Sunday, October 25, 2009

a nice review in Publisher's Weekly

I was pleased to learn that my story, “On the Road”, received a nice mention in this week's Publisher’s Weekly. :-)! “On the Road” is one of 15 stories in Eclipse 3: New Science Fiction and Fantasy (edited by Jonathan Strahan). The anthology features some awesome authors including, Maurine McHugh, Peter S. Beagle, Ellen Kushner, Karen Joy Fowler, Elizabeth Bear, Paul Di Flippo, Pat Cadigan. It was just released on October 15th.

My story, “On the Road”, is the first horror story I’ve ever written. It scared the hell out of me when I wrote it; for about two weeks I was running to my front door whenever I returned home alone at night. I was afraid of the road. Things can happen on the road. At night.

The story is about a woman named Chioma who visits her grandmother during some strange rains. It’s set in present-day Nigeria. The opening scene (which is rather disturbing…my sister won’t read the story because of it) was actually inspired by an incident that happened in real life.

Here’s the Publisher’s Weekly review.

Eclipse Three Edited by Jonathan Strahan. Night Shade (www.nightshadebooks.com), $14.95 paper (304p) ISBN 978-1-59780-162-1

Australian editor Strahan continues his wide-ranging and occasionally controversial anthology series with 15 boundary-pushing stories. Pat Cadigan's “Don't Mention Madagascar” and Nnedi Okorafor's “On the Road” play wittily with reality and identity, and are exquisitely crafted. Maureen McHugh's “Useless Things” and Ellen Kushner's “Dolce Domum” are melancholy but no less fascinating. Jeffrey Ford's “The Coral Heart” nicely tweaks high fantasy tropes, while Peter S. Beagle's “Sleight of Hand” and Nicola Griffith's “It Takes Two” examine the nature and power of love from very different angles. The less successful efforts by Elizabeth Bear, Molly Gloss and Paul Di Filippo are still ambitious enough to be worth reading. Only Daniel Abraham's cliché-driven “The Pretender's Tourney” and Jane Yolen and Adam Stemple's predictable short-short “Mesopotamian Fire” seem really out of place. Despite the weak spots, Strahan continues to secure his place as a top anthologist. (Dec.)

Friday, October 16, 2009

My interview with Sapphire, author of the novel Push (which is now a film titled Precious)

Way back in 1996, I interviewed Sapphire, the author of the controversial novel titled Push. The book has now been made into a film called Precious (“Precious” is the name of the story’s main character), directed by Lee Daniels and heavily supported by Oprah. The film is already gathering praise, winning the Audience Award and the Grand Jury Prize for best drama at Sundance Film Festival.



My wish to see it has nothing to do with its star-studded cast (which includes Mo'Nique, Mariah Carey, Lenny Kravitz). I admit, I am interested in seeing Miss Gabourey Sidibe make her debut. :-)

My main reason for seeing Precious will be the same reason that I considered NOT seeing the film: the novel it’s based on. Push is some heavy sh*t. It is one of two novels whose realism made me physically nauseous while reading it (the second being The Stoning of Soraya M. by Freidoune Sahebjam. The film version came out this summer…heh, I was too afraid to see it). Precious deals with some very relevant disturbing issues.

I interviewed Sapphire at a hotel in downtown Chicago. We sat and talked for about an hour. She was an easy interview because she was very outspoken. The interview was for BookEnds, a section of Essence Magazine’s website at the time. I’ve since lost the article. However, a few days ago, I remembered that I had the interview on my old computer. Here is an excerpt from the interview where Sapphire speaks about sexism and sexual abuse (note: this is all Sapphire speaking):

…Writers just have to be ready. If I was Chinese, I’d be writing about Chinese men. I don’t think that my books are vastly different from what white women are writing. For me, there is no such thing as the black man/black woman problem. Sexism is a worldwide phenomenon and the patriarchy is a phenomenon that exists among all peoples of the world. Black men are not exempt from it. They are not worse than other men and they are not better.

Women own two percent of this world’s property, call the UN and check up on it. That’s called sexism. That’s called producing the bodies that fuel this world, doing most of the labor, the cooking the cleaning, the working of the fields and you own two percent of the property.

As we speak right now, a female baby in China is being murdered. In India, when the husband dies, the wife must be murdered also. There are women in Africa being cliterendectomized. In Sweden and Denmark there are child porn films being made. This is what sexism is.

I remember when my own parents divorced. My father had everything, the house, the car, everything. My father died with six figures, my mother died on welfare. This is one family. That’s real. That’s what sexism is.

It isn’t necessarily about getting beaten up and raped and all that. It’s the same thing as racism. We can be all dressed up and everything but the net worth of African Americans is only one quarter that of whites in this country. We are just talking about some material conditions that exist and from those conditions arise mental and social conditions such as female slavery, prostitution, the murder, the abuse of children and rape of women. This has nothing to do with “black people.”

When you finish Push, Precious talks about the good things too: her life, learning, her child, her friends, Langston Hughes. In the beginning, she’s full of anger. But she’s really full of love. She loves everyone. They don’t love her. She’s loves the black men that don’t want to be her boyfriend because she’s fat and black. She loves Madonna. She loves Alice Walker, Langston Hughes. It’s not a book about hate and vindictiveness. It’s a book about redemption and love. It’s about how one abused child comes forward to become a strong woman.

