DEON'S DEBUT WORK

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Every so often in our continent, genuine, sterling literary talent emerges whether it is from Nigeria – a formidable land of literary aficionados – or South Africa here. These days, it is even easier to foretell the advent of such outstanding writers, thanks to improved technology like the internet.

Hence, there was no need to be a transcendental soothsayer to realise that South African writer, Deon-Simphiwe Skade has that special stuff that separates the wheat from the chaff as it were, in respect of literature. Over the last few years, Mr Skade, who is still a young man, has been churning out superb reviews of both books and music.

His perspicacious reviews were always far-removed from the mundane; he somehow fuses a great, avid knowledge of eclectic literature with philosophical divulgations and effusions, interspersed with what South Africans call Ubuntu (humaneness)

The corollary of this is that when Deon published his first book a week or so again in South Africa, there was some fizz, enthusiasm and delectation amidst the literary fraternity, both black and white. The pundits knew instinctively that the book would be good.

On my own part, I was preparing to get a copy for myself when I got a pleasant surprise from Deon. He had mailed a copy of his book to me from his Cape Town base the moment it was published! In his "artistic" way he called it "a belated birthday gift" for me! And how welcome and tantalising the gift was!

Meanwhile, the pundits were already burrowing into his book and essentially favourably reviewing his debut work. Deon’s book is a collection of well-written short stories jostling alongside complementary poems. Titles are: An old flame that went out, My Epidemic, your Epidemic, Last Night, It’s a Secret, Class Act, Her Attitude, His Face Others are - A Broken Man, Matters of the Heart, In Need, Yesterday, Suspension, Time Keeps Its Own Time, It never rains but Pours, and Our Today, The Future.

The disparate stories here are essentially told in the first person, with the author showing astonishing skill and empathy with his characters, male and female. Arguably, this reaches a peak in the story, Class Act.

The author is famed for his propensity to call himself a "dreamer" in real life; and dreams certainly loom large in this work. The pertinent question is: Are they successfully integrated into the warp and weft of the stories? Here, one might well be subjective, adumbrating the furore over the late Lenrie Peter’s work, The second round with its profusion of dream-like sequences...and of course, Ayi Kwei Armah’ s early classic, the Beautyful ones are not yet born.

Then there is the hilarious, finely written story, Last Night. It is also tinged with irony, and redolent with sexual undercurrents. And how’s this for a touch of the great D.H Lawrence:

"The moon watched us caress. It lit over the perfect world of perfect persons, a man and a beautiful woman under its unwinking stare and the stars who winked as if celebrating our glorious kiss. Table Mountain could have peeked over the balcony to witness us under the conspiratorial luminescence of the moon."

(Page 28, A Series of undesirable events)

As one would expect from a grammarian like the author, and a fastidious craftsman to boot, the book is well edited and immensely readable, with fine descriptions. How about “the ping-ping against the porcelain." "The gulp I took snailed down my throat as if it was a hard bubble constrained by meagre space preventing it to move downwards,"…

A very impressive debut work.

Basking In Global Rugby Fiesta!

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Right now, the Rugby World Cup is going on in New Zealand, enthralling many millions around the world. The South Africans largely love the game of Rugby and have been resoundingly backing their national team, the Springboks, to do well at the tournament.

Yes, we know that by and large Rugby is not a popular game in Nigeria; very few are interested in the sport and it has been like that for donkey years. Any Nigerian Rugby squad will struggle to have any sort of sterling followership, this, despite the fact that Rugby is a global sport.

Of course a number of Nigerians brought up, or who have largely lived in European countries like Britain (England, Scotland, Wales...) France, Italy, Ireland, might have some interest in Rugby, or at least observe how the hordes follow such a sport fanatically, yonder. I myself can say on the average, that I am a Rugby follower, though of course football will always occupy the pride of place – time willing, in my old age!

