Chinua Achebe (1930-2013)lived a memorable life, he wrote more memorable books. Many remember him for his works. He may be gone but his words, his works live on; they echo even beyond the grave. Those words, they will echo on, to generations unborn.
Achebe was an honourary member of the Garden City Literary Festival. We will miss him.
The tributes have been pouring in, here are some excerpts.
Ife mee. Nnukwu ife mee. Chinua Achebe anabago. Onye edemede nke di egwu, onye nnukwu uche, onye obi oma. Keduzi onye anyi ga-eji eme onu? Keduzi onye anyi ga-eji jee mba? Keduzi onye ga-akwado anyi? Ebenebe egbu o! Anya mmili julu m anya. Chinua Achebe, naba no ndokwa. O ga-adili gi mma. Naba na ndokwa.
Translation
‘A tree has fallen. A mighty tree has fallen! Chinua Achebe is gone. The inimitable wordsmith, the sage, the kind man. Now who is there for us to boast about? Who will be our rampart? How are the mighty fallen! My eyes are in flood with tears. Chinua Achebe may your soul rest in peace. It is well with you. Rest in peace.--Translation done by Mazi Nnamdi Nwigwe
Achebe and the Bravery of Lions by Annalisa Quinn
Achebe's influence is most visible in the extraordinary output of a handful of prominent young Nigerian writers and other African literary elite. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a MacArthur Fellow and perhaps the most famous young Nigerian writer, said in a 2009 Ted talk that "[B]ecause of writers like Chinua Achebe and Camara Laye...I realized that people like me, girls with skin the color of chocolate, whose kinky hair could not form ponytails, could also exist in literature."
The Nigerian writer A. Igoni Barrett wrote in an email of Achebe's "saintly status among Nigerian writers," adding that "His was the strongest voice of Africa's generation of angry voices."
And Ellah Allfrey, the deputy editor of the literary magazine Granta, who was born in Zimbabwe, wrote in an email that, even though she grew up far from Nigeria, "[Things Fall Apart] is the book that allowed me to read in the first person — a perspective and a story that offered me a landscape and characters who (even though they were across the continent from my home) I could identify as my own — or, at last, were closer to me than any I had read before."
Ike Anya's tribute in Granta
He was the antithesis of the Nigerian Big Man: softly spoken, thoughtful with a quiet dignity that echoed in his work. And he could be trusted to speak out when there were difficult things that needed saying. But they were also delivered with a dose of the subtle wit and humour that illuminated his being and his work.
All day I have fielded calls from distraught friends in different parts of the world. In tears, they echo my thoughts, our shock at the suddenness, our illogical hope that he would be always be here, a sudden wrenching feeling that something huge and irreplaceable has been lost; his passing a painful reminder that we are losing a generation of wise elders.
Who will speak out for us now? Who will ask the hard questions of us and the world that he did? Where are the drums and the flutes to dance a great masquerade on his homeward journey?
We will take solace in the words that he has left behind, words that will live on long after we have all gone, words that hopefully will continue to inspire us to acknowledge each other’s humanity; to be greater, to be more.
That will be his legacy.
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