The hardest material happens in the first chapter. What would be the point of writing a novel if there was no change or growth in the end? The book is not about pain, it’s about push. You can either lie down and do nothing or you can stand up and be strong.

Precious could have gone out and hurt other people or become a crack addict. Why doesn’t someone like her go out and do something like what happened in
Littleton, Colorado? Why does she try to go to school, try to get money for diapers for her baby? Why does she try when so many who have suffered less than her take the darker path?

In the beginning of the book, she gives birth to a child. What is dark about that? What could be brighter than that? It would have been dark if she had done like that girl at the prom who strangled her baby. The criticism of Push sometimes baffles me.

And don’t you think it [sexual abuse] disturbs the people it’s happening to? This is happened to 40 percent of American women. Don’t you think it disturbs them? It’s not my fault. Forty percent of women say that they have been sexually abused under the age of 15, whether it’s by parents or the bus driver. This is something that happens to women in western culture. Right now, you can get on the net and surf for the child porn of your choice.

If it really disturbs you, there are ways
that we can work to stop the abuse of women and children. And I’m not going to stop writing about it until it stops happening.

Friday, August 28, 2009

preliminary cover of my forthcoming adult novel, Who Fears Death

This is the preliminary cover for my forthcoming adult novel, Who Fears Death.

My favorite parts are the vulture (my main character Onyesonwu has a...special relationship with vultures), the colors and Onyesonwu’s stance. The story takes place in the desert region of a specific part of Africa in the future. Oh and yes, her light skin tone is totally accurate, as is her African hair. ;-). The designers at DAW hit it all right on the nail. Bravo!


Who Fears Death


Scheduled for release

June 10, 2010

from DAW Books

David Anthony Durham, award-winning author of Acacia, said this about Who Fears Death:

"Nnedi Okorafor has embarked on a rather stunning literary journey. In several wonderful novels and short stories, she has tapped into diverse traditions that date back into the dawn of humanity’s first storytelling ventures. She uses this material toward a forward-looking complexity that, I believe, predicts the coming face of global speculative fiction. Her latest novel for adults, Who Fears Death, is urgently topical, at times brutal, and always wholly original."

Sunday, August 23, 2009

My response to District 419…I mean District 9. ;-)

Initially, I wasn’t going to post a response to District 9. I felt like doing so would be equivalent to walking through a field full of very sensitive land mines. But what’s life without danger, eh? So, here goes:

*WARNING: This review is one huge spoiler of a film that is already spoiled*

I despised District 9. It sucked eggs. Not impressed. Boooooo! Back to the drawing board.

Before writing this, I researched District 9’s director Neill Blomkamp a bit. I went to Wikipedia to see what informative links I could find. Here’s what the first sentence of his entry read:

Neill Blomkamp is a racist South African born, Vancouver, BC-based director of feature-length and short films and advertisements.”

Guess I wasn’t the only one thoroughly pissed off by his film. I’m not one to laugh at other people’s misfortune but, honestly, Blomkamp had that coming. And as a Nigerian, it certainly was NOT my job to remove the slanderous word from his Wikipedia entry. So I left it (the word “racist” was gone in a matter of minutes).

I saw District 9 with my two older sisters (Ifeoma and Ngozi). Like me, both are huge fans of science fiction and Peter Jackson (despite his King Kong savages). We were so excited that we were giggling and snickering as we took our seats. We’d been waiting months to see this film.

Within the first fifteen minutes, this happy ambiance changed to something negatively charged. Our initial annoyance was mainly due to the lack of darker skinned faces interviewed in the opening sequence of the film. This was a film set in and about an African country, for goodness sake. Last I read, blacks made up about 80 percent of South Africa’s population and whites about 10 percent.

Finally a black woman was interviewed. But from what I recall (I’ve only seen it once, so this is all from memory), she isn’t given a designation as everyone else was! She was just someone off the street, not a person of authority (God forbid). My sisters and I began to get antsy.

Our whispered cursing really started when the film got to… “The Nigerians”. It was all downhill from there. I’d say this was the whitest big budget “African science fiction” film ever but really it’s the ONLY big budget “African Science fiction” film ever. Go figure. Even when the mainstream science fiction film is set on the “Dark Continent”, the central character is still white, ha ha, wow.


A summation of my issues with District 9:

1. Gender- Did the aliens HAVE to be, well, “male”? I say “male” because the “Nigerian” prostitutes servicing the aliens were female, the aliens behaved “male”-ish and they even DRESSED like “males”. Christopher the alien was male (at least by name) and had a son, too. There was an alien in a bra but I got the feeling he was a male transvestite (is that what you’d call an alien who is “male” yet dresses as a human female? I mean, he had a bra on…the aliens didn’t have breasts). So again I ask, did they HAVE to be “male”, which is what non-humans are usually assumed to be in such films unless otherwise specified? And how much more interesting would the film have been if they were female? Oh, but that would require complexity, which this film sorely lacked.

