POETRY COMMANDO

Over the years I have had the honour and pleasure to write assorted Introductions, Forewords, or Prefaces to a number of books. I cannot pretend to remember all such books now, though I realise many of them are referred to, or available on Google Books. That’s modern technology for you!

Hence I was delighted to write a short preface to female writer, Charmaine Kolwane’s latest book, titled Poetry Commando (2013)

Excerpts from what I wrote:

“The author of this work (Charmaine Kolwane) suggested that I write an “Editor’s Note” for this book. Alas, it is a moniker I feel very uncomfortable with. I prefer to refer to myself as someone “who ironed out some of the creases in a work”, as it were.

I have always believed that authentic Africans’ do approach mainstream literature in a certain way with their own idiosyncrasies. A writer as illustrious as Nadine Gordimer (a Nobel Laureate) has said as much over the decades by referring to the “quaintness” of African writing; and partially explaining the same as “African writers are always translating (from their mother tongues)”

Perhaps. What is clear is that Africans, black Africans have contributed prodigiously to world literature. Names like Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Es’kia Mphahlele, Zakes Mda, Ayi Kwei Armah etc have gone down in history as respected world writers, rather than “African ones”. Yet we cannot take their “African-ness” away from them.

Literary history has recorded that the early works of Chinua Achebe and Gabriel Okara (to mention only but two African writers) took the world by storm mainly because of the special African ambience that pervaded the works; tincturing the grammar, syntax, structure, logic etc of the works. The best critics are broad-minded and discern merit in virtually all published works. But this is not a weepy apologia as it were!

When I first met Charmaine years ago, she was just in her early 20’s. I could hardly believe her passion for books and the world of letters whilst most ladies of her age were obsessed with material things including fine smartphones, cars, clothes, and the like. At the time, she was already churning out passionate poetry and essays – I smile wryly now as I recollect some of her letters which I published in newspapers and magazines at the time. I also had the pleasure of publishing some of her poignant poetry then.

I was rather taken aback years ago when Charmaine told me she was writing a book about me. Although I did not say it at the time, my first feeling was that she was too “immature” to undertake such a task. I was however pleasantly surprised to see how brilliant the book she produced was. It can now be revealed that the book was written in record time too! Her analytical and critical nous (ability) is displayed in the work titled “Omoseye Bolaji: Channeling one’s thoughts onto paper”. The book was not only a great success locally and nationally, but is stocked in some of the best Universities in the world now.

I was delighted when she got a job as a librarian because I knew it was a literal case of a duck taking to water with elan! Regularly, one is regaled with stories from the public at large who narrate how when they went to the library Charmaine went out of her way to get pertinent books for them, or even advised them on particular books to read. Indeed Charmaine basks luxuriantly at literary occasions; and contributes magnificently at such times.

Her first book was published in 2005, and now we are lucky that her second offering will provide rich literary pickings for us! …”

- Omoseye Bolaji

SUPER EAGLES SWOOP TO GARNER CONTINENTAL LAUREL

By Omoseye Bolaji


‘I go die oh!

Yeeh! Yeeh!! Yeeh!!!

I go die oh!

Yeeh! Yeeh!! Yeeh!!!

Today na today!

Today na today!

I go die oh!’*

This was the song, the ‘war cry” of proliferating raucous Nigerians in South Africa before the mammoth football match with Ivory Coast as the quarter finals of Afcon swung into gear. But despite all the braggadocio, most Nigerians knew only too well before the game that Ivory Coast were the favourites to win; with their star-spangled squad indeed.

Yet Nigeria won the game quite easily, 2-1 and it could have been more. Superstars (of Ivory Coast) like Didier Drogba and Yaya Toure produced remarkably little substance in the game. Nigeria’s Emenike who scored a stunning goal in the match should have scored even earlier before he finally did so. It seemed to be a shambolic performance from the fancied Ivorians. Hence Nigeria moved onto the semi final where skilful Mali awaited.