I was however prodded, or reminded, by a number of South Africans as the Rugby fever hit their country, that I had contributed in a bizarre way to even more black people here loving Rugby. This, I have been reminded, was because of my work of fiction, Tebogo and the haka (2008), which has been a hit here. How many times have I been asked why I was inspired to write the book?

It is simple: the traditional New Zealand (Maori) performance of the Haka, has always fascinated me. The All Blacks (the New Zealand team) always perform the Haka before they play anybody, and it can be a breathtaking (initially, rather frightening) performance.

Of course, if it was mainly black people performing an intriguing dance like the Haka, one won’t be surprised. In Nigeria, we have so many intricate arcane, traditional performances, for example those of the egungun/egwugwu (masquerades). The talking drum for example, can do wonders!

But, the New Zealand team is made up mainly of white players; and to see them performing the Haka will always fascinate the world. Poised athletically, fists pumping even clenched; fearsome expressions etched on their faces, the belligerent words of the Haka thundering out of their mouths, and cascading around the stadium…

But then again, we can state that this is, or should be part of the universality of human experience; the human race partaking in a plethora of ancestral, traditional rites, practices, mores worldwide, and basking in the same.

After all, (in parenthesis) why is the western world so fascinated with Chinua Achebe’s books that they read them over and over again, and relish the contents? So many white critics, thanks to the books of the likes of Achebe, Chukwuemeka Ike, John Munonye among others, have become so interested in Igbo culture and language, plus the proverbs that they have managed to build up an impressive vocabulary of their own in this wise.

And I won’t start on how Wole Soyinka via his books shedding light on, and celebrating the Yoruba gods (especially Ogun), fascinate the western world! Ah yes, the universality of human experience.

Let Rugby, with the haka performance, grow by leaps and bounds!

SLIVERS OF HOBHOUSE AND SLESSOR

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

(Right) Emily Hobhouse

The questions were coming in thick and fast, and I could hardly cope. And to think many would dub this small South African town, Hobhouse, a “backwater"!

"This is a pleasant surprise Mr Bolaji, you say this is your first visit to Hobhouse. Do you know we are a proud agricultural town?" A resident of the town enthused.I had been invited to Hobhouse by a group of writers who told me they would be “honoured "if I could visit them, and happily enough, I managed to do so.

It was a small, multicultural ensemble comprising blacks, “coloureds," and a couple of whites. The love for literature united them all, here at Hobhouse. The workshop had been interesting, and now it was time for me to be grilled! Yes, the questions were coming in thick and fast.

Another: “Mr Bolaji, we’ve read so much about how you’ve been sick over the last few years, yet you look so fresh, even big. Are you back to form? Have you overcome your health problems? Then why have you not written any major fiction for almost two years now?"

Another question: “We understand a few years ago you visited another small town, Ladybrand, and you were inspired to write your brilliant work of fiction, ‘Tebogo and the Haka’ which is based on Ladybrand. Will your visit here inspire you to write a mystery story based on Hobhouse?"

Yet another..."Do you know why this town is called Hobhouse? Do you know who it is named after?" “Of course he does," one of them answered for me. “Who does not know about the famed Emily Hobhouse?"

Indeed I knew about her; Emily Hobhouse, the British lady who had selflessly campaigned to improve the horrific lot of Boer women and children, during the Boer war in South Africa over a hundred years ago. Hobhouse had written and campaigned so lucidly and graphically in favour of the hapless victims, and somewhat precipitated changes. She has since remained a celebrated hero in South Africa, especially with the Afrikaaner (Boer/white) people.

I said a few words about Emily Hobhouse to them, expressed how much I admired her integrity, humaneness, empathy and resilience. Then I added: “Actually that’s one of the main reasons I came here. Hobhouse is some sort of vicarious kindred spirit to me as a Nigerian. She always reminds me of Mary Slessor,"

“Mary Slessor?" they queried. Apparently, nobody knew her here. The irony of world history! A personality might be celebrated in one area, but virtually unknown elsewhere. Like Hobhouse, Slessor was a British lady who travelled to Nigeria over a hundred years ago, campaigned against the killing of twins among the Efik. She is generally regarded as “an angel of mercy" (like Hobhouse) because she precipitated many positive things.

