Friday, 25 July 2014

Art for peace journey of OYASAF, Ufuk tours the world


By Tajudeen Sowole

Spreading its mission of promoting Nigerian art across the world, the Omooba Yemisi Adedoyin Shyllon Art Foundation (OYASAF) has added a yearly international touring art exhibition to its numerous activities.

Known for its several art events and projects as a foremost art foundation in the country, the non-for profit OYASAF is currently partnering with Ufuk Foundation, a Turkish organisation founded in Nigeria, on a peace mission across the world. The partnership, recently, took the works of 12 Nigerian artists on a tour of Africa, Europe and the U.S. The touring exhibition titled Promotion of Global Peace is designed to be a yearly event, Prince Yemisi Shyllon, the OYASAF founder, gave the assurance shortly after returning from the tour. 

One Specie, Different Colours by Adeola Balogun.

Raqib Bashorun, Veronica Otigbo Ekpei, Mufu Onifade Tolu Aliki, Juliet Ezenwa Maja-Pearce, Toyin Omolowo, Adeola Balogun, Akinrinola Ahmed, Soji Akinbo, Seyi Ajayi, Kelani Abass and  Ariyo Oguntimehin were the artists whose paintings and drawings were exhibited.
 The exhibition took off in March as part of events held during the meeting of African Union (AU), in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia last March. Other cities on the list are Istanbul, Chicago, Washington New York.  The show, Shyllon stated is a one-year traveling event.
 The crust of the collaboration, he stressed, was to get Africa to use its art and culture in contributing to peace around the world.  "OYASAF is in this collaboration with Ufuk to promote peace and harmony around the world using the richness of African arts and culture."

Some of the works viewed via soft copies indeed represent the diversity of the mainstream art scene of Lagos and by a mild extension, Nigeria. From Bashorun's pastels, Light From Behind and For the Love of Piet to Onifade's Inevitable, Aliki's Dialogue, Ekpei’s United we Stand as well as Maja-Pearce's Parables, the gathering favoured paintings. And quite a shift to see sculptors such as Bashorun, Balogun and Ekpei brought their energy in chiseling and moulding into the paper and canvas surfaces.
 For Aliki, Omolowo, Kelani and Oguntimehin as well as other painters on the tour, it was an opportunity to continue on the line of identity for which their works were known. Clearly, sculptures and relief works were missing.  “It was deliberate," Shyllon said. "For logistic reason, not that anyone has anything against sculpture."
 From establishing OYASAF Fellowship for foreign scholars who research Nigerian art, to art competitions as well as consistent acquisition of art, Shyllon continues to lift the appreciation value of Nigerian art, at home and overseas. This much was not lost to the organisers of the 2014 Dialogue and Peace Awards, which recognised Shyllon for "for his contribution to unity through art in the field of culture." During the ceremony held at Sheraton Hotel, Abuja,  ten recipients received awards in various categories.

Shyllon and his OYASAF organisation are not exactly new to being recognised for contributing to the development of arts and culture. The OYASAF founder is currently holding what observers describe as the first professorial chair of its kind in Nigeria. Two years ago, Shyllon endowed as the first Nigerian Professorial Chair in Visual Arts and Design with the Faculty of Art and Design at University of Port Harcourt, Rivers State.  And last year, the university honoured him with Honorary Degree of Doctor of Letters (D.litt) Honoris Causa.

Few days ago Shyllon stressed that the objective of the professorial char "is to create activities and attract research and grants as well as interact with institutions across the world in promoting Nigerian arts and culture." He disclosed that for better appropriation of the chair, a journal is in view. "Eventually, there will be a journal to outlive the researchers and art scholars. The journal will serve as a central art for scholars across the world."

Between 2010 and 2013, the OYASAF Fellowship has received 13 art scholars from the US, Austria, Switzerland, and South Africa. Such Fellows are Janine Systma, Ian Bourland, Rachel Engmann, Andrea Bauer, Nomusa Makhubu, Kathleen Coates, Erica Agyeman, Amanda Hellman, Erin Rice, Amber Croyle Ekong, Kimberli Gant, Jessica Williams and Victor Ekpuk.

For three years, consistently, OYASAF has sponsored an annual entrepreneurial workshop on visual arts at the Department of Creative Arts, University of Lagos.  The entrepreneurial workshop covers painting with pastel, watercolor, printmaking and ceramics.

Kathleen Stafford, a printmaker and the wife of a former consul general of the American embassy in Nigeria were among the facilitators.
Prince Yemisi Shyllon
In 2013, OYASAF sponsored two drawing competitions among the secondary school students in Ile-Ife, Osun State and Akwa Ibom. The Ile - Ife competition was organised in collaboration with the art students of the Department of Fine and Applied Arts, Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU) while the Uyo competition was organized with the Society of Artists (SNA), Akwa Ibom State chapter.  