The Eagles’ performance against Mali was magnificent; nobody, no pundit could have imagined Nigeria leading by three clear goals by the end of the first half. It was almost surreal. Nigeria, at least in the first half took the game by the scruff of the net and the goals kept on piling it. Coach Stephen Keshi and his assistant Daniel Amokachi were in raptures.

As Nigeria made it to the final, it became crystal clear that the two “Chelsea boys” Victor Moses and John Obi Mikel, were pivotal. Regularly playing at the highest levels for their clubs and used to gleaming pressure and glare, they rose to the occasion again and again. Mikel, in his no-frills manner dominated midfield spraying the balls around with elan and defending excellently too; including a priceless last-ditch tackle against the Ivorians.

Victor Moses deserves special praise for pulling up trees late on against Ethiopia in the last group match; a game that could have ended in humiliating disaster for the Eagles as they sought a crucial goal in vain. Moses it was who essentially won and converted crucial penalties with ice-cool competency. It was a template for the team to build on.

Who could have imagined after such an insipid display that Nigeria would suddenly rise to the occasion, play out of their skins and put the likes of Ivory Coast and Mali to the sword? It was as if the team suddenly got its second wind, realized the pedigree of the country over the decades in football and began to play with pride, passion and flamboyance.

We have highlighted the significance of Moses and Mikel, but the whole team deserves praise; the free-scoring Emmanuel Emenike who provided a decisive cutting edge to the team’s play; and of course the superb goalkeeping antics of Vincent Enyeame. He was outstanding in South Africa during the 2010 World Cup, and back again on South African shores (Afcon 2013) Enyeama did much to help the Eagles to success.

Coach Stephen Keshi deserves praise for continuously protecting his players during the tournament and presenting them to the world as if they were still brandishing learners’ plates! Keshi admirably downplayed his “very young team…” “still developing squad” “they have a lot to take on board” etc…whilst the players marched on to a continental final! This speaks volumes for Keshi’s experience and savvy.

Indeed, Keshi is one of the all-time greats of African football. Even now, all over Africa he is still referred to as “the big boss” the man who opened doors for a medley of African players to ply their trade overseas over the last few decades. Those who still remember his playing career well – this columnist for one – will always relish his utter dedication and love for his country; his superb defending and blistering shots wherefore he scored so many vital goals for the Eagles in his heyday…

Sunday Mba. Very much under the radar when Afcon started; one of the unsung home-based Nigerian players. Now he is a superstar, thanks to his priceless two goals at the tournament. He seems to specialize in spectacular goals. Firstly he sank much-fancied Ivory Coast in the quarter finals with his fine individual effort. He repeated the trick in the Final – against Burkina Faso – winning the game, and the Cup for his country with an adroit flick and shot that found the net. Hence, Nigerians worldwide are celebrating…

• “Death” in the metaphorical sense; more like throwing the gauntlet as it were

IT COULDN'T MATTER LESS (Bolaji new book)

By Omoseye Bolaji

I must confess that one of my shortcomings involves having something of a whimsical, sardonic, perhaps even wicked sense of humour – sometimes. Hence, intermittently even whilst alone, I can be savouring a joke and smiling, or even laughing in a corner...an embarrassing thing!


And so it was today. There I was in a corner of a major street absent-mindedly staring at an impressive, rather marmoreal building. Then it happened; something that seemed funny to me came to my mind and I began to smile broadly...chuckling... alas, an acquaintance of mine now saw me!

“Ntate!” said he, coming closer to shake hands. “You scare me when you smile like that. I have heard that when you smile it means something bad is gonna happen – to someone else!” He was joking of course, and we both laughed.

I grinned. “You are being polite; surely we both know that when a man starts laughing alone or talking to himself in a corner, it usually indicates that the strait jacket should be got ready! Why not say I’m going bonkers in my old age?”