So I told them about Mary Slessor and her deeds in Nigeria over a hundred years ago. I did not forget to tell them that one of her major legacies was being a major catalyst behind the establishment of the Hope Waddell Training Institute in Nigeria, a magnificent institution which at its peak was the best in West Africa.

“Hmm...We certainly must do our research on Mary Slessor," some of them said. “So Slessor, another lady from Britain – was like our Hobhouse. Both did a lot for African communities, and the people on ground. Their legacies are still living on,"

And so it does. Both of them are celebrated by millions of Africans; in Nigeria and West Africa, for example, millions of youngsters learn about the exploits of Mary Slessor from a very young age in schools.

As the question-and-answer session petered to an end, it struck me that indeed certain people have made their indelible mark on the world. Here I was at Hobhouse, a town named after a remarkable Englishwoman, Emily Hobhouse. This for me, adumbrated the life and times of Mary Slessor, who has also been immortalised, for example on Scottish stamps. Intriguing.

THE TANTALISING PALATE!

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

We take the culinary delights we are used to back at home (in our countries), for granted. But of course when we live far away from home, we have to get used to other types of meals, though we do miss certain items that titillate the palate, so to speak!

On my own part for example, intermittently I have a pang when I realise I cannot (easily) eat delicacies like dodo (fried plantains); akara (bean cakes); moin-moin, dundun (West African chips). The simple fact is that it is almost impossible to get such delicacies in South Africa.

Yet, the situation could have been worse. At least, thanks to the intrepid and innovative zest of some Nigerians, Nigerian foods are replicated to a certain extent in special restaurants in major cities of South Africa.

Admittedly, often it is some sort of hybrid, but the main thing is the savoury “peppery” dishes! Hybrid? Yes. What I mean is that all Nigerians, like other foreigners, have very much gotten used to the fact that the staple food in South Africa – beloved by virtually everybody here – is good old pap. Hence, in many special Nigerian restaurants, what we often refer to as “Nigerian food” here, is a combination of pap and wonderful Nigerian stews, meat including isi ewu on occasions!

For those wondering what pap is, what it looks like, or tastes like – just imagine food like semovita or eba (gari). Pap is along these lines. It is everybody’s food here – for the strong and weak; male and female, young and old!Naturally Nigerians (and there are so many of us in South African cities now) congregate to these (alas, few) Nigerian restaurants.

The clever ones (business people) build a whole “entertainment centre” for Nigerians around these restaurants – a place where Nigerians can meet, listen to music, chat, essentially let their hair down, drink and the likes. But the mammoth focal interest is the food!

For the cynics (even “critics”) out there, who might be thinking that this smirks of fragmentation, Nigerians forming “cliques”, it must be pointed out that more and more South Africans are relishing the food served at Nigerian restaurants. To cut to the chase, generally, once a South African can get over the “exceeding pepper” in our stews, they just cannot stop frequenting these restaurants!

How often have I heard them saying: “Eish you guys know how to prepare fantastic meals, especially your stews. I love eating pap or rice served with your wonderful stew,” So do we all! Incidentally, the other day, I saw two whites enjoying Nigerian food at such a place.

One South African who loves Nigerian meals so much, is the well known black author, critic and editor, Pule Lechesa. One of the highlights of the day for him is tucking into, at least, one meal at a Nigerian restaurant. Virtually every day he goes to such places to eat; sometimes we go together.

Mr. Lechesa intriguingly is getting to sound like a Nigerian more and more, thanks to his being a “regular customer” at such restaurants. Phrases like “Oga” “Igwe” “Ese” and a plethora of pidgin English reel off his tongue easily. But the one he often machine-guns out is: “Oga, I wan chop!” – meaning he’s hungry and he would be rushing to a Nigerian restaurant!