Last year, OYASAF added aesthetic value, in sculptural contents to the Freedom Park, Lagos Island by donating 18 life-size sculptures to the events and cultural venue.  The donation, seen as the largest from a private initiative in recent history of public space art in Nigeria was however overshadowed by the book launch, Conversation With Lamidi Fakeye. The book, written by Shyllon and Dr Chioma Pogoson was the major focus of the day chasen to unveil the sculptures.

Shyllon, Prince of Abeokuta from the family lineage of Ogunfayo and Sogbulu of the “Laarun” ruling house of Abeokuta had, in 2005, contested for the royal stool of Alake of Egbaland. He lost to the current Oba, Gbadebo, who Shyllon described as “better prepared contestant from my ruling house.”

Sharing his thoughts on collecting of art, Shyllon, at a lecture titled Art Collection: A Personal Experience delivered at the Miami University in Oxford Ohio, Ohio, US, in April trace the passion to his royal background.

Excerpts from the lecture: “With regards to my interest in art, I will like to recall Margaret Trowell in her book Classical African Sculptures (1972), where it is stated that, “some of the greatest collections of art works, are mostly initiated through royal patronage”. Royal courts in Yoruba land and in many other cultures in Africa are exquisitely adorned with an infusion where sculptures are part and parcel of architectural mix. Such an environment defines my family setting. As a child of school age, I engaged in drawing with some veritable degree of love and passion. This accounts for why in my undergraduate days at the University of Ibadan, when the opportunity arose, I easily keyed up with art again. Fortunately, very close to the library of a school where I usually studied during holidays, was a demonstration art garden. I met some art students there, whose work I found of great artistic value. This situation connected me back to my childhood appreciation of art works. My history as a collector started precisely at this point. And this encounter is now close, to four decades.

“It is important to note that while I thought that my initial course of study in engineering is distanced from the arts; I since found a great link between both disciplines. One significant discovery for me is that both disciplines are centered on proffering solutions to the core needs of humanity in concrete and tangible terms.
What does it mean to be an art collector? The art of collecting is marked by a certain prodigious disposition towards objects made by humans. This is a situation where the lure to possess what other humans have made because of their symbolic value, are irresistible in the first instance.        

“This is a human attribute. But it is not everyone that is bitten by the compulsive bug to acquire the objects made by other humans. It is such that there are then various degrees to which as humans we respond to diverse urges to appreciate first, and then to acquire. From observation, the artist in general terms depend on the charity of the affluent. Hence, for any human to part with money to purchase the work of art, he or she must have had enough to feed with; but unfortunately the bulk of Nigerians are either of the middle class or are poor. While from a realistic point of view, this observation may be grudgingly true, it is not all affluent people that have the lure to collect works of art. Collecting of works of art therefore, remains a gift and an insight that a few possess. This is why in Nigeria, it is possible to count a handful of collectors when compared to its huge population. 

The thesis of a select few and seeming “zany” humans, evidently is not limited to Nigeria or Africa. A few not-so-wealthy people have some holdings of artworks but I hold the conviction that a phenomenal sense of abnormality, defines the art collector or a collector of any item. Collection therefore carries with it an obsession which is made manifest in the holding which an individual’s art collection defines.”

Sunday, 20 July 2014

The Miraculous Deliverance Of Oga Jona by Chimamanda Adichie


Source: The Scoop Nigeria, and Chimamanda Adichie.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he felt it. A strange peace, a calm clarity. He stretched.  Even his limbs were stronger and surer. He looked at his phone. Thirty-seven new text messages – and all while he was asleep. With one click, he deleted them. The empty screen buoyed him. Then he got up to bathe, determined to fold the day into the exact shape that he wanted.

Chimamanda Adichie
Those Levick people had to go. No more foreign PR firms. They should have made that article in the American newspaper sound like him, they should have known better. They had to go. And he would not pay their balance; they had not fulfilled the purpose of the contract after all. Continue...

He pressed the intercom. Man Friday came in, face set in a placidly praise-singing smile.
“Good morning, Your Excellency!”
“Good morning,” Oga Jona said. “I had a revelation from God.”
Man Friday stared at him with bulging eyes.
“I said I had a revelation from God,” he repeated. “Find me new Public Relations people. Here in Nigeria. Is this country not full of mass communication departments and graduates?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Man Friday’s eyes narrowed; he was already thinking of whom he would bring, of how he would benefit.
 “I want a shortlist on my table on Wednesday,” Oga Jona said. “I don’t want any of the usual suspects. I want fresh blood. Like that student who asked that frank question during the economic summit.”
“Your Excellency… the procurement rules…we need somebody who is licensed by the agency licensed by the agency that licenses PR consultants…”
Oga Jona snorted. Man Friday used civil service restrictions as a weapon to fight off competition. Anybody who might push him out of his privileged position was suddenly not licensed, not approved, not registered. “I don’t want you to bring your own candidates, do you hear me? I said I want fresh blood, I’m not joking.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Man Friday said, voice now high-pitched with alarmed confusion.
“Put that DVD for me before you go,” Oga Jona said.