2. Casting.

3. The ease the two central aliens had flying that humongous ship after so many years.

4. The existence of a substance that turned humans to aliens (Uh, why would the aliens have that? Maybe I missed something).

5. The unexplained little fighting aliens (whose only purpose seemed to be to show how barbaric “The Nigerians” were).

6. The weird obsession Wikus had with destroying himself (pulling off his nails, tearing his skin, etc…if your nail came off would you PULL off another?! It was all for shock value).

7. The “Transformer” showing up at the end of the film (mind you, I LOVE “Robots in Disguise”…just not in D9).

8. The use of black Africans as mere setting (especially when the film needed to show chaos, scared mobs or atmosphere).

9. Only two smart, ambitious aliens?

10. The simplicity of the plot when there was so much potential complexity. Sigh, so much potential. :-(

The issue I feel was the most harmful, however, was the portrayal of peoples from the country of Nigeria.

After seeing the film, I vented to SF author and dear friend Alan Dean Foster. He’s a white guy who has travelled and really experienced the world and has written kick-ass SF based in Africa (Into the Out Of) and India (Sagramanda), amongst other places. He also writes a lot of film novelizations, the most recent being for this summer’s Star trek and Terminator films. He’s one of my favorite people to get perspective from when I’m infuriated about stuff like this.

Your reaction to the one-sided portrayal of Nigerians was (understandably) visceral and protective,” he told me. “I winced, but could not have the same reaction even if I wanted to.”

He’s right, I am in super-protective mode. Let’s get it straight, most Nigerians are just trying to live their lives. Only a small tiny teensy miniscule minority are sending out those annoying 419 scam emails, drug dealing and participating in other forms of corruption. I recently had to explain this to a FedEx representative after he gave me a big lecture about 419 scams when I called about a package I was expecting from Nigeria. So excuse my sensitively. Nigerians are just like any other group of people from a particular country; we’ve got our crooks and saints. However, District 9 spoke otherwise. Through the way it told its story and its chosen images, the film generalized Nigerians in a very negative way.

“The Nigerians”, that’s how they were described in the film, as if the mere title is enough to explain their savagery and baseness. My sisters and I are Nigerians and as Nigerians, this aspect of the film was AGONY to watch.

In the film, the head “Nigerian” was named Obasanjo. That name carries baggage. Olusegun Obasanjo is the name of Nigeria’s previous president. The character Obasanjo in the film was essentially a cannibal, for the aliens were more on the level of human beings than other animals, no matter how they looked or how poorly humans treated them. It was like slave masters eating their slaves’ body parts with the belief that doing so would make them powerful.

Later on in the film, Obasanjo wants to even eat the main character, Wikus van der Merwe! You’d think a human turned alien wouldn’t be as potent, but I digress. This might have been a poorly thought out reference to the ritual killings that happen in Nigeria…I think. Or maybe it was just another racist depiction of Africans. You decide.

Was naming the cannibalistic leader of “The Nigerians” “Obasanjo” supposed to be a jab at Nigeria or just sloppy researching? If it was a jab…um, I don’t get it.

Alan believed the latter, “The Nigerian leader’s name was Obasanjo because that's lazy writing...not enough time to research another, less readily-available name,” he said. “I don't think any political comment was intended. I think they just picked the first Nigerian name they came across.”

Humph, I say. Fiddle sticks. Once again minorities get to suffer from the sloppiness of the majority.

Then there was the witchdoctor woman shaking her dreadlocks around, shrieking, and eeeevilly proclaiming that eating the aliens’ body parts would bring Obasanjo gggrrreatttt powah, o! She made me want to punch somebody. The director perhaps. My oldest sister was about to spontaneously combust! It was a surreal WTF moment. Our reactions were not just because we were Nigerian women with long dreadlocks. I mean, she might as well have had a bone through her nose and been muttering “unga munga”. She was just… alllll wrong. One great big very old stereotype.

Put yourself in our position, sitting in a theater full of mostly white viewers seeing that. It felt yucky!

That wasn’t the only wrong image. In some cases I was reminded a photo I once saw in a series of photos called “The True Stories Behind Famous WTF Images” (See it here):

The “Hyena men” from Nigeria were featured in a photographer’s album. While these images were striking, the story behind them is apparently an embellishment:

According to Cracked.com the truth about this image was:

“That’s just Mallam Mantari Lamal, and his pet, Mainasara. They’re part of a group of “Hyena Guides,” who were rumored to be elite gangsters, shadowy assassins and brutal bank robbers in their home country of Nigeria. But that’s just the Nigerians making up their own shit in an effort to explain the mysterious appearance of a raggedy man strolling into town, walking a wild predator on a chain like it’s a poodle. But the Hyena Guides, in reality, are basically just gypsy showmen, traveling from town to town and putting on performances with their animals in order to hawk homemade crafts and medicines, or just to trade. In fact, not all of them even have hyenas.

Maybe Blomkamp was fed some wrong information in this way, too. Storytelling certainly is a Nigerian tradition. Maybe I should cut Blomkamp some slack. Uh…no. So let’s continue shall we?...

