Of Course We Have Bookshops In Nigeria. But They’re For The Lucky Few
A silly question put to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie caused outrage. A little reflection on priorities might also be in order
BY SEDE ALONGE
LAGOS, NIGERIA (THE GUARDIAN) -- When the French journalist Caroline Broué asked the Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie during a recent interview whether there were any bookstores in Nigeria, she could not have envisaged the uproar it would generate. Most Nigerians considered the question outrageous, condescending and generally ignorant.
Hardly surprising, bearing in mind that Nigeria has produced a healthy number of great writers over the years, including not just Adichie but the Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Cyprian Ekwensi, Flora Nwapa, and Buchi Emecheta, to name a few. Most of these acclaimed writers were homegrown, are well-known and widely read in their home country, with a readership that extends well beyond Nigeria. One would have thought it quite obvious their books weren’t distributed locally via pigeon post.
Broué’s tactless question suggested lax research prior to the interview. It was as if this Nigerian literary tradition had simply never existed – as if Adichie was the only well-known Nigerian writer. Her subsequent explanation that the question was intended as ironical and for the benefit of the audience seem desperate.
Understandably, Nigerian social media did not take well to any insinuation of backwardness and instinctively responded with outrage and mass condemnation. Journalists often seek to provoke some form of reaction with their questions, but the tactlessness of this one clearly backfired.
It should be pointed out, though, that one reason for the mass negative reactions by Nigerians is that such questions serve to remind them of their own nation’s failings, which they experience daily. To have an outsider draw attention to that before an international audience is considered an unpardonable embarrassment. But, outrage aside, the question offers an opportunity to raise the wider issue of what the situation really looks like when it comes to the accessibility of books for millions of children growing up in Africa’s most populous country.
I have witnessed first-hand the demise of accessibility to books for children today compared with my experience as a child growing up in 1980s Nigeria, when there were far more functioning public libraries where children could access books for free. Those days hold a lot of positive and vibrant literary memories for me. Back then, in the pre-cable TV era in Nigeria, books were the main form of entertainment for me and my friends. My state-run primary school had a rich library, and there was also a well-stocked public library as well as subsidised bookstores where my mum often purchased cheap books for me and my siblings on weekends out.
Today, my nieces and nephews who live in the same state do not have the same experience I did. Their school libraries are sparse, and the public library in the state is a shadow of what it used to be. In a country where roughly two-thirds of the population live in poverty, most parents struggle to feed their children, let alone buy them books. Basic textbooks for learning are not supplied by the government, or even in a majority of private schools, and have to be purchased by often cash-strapped parents.
The Nigerian government, in its classic manner, does the minimum possible in terms of the education sector rather than actively investing to provide its growing youth population with a rich literary culture. Poor implementation of copyright laws is also a deterrent for writers, with potential incomes constantly drained by prolific pirating and a weak publishing industry. This discourages potential writers from a literary career and creates an unattractive business environment for bookstores and other book-related businesses.
Thus, while I understand the emotional response to what was perceived as an insult to Nigerians from Broué, I also see that the education sector in Nigeria is far from great. As in most sectors, things continue to dip because of poor leadership, missed opportunities and misaligned priorities. Yes, we do have bookstores in Nigeria and growing online access to books as well. How accessible books are to the majority of the poor population, particularly to those in rural areas who desperately need educational propping up, is another issue entirely.
Perhaps it would be more constructive to be outraged at the lack of investment in our children, the future of Nigeria, and at the failings of successive governments who have reduced the country to an easy target for ridicule, rather than at a tactless French journalist who asked a very silly question.
• Sede Alonge is a writer and lawyer based in Lagos
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Image JB Reed/Associated Press Via The Guardian.
LAGOS, NIGERIA (THE GUARDIAN) -- When the French journalist Caroline Broué asked the Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie during a recent interview whether there were any bookstores in Nigeria, she could not have envisaged the uproar it would generate. Most Nigerians considered the question outrageous, condescending and generally ignorant.
Hardly surprising, bearing in mind that Nigeria has produced a healthy number of great writers over the years, including not just Adichie but the Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe, Cyprian Ekwensi, Flora Nwapa, and Buchi Emecheta, to name a few. Most of these acclaimed writers were homegrown, are well-known and widely read in their home country, with a readership that extends well beyond Nigeria. One would have thought it quite obvious their books weren’t distributed locally via pigeon post.
Broué’s tactless question suggested lax research prior to the interview. It was as if this Nigerian literary tradition had simply never existed – as if Adichie was the only well-known Nigerian writer. Her subsequent explanation that the question was intended as ironical and for the benefit of the audience seem desperate.
Understandably, Nigerian social media did not take well to any insinuation of backwardness and instinctively responded with outrage and mass condemnation. Journalists often seek to provoke some form of reaction with their questions, but the tactlessness of this one clearly backfired.
It should be pointed out, though, that one reason for the mass negative reactions by Nigerians is that such questions serve to remind them of their own nation’s failings, which they experience daily. To have an outsider draw attention to that before an international audience is considered an unpardonable embarrassment. But, outrage aside, the question offers an opportunity to raise the wider issue of what the situation really looks like when it comes to the accessibility of books for millions of children growing up in Africa’s most populous country.
I have witnessed first-hand the demise of accessibility to books for children today compared with my experience as a child growing up in 1980s Nigeria, when there were far more functioning public libraries where children could access books for free. Those days hold a lot of positive and vibrant literary memories for me. Back then, in the pre-cable TV era in Nigeria, books were the main form of entertainment for me and my friends. My state-run primary school had a rich library, and there was also a well-stocked public library as well as subsidised bookstores where my mum often purchased cheap books for me and my siblings on weekends out.
Today, my nieces and nephews who live in the same state do not have the same experience I did. Their school libraries are sparse, and the public library in the state is a shadow of what it used to be. In a country where roughly two-thirds of the population live in poverty, most parents struggle to feed their children, let alone buy them books. Basic textbooks for learning are not supplied by the government, or even in a majority of private schools, and have to be purchased by often cash-strapped parents.
The Nigerian government, in its classic manner, does the minimum possible in terms of the education sector rather than actively investing to provide its growing youth population with a rich literary culture. Poor implementation of copyright laws is also a deterrent for writers, with potential incomes constantly drained by prolific pirating and a weak publishing industry. This discourages potential writers from a literary career and creates an unattractive business environment for bookstores and other book-related businesses.
Thus, while I understand the emotional response to what was perceived as an insult to Nigerians from Broué, I also see that the education sector in Nigeria is far from great. As in most sectors, things continue to dip because of poor leadership, missed opportunities and misaligned priorities. Yes, we do have bookstores in Nigeria and growing online access to books as well. How accessible books are to the majority of the poor population, particularly to those in rural areas who desperately need educational propping up, is another issue entirely.
Perhaps it would be more constructive to be outraged at the lack of investment in our children, the future of Nigeria, and at the failings of successive governments who have reduced the country to an easy target for ridicule, rather than at a tactless French journalist who asked a very silly question.
• Sede Alonge is a writer and lawyer based in Lagos
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