He laughed. “If only that were so. No mad man can do all those things you always do, write, edit, galvanise, organise...ah, by the way I have got you! Maybe I know why you are smiling...is it because your new book is out now...?”

“My new book?”

He said: “Come on Ntate! Don’t bluff me. So you didn’t want me to know that your new book is out. I saw a copy with Mr Lechesa, Pule Lechesa the writer, critic; whatever that is...your new book is titled It couldn’t matter less. Red cover,”

I looked apologetic, but he went on swiftly: “It’s as if you don’t want people to know the book is out, at least locally here. So far I have seen no stories about your new book in the papers and magazines...it was only when I checked the internet that I saw some references on your new book, mainly that interview. Why the secrecy this time around?”

“Maybe I am tired of publishing books every year,” I said. “Let it be done quietly this time around!”

“You don’t care about sales?” he probed.

“Publicity does not necessarily mean that book will sell; we know our markets anyway, and the relevant literary protagonists who will snap up the book immediately. On my own part, I am always anxious that people who really embrace literature, who love writing, reading – like Ntate Lechesa who you mentioned now – get to see new books...”

“In other words you do not care about ‘illiterates’ like me,” he said, simulating the ambience of one who is hurt. But I knew him for the wag that he is!

“Don’t put words into my mouth,” I said. “It’s still early doors yet, as they say; the book is just out. Yet you already know about it,”

“I flicked through it (the book)” he said proudly. “There are many interesting chapters there. “It reminds me of your previous book, Miscellaneous Writings. Anyway, it’s obvious it is a collection of your latest pieces written recently. Very fine cover,”

I grinned. “So you are judging the book by its cover...you understand my alleged apathy over the book now?”

“Don’t be cynical, Ntate. Seriously many of us like the world of writing more than you think. I am writing a book too, maybe you’ll go through it for me when I finish,”

“You have been talking about the book you are writing even before your daughter was born some ten years ago,” I said rather harshly. “And yet you never finish it! Sometimes you say it’s poetry, sometimes you say it’s your biography, then again you sub it fiction...hawu!” We both laughed; he knew that it was true that for quite a number of years now, he has been talking about working on a book – which I suspect is non-existent!

We both fidgeted, knowing it was time to move on now. He said: “Anyway, I just wanted to congratulate you on your new book; and maybe you can tell me how I can get my copy?”

“Okay,” I gave him the pertinent information.

AFCON 2013: Preliminary Skirmishes over!

By Omoseye Bolaji

As the latest edition of the glitzy Afcon reached its crunch stages (quarter finals et al), the world marveled as SEVEN of the eight quarter finalists happened to be from west Africa. Facile comments that “west Africa is very much a powerhouse in African football” were spewed out; quite understandably, under the circumstances.

Hence South Africa, the host country (from Southern Africa) looked almost like the odd man out as the identities of the eight quarter finalists were unfurled: Ivory Coast, Mali, Burkina Faso, Togo, Nigeria, Cape Verde and Ghana.

Whilst this appears to be something of a “coup” for west Africa, on a personal note I would not like to read too much into this; for me it smirks of some co-incidence really. Why? We know the quirks and idiosyncracies of football, and anything can happen. For example, in their crucial third match of the tourney, Togo could well have been out if Tunisia had converted the penalty they were awarded in the second half.

Similarly, for the hosts Bafana Bafana, hearts were in the mouths of millions as Morocco took a 2-1 lead with much of the game gone. What if South Africa had not managed to equalize; which without being churlish could have well been the case in light of so many disappointing results in the wake of the Championship itself? In any event Morocco, exited the competition despite managing to draw all their games, and not losing any.

Ironically Angola (also from Southern Africa) found themselves bowing out of the tourney mainly after a damaging 2-0 loss to South Africa; a southern African team halting the progress of another southern African squad! We might also note that with TWO northern African teams, Algeria and Tunisia, placed in the same group – alongside mighty Ivory Coast, it was always on the cards that important casualties would fall by the wayside here. In this case two adroit northern African countries found themselves eliminated.