He watched the recording on the widescreen television, unhappy with his appearance in the footage. His trousers seemed too big and why had nobody adjusted his hat? Next to The Girl from Pakistan, he looked timid, scrunched into his seat. She was inspiring, that young girl, and he wished her well. But he saw now how bad this made him appear: he had ignored all the Nigerians asking him to go to Chibok, and now The Girl From Pakistan was telling the world that he promised her he would go. He promised me, she said. As if the abducted Nigerian girls did not truly matter until this girl said they did. As if what mattered to him was a photo-op with this girl made famous by surviving a gunshot wound. It made him look small. It made him look unpresidential. It made him look like a leader without a rudder.  Why had they advised him to do this? He pressed a button on his desk and waited.
Violence was unfamiliar to Oga Jona. Yet when Man Monday came in, his belly rounded and his shirt a size too tight as usual, Oga Jona fought the urge to hit and punch and slap. Instead, he settled for less: he threw a teacup at Man Monday.
“Why have you people been advising me not to go to Chibok? Why have you people been telling me that my enemies will exploit it?”
“Sah?” Man Monday had dodged the teacup and now stood flustered.
“I am going to Chibok tomorrow. I should have gone a long time ago. Now it will look as if I am going only because a foreigner, a small girl at that, told me to go. But I will still go. Nigerians have to see that this thing is troubling me too.”
“But Sah, you know…”
“Don’t ‘Sah you know’ me!” This was how his people always started. “Sah, you know…” Then they would bring up conspiracies, plots, enemies, evil spirits. No wonder giant snakes were always chasing him in his dreams: he had listened to too much of their nonsense. He remembered a quote from a teacher in his secondary school:  ‘The best answer to give your enemies is continued excellence.’ What he needed, he saw now, was an adviser like that teacher.
“Sah, the security situation…”
“Have you not seen Obama appear in Afghanistan or Iraq in the middle of the night to greet American troops? Is Chibok more dangerous than the war the Americans are always fighting up and down? Arrange it immediately. Keep it quiet. I want to meet the parents of the girls. Make gifts and provisions available to the families, as a small token of goodwill from the federal government.” He knew how much people liked such things. A tin of vegetable oil would soften some bitter hearts.
“Sah…”
“From Borno we go to Yobe. I want to meet the families of the boys who were killed. I want to visit the school. Fifty-nine boys! They shot those innocent boys and burnt them to ashes! Chai! There is evil in the world o!”
“Yes Sah.”

“These people are evil. That man Yusuf was evil. The policemen who killed him, we have to arrest them and parade them before the press. Make sure the world knows we are handling the case. But it is even more important that we tell the true story about Yusuf himself. Yes, the police should not have killed him. But does that mean his followers should now start shedding blood all over this country? Is there any Nigerian who does not have a bad story about the police? Was it not last year that my own cousin was nearly killed in police detention? Let us tell people why the Army caught him in the first place. He was evil. Remember that pastor in Maiduguri that he beheaded. Find that pastor’s wife. Let her tell her story. Let the world hear it. Show pictures of the pastor. Why have we not been telling the full story? Why didn’t we fight back when The Man From Borno was running around abroad, blaming me for everything when he too failed in his own responsibilities?” Oga Jona was getting angrier as he spoke, angry with his people, angry with himself. How could he have remained, for so long, in that darkness, that demon possession of ineptitude?
“Yes Sah!”
 “You can go.”