WATCHING THE PLAY: "IHOBE THE FREEDOM SONG"

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

There is no running away from the fact – South Africa has had a chequered past, a horrific past really; with millions of blacks suppressed, oppressed and butchered during apartheid.

This, however, had the effect of producing so many gallant, intrepid heroes over the decades.A number of books, documentaries, and the occasional drama have been churned out in South Africa to celebrate certain pertinent events, or heroes of the struggle. The other week I was a guest at one of the most recent of such dramas commemorating the struggle; titled:“Mangaung Students Revolt: Ihobe the Freedom Song”.

The event was held at the Assemblies of God Church in Mangaung.It was a great moment for one of the heroes of the struggle, Fikile Qithi, the gentleman of whom the riveting play is essentially weaved around, his face was creased with smiles, even tears, as the play honouring him unfolded. I found myself reminiscing on the times I had visited the great man in his house while he simply and modestly prepared meals for us.

Fikile Qithi, famously a former student leader of Ihobe Secondary School, and former political prisoner at Robben Island said: “the event commemorates of Mangaung Students Outburst. We are all indebted to younger students in Mangaung who were inspired by the Soweto uprisings of June 1976, who also took part in the struggle against Afrikaans as the medium for education.”The gentleman also paid tribute to young black students from the schools in the days of yore who displayed exemplary courage.

Such schools included: Ihobe Secondary School, and Marang Primary School, Sehunelo High School, Lereko High School, St Bernard Roman Catholic School. History reveals that these institutions rejected the imposition of Afrikaans. Their heroes included: Mpho Diba, Pinkie Litheko, and Fikile Qithi.

Zingile Dingani, the former Ihobe Secondary School student and now secretary of parliament from Cape Town said: “I’m a former learner at Ihobe Primary School. In the past, we learned Geography and Mathematics in Afrikaans. That helped us to raise our consciousness though, we were young. We knew it was a terrible thing for us to be oppressed so much in our own country, and we fought the system.”

The occasion came at a propitious time, with the mammoth ANC getting ready to celebrate the centenary of the formation of the liberation movement. As illustrious poet, Raselebeli Khotseng explained at the occasion: “It is good that this play has been organised in Mangaung, we are going to have the ANC Centenary in the Free State next year. The people of this province must participate in the centenary celebrations.”

Indeed, many distinguished people turned out to enjoy the didactic, powerful play. They included the celebrated female poet, Nthabiseng Jah Rose Jafta, Flaxman Qoopane, Hector Kunene, Raselebedi Khotseng, and performance poet, Imbongi Sibongile Potelwa.The applause for the well orchestrated play was deafening.

Afterwards, well known South African struggle stalwart, Mpikeleni Duma told me: “this play is the culmination of a dream I have had to honour one of the heroes of our struggle. We blacks must learn to celebrate, and learn from the steamy marsh of our history,”

For the records, here is the cast of the play:

Hector Kunene
Mungisi Tshobeka
Morena Hamilton Berries
Zola, Mzayiya Thabang
Lenko Nomthandazo
James Nthabiseng Diphoko.

THE EFFERVESCENCE OF THE NOBEL AWARD

BY OMOSEYE BOLAJI




Soyinka

Wole Soyinka has always been a writer I have admired for decades, infact, ever since I was a kid. There are so many endearing and charismatic factors that form the warp and weft of him and his sublime writing – his incredible writing career, his mien and demeanour (never forgetting the luxuriant beard!), his integrity, his theatrical approach to life, his baritone voice, etc.

Of course his extraordinary literary career has propelled him to the very top – the first black man to be awarded the Nobel Award in Literature. His fecundity of works is also amazing – he has averaged more than a book a year for about half a decade now! In fact, the records show that his first published books came out in 1963 – before people like me were born!

I grew up surrounded by books written by the likes of Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Chukwuemeka Ike, John Munonye, Ola Rotimi, etc. Of course, we youngsters then agreed with all the adults that the most difficult writer was always Wole Soyinka! I recall that when he garnered the Nobel Award, the great Achebe congratulated him, noting that his (Soyinka’s) prolificacy was staggering.