Another twist was added to the scenario with the unexpected progress of un-fancied Cape Verde and Togo (both part of west Africa, as it were). Few expected them to progress to the quarter finals, but that is what they went on to do. It appears there is always this subtle element of undermining teams supposed to be “minnows” – we recollect that even Ethiopia was rather underestimated in the beginning which could have had disastrous effects for the likes of Zambia and Nigeria.

Could have had? Indeed it can be argued that Zambia (also a southern African nation) – and defending champions to boot – exited the tournament early because of what seemed to be an insipid, shocking performance against Ethiopia (a draw in their opening game). Hence Zambia, and Angola found themselves out of Afcon after only the preliminary matches. The exhilarating thing is that hosts South Africa, buoyed by their progress into the quarter finals, found themselves dreaming of going all the way like they did so brilliantly in 1996 (when they also hosted the tournament)

Many South African fans found themselves reminiscing on the situation in 1996 when Bafana Bafana met Algeria at the quarter final stage; a match in which “Shoes” Moshoeu emerged the hero after scoring a superb second goal (SA won 2-1) But let it not be forgotten that Mark Fish, the fluid central defender had bagged the first goal for his country by venturing upfront against the wishes of his then coach Clive Barker!

At that time (1996), when South Africa met Ghana in the semi finals few expected the hosts to win as easily as they did (3-0). After all Ghana paraded greats like Abedi Pele and Tony Yeboah then. But with Moshoeu again playing out of his skin and scoring two excellent goals, and Shaun Bartlett almost like a battering ram netting an exquisite goal too. South Africa swept into the final where Tunisia was put to the sword 2-0.

Could Bafana replicate such thrilling progress in 2013? That is what the world wanted to see this time around. As hosts, and the only “non-west African” country left in the tourney the expectations were high – as South Africa got set to meet Mali in the quarter finals…

The Concupiscent Youth?

By Omoseye Bolaji

As a youngster, one of the books that fascinated me was H.G Wells’ An Outline of World History. A magnificent work that encapsulates so much of what is good about Eurocentric writing: an awareness of global history, trends, development; allied to fecund, imaginative yet economical writing.


Wells wrote the book around the time of the Second World War when the possibility of the extinction of mankind was not an outrageous prospect. Hence cynical undercurrents abound in the book, for example when he writes: “Strange as it may seem to students of history in the years to come – if there are any students in the world in the years to come…”

This blast from the past, as it were, came to my mind as I tried to ingest a particularly lurid news – or revelation – in South Africa that went on and on about how an extraordinarily large number of very young female students get pregnant in schools, especially secondary schools; this is compounded by the fact that a very high percentage of young girls in school are already hiv positive!

In simple terms, this essentially means that the life of many of these young ladies is over before it even starts! For how long have many pundits lamented the shocking levels of immorality, to wit sexual promiscuity that pervades all over the place. This is one of the terrible prices to be paid for our modern times of “democracy” “rights for all” “equality’ and so on. The ravages on poor young lives!

The powers that be, including the pertinent Ministers (of Education)) in the country are worried; so worried that they are seriously considering distributing things like condoms en masse in SA schools. As they have correctly and pragmatically pointed out: the reality is that so many youngsters are having sex, getting pregnant, contracting aids; and burying heads in the sand will not help the terrible scenario.

Condoms in schools for youngsters? My own particular generation will wince with trenchant shock if such is also the case in places like Nigeria. But what can be done to nip the situation in the bud? Is it too much to expect very young females just to go to school, face their studies en route to a tertiary education as was the wont in the past? On a personal level, I have always regarded teen-age pregnancy as an anathema. Poor old-fashioned me!

