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The fifth edition
of BookJam @ Silverbird held Saturday, June 26, at the Silverbird
Lifestyle Store, Silverbird Galleria, Victoria Island. The BookJam,
which takes place on the last Saturday of every month, is sponsored by
Coca Cola, Farafina and Feed Mill.

Anchored by Anwuli
Ojogwu, the event had as special guest Alain Mabanckou, a writer from
Congo Brazzaville. Nigerian writers, Toni Onwordi, Kunle Ajibade and
Abraham Oshoko were guest writers; reading from their books. Also
present at the event were actress Joke Silva; and Theatre @Terra
producer, Wole Oguntokun.

Jailed for life

Among the
highlights of the event was the reading by Kunle Ajibade, also author
of ‘Nigeria, What A Country!’ He read an excerpt of his
autobiographical book, ‘Jailed For Life’. He narrated for the benefit
of the audience, the details of his ordeal and his ruminations while
incarcerated by General Sani Abacha’s administration. “We suppose to
open you when you wan chop and lock you when you finish… We suppose to
chain you to this bed when you wan sleep,” he read – words, which he
attributed to his jail keepers, and which depicted the inhumanity of
incarceration.

June 12

Perhaps the most
interesting reading of the evening was that of Abraham Oshoko from his
graphic novel, ‘June 12’, which is produced in the style of a comic
book. According to the cartoonist, his motivation for the book was the
need to let people know the story of June 12.

“Nigeria and Africa
as a whole do not keep records; we are a people who sweep issues and
problems under the carpet. And now the carpet has a hunch back,” he
said. Reading an excerpt about a politician trying to convince an
activist to mobilise his ‘people’ to vote for him, Oshoko illustrated
how in the matter of politics, “money is the only ideology.”

Oshoko also read a
collection of quotes from past political office holders. These
included: “We have not chosen who will succeed us, we have only decided
who will not” – Ibrahim Babangida (1988). “Everyone has a gift from
God. The Northerners are endowed by God with leadership qualities, the
Yoruba man knows how to earn a living and has diplomatic qualities, the
Igbo man is gifted in trade, commerce, and technological innovation;
God so created us equally, with purpose and different gifts” – Yusuf
Maitama Sule, supposedly supporting an opinion that the North should
maintain leadership of Nigeria.

Pilgrimages

Alain Mabanckou,
international writer and author of such works as ‘African Psycho’,
’Broken Glass’ and ‘Blue, White, Red’ declined to read as according to
him he wasn’t satisfied with his English language reading abilities.
His excerpt from ‘African Psycho’ was read by a member of the audience.
Mabanckou, is in Nigeria for a two-week period as part of Pilgrimages,
a Pan African literary project organized by the Chinua Achebe Centre,
Bard College in the US. The project has sent 13 African writers to 13
cities on the continent, after which each would produce a travel
writing work about the experience. Mabanckou is therefore on a
‘pilgrimage’ to Lagos. He is writing about his impressions of the
sprawling metropolis and the phenomena associated with the city, such
as traffic and youth culture.

Sand in the mouth

In the question and
answer session following the readings, author of ‘Under the Brown
Rusted Roofs’ and arts journalist Abimbola Adelakun, asked Ajibade if,
with the benefit of hindsight, he would have gone ahead with his
activities under Abacha’s dictatorship had he known they would land him
in jail. The question seemed a difficult one for Ajibade; despite
explanations and a reiteration of the question by another member of the
audience, the most substantial answer he gave was that “I was writing
for pleasure, not with the intention of going to jail.” He remarked,
however, that “I sometimes regret that we did all those things we did,
only to have the aftermath of it tasting like sand in our mouths.”

The readings were
interspersed with poetry by Abidemi, who read a poem titled ‘Black’,
and a musical performance, ‘Times Are Good’, by Khafayat Quadri. Like
the readings earlier, the musical interlude suffered from unpleasant
feedback from the sound equipment. The evening ended with a raffle draw
for attendees who had purchased books from the lifestyle store, while
refreshment was served courtesy of Coca-cola and Feed Mill.

BookJam @ Silverbird is a monthly initiative, which is intended to
promote the appreciation of literature and the arts in Nigeria.

Living in America
is expensive. And dying, sweet relief, is almost impossible. America
will not let you die in peace. I have life insurance, and it is the
irony of my wretched existence than I am a million times worth more to
my family dead, than alive. As a condition for my family getting the
proceeds of this life insurance, the insurance company has expressly
forbidden me from dying. In fact any such desire expressed loudly in
the presence of the many spies working for the said insurance company
could mean cancellation of my insurance on account of the fact that I
am a certified loser.