Why were “The Nigerians” the only human beings living with the aliens? Were they the only ones primitive enough to live with aliens? Well, the Nigerian women were providing sexual “services” to the aliens, so I guess so (did they really have to go there? And why… ugh, my blood pressure is rising. I think I’ve made my point on this subject).

Why were the black South Africans portrayed so positively and the “Nigerians” so negatively? On top of all this, there was not one redeeming Nigerian character. They were all crazy, motiveless, and blood thirsty. And that’s why in the end, all “The Nigerians” were summarily killed off at basically the same time, complete with the “close on”, cliché, super violent killing of Obasanjo as the cherry on top. The director obviously felt that this would be satisfying to viewers in the sense that eeeevil was thoroughly vanquished. I’ve got an uncle living in South Africa. I hope he never sees this film.

I just sit here wondering what this director had against people from Nigeria. Maybe he was a victim of a 419 scam.

One person (who happened to be Nigerian) commented on my blog: “There has been some South African/Nigerian tension for a few years now.” Ok, that helps me understand this a bit but if there is such tension it wasn’t EXPLAINED or addressed in the film at all. And it was portrayed in a very one-sided way.

It bothers me that this film has gotten such stellar reviews. But I guess that just shows how low people’s standards for Hollywood films are. The problem with setting your standards low so you can enjoy movies is that it allows them to get away with some serious irresponsible rubbish. And it makes directors, writers, and producers very very lazy. I want to see an SF film set in Africa as much as anyone but I don’t like to see things done half-assed.

I will say I loved the parts in the beginning where the aliens interacted with human beings. I wanted a LOT more of that. That was where the film hummed. And the use of the word “prawns” for some reason made me laugh really hard (not WITH the name users as much as AT them). It was such a derogatory word for the aliens that were more foreign to humans than “uncivilized”. And I still want a “No Humans Allowed” t-shirt. The film did some things right but those were easily overshadowed by the achingly wrong.

I hope Nollywood is paying attention. I’ll give it poke if it needs one. :-)

Alan just sent me this cartoon that had me rolling (note: click on it if you can't see the full image):

http://www.madamandeve.co.za/weekend_cartoon.php

That about sums it up.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Is Africa Ready for Science Fiction

Is Africa Ready for Science Fiction?

originally posted on the Nebula Awards Blog

Over the last few weeks, I’ve had some interesting conversations with award-winning Nollywood director Tchidi Chikere about science fiction (Nollywood is Nigeria’s oh-so-popular film industry. The term “Nollywood” is a play on “Hollywood”, much the same way as India’s “Bollywood”).

Chikere has written, produced, and directed over 50 films. He also published a collection of rather chilling short stories titled Strangers in Paradise. The collection includes a novella called “Daughter of the Cave,” which is essentially a fantasy piece. Chikere sought me out after my novel, Zahrah the Windseeker, piqued his interest. Needless to say, I was delighted and honored to hear from him.

During one of our conversations, we discussed my own work and whether it could be translated to film, particularly African film. “Is Africa ready for science fiction?” he asked me. We debated this for a while. Naturally, I believed Africa was ready…ready enough, at least. Notwithstanding my own contentions, Chikere had other ideas.

“I don t think we’re ready in the primary sense of the word,” Chikere said. “We can hide it in other categories like magic realism, allegory, etc, but we’re not ready for pure science fiction.”

“Science fiction films from the West are failures here. Even Star Wars!” he said. “The themes aren’t taken seriously. Science fiction will come here when it is relevant to the people of Africa. Right now, Africans are bothered about issues of bad leadership, the food crisis in East Africa, refugees in the Congo, militants here in Nigeria. Africans are bothered about food, roads, electricity, water wars, famine, etc, not spacecrafts and spaceships. Only stories that explorethese everyday realities are considered relevant to us for now.”

Naunihal Singh, a professor of comparative politics specializing in conflict, civil-military relations, and the politics of Sub-Saharan Africa at Notre Dame University (and a fan of speculative fiction), had some similar comments about science fiction in Africa.

“Science-fiction will have to adapt itself to the local market,” Singh said. “I don’t think there’s the sensibility for it right now. I remember seeing the Matrix in a mixed crowd of Ghanaians and Americans, this was in Ghana. Even though the room was dark, and there were some 40 plus people there, I could tell who was from where by their reactions to the movie.

“The Ghanaians just weren’t connecting to it. Bring the Terminator to West Africa, and he’d stop running in a day. He’d sit there and glitch. It’ll be hard to make people afraid of a future where computers take over the world when they can’t manage to keep the computers on their desk running. These are very western stories. On the other hand, classic science fiction, like space exploration stories, would probably work better…assuming it was adapted for the audience. Africans would love to see stories about Africans on a space ship. The idea that Africans might be dominant in the future would resonate so well with nationalism.”

As a writer of African speculative fiction whose work is also published in Africa, I took all this to heart and mind. After really thinking about it, I realize that I fully agree with both Chikere and Singh. And I believe their comments apply to literature, too…probably even more than to film.

Much of my previous work unconsciously tapped into my Nigerian background (along with my American background). It was intuitive. However, when I consider my recent short story in Seeds of Change, “Spider the Artist” (a story where volatile A.I. robot spiders guard oil pipelines in the Niger Delta), this story was different and I felt the difference as I was writing it. I was consciously writing toward an African audience.

