By Azua Alonu,
One of the greatest things that happened to me in my Secondary school was when my English teacher, a fresh graduate from the University of Nigeria, Nssuka introduced me to the work and world of Soyinka through his book: the man died and other prison poems. He told us that the man died was his prison note, banned by General Yakubu Gowon. It was in the nineteen seventies and I was fifteen. Our teacher was able to smuggle the banned edition and carried it like a trophy.
He quoted profusely from the book: it is the certitude of indestructible continuum of ordeal survival affirmation. He will laugh. We could not penetrate the turgid syntax but he continued. I address the book to the people whom I belong, not to the broad spectrum of privilege elite who prop the marble palaces of today is tyrant. I memorized it the way it came out of his mouth, I did not care if some words were musing, the excitement of the strings of high lexicon consumed me.
Our teacher took us to Government College Ughelli for debates and quizzes. We won prizes and he will quote from the book again to celebrate our win as we ride in the combi-bus.
When I asked him privately why he was always quoting from the book, he said “a book like that is good and will always add to the richness of literature”.
Some of us wanted to have a copy: not to understand but to keep as a souvenir — a symbol of intellectual growth and certificate of elite membership. Our teacher was rich in vocabulary and his accent – a mock imitation of Robin Cook (once British Foreign Minister). We liked him but he directed our affection and curiosity to Wole Soyinka and his writing. After school and I entered the University to read English, I was introduced to him as an activist and a man who fashioned the literature of existence.
Again there was what Okey Ndibe, the Novelist calls avuncular gravitas about him. Then I graduated and fell into the thicket of his comparative literature and saw his activism as a man always going for the throat of the tyrant. I wanted to meet with him but there was a red sea. I was a youth corper. I did not have the rod of Moses. Distance became a barrier. I served in Anambra. A friend of mine told me he was a Nomadic Lecturer – he called him an itinerant lecturer. But I called him a nomadic lecturer.
I studied his craft as an undergraduate and grappled with his style of writing. The experience of reading his work was exciting. I opted to write my final essay on some of his drama but my lecturer told me point blank: My friend, I don’t want Soyinka’s trouble choose another topic.
He is a man of deep knowledge, his books are world class. It will be invidious to pick one out of the lot. I recently had to read his memoirs Ibadan: Penkelemesi years and you must set forth at dawn. Remarkable books. I made sure I read all his books that I can see. And yesterday I saw the authoritation interview, John Agetua did with him and published in 1975 and printed by Bendel Newspaper Corporation, Benin City, publishers of observe. The interview on the booklet was when the man died, views, review and interview on Wole Soyinka’s controversial book by John Agetua. It opened with a quotation by the Russian Writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn who was also a Nobel Prize winner. The quote.
The yes man is the enemy
Your friend will always try
To argue with you
I read the interview, I read every word of Soyinka. I followed the, controversy that followed him and many times join in his defense. There are times I disagreed with him even though my friend call me his devotee. Yes I was interested in what made him thick and tick. Is it Ogun, Obatala, or Sango. Was it his talent and God’s grace? I say God’s grace.
Once he came to the Delta State house of Assembly and the place was jammed full with admirers and curious people who wanted to see the towering literary figure, I was there. He was simple with the dome of grey hair. No airs, he came out to take photograph with the members of the house of assembly, people joined. I was close enough to look at him and saw that he was light, his English was clear, his baritone voice was penetrating and his presence overwhelming.
Let me return back to my undergraduate lecturer who insisted I should change my topic: Wole Soyinka’s activist plays as my final essay. My lecturer on seeing my topic asked: “Do you have the teeth to crack the bones in Soyinka’s drama. The Squirrels teeth is too feeble to crack the palm nuts grown in Ake Forest.
I looked at him with fear. Then I picked up myself, “Sir, I can try”. He stared at me again and said “look for another topic. I don’t want to enter Soyinka’s trouble”. He smiled. Take another topic, if you have any difficulties, let me know as he parted me on my shoulder like the father of the prodigal son. “Okay sir, I will look for another topic”.
“I don’t want you to run into trouble with external examiners. He boomed with laughter.
“I like you because your traps are always for crocodiles and whales. Where you not the student who wrote that essay?”
“Which one Sir?”
“The novels of Saul Bellow even who it was not a familiar novelist here”
“Yes”
“How did the essay end?”
“I did not submit it.”
“Why?”
“The prof. said my syntax need to mature before this can be published”
I saw one short story that Soyinka wrote at the age of nineteen and I said to myself, Soyinka was matured before birth. I also heard that his Professor in Leeds University discovered some solution he has been looking for, for many years, that teacher was Professor Wilson K. Knight. I stumbled into his book: the wheel of fire in one of Asaba public Libraries. The book was on Shakespeare plays. I was happy to have read the book that the teacher of Soyinka wrote.
His activitsm is still alive. The fact that Soyinka’s voice is still in the public space makes us believe that we still have a haemorraging hope.
Azua Alonu,
Chairman, Delta Literary Forum,
Asaba.