He picked up the iphone and spoke slowly. “I want to expand that Terror Victims Support Committee. Add one woman. Add two people personally affected by terrorism. How can you have a committee on terrorism victims with no diversity?”
On the other end of the phone, the voice was stilled by surprise. “Yes Sah!” Finally emerged, in a croak.
He put down the phone. There would be no more committees. At least until he was re-elected. And no more unending consultations. He picked up the Galaxy, scrolled through the list of contacts. He called two Big Men in the Armed Forces, the ones stealing most of the money meant for the soldiers.
“I want your resignation by Friday,” He said simply.
Their shock blistered down the phone.
“But Your Excellency…”
“Or you want me to announce that I am sacking you? At least resignation will save you embarrassment.”
If those left knew he was now serious as commander-in-chief, serious about punishing misdeed and demanding performance, they would sit up. He ate some roasted groundnuts before making the next call. To another Big Man in the Armed Forces. They had to stop arresting Northerners just like that. He remembered his former gateman in Port Harcourt. Mohammed, pleasant Mohammed with his buck teeth and his radio pressed to his ear. Mohammed would not even have the liver to support any terrorist.  He told the Big Man in the Armed Forces, “You need to carry people along. Win hearts and minds. Make Nigerians feel that you are fighting for them, not against them… And when you talk to the press and say that Nigerians should do their part to fight terrorism, stop sounding as if you are accusing them. After all, let us tell the truth, what can an ordinary person do? Nothing! Even those people who check cars, if they open a boot and see a big bomb, what will they do? Will they try to subdue an armed suicide bomber? Will they pour water on the bomb to defuse it? Will they not turn and run as fast as their legs can carry them? Let’s start a mass education campaign. Get proposals on how best to do it without scaring people. When we tell Nigerians to report suspicious behavior, let’s give them examples. Suspicious behavior does not mean anybody wearing a jellabiya. After all, was the one in Lagos not done by a woman?” He paused.
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
“As for the girls, we have to go back to negotiation. Move in immediately.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“I should not have listened to what they told me in that Paris summit. Why did I even agree to follow them and go to Paris, all of us looking like colonised goats?”
From the other end, came a complete and lip-sealed silence. The Big Man in the Armed Forces dared not make a sound, lest it be mistaken as agreement on the word ‘goat.’ Besides, he had been part of the entourage for that trip and had collected even more than the normal fat juicy estacode.
“I don’t want to hear about any other mutiny,” Oga Jona continued. “You will get the funds. But I want real results! Improve the conditions of your boys. I want to see results!”
The Big Man in the Armed Forces started saying something about the Americans.
Oga Jona cut him short. “Shut up! If somebody shits inside your father’s house, is it a foreigner that will come and clean the house for you? Is Sambisa on Google Maps? How much local intelligence have you gathered? Before you ask for help, you first do your best!”
“Yes Your Excellency.”
“And why is it that nobody interviewed the girls who escaped?”
There was a pause.
“By tomorrow night I want a report on the local intelligence gathered so far!”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Oga Jona turned on the television and briefly watched a local channel. Who even designed those ugly studio backgrounds? There was a knock on the door. It had to be Man Thursday. Nobody else could come in anyhow.
“Good afternoon, My President,” Man Thursday said.
Short and stocky, Man Thursday was the soother who always came cradling bottles of liquid peace.
This time, Oga Jona pushed away the bottle. “Not now!’
“My President, I hope you’re feeling fine.”
“I received a revelation from God. From now on, I will stop giving interviews to foreign journalists while ignoring our own journalists.”
“But My President, you know how useless our journalists are…”
“Will Obama give an interview to AIT and ignore CBS?”
“No, Your Excellency.”
“I know some of our journalists support Bourdillon, but we also have others on our side. I will beat them at their game! I want to do interviews with two journalists that support us and one journalist that supports Bourdillon. Find one that will be easy to intimidate.”
“But…”
“I want names in the next hour.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.” Man Thursday now stood still, lips parted in the slack expression of a person no longer sure what day it was.
 “Tell the Supporters Club to change their television advertisements. They should stop mentioning ‘those who are against me.’ I will no longer give power to my enemies. They should mention only the things that I am doing. I like that one with the almajiri boy. It shows Nigerians that I have helped with education in the North. They should make more advertisements like that.”
In response, Man Thursday could only nod vigorously but mutely.

Later, after eating vegetable soup with periwinkle and a plate of sliced fruits – he was determined to keep himself from looking like Man Monday – he asked Sharp Woman to meet him in the residence. Not in the main living room, but in the smaller relaxing white parlor. Sharp Woman was the only one he fully trusted. He had sometimes allowed himself to sideline her, when he had felt blown this way and that way by the small-minded pettiness of other people. She was the only one who had not allowed him to dwell too much on his own victimhood. Once, she had told him quietly, “You have real enemies. There are people in this country who do not think you should be president simply because of where you come from. Did they not say they would make the country ungovernable for you? But not everything is the fault of your enemies. If we keep on blaming the enemies then we are making them powerful. The Bourdillon people are disorganized. They don’t have a real platform. Their platform is just anti-you. They don’t even have a credible person they can field, the only major candidate they have is the one they will not select. So stop mentioning them. Face your work.”
He should have listened then, despite the many choruses that drowned her voice.