In “Spider the Artist”, the focus was not on how the spider-shaped A.I. robots operated or why they decided to break free of human control. The focus was instead on the main character’s life as an abused wife living in the volatile Niger Delta region; on her anxiety over being childless in a culture where barrenness is the worst thing that can happen to a woman; and on her need for love which eventually leads her to befriend a robot. It’s quiet, backdoor science fiction that might better appeal to African audiences.

My forthcoming adult novel, Who Fears Death, is similar in this way. In this novel, there were even moments where my American sensibilities were offended or deeply strained. I’m very interested in moving further in this direction and seeing how things shape up.

Let me stop and state here that there IS a handful of African science fiction out there. There are novels, short stories, and a film or two. This handful is tiny but it exists. However, I didn’t write this essay to tell you about them. They’ll get their due … just not right now. This essay isn’t going to become a bibliography. For now, I just want to bring this issue to the table. Also, I’m aware that I am generalizing when I speak of Africa as a whole. It’s a big super -diverse place. But for the sake of discussing this topic, please allow me to do a bit of generalizing.

In my observation, in Africa, science fiction is still perceived as not being real literature. It is not serious writing. As Chikere said, African audiences don’t feel that science fiction is really concerned with what’s real, what’s present. It’s not tangible. It’s sport. Child’s play. I can see how science fiction can be foreign to many Africans. Technology tends to play a different role on the continent. There is a weird divide and connection between the technologically advanced and the ancient. For example: People will have cells phones in rural villages yet have no plumbing or electricity or one will opt to buy a laptop instead of a desktop computer because a laptop has its own power supply, most useful for when “NEPA takes the lights”.

But there’s another layer to the issue: Colonialism and the colonizers existing attitudes about what is literature and what is not. The foundation of what great literature is in Africa is too often defined by the West and the West still has trouble viewing genre fiction as true literature. This is why I felt it my duty to raise such a stink about the criteria for submitting to The Penguin Prize for African Literature (from Penguin South Africa).

In the criteria, they wrote that they sought “novels of freshness and originality that represent the finest examples of contemporary fiction out of Africa.” Then on the same page, they wrote: “Submissions in the children’s literature, science fiction or fantasy genres will not be considered.”

I can sort of understand the “children’s” literature bit. Sort of. There is plenty of children’s literature that is great literature. But the “no fantasy or science fiction” part? For a prize in AFRICAN literature? All kinds of problems with that.

After expressing my unhappiness to the folks at Penguin SA, I received a response from the publisher:

Dear Nnedi,

Thank you for your email on the criteria for the Penguin Prize for African Writing – we welcome input on the prize criteria and I’m sure we’ll hone them over time with considered feedback such as yours. We certainly did not intend to exclude writing with elements of fantasy or science fiction but rather to avoid the submission of books that will only appeal to a very narrow readership and that can only be marketed in the science fiction and fantasy section of a bookshop and do not have appeal to a broader readership. We will try to clarify this for the next round of the prize, but in the meantime could I encourage you to submit your work despite this stipulation in the criteria?

There you have it folks. Such prizes heavily influence the definition of “great literature” in Africa. All this stipulation will do is further the void between speculative fiction and “real literature”. Imagine how many potential African science fiction or fantasy writers and novels have been effectively excluded, disqualified, and demoralized by this mere stipulation.

Recently, I discussed issues of such gate keeping with New York Times Best-Selling science fiction author Tobias Buckell, who has similar concerns about Caribbean science fiction. “My solution is to write fiction that is more balanced, that will hopefully eventually get more writers to feel free to write a range of story types,” he said. “I want to be so good that eventually they can’t ignore me.”

Agreed.

I think the stage is already set for African science fiction. In my forthcoming YA novel, Akata Witch, there are these…things called “tungwa”. They are glowing balls of flesh that float in the air and explode into tufts of hair and handfuls of teeth. I learned of “tungwa” from my mother. She said her father used to talk about them and that a friend of his friend had seen them. Her father said these things came from outer space, like meteors, and that in the village and forests, children used to find them and bat them around until they burst. Weeeeeeeird. This is just one small example. The stories are there, they don’t need to be imported.

OK, the following are a few samples of African science fiction (yes, I know there are more): Ghanaian author Kojo Laing has a collection of short stories and a novels respectively titled, Big Bishop Roko and the Alter Gangsters and Woman of the Aeroplanes. Congolese author Emmanuel Boundzeki Dongala has a short story called “Jazz and Palm Wine” (the anthology it appears in is also called Jazz and Palm Wine). In South Africa, science fiction is really percolating; The South African literary journal, Chimurenga, recently had an African science fiction themed issue. Film-wise, there is now District 9 (I’ve been excitedly anticipating this film for months). And, if you can find it, check out Les Saignantes by Cameroonian film director Jean-Pierre Bekolo. Lastly, I just have to include the trailer for this Nollywood fantasy film because it cracks me up: Across the Bridge.