Our insurance
company does not have to worry about rumours of my impending death. It
is impossible to die in America because the country’s afamako emergency
personnel will not let you die. Let’s say you drink yourself silly
every day, and then one day you wake up to find that your liver no
longer exists. Well, in civilised societies like Nigeria, you are dead
and your children start buying aso ebi for your funeral. They even buy
you an aso ebi for your own funeral. Your relatives who previously
declined to spit in your mouth to save your life will spend all their
life savings honouring pleasant memories of your worthless existence.

In America, say
you wake up to find that you are now missing a liver and both kidneys,
please do not start celebrating your coming rest in the arms of the
Lord. America will not let you rest in peace without a fight. As soon
as your eyes start closing, your amebo neighbour whose binoculars are
trained on your sorry behind will immediately call the emergency 9-1-1
line. “Officers, a poor black man is threatening to die! Please come
right away and get his black ass!” America will swoop on you, ambulance
wailing, police cars racing into your lawn, ruining everything, the
firefighters showing off their big red fire engines, breaking down your
doors and rescuing you from eternal bliss. If you are really dying, an
air ambulance (helicopter!) will swoop down and snatch you away to the
hospital. In America, there are helicopter pads in poor neighbourhoods,
because the poor have a bad habit of threatening to die. In Nigeria,
only the super rich have helicopter pads for ferrying them to Dubai to
take care of their skin rash. In the hospital, America will spend
hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep you alive (sample bill: Room
and lodging per night, $10,999, one toilet roll, $1,999, Cable TV
($2,999), Internet access ($5,999 per hour), beautiful Nigerian nurses
specially flown in to understand your Ijebu accent ($6,999 per hour).
They will patch you up and then throw you back out on the streets,
alive but still hungry for death.

Many Nigerians
don’t like dying, an attitude I find very irritating since they are
fond of going to church to pray to go to heaven. I am not a Christian
but I once visited this Nigerian church in America because I had heard
they would serve pounded yam and okra soup plus bush-meat at the end of
the service. They did not, the jerks. As I was backing out of the
parking lot in rage, while texting my displeasure to my daughter
Ominira, this yeye member of the church who was not looking as she was
walking to her cheap-ass car hit my car with her big behind. She almost
destroyed my car with her industrial strength butt. Wo, she immediately
fell on the ground screaming about the devil (me!) and how death is not
her portion and how Jesus Christ will not allow her to die in the hands
of an idiot (me) and in any case if she was going to die, why be killed
by a thirty-year-old coat of many colours (my van!). The yeye woman is
from Nigeria.

Dying in my
village in Nigeria is very expensive. In my village, Made-in-Nigeria
democracy has ensured that people live impoverished lives. But once
they die, come and see wahala. The villagers form a funeral committee
called Screwing the Living and they start to demand all sorts of
nonsense from the bereaved relatives, delicacies that the deceased did
not enjoy while alive. Everyone in the village benefits. These days, my
dad Papalolo walks around the village with a spoon in his agbada pocket
in case he runs into a funeral. Funerals are expensive. That is why my
dad Papalolo will never die. I cannot afford his funeral. I don’t have
the money. Once Papalolo lands in the valley of his ancestors, I will
have him properly embalmed, dress him up nicely and sit him on his
favourite lounge chair in his veranda. I will tell everybody he is
taking a nap.

I have been rambling. This is a round-about way of saying that I
love my wife. Once, I go to our ancestors, she knows where the
insurance papers are. Woman wen dey cry dey see road. Go for it, my
queen, I love you.

Being a patriotic
yet pragmatic Nigerian, I ‘Never Expected Power Always’ during the one
month duration of the World Cup in South Africa. But my patriotism took
a beating when during Nigeria’s first match against Argentina and
Nigeria’s crucial last match against South Korea, it rudely dawned on
me that I should ‘Never (have) Expected Power Anytime!’

Just as
unexpectedly our dear Super Eagles disgracefully turned out to be Super
Chickens (stage fright?) on the world football stage, I was more than
reassured that the ‘Power Holding Company of Nigeria’ would always live
up to its true name! As sure as night follows day, I will still get my
fat bill from PHCN for my excessive consumption of electricity during
the entire month of the 2010 World Cup!

Well, life goes on
in Nigeria, or ‘Naija’, as the younger hip generation have warned me to
rebrand our dear land of wingless Eagles, and one-time flying
Elephants!

My faithful
companion was the bass drone of my over-worked generator, until Osho,
the master-technician-turned-sound-conductor changed the generator’s
pitch to a manageable tenor purr. However, whenever there was a live
broadcast of matches from SA2010, the steady buzzing sound of vuvuzelas
immediately overwhelmed all other sounds around me; even the
commentator’s voice, and most times the referee’s whistle, and it
became an instant decision on whether to turn down or cut off the sound
of the transmission. Most times, I watched matches without the
accompanying sound.