It was she who, a few days later, and after the four rubbish candidates stage-managed by Man Friday, brought the new PR people, Kikelola Obi, Bola Usman and Chinwe Adeniyi – when he first saw their names, he thought: and some crazy people are saying we should divide Nigeria. They were in their early thirties, with rough faces and no make up; they looked too serious, as if they attended Deeper Life church and disapproved of laughter. They started their presentation, all three taking turns to speak. They stood straight and fearless. Their directness and confidence unnerved him.
“Sir, we voted for you the first time. We felt that you would do well if you had the mandate of the people instead of just an inherited throne. We liked you because you had no shoes. We really liked you. We had hope in you. You seemed humble and different. But with all due respect sir, we will not vote for you again unless something changes.”

He nearly jumped up from his seat. Small girls of nowadays! They had no respect! As if to make it worse, one of them added that if the election were held today, the only person she could vote for was The Man From Lagos. Oga Jona bristled. That annoying man. Even if a mosquito bit him in his state, he would find a way to blame the president for it. Still, Oga Jona could see why these foolish small girls were saying they would vote for him. The man had tried in Lagos. But their mentioning The Man From Lagos was now a challenge. He would rise to the challenge.

“Sir, the good news is that Nigerians forgive easily and Nigerians forget even more easily. You have to change strategy. Be more visible. Stop politicizing everything. Stop blaming your enemies for everything. You have to be, and seem to be, a strong, uniting leader. Make sure to keep repeating that this is not a Muslim vs. Christian thing.”
Oga Jona cut in, pleased to be able to challenge these over-sabi girls. “You think Nigerians don’t know that it is mostly Christian areas that they are targeting in Borno? And what about all those church bombings?”
The three shook their heads, uniformly, like robots. They were sipping water; they had declined everything else.

“With all due respect sir, if you look at the names of bombing victims, they are Muslims and Christians. If God forbid another terror attack occurs, you have to come out yourself and talk to Nigerians. Stop releasing wooden statements saying you condemn the attacks. We will prep you before each public appearance. You have a tendency to ramble. That’s the most important thing to watch out for. Be alert when you answer each question. Keep your answers short. You don’t have to elaborate if there is nothing to elaborate. Stick to the point. If they ask you something negative, be willing to admit past mistakes but always give the answer a positive spin. Something like ‘yes, I could have handled it better and I regret that but I am now doing better, and am determined to do even more because Nigerians want and deserve results.’ You have to start reaching out beyond your comfort zone. Nigeria has talent. Look for the best Nigerians on any subject at hand, wherever they may be, and persuade them to come and contribute on their area of expertise. Especially the ones who have no interest in government work. Even one or two who don’t completely agree with you. Think of Lincoln’s Team of Rivals.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, sir. The important thing is to reach out beyond your circle. Oga Segi was not a calm person like you. He even used to threaten to flog people. But he had a good network. Jimmy Carter is his friend. If he needed expertise from a university in Zaria or Edinburgh or Boston, he would pick up his phone and know somebody who knew or somebody who knew somebody who knew. But with all due respect, sir, you don’t have that. Bayelsa is a small place.”
These girls really had no respect o! He glared at Sharp Woman, who shrugged and muttered, “You said you wanted people who would tell you the truth.”
But he listened.

In his first interview, the words rolled off his tongue. Those girls had made him repeat himself so many times. “I want to apologize to the Nigerian people for some actions of my government. We could have done better. No country fighting terrorism can let everything be open. But we owe our country men and women honest, clear assurance that we are taking decisive action, with enough details to be convincing. I ask for your prayers and support. I have directed the security services to set up a website that will give Nigerians accurate and up-to-date information about our war against terrorism. I have also hired specialists to manage the flow and presentation of the information.”
And the words came easily when he shook hands with the parents in Chibok, simple polite people who clutched his hand with both of theirs. He should have done this much earlier; it was so touching. “Sorry,” he said, over and over again. “Sorry. Please keep strong. We will rescue them.”
The words were more reluctant when he wore a red shirt and asked to be taken to the gathering of The People in Red at the park. But he cleared his throat and urged himself to speak, particularly because, as he emerged from within his circle of security men, the People in Red all stopped and stared. Silence reigned.

“I came to salute you,” Oga Jona started. “We are on the same side. My government has made mistakes. We are learning from them and correcting them. Please work with us. Together, we will defeat this evil.”

They were still silent and still staring; they were disarmed. He thanked them and, before they could marshal their old distrust, he turned and left. That night, as he sank to his knees in prayer, he heard the muted singing of angels

Saturday, 19 July 2014

The 15th Caine Prize for African Writing goes to Okwiri Oduor


Kenya’s Okwiri Oduor has won the 2014 Caine Prize for African Writing, for her short story entitled My Father’s Head’ from Feast, Famine and Potluck (Short Story Day Africa, South Africa, 2013).

