35 events to choose from at the Lagos Book and Art Festival - 14th Edition

Toyin Akinosho, Publisher of Africa Oil & Gas Report and Secretary General of the CORA Art & Cultural Foundation, has announced that the 14th Lagos Book & Art Festival will take place on the 16th to 18th of November 2012 at the Freedom Park, Broad Street, Lagos Island, Lagos, with a pre-event Publishers’ Forum and Cocktail holding on the 15th.


A theme has also been announced for the festival, The Narrative of Conflict, which focuses on how the written word and the literacy it engenders interrogates the different conflicts that surround current existence and recent past. The festival is dedicated to the veteran artist Bruce Onabrakpeya who turned 80 this year and whose work and dedication to the arts continue to be a source of inspiration to generations of Nigerians.

The Lagos Book & Art Festival, or LABAF as it’s often called, is a landmark event on the nation’s culture calendar with sprawling book displays, exhibitions, live music and drama performances, and an array of literary events that take time out to dig deep into the content of books.

According to Akinosho: “LABAF is self-styled as Africa’s Biggest Culture Picnic because we don’t just put together a book fair, a performance concert, a literary festival or an art expo. What we do is a healthy fusion of all four in a festival atmosphere, and for the past 14 years, the festival has become an important destination for families, literary and art enthusiasts, culture producers, children and even lovers. We have had people who came as children years ago still attending now as young adults. We have also had people who met at the festival grounds for the first time years ago, still attending as married couples. What keeps them coming back is the way the festival allows them to engage with culture in a fun atmosphere, that is why it is Africa’s Biggest Culture Picnic."

For a complete timetable of the activities, CLICK HERE...

Ozugbo, Ozugbo - a story by Jide Atta (Part 2 of 3 parts)

This bloody village! I am back to it. Twelve years it has been. 12 years! I know them, I know them all. Some watched me grow, others we grew up together. I hate them, all of them. I remember the taunts, the sneers. The bastard son of a harlot they called me. Well, the son of the harlot was back now, back to take his revenge. 

I always wondered why my mother never married any of those men. They came at all hours of the day, some were huge, some were short. I didn’t need to be told to go outside, as it was an excuse for me to roam the village and go play with other children. 

It was on one of those trips that I met Tiemo and Tamuno. I had wandered to the beach to watch the other children swim in the sea. I didn’t join them. I was scared of the water. I sat on the rack stack and watched the older ones dive in to the water to the squeals and laughter of the others. This was the rack stack that grew to be a makeshift jetty. The jetty on which I am standing today, after 12 years, and barking orders at the baggers! Everyone in the village knew Tiemo and to an extent Tamuno. There was this particular girl, Abigail, who always smiled at me and beckoned with her hand for me to come in to the water. I liked her. She was always kind to me whenever our paths crossed in the village or in the many playgrounds of the young. Tiemo was the village hero among the young ones in the Tekuni age group. I admired him and tried to get him to be my friend. He always ignored me and would throw his head away anytime I greeted him or laughed at a joke. Tamuno would always stand up to him and ask him to allow me to join in their play - to which he would refuse. With an aristocratic air he would arrogantly remind me of the need to go on a journey to find out my real father. 

‘’Of course’’, he would say, ‘’I don’t know where you will start because even the sea does not know’’.

This hurt, especially as it was done in the presence of Abigail. It hurt me so badly that I would just run away, crying and clutching my tattered overcoat that my mother had seized from one her visitors who refused to ‘settle’ her. To my small, naïve mind, I always wondered what ‘settle’ meant. 

‘Ozugbo Ozugbo! Bastard child’’, they would repeat constantly. I still remember the accompanying laughter and taunts of the other children escorting my every step as I ran. Somehow, somewhere in the taunts of the children, a voice would shout at them to stop it. It was the voice of Abigail. How I loved that voice. It was the only thing that kept me going back to the playgrounds. No taunt would deter me from seeing her play or hear her talk. 

As I ran home I concluded in my mind that I had to go and look for my father. If only to prove to that son of ‘okporokpo’ that I wasn’t a bastard as they called me. ‘Uncle wonda’ was still around. I could hear his voice as he talked to my mother. Her pearly laughter rang out from somewhere within our shack of discarded ‘chemical bags’. This was the big polythene bag used by oil companies to hold and transport chemicals for the drilling activity. 

