence, even with the different changes of baton at the top.
While some will readily cite NLNG Limited as an outlier in the ocean of mismanaged visions and ventures that litter the landscape, I will rather approach the NLNG story differently as one that speaks more to the Nigerian spirit, when it is given room to flourish, and the desire for a collective triumph trumps the urge for selfish gratification and self-glorification. I would rather have the focus stay on the deliberate decision on the part of the NLNG team to put the spotlight on excellence by instituting the Nigeria Prizes and staying with it for 20 years.
Last Friday was thus a fitting celebration of what the company has achieved over these years. The night climaxed with the announcement of Olubunmi Familoni as the 2024 Nigeria Prize for Literature winner for his novel, "The Road Does Not End," going home with a hefty $100,000 prize. This was Familoni's night and deservedly so too, judging by his antecedents and reviews of his book out there. Last year, he was on the longlist for his play, "When Big Masquerades Dance Naked," which suggests this is not a fluke. According to the Chairperson of the Prize Advisory Board, Professor Akachi Adimora-Ezeigbo, the book "not only tells the story of street life in Lagos but also provides a poignant commentary on the societal issues faced by vulnerable youths. Familoni's writing draws readers into the lives of his characters, allowing them to experience both the challenges and the glimmers of hope these children hold onto." Indeed, the road does not end. Congratulations to Olubunmi Familoni.
But grand as the night was, the image that has stuck with me from the night and has refused to go away was a reaction shot, perhaps a stray one, from one of the nominees. That shot summed up, for me, the agony of a loss at the peak of the mountain, with fingers so close to touching the sky, only to have the moment slip away. As with these ceremonies, as soon as the announcement was made, attention switched to the winner and the excitement in the hall was palpable. In this instance, the other two nominees who until a minute before then were under the spotlight immediately lost relevance, relegated to the background. Understandably so, but not necessarily justifiable to me. There was no further mention of them. No further acknowledgment of their efforts. They received no financial reward for making it to the shortlist as stipulated in the Prize Administration guidelines. Perhaps an oversight, they were also not invited onto the podium for recognition and/or photography, even if one of the 2 other nominees was physically absent. I felt they were deserving of more than they got, and could have been made to be a part of the moment in some manner. With the way they suddenly ceased to be in the reckoning, they appeared to have only been props in a game of suspense in which a winner had long emerged anyway.
The winner, who was without a prepared acceptance speech, possibly overwhelmed by the occasion, and the Emcees hovering around him, forgot to mention them as well. But for the brief 'reaction' shots punched in by the Director, it was 'done' for the 'losers'. It was not just the sadness etched on those faces, despite the attempt at disguise, it was the long and vacant look in that stray shot that has stayed with me, refusing to let go.
That prompted a Facebook post the day after, asking if award organisers consider the implications of the 'torture' unsuccessful nominees are subjected to in the name of this prolonged and suspense-filled ceremony culminating in the announcement of the winner of the prize. Coincidentally, this year's ceremony was held only a day after the 2024 'World Mental Health Day' which had as its theme, 'It is Time to Prioritise Mental Health in the Workplace'.
Of course, mental health is not something we truly understand, not to talk of prioritising it anyway. We freely throw around the word, 'Were' in friendly and unfriendly banter, especially on the road of Lagos, which of course, knows no end. In other lives, we cast suspicious glances in the direction of those with mental health challenges, wondering what to make of them. We leave some to roam the streets to no end, rather than get them into health institutions for proper care. We assume all cases to be products of spiritual attack or liaison with drugs. We never really understand what mental health is, and what might trigger or aggravate ill-health. How does one then expect that serious attention would have been paid to the mental well-being of shortlisted writers who, being only a minute away from winning the grand prize of $100,000, get to be abruptly brought back to the brutal reality of life in today's Nigeria, yet expected to put up brave faces? Some say they should feel honoured by the fact that they made the shortlist. Indeed, they should be. But that is easy to say for one not in their shoes.