Okwiri Oduor

Jackie May (MBE) the Chair of Judges, announced Oduor as the winner of the £10,000 prize at a dinner held few days ago at the Bodleian Library in Oxford.

‘My Father’s Head’ explores the narrator’s difficulty in dealing with the loss of her father and looks at the themes of memory, loss and loneliness. The narrator works in an old people’s home and comes into contact with a priest, giving her the courage to recall her buried memories of her father.

Jackie Kay praised the story, saying, “Okwiri Oduor is a writer we are all really excited to have discovered. ‘My Father’s Head’ is an uplifting story about mourning – Joycean in its reach. She exercises an extraordinary amount of control and yet the story is subtle, tender and moving. It is a story you want to return to the minute you finish it.”

Okwiri Oduor directed the inaugural Writivism Literary Festival in Kampala, Uganda in August 2013. Her novella, The Dream Chasers was highly commended in the Commonwealth Book Prize, 2012. She is a 2014 MacDowell Colony fellow and is currently at work on her debut novel.


The panel of judges was chaired by award-winning author Jackie Kay MBE. Her novels have won a range of awards, including the Forward Prize, a Saltire prize, a Scottish Arts Council Prize and the Guardian Fiction Award. Her most recent collection of poems, Fiere, was shortlisted for the Costa award.  Her most recent book, Reality Reality, is a collection of stories and she is currently working on her new novel, Bystander. She was awarded an MBE in 2006, made a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature in 2002 and is currently Professor of Creative Writing at Newcastle University.

She was joined by the distinguished novelist and playwright Gillian Slovo, Zimbabwean journalist Percy Zvomuya, Assistant Professor of English at the University of Georgetown Nicole Rizzuto and the winner of the Caine Prize in 2001 Helon Habila. This is the second time that a past winner of the £10,000 Caine Prize will take part in the judging.

Once again the winner of the Caine Prize will be given the opportunity to take up a month’s residence at Georgetown University, as a Writer-in-Residence at the Lannan Center for Poetics and Social Practice. To mark the fifteenth anniversary of the Prize, each shortlisted writer will also receive £500. The winner will also be invited to take part in the Open Book Festival in Cape Town in September 2014, the Storymoja Hay Festival in Nairobi and the Ake Festival in Nigeria.

Last year the Caine Prize was won by Nigerian writer Tope Folarin. Tope is the recipient of writing fellowships from the Institute for Policy Studies and Callaloo, and he serves on the board of the Hurston/Wright Foundation. He lives and works in Washington, DC, is part of Africa39 and is working on his first novel The Proximity of Distance.

Previous winners are Sudan’s Leila Aboulela (2000), Nigerian Helon Habila (2001), Kenyan Binyavanga Wainaina (2002), Kenyan Yvonne Owuor (2003), Zimbabwean Brian Chikwava (2004), Nigerian Segun Afolabi (2005), South African Mary Watson (2006), Ugandan Monica Arac de Nyeko (2007), South African Henrietta Rose-Innes (2008), Nigerian EC Osondu (2009), Sierra Leonean Olufemi Terry (2010), Zimbabwean NoViolet Bulawayo (2011), and Nigerian Tope Folarin (2013).

South African Nobel Laureate in Literature, Nadine Gordimer (1923-2014)


On the day Prof Wole Soyinka marked his 80th birthday in Nigeria, precisely July 13, 2014, another African great writer, Nadine Gordimer, of South Africa who was also a Nobel laureate in Literature, died at the age of 90.
 
Nadine Gordimer (1923-2014)

According to Family source, Gordimer, who won the literature prize in 1991, died peacefully in her sleep, in Johannesburg. 

Gordimer was born November 20, 1923 in Johannesburg. Her early interest in racial and economic inequality in South Africa was shaped in part by her parents.

The Swedish Academy speech in 1991
Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Ladies and Gentlemen,

Art is on the side of the oppressed, Nadine Gordimer says in one of her essays, urging us to think before we dismiss this heretical idea about the freedom of art. If art is freedom, she asks, how could it exist within the oppressors?

