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.
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