In a nutshell, I think getting African audiences to open up to science fiction will take some finesse.True African science fiction, which is different from what Western audiences are used to consuming, needs to be written/filmed and made available first.

I think one will have to deliberately combine the concept of “art as a tool for social commentary and change” and entertainment. The root of the technology, cultural shifts, sentiments, concerns,characters, way of speaking, needs that drive the story must first and foremost be endemically African. Along with the unfamiliar, must come the familiar. And yes, it’ll have to be a gradual ascent. A whisper to a shout. A ghostly woman in the night to a full blown alien invasion in the middle of Imo State that only a frustrated plantain chip seller named Chukwudi can stop. Only then will African audiences be ready. Chikere and I are working on it.grin



Nnedi Okorafor is an award-winning science fiction and fantasy author of Nigerian descent. Her novels include Zahrah the Windseeker (winner of the 2008 Wole Soyinka Prize for African Literature) and The Shadow Speaker (An NAACP Image Award Nominee). Her forthcoming novels Who Fears Death (from DAW) and Akata Witch (from Penguin) are scheduled for release in 2010. Her Disney Fairies chapter book, Iridessa and the Fire-Bellied Dragon Frog (Disney Press), is scheduled for release in 2010. She holds a PhD in literature and is a professor of creative writing at Chicago State University. Visit her online at nnedi.com.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

I love stuff like this

I just read this news story on the Nigerian Tribune's website.

It's the material stories are made of. It's not just the fact that tigers (wild ones at least) aren't found in Benin. Look at how the story is reported. Tiger is in quotes; which makes people like me start thinking of...more mysterious creatures (*grin*). And that last paragraph is just hilarious. It's a great bit of news.

Mysterious ‘tiger’ causes tension in Benin
by Uchechukwu Olisah, Benin City - 21.07.2009

originally published in the Nigerian Tribune

A mysterious ‘tiger’, reportedly roaming the streets of Benin City, the Edo State capital, is sending fear down the spines of residents and creating tension in the city.

News of the sighting of the roaming ‘tiger’ at the University of Benin Teaching Hospital (UBTH) in the early hours of Monday generated further tension and panic in Benin City.

Police personnel attached to the UBTH, who were on night duty, claimed that they saw the tiger between 12:30a.m. and 3a.m. on Monday.

One of the policemen on duty, who preferred anonymity, said the ‘tiger’ was sighted in the front of the UBTH police post at about 12:30am by a female police officer, who, he said, passed out urine unconsciously on herself before alerting her colleagues on duty.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Obama's Choice by Wole Soyinka

Obama's Choice by Wole Soyinka

By PROF. WOLE SOYINKA

Published in Sahara Reporters

Note: the link to the story was too long and there was no sharing option, thus I had to cut and paste it here. Read it on the Sahara Reporters site here

MONDAY, 13 JULY 2009 04:20

The saddest song to have come out of Africa in recent times was actually composed as a song of celebration, written to mark the ascendancy of an African-American to the presidency of the United States of America. It was a musical tribute by a Kenyan, and the lyrics say simply: it is easier for a Luo to be President of the United States than to become the President of Uganda.


The Luo are, of course, one of Kenya’s minority nationalities. Obama’s triumph took place, it will be recalled, after one of the most devastating riots ever witnessed in Kenya. It lasted weeks, left entire townships wiped off the face of Nairobi and environs, claimed hundreds of lives, many of them through singularly bestial forms of butchery. The panga reigned supreme. Those days were reminiscent – minus the scale – of the Rwandan massacres. Among the walking survivors are men who are traumatized for life, having been subjected to forced sexual mutilation. The cause? Denial of a people’s right to choose their own leader through the ballot box - that endemic curse of the modern African state. Kenya nonetheless made a claim on Obama as the logical spot for his first presidential touch-down on Black African soil. It should have been an occasion to be celebrated in festive accents as the return of the native son. If sentiment indeed weighed more on the scale of entitlements than humanity itself, the Kenyan claim would be universally unassailable.

The other, and indeed more presumptuous claimant to Barrack Obama’s recognition on his first presidential visit to the continent is of course, mine, Nigeria. The Nigerian nation has not witnessed an uprising on allied scale to Kenya’s in the last few decades, not since in the mid-1960s when a similar, but far less wholesale, indiscriminate campaign of arson and killings took place in a region that an incoming Head of State came to designate ‘the Wild, Wild West’. There was also the more recent spate of butchery in a northern state or two, but neither came close to matching the sheer brutality of the Kenyan scenario.

Nigeria cannot be ranked, needless to say, any higher on the democratic scale than Kenya, even though electoral robbery did not result in such mayhem, any more than it has led to a protracted Civil War that devastated the Ivory Coast in recent times. Nonetheless it is important to remind ourselves that the Biafran war of Secession that began in 1966 did not lack for flammable tributaries from accumulated electoral injustices. Memories of that war, and the fear of an even more nation destabilizing repeat have contributed to the seeming accomodativeness of the Nigerian people towards a now deeply entrenched project of national disenfranchisement. Only the complacent however dare eliminate possibilities of an eventual explosion from the suppressed rage that stems from civic dispossession, and the air of impunity that surrounds the incorrigible perpetrators. Indeed, this inevitability is seen by many – both insiders and outside observers – as only a matter of time. Since the debilitation of civil society through decades of military rule, Nigerians freely use the expression ‘internal colonialism’ as the readiest expression of the continuing suppression of popular will, an orchestrated democratic denial that operates in relay, and is sustained by a select hegemony resolved to remain in perpetual control of the nation. Offering nothing in return, this unproductive cabal has become increasingly arrogant and contemptuous in its dismissal of even a pragmatic semblance of a gesture towards fair dealing that sometimes salves the pride and dignity of a people.