Nadine Gordimer agrees with last year's Laureate, Octavio Paz, in asserting the importance of regaining the meanings of words, as a first step in the critical process. She has had the courage to write as if censorship did not exist, and so has seen her books banned, time after time.
Above all, it is people, individual men and women, that have captured her and been captured by her. It is their lives, their heaven and hell, that absorb her. The outer reality is ever present, but it is through her characters that the whole historical process is crystallized.
Conveying to the reader a powerful sense of authenticity, and with wide human relevance, she makes visible the extremely complicated and utterly inhuman living conditions in the world of racial segregation. She feels political responsibility, and does not shy away from its consequences, but will not allow it to affect her as a writer: her texts are not agitatorial, not progandistic. Still, her works and the deep insights she offers contribute to shaping reality.
In one of her great novels we meet Maureen, the stronger of husband and wife in a family who, with the help of their boy, have fled the fighting, taking refuge in a hut in his native village. Here, gradually, the strains on their mode of life, language and everyday relations become unbearable. One day Maureen notices a helicopter landing. She does not know whether it brings friends or enemies but, stricken with unspeakable horror, she instinctively leaves the hut and starts running towards the sound. She runs ever faster and more frantically. She runs with all the suppressed trust of a lifetime. She runs for her survival, the enemy of all responsibility.
This is the closing scene of the novel. Were there still possibilities ahead of her? Or was this the very end? To Maureen and what she stands for, the future appears to hold out the opposite of utopia, a dystopia. This is not Nadine Gordimer's only vision, but it is one which she has found it necessary to give expression to.
In this way, artistry and morality fuse.
People are more important than principles.
A truly living human being cannot remain neutral.
No one is in possession of all goodness, and no one has a monopoly of evil.
Irony does not need any prompting.
Children who meet, gladly meet halfway.
The power of love makes the mountain tremble.
Thoughts and impressions such as these are called forth by novels like A Guest of Honour, The Conservationist, Burger's Daughter, July's People, and My Son's Story. However, in a manner as absorbing as in her novels, Nadine Gordimer develops her penetrating depiction of character, her compassion and her powers of precise wording in her short stories, in collections like Six Feet of the Country and, as yet untranslated, A Soldier's Embrace and Something Out There.
 Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Ladies and Gentlemen, it is remarkable how often Nadine Gordimer succeeds in her artistic intent - to burn a hole through the page.
Dear Miss Gordimer,
Ninety years ago, the prize citation mentioned "the qualities of both heart and intellect". Indeed, these words apply no less today when the Swedish Academy points to the Nobelian concept of outstanding literary achievement as an important means of conferring benefit on mankind, in terms of human value and freedom of speech. It is my privilege and pleasure, on behalf of the Swedish Academy, to convey to you the warmest congratulations on the Nobel Prize in Literature 1991 and to invite you to receive the Prize from the hands of His Majesty the King.

Akintola makes a comeback, shares his Diary


By Tajudeen Sowole
After nearly two decades of reclusion from the local art space, painter Ademola Akintola is back, armed with experience in globetrotting across the world.

Akintola who is based in the U.K is currently in Lagos with a solo art exhibition titled The Diary of An Artist, holding from July 19 to 27, 2014 at Terra Kulture, Victoria Island, Lagos.

One of Ademola Akintola’s work, Wings of Dreams

 The works, which include figural and abstract contents, highlight the artist's experience in several countries visited over during his nearly 40 years of traveling.

Not exactly a full time artist, Akiintola says he is also "a pastor in the U.K."  Nude figure titled, Holders of  Sacred Key (oil on canvas) of a white or mixed parents man reclining in front of a group of onlookers - mostly men and a woman- exposes an artist whose brush movement leans more towards impressionism. The gathering captured by Akintola, perhaps, shows one of his odd encounters while working abroad.

After his secondary school education in Nigeria, Akintola who was already an artist immediately set out to explore the art world. In fact, he couldn't wait to acquire a formal training. "I got admission to study art at Yaba College of Technology (Yabatech), Lagos, but chose to travel to Liberia to work in an advertising agency." He was so sure of himself as an emerging artist, having "been drawing and painting since the age of eight." In fact, art, he discloses, "runs in the family." Nearly all his siblings, he says “are artists, and one of them is practicing in the U.S.”


At 62, and with over seven solo, five group exhibitions and about seven residencies in Europe and the U.S, Akintola still does not think he missed any formal training after his secondary school education. "No regret not taking the Yabatech admission; “I realised that styles and skills are not something you are taught in the classroom; these are natural things you improve on as you keep painting and drawing."

Some of the 25 works he is showing in The Diary of an Artist exhibition indicate that the self-taught skill in Akintola is not restricted to expression in figural content. In fact, the walls of Terra Kulture Gallery will, most likely be dominated by abstract impressionism paintings and mixed media. Such works include Symbols (Resin on board), Dancing All Night Long and Wing of Dreams series (metal mixed media on board) as well as Flowers (acrylic on board), Roots Metal (foil relief on board), among others.

With nearly 45 years of practice, Akintola describes himself as an artist who likes "to be individual" in expression. So, he says his art is "contemporary realism.". And what about the abstract contents in his work? "My abstract form is issue-based."