Indeed it was, and still is. How can one forget his early works like The Jero Plays, Idanre, The Interpreters, Kongi’s Harvest, and Season of Anomie? Then there were many others like the man Died, Requiem For a Futurologist (whatever this means!), Isara :a voyage around essay, The Beatification of Area Boy. In recent years, he has added works like The Burden of Memory: – the Muse of Forgiveness, King Baabu, and You Must Set Forth At Dawn.

Winning the Nobel Award catapulted Soyinka into an international superstar, a world icon. After all, he still remains Nigeria’s only Nobel laureate. Nobel Laureates are few and far between, in Africa anyway; although in the genre of Literature, most would agree that Achebe surely more than deserves the award too.

Hence (by African standards) South Africa has performed wonders in producing many Nobel laureates (almost 10). Of course because of the blighting scourge of apartheid, many heroes emerged in the country and a few of them garnered the Nobel Prize for Peace. The most famous of them is of course, Nelson Mandela, but other illustrious recipients here are FW De Klerk, Desmond Tutu and Albert Luthuli.

South Africa has also produced Nobel laureates in the field of science, or medicine. In 1951, Max Theiler got the ultimate accolade for his contributions to medicine. Again in 2002, Sydney Brenner also became a Nobel laureate thanks to his great innovations in medicine. He was also a South African.

The first part of this column today is about Wole Soyinka; hence we can touch on the genre of literature again. Two South Africans – both white – have received the Nobel Award for Literature; Nadine Gordimer in 1991, and JM Coetzee in 2003. Coetzee remains a very reclusive figure. An associate of his for 10 years, for example, has famously said he only saw the great man smile twice during such a long period!

It is a rare occasion indeed when any African country receives a Nobel award, especially the veritably black ones. Nigeria has one Nobel laureate (Soyinka), Ghana has one (Kofi Anan) and Kenya has one too (Wangari Maathai) Contrast this with the United States of America (one country) which has over 200 Nobel laureates!! Nigeria has produced so many great people in diverse fields, and the country certainly needs more Nobel laureates …

THE EERIE SALUTATION

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI


My latest book, titled Miscellaneous Writings (2011) was launched in South Africa recently. Unlike similar occasions in the past, the book was launched in a small way this time around, as regards the formal occasion itself.

I garnered some flak for the quiet launch, especially from many other writers and literary activists who believed that it had been an oversight, or even a slight not to make the occasion even more memorable. But on my own part, I was quite satisfied; to be honest, the understated launch was quite deliberate.

Alas, there was no way I could control the media coverage however; the stories published on the new book itself. The local papers in particular made a song and dance about my latest book, and one of the publications went a bit too far!

In South Africa, unlike in Nigeria, there are many free, “mahala” publications, newspapers and magazines, distributed free of charge to tens of thousands of the people all over the place. Hence an incredible number of people would likely read stories published in such publications.

It so happened that an article on my latest book, plus my photograph was emblazoned on the front page of one of such free publications. This particular publication’s slant was that the new book, Miscellaneous Writings was the 30th I had published. And this deserved a lot of celebration!

The free, popular newspaper catapulted me almost to a “cause celebre” status.People were congratulating me all over the place. “We saw you on the front page! Congrats!” was the order of the day.

Perhaps, the most “bizarre” of such congratulations was when a certain lady, an acquaintance of mine I had not seen for some years, came to me. Smiling broadly, she threw her arms round me, and hugged me in unbridled fashion.“I saw you on the front page of the newspaper,” she said warmly, nigh tremulous with excitement. “So you have now published 30 books! You must be very clever,”

I grinned. “On the contrary,” I said. Before I could go further, she said: “you see now…pity you did not let me have a baby for you in those days…you were scared; afraid…”

I winced. But I managed to rally: “I thought we were just ordinary friends at the time…I never knew you wanted me in that way,”

She said: “Then you are blind! How could a blind man write 30 books?” She shook her head deprecatingly.