The vuvuzela

Like it or not, the
vuvuzela is the sound of SA2010! It might also well become the new
sound of South Africa itself and many other sporting events worldwide;
unless sports organisers have the guts and anti-noise courage to say
‘no’, like Wimbledon has emphatically done.

For me, vuvuzela is
a sound of noise which, some ‘sharp’ social scientists now identify as
the new symbol and living proof that Africans love noise when they are
having a good time! Definitely, the multi-thousands of football fans
blowing their vuvuzelas at SA2010, particularly the South African
football fans and citizens, were having the ball of their lives for
successfully hosting against all odds; and, in appreciation of their
brave boys, Bafana Bafana.

The decibel level
of 90,000 vuvuzelas when Bafana Bafana ‘rightly’ scored the first goal
in the opening match of the SA2010 World Cup, was the highest
earthquake-inducing noise imaginable at a sporting event. When Mexico
equalised in the second half, the vuvuzelas were not as loud and after
the match, the South African goalkeeper made the odd observation that
it did not feel like they were playing at home since the vuvuzelas were
not loud enough throughout the match to inspire Bafana Bafana.

Most visiting teams
simply hated the sound of vuvuzelas. The horrid sound, they claimed,
prevented them from communicating with their teammates during play, and
their coaches concurred that they could not shout out instructions over
the din, which also made players lose concentration. FIFA
diplomatically appeared to consider a ban, but then overwhelmingly
approved the use of vuvuzelas.

Uninspired Eagles

Vuvuzelas had
infiltrated Nigeria during the FIFA 2009 Under-17 Championships. The
Nigeria Football Federation supposedly gave out many to Nigerian fans,
but obviously they didn’t fancy blowing their lungs out all in the name
of supporting the Eaglets.

My neighbour’s
teenage ward let the entire area know he had a vuvuzela when he let out
a few blasts of its sound just before the vital Nigeria-South Korea
match. When Nigeria scored, he let loose ecstatic vuvuzela bleats. When
South Korea came back strong, the absence of his vuvuzela sound
smoothly blended into the graveyard silence that suddenly enveloped the
entire neighbourhood!

The vuvuzelas were
subdued when Uruguay beat South Africa in the group stage, and they
became a whimper when the Bafana Bafana exited the competition. And so,
when huge competing sounds of drumming and flag-waving singing from
thousands of rival fans filled Pretoria stadium during the crunch match
between Spain and Chile, it refreshingly sounded as if another and
older aspect of support for football teams had finally infused SA2010.

Who knows, if the
vuvuzelas were not overbearing and had let our world-famous Supporters
Club continuously drum, sing, and blow their trumpets, they would have
inspired the Eagles to fly sky-high to victory!

Interestingly, a
South African freedom fighter of old expressed his displeasure that
intense inspired singing and dancing, which had motivated the struggle
to victory over apartheid in the past, has now been replaced by the
vuvuzela. He should have added that the soul sound of Soweto where
Mandela was welcomed from jail and where the showpiece Soccer City
stadium of SA2010 now stands, was the penny-whistle, the driving force
of Kwela and South African jazz music.

Actors and cheats

Live images of
SA2010, television close-ups, cut-aways, live action, and replays were
a feast of human emotions and sports intrigues. They confirmed that
football players are actors and cheats, as well as rough and brutal.
The calculated cynicism of hardcore football players and fans who brag
that football is a man’s game was laid bare and raw!

I noted, amongst
many, the antics of the Chilean player who deliberately dug his studs
into the knee of his Spanish opponent as they both rose from a fall.
Unfortunately, the referee was right over them and as the Chilean
feigned innocence by shrugging and opening his arms, the referee
promptly rewarded him with a yellow card.

Then there was the
Ivorian who made a real meal of Kaka’s slight shove on his chest; by
clutching his face, falling and reeling on the ground. He was rewarded
by the referee showing Kaka a red card and sending off the dangerous
Brazilian striker. Ivory Coast still lost 1-3 to Brazil!

Of course,
Nigerians all over the world are aware of Kaita’s recorded moment of
madness when his intent to stamp his Greek opponent was rewarded by a
red card and sending off. Nigeria lost! A close-up replay clearly
showed the elbow of the French midfield player, who was eventually
red-carded and sent off, firmly planted in the cheek of the South
African defender as they both went for a header in front of South
Africa’s goalmouth. Bafana Bafana deservedly beat a Henry-captained
ragged French team 2-1; throwing them out in the first round of SA2010.

Who says there is no law of karma in football? The Republic of
Ireland’s sports press gloated the next day after the inglorious exit
of France. They printed huge images (also seen live on television as it
happened) of Henry deliberately palming the ball in the last-gasp move
that led to France’s goal that eliminated Ireland from qualifying for
SA2010.

