Knopf has just published a disappointing volume of Chinua
Achebe’s essays titled The Education of a British-Protected Child. They are old
(well, mostly old) speeches sloppily stapled together. Almost all the ideas
have been previously published multiple times, ages ago, with some freely
available on the Internet. Achebe has said precious little here that offers
fresh insights on the world’s current condition.
Of 16 essays, only three were written in this century. The rest
are from the 80s and the mid-90s. Those new to Achebe’s works may be enthralled
by the power of his words but they will be better served reading his earlier
works: Home and Exile, Hopes and Impediments, and The Trouble with Nigeria.
The same issues are recycled ad nauseam: Racism, colonialism,
Africa’s humanity, Africans, African writers, James Baldwin, etc. Achebe’s
classic denunciation of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness has already attained
ubiquity in books and on the Internet. I suspect the machinations of an overly
aggressive publisher here, building a cash cow out of Achebe’s scrolls.
The essay, My Dad and Me, about Achebe’s father was first
published in 1996, in Larry King’s book of the same title, but it is a
tight-lipped reflection that is mostly devoted to Achebe’s great-uncle. The
volume Hopes and Impediments already covers that subject richly and warmly.
Similarly, My Daughters, although written in 2009 provides anecdotes about
parenting in the late 60s and early 70s. It is a cute essay but the daughters
are grown now; surely, they and perhaps Achebe’s grandchildren have given him
enough to write about since then.
The editing is sloppy. Several speeches from Achebe’s lecture
circuit were poorly edited to adapt them to essay format. And the errors are
unacceptable, Knopf should be embarrassed. In one essay, Achebe talks of his
only meeting with James Baldwin in 1983; in another, the same meeting is in
1980. Furthermore, the official name of the conference sponsor changes
depending on the essay. Achebe is a master story-teller, but you soon get tired
of reading the same anecdotes over and over again. There is a recurring
anecdote about confronting racism in a bus. In one essay, a South African
driver confronts Achebe about sitting in the Whites Only section of the bus; in
another essay, it is the conductor.
Achebe’s near-obsession with the West’s prejudices turns into a
relentless chant: “Africans are people in the same way that Americans,
Europeans, Asians, etcetera are people. Africans are not some strange beings
with unpronounceable names and impenetrable minds.” It is a position that is
sadly allergic to the reality: Our black leaders are compromising our humanity.
As Achebe faces the West and insists on our humanity through clenched teeth,
our people stand far away, trying very hard to look like the broken people that
he insists we are not.
Achebe’s words drip angrily like ancient history, words gone
rusty in the broken pipes of Nigeria’s indifference. Missing is the Achebe who
famously urged Nigerians to look inwards in The Trouble with Nigeria: “The
trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership. There is
nothing basically wrong with the Nigerian character. There is nothing wrong
with the Nigerian land or climate or water or air or anything else.” Missing is
the question: Why are things the way they are? Why are we having trouble
managing change? Achebe shies away from that analysis.
We are living in incredibly exciting times and technology is
driving a shift in global cultural transformation. The notion of the
nation-state as an entity is under serious review. The individual is becoming
increasingly a municipality of one. Economic theories that assumed finite
physical boundaries have ruined today’s global economy. African thinkers should
be part of the conversation, and visioning a robust future for Africa. Even as
we confront the West, we must also engage in honest conversations among
ourselves about our contribution to this mess. Those that rubbish Africa’s name
today are not just white folks; black on black carnage is the rage of the day
in Africa. Our leaders are openly savaging Africa; let us turn our rage on
them.
This is not a review but a commentary on how Knopf conducts its business of
publishing books. As technology continues to democratise and individualise
creative expression traditional publishing houses will be tempted to employ
gimmickry to rescue them from what they imagine is a looming irrelevance.
It doesn’t have to be so. There are challenges indeed but opportunities
abound to use technology to showcase the talents and gifts of emerging and
established writers. The unintended consequence of recycling the dated ideas of
thinkers is to trivialise their legacy. That would be unfortunate and
unforgivable. Achebe deserves better. These essays are merely words that clothe
him in the silence of the bereaved. We must respect it, but as a child that
grew up at the Eagle’s feet lapping up his every word, this silence hurts.
Speak, speak to us great teacher.
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