Tedx Euston Salon

Join us. For tickets click here.

International Women's Day

Got a nice mention on the Guardian Africa Network as part of their International Women's Day celebrations.
I was number 9. Click here to find out what I mean :)

National Libraries Day

Hey folks, I have a reading this Saturday evening (9th of February) in the Westminster Reference Library, which strangely enough is in Leicester Square. I'm part of a celebration of the National Libraries Day. I'm on at 8pm. Tickets cost 4.50 and doors open at 7.30pm. I'm the opening act for a fantastic band called The Light Years. More info here and to buy tickets, click here.

A New Year Reading

Happy New Year! I have a reading on the 8th of January at 7:30pm. All details here.

Also I had a piece in the Guardian at the end of last year. Read it here. 

Ember

As  the year’s fires burn to embers

Calendars draw to the months of ember.

Chaos stalks the days that fall,

In the ambush of all hallows and the year’s pall.

Tis the season for terror and mayhem,

Tis the time for murder by young men.

Lie in bed till morning.

For when gunshots not tales greet the moon,

Hark the forerunners of mourning.

The ones you seek do not come.

Who will dress them in myrrh,

And bring their widows gold?

Who will rain them with tears,

And see that their young grow old?

The ones you seek judge their lives too weighty for you,

So go home another way,

Young men seek to rob you.

Take another way.

The young men lie in wait for you.

Chibundu Onuzo (c) 2012

Africa for Norway

Just in case you haven't seen this. 

Waterstones Reading

I have a reading at Waterstones Picadilly this Wednesday at 7pm with Alex Wheatle and Courtia Newland. It's free so if you're free do drop by. All info is here. Scroll down to see their list of events this month.

Aunty Unoma

My Aunt died almost a year ago. She lived in our house and when I was younger, I saw her almost every day. Yet I do not have a single picture with her. Aunty Unoma was not the type for taking pictures. She was pretty. Even though a worried, distracted look often marred her features, she was pretty. She had long, black hair that looked like weavon and she dressed in those brightly coloured sixties dresses that have come back into fashion.

She loved to clean. We were all afraid to use her bathroom. At one point, there were six of us sharing the 'girls bathroom' as we called it, yet we would rather queue and bang on the door of this one bathroom, than offload into Aunty Unoma's. It was too pristine for mere mortals. The walls were white, the floors where white, the tub was white and when you switched on the white fluorescent lights, everything seemed to pulse with whiteness.

Aunty Unoma was devoutly Christian, often cryptic in her devotion. In some ways, the after life had begun for her, years before she died. She would often speak of angels and heaven like she had a doorway in her room that led there, her own personal wardrobe to Narnia. It wasn't spooky. I was never afraid when her eyes got their dreamy look but I knew she was different.

For the most part, my sisters and my cousins avoided her. It was not that we changed direction when we saw her coming or hid behind doors. We were always cordial and greeted warmly but we never actively sought her out. Our avoidance was passive. We never knocked on her door in the evening to gist or followed her to the market when she went shopping. In some ways she passively avoided us too. She cooked downstairs but she ate in her room. We were lost in the preoccupations of our adolescences and childhoods and she was lost in her hymns and scriptures.  

Her death came as a shock. After I moved here, I did not think of her often. I was too busy trying to adjust to my English boarding school. Still, whenever I came home for the holidays, she was inordinately happy to see me and demonstrative in a way she had never been when we slept in adjacent rooms. She would hug me effusively and ask about school and my new life in England. I was always surprised by the warmth of her welcome. I never asked what she had done while I was away. Perhaps because I was so sure I would know the answer. Gone to church, gone to the market, stayed at home. Maybe I was wrong. She always dressed so carefully when she went out. Perhaps she had a group of friends we didn't know about. Perhaps she was a jazz pianist.

