For lovers of vintage literary discussions, Monday 28 May 2012 was D-day and 6:00 pm was H-hour. At about 5: 45 pm, people began trickling into the swanky atmosphere of
The Life House, which was the venue of the CORA-organised “A Conversation with Prof. Akin Adesokan”.
It is germane at this point to give a brief biological sketch of the professor.
Akin Adesokan worked for many years as a journalist with
The Guardian (Nigeria), and then joined the formerly clandestine news magazine
Tempo, for which he also wrote a weekly fiction column. His first novel,
Roots in the Sky, won the Association of Nigerian Authors’ prize for fiction in manuscript form in 1996. Following his political detention by the junta of General Sani Abacha, he was awarded the PEN Freedom-to-Write Award in 1998 and the Hellman/Hammett Human Rights Award in 1999. Today, Akin Adesokan teaches Comparative Literature at Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana.
In solidarity with Akin Adesokan, present at The Life House on the day of his reading were many writers, journalists, theatre practitioners, and book lovers. Some of the faces I recognised are:
Toyin Akinosho,
Uzor Maxim Uzoatu,
Toni Kan,
Jumoke Verissimo,
Victor Ehikhamenor, and
Kunle Ajibade. Upon my arrival at The Life House I had met
Deji Toye, who was the moderator of the event, reclining in a colourful sofa under the shade of a well-pruned tree, deep in conversation with
A. Igoni Barrett, a writer.
After a while, the small crowd that was gathered in the front yard of The Life House began to spread out, and then broke into three independent groups, as I can remember. Everyone was chatting heartily, shaking hands, roaring in laughter and engaging in warm embraces, the kind that reveals how long you have missed a friend. It was at this juncture it became apparent that the event had to begin.
Mind you, the guest,
Prof. Akin Adesokan, was among the early birds. Dressed in an orange long-sleeved shirt tucked into a pair of dark blue trousers, he had strolled in—a leather bag clutched in his right hand—in the company of his bosom friend and the publisher of his first book,
Toyin Akinosho, who also doubles as the Secretary-general of
CORA.
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| Deji Toye (L) and Akin Adesokan |
When the moderator ushered Akin Adesokan to his seat—a flower-pattered armchair facing the curious audience—it was glaring that an air of electric anticipation pervaded the hall. As if to seduce us, the audience, the hall took on an aura of a rare literary faculty, an impact that I assumed was soon transferred to everyone present. (How I wish I am allowed to a bit of exaggeration here, but, alas, I am not!) The audience of a sudden seemed to possess, at the introduction of the special guest, a sombre and discerning ability, so much so that even a small wheezy cough at the back of the hall could be accorded some semiotic importance. Such was the situation and and a befitting welcome indeed for the man of the moment:
Akin Adesokan.
Of course, everyone at the venue was already familiar with the name, yet the formality of introduction was still needed, especially as the occasion was official, coupled with the fact that the audience was composed of Nigerians and non-Nigerians, men and women who were keen to listen to this celebrated writer. They might have known the name and the face that bore it via so many modern means—Facebook and suchlike; however, some strange faces around must have wanted an indepth history surrounding the ebullient, young professor.
After the impactful introduction by Deji Toye, the stage was set. The next thing on the moderator’s agenda was to call upon Toyin Akinosho to read from the guest’s novel
Roots in the Sky. As the event unfolded it became clear that emphasis wasn’t on Adesokan’s debut novel and that Mr Akinosho’s reading from that book was only meant to whet the appetite of the audience and probably to douse the conversational tension that had accompanied them from the open space outside right into the hall.
Simply spellbinding is the only way to describe Akin Adesokan’s reading from his novel in progress entitled South of the Still River. He had remarked that his friend Toyin Akinosho often mocks him that his novel will “never be fit for picnics” nor likely to be taken for a pleasure read, but the effect of this unfinished novel on the audience proved otherwise. The language was superb, simple to understand, rife with native images that showed that, yes, this was an African writer at work.
Notwithstanding that I didn't actually hear Adesokan read out any African idiom, the humour was potent enough to provoke outbursts of laughter at intervals. Before he commenced reading he had given the audience ample hint of the story-line. He said that the novel is an autobiography of an African writer, whose identity is a revelation of the true-life situation that some people do not belong to any country. Symbolically, the central character doesn't belong to a specific country: his only means of statehood is a UN passport. He is perpetually in exile but with an eagle eye fixed on the political and economic developments back home, in this instance the continent of Africa.
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| The audience |
Adesokan noted that apart from this novel he is also working on a trilogy that attempts to deal squarely with Lagos life in ways ranging from a distinctive deployment of language as peculiar to the city, its environmental scenes, down to characterisation, etc.
When the floor was thrown open for questions, they came in a barrage because of the range of issues Adesokan had traversed in the course of his reading. Among the questions that were flung at him were these, paraphrased below:
Give reasons why you are concerned with the past as a modern writer in a present-day Nigeria by delving into the 70’s in Roots in the Sky?
Does Nollywood really embody the whole of the Nigerian film industry, especially as there are other film-making bodies—such as the makers of Yoruba and Hausa movies—that are not integrated into the Nollywood name?
What spurs your writing—is it your academic achievement as a professor of comparative literature or is it your sheer love and talent for writing?
The question I found most fascinating came from a mature audience member who observed from the progression of Adesokan’s reading that there had been a change in the viewpoint of the brain behind the writing. While noting this morph, he questioned what could be responsible for such.
"In responding to the issue of delving into the past to feed a present society, he argued that without the past there can never be the present and that the burdens the present bears are the negligence of the past whose scars still haunt us into the mire we find ourselves today."
In reactions to these questions and others, Adesokan dexterously tackled each with a finesse that left everyone satisfied. In responding to the issue of delving into the past to feed a present society, he argued that without the past there can never be the present and that the burdens the present bears are the negligence of the past whose scars still haunt us into the mire we find ourselves today. He added that if such problems that forged our background are not addressed, we are bound to repeat same injurious errors. He also gave plausible points on why we must accept that Nollywood, irrespective of its shortcomings, has made commendable progress. He disagreed that he got into writing on the basis of his academic feats, citing examples from his career in the 90s as a lover of literature even when he had no such academic qualifications. In answer to the question that there is a change of outlook evident in his writing, he answered in the affirmative, saying that of course there were slight changes as his experiences over the years had increased with maturity and exposure to new ideas and experiences in a turbulent, fast-moving world, and all these had no doubt redefined his perspective. Thus he concluded.
