NLNG Prize Is Pregnant With Two Issues -By Tunji Ajibade

I have come cross people who talk down literary contests. It means they despise literary champions. I applaud contests. I organise contests. I celebrate champions. I train people through my literary NGO with one objective in mind: that they become better in creative writing to the point that they win literary laurels for Nigeria. My thought is eve that when those in the literary line do well for themselves and for Nigeria, theirs is combined with the excellence of Nigerians in other fields as well. The sum is that Nigeria gets to be on everyone’s lips. If for the number of its literary talents alone this nation would be treated with respect on the international stage, I’m prepared to walk from here to Alaska in order to achieve it. That’s how enthusiastic I am about literary contest, a point better made by the fact that, annually, from 2008 to 2015, with the exception of 2012, I had either won or was shortlisted for continental and national literary prizes. What other benefits are there in literary contests? I use a simple illustration. In Kenya, the home of marathon champions, elite athletes inspire. Younger ones want to be stars. Through this they learn that to become a star requires disciplined lifestyle; those who imbibe it don’t cause trouble for government and society.

Also, sports stars attract the attention of leading sport clubs and big companies. An Olympic champion may spur companies to consider investing in sports development programmes in his country. World sporting bodies also think of development programmes in countries where sports champions come from, just as people across the world take note of Nigeria because of a certain Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, or my sister, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the novelist. People called and engaged me in discussions each time Adichie was in the media, or she gave a public lecture anywhere around the world. It was because they were aware that a few years ago I was in the Farafina literary classroom where Adichie taught writers her skills. Such people who spoke with me mentioned how proud they were because she was a Nigerian, and that she portrayed us positively. That happened because she flew the flag of Nigeria as a world beater in creative writing. The year my friend, Jekwu Anyaegbuna, won the Commonwealth Prize for Africa region, I felt a sense of pride each time I went online and I read comments made by people from every nation about this Nigerian who had won a contest. If literature could be a platform to earn credits for Nigeria, why should anyone talk down the contest aspect of it? Now, some had said to me that many fantastic writers didn’t ever make it to the medal podium. It’s true. But, I still ask, why should anyone talk down literary contest?

One corporate body that has promoted literary contest in Nigeria is the Nigeria Liquefied Natural Gas Company, NLNG. In the past, I had had reasons to commend NLNG’s contribution to the promotion of literary excellence. Incidentally, the company’s annual literary contest spurs this piece. I covered an event recently where NLNG, while promoting a project in the sciences, distributed its ‘NLNG Magazine’ to attendees. The magazine treated various issues, but the story of the journey of how the company promoted literary contest in Nigeria was my focus. I found the magazine informative. It was a good job by the trio of the Editor in Chief, Kudo Eresia-Eke; Managing Editor, Tony Okonedo; and the Editor, Emeka Agbayi, a fine and considerate man whom I had not seen since the award night of 2009 that took place at Transcorp Hilton Hotel, Abuja, where Chief Odumegwu Ojuwkwu was the Guest Speaker, and Prof. Andrew Nok had received his award in science, (literature having produced no winner.) In the course of reading the NLNG magazine, I got to Page 7 where I read the following: “According to Prof. Iwoketok, ‘the following criteria were used for assessing the entries: language diction, relevance, style, quality of production and originality.’” This report was on the 2015 edition of the Nigeria Prize For Literature, which was for children literature. My concern is ‘relevance’ as a criterion.

Also on Page 37, I noticed that all the three judges were university lecturers. The International Consultant too, Kimberly Reynolds, was a professor of children literature in the UK. My concern is that all the judges are from the university setting. Back to the first issue: What does ‘relevance’ mean in the contest of judging literary prize? I suppose ‘relevance’ in NLNG contest may mean writing on a theme that is contemporary, an issue that impacts the society currently; it may be HIV/AIDS, militancy, insurgency, child marriage, child trafficking etc. There’s nothing wrong in that. But to what extent should ‘relevance’ take precedence over a beautifully written story that does not directly address current situation? There is something called art for art sake. I like beautifully written sentences in a story more than the story line itself. In fact, what I like in Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus and Half of a Yellow Sun is never the story line. It’s the beautifully crafted sentence. Fact is, whenever I feel like reading lines that remind me of what beautiful sentences are, I pick up either of these two books and open to any page whatsoever. (It never mattered that I had read them several years back). And Half of a Yellow Sun is about the Nigerian civil war, isn’t it?

In comparison, there are literary outputs that I have had to drop after I read the first few pages because each sentence feels like pebble in the throat, even when the story line is ‘relevant’. Art should be appreciated for the sake of art. If ‘relevance’ comes in, good; but it should not take the place of art for its own sake. I suspected that the craze to get ‘relevance’ right got us reading for about five consecutive years shortlists of the Caine Prize contest that were mainly stories which featured poverty of Africa and of the African children. I recollect that Bernardine Evaristo, the award-winning writer who chaired Caine Prize judges in 2012, when asked, had said she looked forward to seeing a story that didn’t celebrate poverty. That year, from a shortlist of five, our own Rotimi Babatunde won with a story that focused on the second world war, not ‘relevance’. Also, when I wrote my fiction piece, ‘In the End’, with a simple desire to tell a story as best as I could, and it was long-listed for the (continental) Golden Baobab Prize in 2013, Evaristo also as the Chair of the Judges (and who couldn’t have been searching for ‘relevance’) had commented on my story thus: “‘In the End’ stood out for me because it is a highly sophisticated and bold exploration of power, the business of politics and how a corrupt system of governance is maintained by empty rhetoric and the emptiness, danger and absurdity of protocol. I also find it funny in its absurdity. If a story works, it works, and this one did for me”.

Any good story works for Evaristo, ‘relevance’ or no ‘relevance’. Relevance may be okay for children literature, but if it takes the same pride of place in the other genres in NLNG contest I think it inhibits the choice of where a creative writer picks his material from, including our historical past that I particularly enjoy exploring using fiction.

The other issue is the selection of all the judges from university setting. I don’t know if this has been the practice in NLNG contests, but I call it to question. I respect academicians, however I’m convinced that good judges of literary contest aren’t limited to the ivory towers; I state this because I have never believed that the institution I work for should define me or my competence, which is the dominant mentality in our clime. Here, office, position and title define people. Yet, many great writers have made names for themselves without being in an academic institution. If such were given NLNG’s criteria for judging contest, they would equally do well. NLNG should give the non-academic segment of the literary world a representation in its panel of judges. I think the mixture strengthens and balances, as well as guarantees the literary excellence that NLNG is ever in search of.