Some years ago a friend of mine started a small magazine in South Africa; that was some 6 years ago. He invited me to come on board and generate, edit stories which I did whilst the magazine was in existence for a couple of years. I remember he had a quiet 11 year old daughter at the time. A few months ago (after a long absence) I met this friend of mine again and over lunch I asked in cursory fashion about his daughter. “She’ll be around 17 years old now eh?” I quipped. “She’s getting to be a big girl now,”

The gentleman gulped. “Ja. So big that she, my little daughter, is a mother herself now!”

I flinched.

Need we start to examine the reasons why young girls are getting pregnant these days? Unwholesome peer pressure; having boyfriends, both young and old from a very early age; the insidious effects of modern technology and awareness; sugar daddies and the dubious gifts they dangle (eg trendy ‘smart’ cellphones); girls’ desire for the “good” things of life; the ironical cynical effects of early rapes, or early introduction to sex…

By a strange co-incidence, as I am typing this now I glance at my TV screen – South African television news; and emblazoned there is the headline: 17 pupils pregnant in one school! The details are as gory as ever; including midwives on standby for female kids about to deliver babies! One cannot but be filled with despair, especially when it is further revealed that a shocking amount of girls in the same school are already infected with the deadly hiv/aids disease.

What is the way forward then? At the moment, one has to come back to the reality that condoms have to be part of the situation, as it is clear that no facile words or messages will nip in the bud rampant, illicit, dangerous, sexual activities among the young. But in a way, it is a universal problem…isn’t it?

The Soggy Affair

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

The New Year had swung into orbit and I was now back in Bloemfontein city, the festive season holidays a thing of the past. I had quite a number of things to do – but I needed a meal first! But alas it was raining quite heavily; luckily enough I had an umbrella and I made my way sturdily to a certain eatery I loved.


I was not far from the restaurant but the rain suddenly intensified as I saw a woman to my right making her way under the rain, quite drenched. I moved close to her and said: “Let’s use this umbrella together; at least you can make it over to that building there where you can have some shelter,”

She smiled. “Thanks Ntate; but I am already drenched by the rain. You need not bother with me – “ But I insisted; and together, under the so-called umbrella we made it to the other side. Now for the restaurant! The lady thanked me and added: “Happy new year anyway,”

At the modest restaurant my eyes were focused on the lady dishing out the food and I made a beeline towards her. But I was temporarily thwarted. A young man threw his arms around me and gushed: “Happy new year Mr Bolaji!” In truth I did not know, or rather did not recognize him but he was in jocose spirits as he added: “It’s a new year and something great has happened to me! I have got my driving license!” he announced.

He was so thrilled by this piece of news that I beamed with him and congratulated him. Food, food…Well, at long last the savoury food was in front of me and I ate the same in ravenous fashion. And it was still raining cats and dogs outside. We could hear the reverberations clearly from where we (the diners) were seated. And then occurred a rather heart-breaking sight.

A white man, drenched in rain carrying a baby (somewhat wrapped up) entered where we were. He was quite bedraggled and most of the people here, especially the women, stared at him; no doubt because of the baby. It became evident that the man was not here to buy food – he cut a disconsolate, impoverished figure. He brought out a small radio and went around telling people he wanted to sell the radio.

"Can you believe that?" a woman near me said. "That white man wants to sell this fine radio for a paltry R20...he must really be suffering. And with a baby too! And nobody seems to want to help him by buying the radio...shame"

"It would be nice if YOU can buy the radio from him," I pointed out, my food more or less finished now. "As you say it is such a bargain!"

The woman bridled. "Where would I get the money from; just after the festive season? But it is rather sad seeing such a poor white with a baby to boot...I wonder about the mother…"

My mind went briefly to a passage from Nelson Mandela's memoir, Long Walk to Freedom where he states that somehow, seeing poor whites seems to upset many black people. Strangely enough that appears to be the case till date!

And so when the white man came, baby in tow, with the radio asking whether I (and those beside me) would buy the radio, I found myself "buying" the radio from him, though I did not need any radio!