Usually when I went back, I would take small presents to her, little nothings of negligible monetary value that were in line with my student allowance. Always, her happiness would be disproportionate to the gift. Once, she did a small dance while I looked on, embarrassed but pleased. The last trip I saw her, I didn't bring her anything. I wasn't organised enough and I didn't have time to buy gifts for people. She didn't mention it. Instead, when she came to say good bye to me on my last night in Lagos, she came with a present, as she had done the year before. The first gift had been a bottle of perfume. That second was a canister of deodorant. I was very touched by both, twice to the point of tears.

"Keep fit," she said, prodding my stomach, protruding from my heavy dinner that night. She smiled mischievously, prodded my stomach again and left. Those were her last words to me, keep fit and as I type them, I think maybe I never really knew Aunty Unoma. Devout, cleanly and mischievous, an adjective I left out until our last meeting.

Rest in peace Aunty. Kachifo. 

Igoni Barrett and Doreen Baingana at the Garden City Literary Festival

The Garden City Literary Festival in Port Harcourt was soooo much fun. My filming is terrible I know but thought I should share. So proud I figured out how to upload. More on the festival to come.

In other news, I've also been shortlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize.

I Pledge (In Honour of Independence)

So it's independence day and finally, at a stroke to midnight, I've managed to upload a recording of me singing the pledge. Enjoy.

Soapbox Diaries

Piece in the Guardian Comment is Free section.

On my last trip to Lagos, I drove past a new supermarket in an upper-middle-class part of the city. It was a huge concrete thing with sliding electronic gates, CCTV cameras and the sleek live wires that have replaced barbed wire in all fashionable districts. I remarked to my cousin, who was driving, that the building hadn't been there a year ago.

Read the rest here.

The Nigeria House Stratford Event (Monday)

Since the end of July, the Theatre Royal in Stratford has become Nigeria House Stratford and people like King Sunny Ade, Seun Kuti, and Wole Soyinka have danced, stormed off and read poetry on that lovely stage. I was fortunate enough to be invited to take part in two panels about Nigeria Literature. The event was organised by CORA and the British Council and I had a really excellent time. It was great to meet an author like Helon Habila whose work I've read and admired for so long and then to also meet writers who are new to me like Diran Adebayo, the poet and playwright Zainabu Jallo and the poet Nnorom Azuonye of Sentinel Nigeria. All the photos I've put up here were taken by him.

Me and Nnorom

Ike Anya (big grin, third from right) was the compere for Monday afternoon. The physical audience was a little scanty but we had some listeners online and questions coming in via facebook. My favourite part of the day was our dinner afterwards. There was an excellent Nigerian 'buffet' going for twelve pounds fifty. Sadly the caterers were mistaken as to the nature of a buffet. We could pile all we wanted to eat on our plates ONCE and only once. In vain did I point out that the term buffet had been inappropriately used and we should be allowed at least two trips. In vain did I bring out my kindle and open The American Standard Dictionary. The food was good though, especially the jollof rice and the conversation was better. Its amazing what fish pepper soup, pounded yam and Star will do. We deconstructed, analysed and solved all the problems with Nigeria. You might say its empty talk but Lenin wandered round Europe for years, talking empty talk. Seretse Khama walked through London for years, talking empty talk. Talk is too easily despised. Nothing begins without words. And anyway, it was fun. I lost my voice trying to keep up with the very loud male opposition and sounded a little croaky in my event the next day.  Rotimi Babatunde (whose fantastic short story Bombay's Republic won the Caine Prize) was the most skilled at the art of conversation, waiting his turn to speak, never raising his voice and always saying what he had to say succinctly. I can only aspire.

Ayodele Arigbagbu, Lookman Sanusi, Helon Habila, Ike Anya, Rotimi Babatunde, Nnorom Azuonye

There were some organisational issues. African time. AFRICAN TIME. AFRICAN TIME!!! Yes, we know time doesn't control us. Yes, we know we can not be bound by the ticking of the second-hand but at least, let the minute-hand of a clock bear some weight with us. I arrived about forty-five minutes early on the first day, in keeping with the standard practice at most festivals I've been to. That is all I will say on the matter.