Denja Abdullahi, former President of the Association of Nigerian Authors, who was on the shortlist years back had this to say: "I was exactly at that point in 2018 when my book made the finals and I was at the expansive Eko Hotel with my wife, ferried in business class, a day to the event by NLNG. But I had an ear to the ground and saw hints that the prize may not go my way before the event. All the same, I was hopeful because I had read critically the other two books on the shortlist and I knew where the strength of mine lies over and above the others. In fact, the other elderly Prof on the shortlist that year as soon as we met at the event, conceded the prize to either me or the third guy on the shortlist. He had read our books against his own and could form an unbiased honest judgment, being a professor of drama himself. Drama was the genre that year. In the end, the winner that year took all, I was disappointed as a human being, to sleep that night did not come easy but my work travelled even further afterward; not because of being shortlisted for the prize, but for the innate quality in it. NLNG should honestly start thinking of giving something to the other two finalists. I have written a lot about literary prizes and have administered prizes too; so I know the undercurrents."
Henry Akubuiro, Journalist and Writer, was on the shortlist last year for his play, 'Yamtawarala, The Warrior King', and had this to say: "It's not easy, Bro. Coming that close. I have been there before. I think having consolation prizes for runners-up would help, knowing what Nigerian writers go through to produce their books. This argument has been canvassed several times.
A colleague of mine was shortlisted for a journalism prize twice and didn't win. On the third shortlisting, he chose not to attend the award ceremony and switched off his television to avoid watching the live broadcast. He told me, who was attending the event, and should he be announced the winner in his own category, I should pick it up. Luckily for him, he won that particular one. I picked it for him. Undergoing another traumatic experience would have been too hard to bear. It's like getting to the peak of a mountain and taking a tumble."
The assumption that the nominees are superhumans, who having come so close to winning $100,000, will simply smile it away, is erroneous. To think that Writers have no dreams and personal desires that winning such a huge prize, which has been described as life-changing, can help bring to reality is strange. Writers dream and pray too. The mental health of Writers matters too. We might be unknowingly toying with that by bringing them so close to the stream and taking the cup off their hands. If they can't have the cup, perhaps a spoon might help, without taking anything from the prize and the occasion.
Some have argued that the NLNG is set in its way, and not that mindful of opinions that had been canvassed over the years about other ways of administering its prestigious Prize. I understand why people might have that impression, but I do not think that the company is unwilling to entertain other ideas. Perhaps it is a case of being so taken by the spadework put in before the prize was instituted that it feels beholden to a fidelity to the idea in its original form. But 20 years later, the NLNG Limited should open itself more to other ideas on administering the Prize. I will recommend that the winner(s) be announced ahead of the presentation ceremony, just as is the case with the Nobel Prize and is currently the case with the Prize for Science. I do not see the added value that comes with the delay in the announcement of the winner, beyond the entertainment value for outsiders. It does take away from the ceremony having the eventual winner physically absent, as we have seen in previous years. With the winner(s) announced ahead of time, the presentation ceremony can be better planned, with the winner(s), including any who resides abroad, present at the occasion, along with members of the family. It would be great if the grand awards night set aside as a celebration of literature and science in Nigeria is reconfigured to be more about the winners of the prizes rather than around them, as it appears to have become of late. The winners of the literature and science prizes should be the ones to deliver the keynote addresses, rather than bringing in 'outsiders' to headline the event in the name of delivering keynote addresses.
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The Prize's Administrators should consider some of the ideas that people have put forward. After all, the Administrators have made some changes over the years. The prize was initially $20,000 before it was increased to $30,000 in 2006, $50,000 in 2008, and $100,000 in 2011. I believe that the Prize for Literature will be richer and make more impact by providing consolation prizes for the 2 finalists. If the company is not keen on increasing the total prize money, the winner can go home with $75,000, while the first runner-up receives $15,000 and the second runner-up with $10,000. It is time for a rethink on the part of the Administrators of the Prize for Literature. Who knows, the presentation ceremony for "The Nigeria Prizes" might finally step outside of Lagos.
Simbo Olorunfemi works for Hoofbeatdotcom, a Nigerian communications consultancy and publisher of Africa Enterprise. Email: Editor@enterpriseafrica.ng