People around stared at me, and as is my wont I felt a bit embarrassed. I had finished eating anyway and what I wanted to do next I’d rather do outside, rain or no rain; as I had no wish to play to the gallery. The white man and the child were huddled together just outside and I noticed that the rain had temporarily ceased, though the terrain was soggy.

Quickly I gave the radio back to the astonished white man “I really don’t need it” I said to him rather curtly before he could protest. “Do not worry about the R20 I gave you, and here’s a ten rand note extra for the baby,” I brandished another (R10) note and gave it to him,” I did not want to stare at him, nor receive any thanks. I felt quite depressed really; it seemed to me that the whole thing, just like the weather, was a rather soggy affair!

I moved on swiftly.

It's Festive Season Time Again!

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Another year is petering to an end; it seems incredible that almost 12 months (of 2012) have been completed. But that is life. From “mewling…puking infants” as Shakespeare put it, we progress in disparate fashion towards the grave, as it were.


It is now about three years that that I began to write this on-line column; a column I am very proud of, by the way. Sometimes I have produced fine, sublime work, other times I believe I have descended so low as far as bathos is concerned, inflicting half-baked or wooly opinions on the readers. But life is like that.

I have been uplifted by countless positive comments from many readers out there, from inside Nigeria, from South Africa and in the wide Diaspora as they say. To be honest, a lot of the time such fine comments have prodded me to keep going. I am also pleased that so many of my columns have been reproduced in other websites, journals, books, world-wide.

One does not need to be a rocket scientist to state that my approach, my credo, essentially is light-hearted. I have never relished the “heavy stuff”, the pretentiously difficult, or obscurantism. What I write most of the time reflects my fiction – churned out to entertain more often than not, but also sometimes informative in its predilection.

I grew up more or less “worshipping” the great creative, imaginative Nigerian writers – Chinua Achebe, John Munonye, Elechi Amadi, Wole Soyinka, Chukwuemeka Ike, Victor Thorpe, TM Aluko etc. As a kid, I dreamt of publishing my own works of fiction too, and I have been thrilled to have published over ten works of fiction too. I do not compete with anybody (any other writer) and I believe I have my own style, even if some dub it a bit zany!

Like other writers, I have my own readers; people who enjoy what I write (now I am mainly thinking of my works of fiction). To my delight many intelligent readers, including academics have appreciated what I have published to the extent that at least ten different books (studies) have been published on my work. Some awards have come in plus a film documentary on me; and to be honest, these things can not be quantified in monetary terms.

In life one will always have some “detractors” or “critics” of course. That is the way it should be; the best “critics” are of course those who try to be open-minded and still give some praise where it is due. Alas, a very small minority - more or less like sick cranks probably motivated by other maleficent factors, will try to pull every writer down. But in the end as an “artist”, the view of the majority is what buoys one; keeps one focused and creative.

This year – purely from a literary perspective, so to speak – has been another memorable one for me. The recent glittering Mbali Awards that took place in Clocolan (South Africa) was easily one of the highlights. It was an occasion when I was honoured with another Lifetime Achievement Award, and it was thrilling to see the phalanx of intelligent people, Black, White and “coloured” gracing the event. There were traditional Zulu and Sesotho praise-songs, or rather poems rendered in my honour. And Zulu regalia in particular can be picturesque!

Ah, the festive season…the period all of us look forward to painstakingly with some relish. The time to unwind, rest, let our hair down; at least in theory! Psychologically it is a boost and fillip to us all time to re-connect properly with loved ones etc.

Seriously though, here in South Africa the festive season is already in the air…hordes of people, including myself, are preparing for long journeys during this period. In the major shops, uplifting melodious Christmas music can be heard, complemented by a phalanx of Xmas trees and Father Xmases. The young ones are particularly in celebratory mood, with School holidays commencing. On my own part, let me wish everybody out there a wonderful, fulfilling, jocose, festive season!

PIX ABOVE: Bolaji (left) with South African writer, K.A Motheane at the Mbali Awards