Akintola does not appear like an artist perching on old glory. His last solo show, he says was in 2002, but "currently showing in Chicago in an exhibition that opened on July 18."

Sharing his experience as an artist in the Diaspora, Akintola says he had encountered "underlining racism." He recalls an example of a solo show he had at Business Centre, London in 1996 where "nearly everyone who visited liked my works." But a lady"s remark that 'we are not ready for this' worried him.  

His signature is apparently strange on the Lagos art landscape. Ironically, the artist claims that he has "been visiting Nigeria nearly every year since I left the country." However, his Diary, he hopes would "re-establish hia art in Nigeria."

Artists raised Hope to fight sickle cell


By Tajudeen Sowole
Barely two months after the Society of Nigerian Artists (SNA), Rivers State Chapter chose a new leader, signs of change has started emerging, so suggested a fundraising partnership with another group to tackle sickle cell.

Chairman, Society of Nigerian Artists (SNA), Rivers State Chapter, Diseye Tantua, speaking during the exhibition as artist Vera Bou Tamous Farah and others look on

 Led by painter, Diseye Tantua, the new SNA of Rivers State recently supported a charity exhibition titled Hope, held at Hotel Presidential, Port Harcourt and organised by the Sickle Cell Interactive and Management Association (SCIMA). The show featured members of the SNA and a guest artist.
  Tantua who was in Lagos after the exhibition stated that Hope was the artist's contributions to raise funds for sickle cell awareness in the state.
  Exhibited artists included a Lebanese, Vera Bou Tamous Farah, Tantua, Segun AIyesan, Perrin Oglafa, Micheal Kpodoh, Ike Francis, Perekeme Kentebe, Charity Iyingima Ide, Johnson Uwadinma, Woko Joy Aguru, Ekeoma peterkingsley, Timi Kakandar,Millicent Okocha, Uzodibie Amaka,Emeka Ifediora, Promise Onali, Asiegbu Uloma, Steve Ogbolu, Kenny Odili and Obiora Anamaleze 
 Works exhibited, Tantua stated, included one, each by SNA members while a chunk of the exhibits were from Farah. “Each member from SNA had one of his very good works for the exhibition and we have 25 from a visiting artist from Lebanon, Vera. I had eight works.”
 Farah’s bio says she is an artist whose passion and profession cut across the creative genres. She is a painter, sculptor, dancer and interior decorator, She studied sculpture n Italy and holds a diploma in interior design, a diploma in fashion design and is founder of the Vera Farah School for painting. Farah also teaches dance and old artisanal art of glass and jars.
 Tantua described the charity exhibition as a successful outing for the partnership. “We were able to raise about N15 million naira." From the total fund raised.” And “50 percent" he disclosed, was given to Sickle Cell Interactive and Management Association (SCIMA).
 He explained that the amount due to SCIMA "was to be used for drugs, awareness campaigns and talks that would be held from time to time to aid those in need of drugs and others who had not come to the realisation of care for the ailment.”
 Speaking on the new leadersip of SNA Rivers, Tantua noted the potentials of artists in the chapter and assured of exposing as well as maximising the artists' potentials.“We have a lot of artists in Rivers who spend more time keying into the Lagos market and exhibiting more outside the country. As chairman I am looking at ensuring more exhibitions in the state, building up the hub and encouraging people to collect pieces, invest in art and appreciate their own culture and arts.”
  He argued that the signs of good times for the artists were already showing just less than one month in office as chairman of the Rivers State SNA. He however noted that art appreciation in the state was still at a low level. Seeking the supports of the artist to raise the value of art in the state as well as support the campaign against sickle cell, Tantua said  "we are going to be having a lot of seminars and workshops to support the organisation.”
Parts of his mission statement to the artists included “to work with most oil companies in the state, the government and partnering with private individuals to see how we can have once a year exhibitions since it takes a lot of planning to succeed.
  “We will be having exhibitions as a group to showcase what we are doing, not forgetting there are a lot of professors and lectures in the state.”  
Students
  “We have to encourage them to appreciate and study arts. From time to time we will also have visits on the schools we have over 200 newly-built ones and we will see how to nurture them to accept themselves as artists because it is a gift.  There is no force to art.”
  “Rivers and Bayelsa SNA were together. As of last year, there was a division so we have Rivers and Bayelsa SNA. Since the states are close, we look forward to working together for major events from time to time.”    
Other things
 “Galleries have come and gone. We have had a lot of showrooms which act as galleries as well but for proper galleries, we have not had a main one. Maybe because the awareness has not been pushed on, it is what we call aggressive marketing that brings art to the doorsteps of collectors.”