This, then, is the background from which one listens to, or reads of, plaints of resentment and indignation from government cheer-leaders at Obama’s symbolic boycott of the ‘Giant of Africa’. They are lost to the irony of laying claim to recognition by a product of electoral equity, an African-American who came to power in a once openly racist nation through the ballot box. Such complainants are not stupid however, they are merely actors in a script of diabolical cynicism. How else it is possible for such politicians to conceive that a leader like Barack Obama, who has ascended to power through a respect for the manifested will of a people, would actually lend his presence to dignify any state that demonstrably rejects, indeed actively ridicules, the very means that brought him, Barrack Obama, to power? Blood, they say, is thicker than water. Obama’s gesture is intended to inform nations like Kenya and Nigeria that neither blood nor oil courses thicker than equity.

How sad it makes one – no, not the studied excision by Obama of those two nations from his itinerary – but the lack of objective self-assessment within the rulership circles of such ‘aggrieved’ nations! It evokes pity for the continent as a whole, that such political leadership exists today which, sooner than retire into their gilded holes to reflect, have actually gone to battle on behalf over some mystic entitlement, since such is not sustained by any credentials in democratic and responsible governance. Of the two, the case of our own nation, Nigeria, is obviously the more pathetic.

Primary among the qualities that earned Barrack Obama the prized crown of the American presidency was the public recognition of his intelligent even-handedness, the recognition of a thinking, knowledgeable being, analytic by training and temperament. Anyone who has read his memoirs - Dreams from my Father - or has somehow come into knowledge of his trajectory through childhood, his intellectual and political formation, all brought in evidence throughout a grueling political campaign, would understand immediately that Obama would sooner spend Thanksgiving Day with the genocidal government of Omar Bashir, or the throwback mullahs of Iran, than choose either Uganda or Nigeria for a first visit that not only pursues political and economic goals, but is profoundly symbolic.

The very astuteness of Barrack Obama, one that dictated the strategy of a political campaign that catapulted him to victory from the underdog position of a rank outsider, should have informed the ‘patriotic’ cheerleaders of African misgovernance that they can expect no preferential consideration from the 44th president of the American nation. This, just to refresh memories, was a candidate who ensured from the beginning that he would break with corporate patronage and thus, indebtedness, and rely largely on the mass contribution of cents and pennies to ensure a mandate of maximum independence. By contrast, behold the permanent indentureship of the Nigerian power base, not merely to the moneyed oligarchy, but to the most corrupt, indeed criminal elements within that disreputable oligarchy. Nigeria is a nation that repeatedly blows its chances to stand tall, to present to the world a massively endowed colossus, bestriding the continent with the over-abundant productive genius of its people and the generosity of nature resources.

What, instead, has been the actuality? A plague of incontinent rulers in relay, some in military uniform, others in civilian clothing, but all clones of one another, united in a commitment to unabashed profligacy, mutually assisted corruption and, to add insult to injury, an obsessive hankering for self-perpetuation, necessitating the cultivation of outright disdain for the elementary right of their citizens to a voice in leadership choice. Is this truly a nation that deserves the recognition, much less a gesture of respect, from any democratically elected leadership of the world, and one especially of such unprecedented political significance for the African continent itself?

A decade ago, needless to say, Ghana would also have been a non-contender. But the continent has witnessed, and remains envious of, the transformation that has taken place in Ghana, an internal process of self-recovery that nearly matches that of the United States in her transition from George Bush to Barrack Obama. Among the attributes of intelligence is the ability to create, or recognize the opportunity for self-renewal. Nigerians, at home or residing in the United States during the past decade, have not been slow to observe that the eight previous years in United States governance were uncannily paralleled within Nigeria – eight years of waste, deception, divisiveness and corruption, of advancing bankruptcy, eight years of arrogant subversion of democratic norms….all spearheaded by a man from whom the nation, the continent and the world expected so much, eight years that sent the nation spiraling into a reverse momentum that has earned it the humiliating designation of a ‘failed state’. Should an incoming product of the repudiation of such a shared past compromise his mandate by a significant visit to the other half, while that half remains fixated and unrepentant in its perpetuation of that disreputable past?