Diran Adebayo and Zainabu Jallo

To see the rest of Nnorom's photos, click here. 

SKD Longlisted for the Dylan Thomas Prize

Yaaay. We thank God. It's a 30,000 pound prize for novelists under 30. There's a nice mathematical symmetry to that. The longlist is made up of ten people and my friend Andrea Eames is on the list as well. Whoop.

I studied one of Dylan Thomas' poems for my English Literature A-Levels and it was very stirring and powerful. I'm going to paste it here.

For more about the prize click here.

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO
THAT GOOD NIGHT

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Sefi Atta, Helon Habila, Rotimi Babatunde and Me :)

As part of the Olympics, there's a huge Nigerian fest going down a the Theatre Royal in Stratford. On the 26th, 30th and 31st of July there'll be Nigerian authors speaking and reading from their work, including Sefi Atta, Helon Habila and this year's Caine prize winner, Rotimi Babatunde. Yours truly will also be poking her head in at two of the events, which are free. FREE I tell you. For details of registering  for the three events click, here and here and here.

An Afternoon With Chief Servant, Governor Aliyu of Niger State

The talk was organised by Chatham House and was titled, 'Nigeria’s Unity and Regional Socio-Political Groups: Influence and Impact of the Northern States Governors Forum' and the speaker was Dr. Mu'azu Babaginda Aliyu, Governor of Niger State and head of the Northern States Governors Forum (N.S.G.F). I saw someone going for the same event on the tube. He was wearing a pin striped black suit, a black shirt and he was carrying a slightly battered, black leather brief case. I don't know how I knew we were going to the same place. I just did. My Naija radar went on alert.

I arrived at the venue just as the governor was making his way to the podium.The room was almost full and there were only a few empty seats. A woman manning a camera on a tripod stood in the middle of one aisle.  She was wearing a flowing gold kaftan with rich embroidery on the edges and a shawl was wound round her head. The NTA logo, unmistakable brown and orange, was printed on the side of her camera.

By the time I had settled down in my seat, the governor had started speaking. He was heavy set with bags under his eyes but he seemed like a jolly person. He had a curious habit of flicking his tongue out when he was about to crack a joke, which happened often during his talk. He began by recognising the members of his entourage.

Chairman of the Traditional Council.
Emir of Minna.
Speaker of Niger State House of Assembly.
An Honourable from Niger State.

These are not all the people he mentioned but these were the posts I got down. He then moved on to give a brief biography of the N.S.G.F and the role it has played in Nigeria's recent history. It was made up of the 19 states in the North West, North Central and North Eastern part of Nigeria. According to Governor Aliyu, the N.S.G.F had played a pivotal role during the Yaradua crises as it was the first group to call for Goodluck Jonathan to be recognised as acting president. Lastly, a point which he reiterated throughout his talk, the N.S.G.F did not believe in the break up of Nigeria.

He gave a lot of interesting statistics. 10% of Nigeria's land mass is in Niger State. 80% of the land in the state is used for agricultural production and although this farming is carried out on a subsistence level, it is still enough to provide the country with 1/3 of its rice quota.

I must say that there was little in the main body of Governor Aliyu's talk that I disagreed with. He spoke of the unconstitutional nature of a Sovereign National Conference saying, 'You can't have two sovereigns in one state.' There was already a body of elected individuals drawn from all over the country whose job was to handle matters such as the redrafting of the constitution. It was called the National Assembly and in any attempts to change the constitution, they must be at the fore.

He also  spoke about the spurious division between the so-called 'settlers' and so-called 'indigenes' in Niger State, drawing parallels between his state and the situation in Jos at the start of their crisis. A good number of Niger's 'indigenes' were actually Hausa speakers from neighbouring Chad and Niger and they were appropriating benefits meant for Nigerians at the expense of  'settler' Yorubas and Igbos who had lived in the state for decades. For example,  'indigenes' paid lower school fees than 'settlers' and so he abolished the payment of school fees in the state.