Twelve-year-old
Temilorun Oguntoyinbo, the Drummer Boy, plays the Gangan drum with the
dexterity of a virtuoso. clutching the drum rhythmically between his
flank and underarm while tapping its face with his drum stick and
fingers, his expression is solemn as he makes the drum speak the
language of the traditional Yoruba.

Born to a musical
mother, Titi Oguntoyinbo, who is hailed as the Queen of Highlife,
Temilorun says he started playing the talking drum when he was five
years old. He bought his first drum with money given to him by his
mother, with whom he performs at shows on occasion.

A JSS 2 student of
Fortune College, Ikotun, Lagos, Temilorun speaks with a maturity
noticeably contrasting with his age as he mentions the different types
of drums he can play, namely: Iya Ilu, Gangan, and the modern drum set.
He also recalls trying his hand on the Sakara and Bata drums. Asked
about his influence towards playing traditional Yoruba drums rather
than the newer drum sets, he said he learnt to play it watching a man
in his church choir and taking lessons from him occasionally.

The budding
musician plays for his church, his school and for events where he is
invited to play. When asked if he has a manager, he responds, ‘I’m
still young’, and says his mum currently manages him; while Nigerian
classic music promoter Femi Esho gets him events from time to time,
such as the Tunde Fagbenle book launch where he played recently. Asked
how he juggles his craft with his studies, he says he knows he has to
work hard to become something in life; and he hopes to study Human
Kinetics at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife, because it involves
sports.

When hailed as an
expert, he denies this as he says simply, “I make mistakes too”, though
from an audience’s point of view his performance appears perfect, he
admits to knocking his fingers with his drum stick on occasion such as
in the beginning of the act this writer viewed. “Drumming is hard”, he
says, “your neck, shoulder, underarm and hands hurt a lot.”

Drums are however
not the only instrument he’s skilled at, as he plays the flute and
admits to preferring that over the drum. In the future, he plans to
deviate to playing the flute publicly and he mentions Yemi Sax, popular
saxophonist as his role model. Born into “a united polygamous family,”
he says his father is rarely at home and he seeks counsel from his
older brother, Lekan, 28, in the absence of his father.

Temilorun Oguntoyinbo’s other interests include football, in which
he plays mid-field position, basketball and computer games. This young
talented boy of many interests, kindly gave this reporter a discount,
offering to accept ten thousand naira to play at an event instead of
his usual charge of twenty thousand or more because, according to him,
he is young and he doesn’t need a lot of money; and also because “we
are now friends.”

On Tuesday, June 29, the Korean Cultural Centre in Abuja played host to 20 primary schools from across the Federal Capital Territory to celebrate the winners of its first drawing competition. The centre organised the event to mark 30 years of diplomatic ties between Nigeria and South Korea.

According to Jeong Sun Suh, director of the centre, the competition had called on students to submit drawings exploring the relationship between the two countries. Out of hundreds of entries, 30 finalists were chosen, which will be on display in the centre’s exhibition hall for the next three months.

Korean ambassador to Nigeria, Young-Kuk Park, was on hand to present the awards, though some schools were not available to receive their prizes as they arrived late.

The gold prize winner went home with N20,000, while the four silver medallists received N10,000 apiece and the five bronzes won N5,000 each. Every awardee, including the consolation prize winners, got notebooks and poster colours.

Reactions

The centre had called on the National Gallery of Arts to help judge the contest and this led to some controversy. Some schools complained that the competition’s rules were vague and that many students’ works were unfairly disqualified.

In her remarks, Perpetua Onyejekwe of the National Gallery of Arts explained the winning criteria.

“We disqualified so many entries because it was clear that many were assisted by art teachers,” she said. “The National Gallery is a neutral body, without sentiment, and we gave [prizes] to those who got what we actually wanted.”

Despite the anger, most of the attendees were happy with the results. A few students even sneaked out of the ceremony to celebrate noisily in the hall after they received their prizes.

Sarah Hosea, a parent, noted that the competition had given her child an avenue to express himself, though he did not win any prizes.

“It is part of learning,” she said. “This is a part of the handiwork that will give him a job as an artist in the future.”

The gold winner, 10-year-old Jidechukwu Ilokobi, of Festival Primary School, also looked forward to a future in art.

“I want to be an artist,” he said. “As for the money, I’m going to give it to my parents and I am going to give the prize to my school.”

Until next year

Though organisers had planned on a small-scale ceremony for 50 people, over 100 attendees crowded into the centre’s exhibition hall and many continued to arrive as the ceremony progressed.

In his closing remarks, Mr. Park said that this year’s ceremony was only the beginning. He noted that the competition was the first hosted by the centre and promised a smoother event next year.

“This is just another effort to lay the groundwork to strengthen the ties between our two countries,” the ambassador said. “We will continue this and we will raise the next edition.”