Of course if it were possible for Barrack Obama to visit Nigerians – the people that is – to express his condolences for such an unmerited state of affairs, parley with non-governmental organizations, exchange views with political alternatives, interact with the labour unions, hold talks with the insurgents of the oil-producing Delta region and offer direct succour to the neglected people of a benighted nation, I have no doubt whatsoever that Nigeria would indeed be his first choice. However, such a precedent being impossible – at least in these times - the only programme that remained would have been, at best, a tokenist interaction with the other Nigeria, duly vetted. The rest would be to wine and dine, sign some effete agreements and exchange presents with the current symbol of national decay and leadership alienation, a nation whose claim to the status of a giant is upheld only by the gigantesque dimensions of its retrogression since independence, its governance ineptness and the colossal scale of its corruption. Obama knows that every other hand he would shake at a state reception is steeped in sheer putrefaction from the sump of robbery, perhaps every third elbow deep in the blood of perceived political threats – across all levels of contestation.

Obama’s pronouncements indicate quite clearly that he would be the first to to admit that his own nation is past master of corruption both in its conduct at home and abroad, but he can boast that the Enrons, the Andersons, and the Madoffs are mere hostages of time, that sooner or later, they end up behind bars. Obama knows that the contrary is the case with Nigeria, that the Madoff-Enron breed will be presented as the leading citizens of the Nigerian nation, feted countrywide, that after their openly inglorious careers in and out of office, thanksgiving services are held for them in church and mosque, that it is such should-be social pariahs that will be lined up for formal handshakes and photo-ops with him, photos that they will proudly bequeath to their children and grandchildren, hang on their gilded walls and pillars of criminal impunity to the eternal glorification of decadence. He has chosen wisely to go the modest, unassuming flagbearer of the redemptive theology of Change.

The homecoming son knows that the Delta, Nigeria’s sole economic provider, for which all prior and potential modes of productivity have been jettisoned, is up in flames. I have wondered sometimes, by the way, whether it is a coincidence that one of the handful of officers of which the Nigerian army can be truly proud, now a retired Colonel, has taken to ostrich farming not far from Abuja, the seat of government. It cannot be by accident. Sooner or later, I think he reasons, the occupants of Aso Rock, and the profligate ‘representatives’ of the Nigerian people in the legislative houses will recognize the message of the ostrich, its fabled habit of burying its head in the sand of unconcern while the wind ruffles and exposes its behind. These days, it is no longer the wind, it is the fire, and only the ostrich does not yet recognize that its rear feathers are aflame. That is the lesson of the Delta uprising. Sometimes it is necessary to spell things out for the megaphones of, and pretenders to the mantle of leadership: what the Deltan insurgents are saying to the uncaring state is that the present conflict goes beyond the decades-old contemptuous neglect of the goose that lays the golden egg.

They are annunciating, in clear terms, that a system that siphons off an obscene percentage of the national revenue to sustain the rites, rituals and member life-styles of legislative houses, is ultimately unsustainable. They are serving notice - and their publicised manifestoes add up to no less – that the Nigerian state is itself untenable as presently constituted and governed, and must be taken apart, then re-assembled, this time in a manner that reflects the true aspirations and entitlements of the components and providers of that artificial entity. They are pointing out a noticeable constant: that time and time again, even when an incoming national leader has earlier promised no less than a drastic overhaul, no sooner does he settle into that power base than he proceeds to shore up and consolidate a cracked and collapsing edifice. This he does – the pattern has become predictable and boring - by a modest re-distribution among a restricted, conniving elite, but most often by an unscrupulous conversion of state power, brutal repression, political assassinations and divisive strategies. This was what the nation suffered – yet again – during the eight years of misrule of the last incumbent, a supposedly Born-Again democrat and assiduous bible-thumper. This, in sum, is the extraction, implicit or overt in pronouncements, by the Deltan insurgents.

I shall waste no more time on the deviants of the movement, the opportunists and mercenaries, the kidnappers for ransom, rapists, extortionists and psychopaths whose operations have contributed to obscuring the ideological core of the Movement for the Emancipation of the the Niger Delta (MEND), a confusion assiduously nurtured by the corrupt leadership of the nation. The outside world knows its own history, and should be the last to point fingers at the presence of extortionists and psychopaths in any movement, no matter how lofty its ideals. It is for us, within the Nigerian nation, to sort out those criminals and bring them to justice, a task that is however complicated by the presence of far more seasoned, far more deeply entrenched criminals, more impudent extortionists, assassins, the barefaced, wholesale expropriators of a nation’s resources in positions of power, reveling in the now untamable rampage of impunity. Now, this is the mafiadom whose triumphalist existence a democratically elected outsider, torch-bearer of a phenomenal precedent, is expected to legitimize by an inaugural visitation!

The super-patriots and national chauvinists must however be encouraged to continue to wallow, infuriated, in the sludge of national amour-propre, bawds to the careerists of open prostitution. We can only remind them that, outside their constricted purlieu, there are other national leaders who are not quite as promiscuous as they are, or are accustomed to encountering. They should content themselves with the representative emotion of the present selected national leader who, unbelieving that he actually sat in the presence of a former United States president, could not contain himself as he gushed: This is the happiest moment of my life. That presidential host was George Bush II. By contrast, this is indeed one of those instances when absence makes the heart grow fonder. For the average Nigerian, this month of July 2009, when another president did NOT step foot on Nigerian soil, is a month to treasure. The sentiment, after all, is only borrowed from that of the enraptured home president, for what such a Nigerian is saying, equally enraptured is also: this is the happiest moment of my life.

Wole Soyinka