He spoke of religious radicalisation in Niger, giving as an example the group Dar es Islam, a name which roughly translates to The House of Islam. It was a group that began in the 1970s with 7 people and by 2007, had grown to  9,000. They believed that anyone outside their group was not a Muslim. When members of the security forces were sent to spy on the group, they ended up being absorbed into it. Eventually, more concerted government action was taken and it was discovered that 3/4 of Dar es Islam was not Nigerian.


He then moved on to talk about what he termed the 'Boko Haram franchise,' starting this segment of his talk with a joke saying, 'The Boko Haram thing. I'm sure many people will be interested in that thing.' The franchise nature of the group was of course that anyone wreaking havoc, including armed robbers could do so under the masque of Boko Haram.


Sometimes he would segue into random asides that were neither here nor there. When he briefly mentioned the crisis in Jos, he also spoke of the Fulani channel than ran throughout West Africa. According to him, whenever a  group of Fulanis was threatened in one part of the continent, they would send kolanuts to their brethren elsewhere and these would then come to their rescue and avenge any wrongs perpetrated against them. Such urban legends are the stuff ethnic distrust is made of.     


He closed his talk with the now familiar mantra of all state Governors in Nigeria, from the East, South, North and West. He called for decentralisation and more devolution of power to the states.   

Niger State on Map of Nigeria

As usual, the QandA proved to be a lively part of the event. Needless to say, very few people asked one question and even fewer asked brief questions. On being addressed as 'Your Excellency', Governor Aliyu replied that this title was reserved for the President of the country and the Ambassadors that represented him.  For him, Chief Servant (a bit of a mouthful) or Mr. Governor (my preference) would do.

During the QandA, a question was asked that allowed  the Governor to tell us about the administrative structure of his state. There are 29 local government areas and 274 wards. He discovered that very few policies made at the state level were trickling down to the ward level and so he made a novel amendment. Every month, 1 million Naira would be given to each ward to carry out whatever project they wanted. The only condition for receiving another million the next month, was proof that a project was being carried out. Explaining the rational behind this policy he said, 'the villagers know their problems and have solutions to their problems.'

Yours truly worked up the courage to ask a question. I was so scared, I forgot to introduce myself and was reminded of this by the vocal crowd. It's a question I want to ask to every Nigerian official who expresses support for the removal of the fuel subsidy as Governor Aliyu did in his talk. Here it is;

'You mentioned that you supported subsidy removal which was in effect an austerity measure. What personal austerity measures have you taken since January. For example today, I see you've come with quite a large entourage.'


Yes, I said it. He took it quite well actually. He smiled when I asked the question and  when he answered, he addressed me directly. He explained that when he travelled, he liked to bring members of his state for short educational courses and he also wanted to expose them to what 'Chibundu was thinking about them abroad' and how the rest of the world saw them. I found myself warming to the Governor of Niger State. He seemed a good sport.

Not so his supporters who accosted me on the steps when I was leaving.
"Are you the one who asked the Governor that question about his entourage?"
"Yes," I said to man in the black suit, not the same one I had seen on the tube.
"Well you should get your facts straight then. Not all the people that came live in Nigeria."
"So you're telling me the Speaker of the Niger State Assembly does not live in Nigeria?"
"Not him but-- just get your facts straight," he barked.

There were about five of them who I then entered into a discussion with about the rights and wrongs of travelling with a large entourage while pushing austerity measures. Only one was conciliatory and polite. He, I think, was the only actual member of the governor's entourage. The rest seemed to me to be Nigerians in London looking for contracts.
"So where are you from?" one of the ruder members of our discussion asked.
"I'm from Lagos."
"Come on. With a name like that you can't be from Lagos."
"So you're now making distinctions between settlers and indigenes."
That drew a laugh from the group. Better quit while you're ahead, I thought to myself.
"It was nice to meet all of you," I said quickly and walked up the stairs before somebody will just dash me hot slap.

My name is Chibundu Onuzo. God bless and good night.