Abigail, I would never forgive that bloody Tiemo for her death. I had left the village two years before. It was one of my mother’s visitors who told me about the army and encouraged me to join the army. He even bought me the forms. I went to Depot Nigerian Army for three months. It was hell on earth. I wonder how I survived that training time. I guess it was the tough times I had gone through before coming there. Well, I survived and after that I was deployed to Liberia. I thought of her throughout my stay in Liberia. Perhaps that is what kept me going. I had only one plan, to come back and ask for her hand in marriage. It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. That bloody Tiemo stole her away from me and led her to her death. But I was back now, with more money and power than any of them could imagine. As the head of security for Alcove Oil operations in these parts, I could do to them anything I wanted; they were all under my boots. There were no rules of engagement or superior officers in the army to control me. Besides no one would ever believe them, it would be their word against Alcove Oil. 

‘I ask again, where Is Tiemo?’

I know you all know where he is, or at least one of you does. That one of you should tell me now. Tamuno where is your cousin Tiemo? I know you saw him three days ago. Tell me where he is and no one will get hurt.

(Click here to read the PART ONE)

Oginigba - a story by Jide Atta

Jide Atta, at the Abuja Literary Society
reading held on May 25, 2012, Silverbird  
Entertainment Centre, Abuja, Nigeria.
Photo by Araceli

Oginigba 

-a story by Jide Atta

They came at dawn. I should know. I was awake gathering my nets and preparing to go out on the days fishing trip when I heard the noise. I heard them before I saw them. There were lots of them. They were jumping out of the gunboats before the boats even reached the shore. I turned and ran. There was only one thought in my head, my grandmother, and my cousin Ebi. 

I knew who they were, I had seen them before. The whole village had seen them before. But they normally didn’t come this way. Normally it would be the helicopters, then the trucks. There were never any boats, and they were never this many of them. Something was different this time, I could sense it.

I was close to our home when the gunshots began.

What was going on this time? What had we done wrong this time? How come our small village of mostly fishermen and palm wine tappers had to bear the brunt of the so-called struggle for our freedom? And then it struck me! Tiemo! This invasion must have had something to do with his surprise arrival three days ago. He looked haggard with long, dirty and unkempt dada.

Tiemo, my cousin, who caused the most pain to my grandmother. Youthful, handsome Tiemo who the old folks said brought bad luck to his parents. His mother died while giving birth to him and, a week later, his father surprisingly fell from a palm tree. As a little boy, he was always the leader of the gang, dictating what prank to pull and on whom.

There was this particular incident when we were given the beating of our lives, courtesy another Tiemo prank. Tiemo had become fascinated with the village shrine and on the eve of the ashi festival decided we should relocate the totem. Yes, I was terrified but I was excited about being able to touch that totem we only saw in public during the festival, but which we had been seeing during our regular trips to spy on the shrine. We took the totem, when the chief priest went into his shack with Pa Willy’s new wife. They always went into that shack three four times daily. Tiemo had one time gotten close enough to peep into the shack and came back giggling, refusing to tell us what he saw, insisting that we were still kids. 

We hid the totem in Olotu’s hut. He was the village drunk, and we were sure no one would suspect our involvement. 

We were wrong. 

I had always heard that palm wine tappers saw everything and knew everyone’s secret. Well, we had no idea that Papa Preye saw us, followed us to Olotu’s house and went to tell our grandmother. We didn’t know why we were beaten that way by mama. We didn’t think it could possibly have had anything to do with the totem. Mama is a very strong woman. With one hand she held on to Tiemo and me, and with the other administered continuous series of slaps with such dexterity that, if Ikopu the village drummer had seen her, he would have turned the colour of rotten fish with envy. 

That was the Tiemo I grew up with, at least until Abigail. I wonder how or when he saw her, but that was Tiemo. It was said that he had eaten a dog’s legs, because he was always up and about. Something about him changed. He began to pay a little more attention to himself. He even started combing his hair! This was Tiemo who always wanted to have dada like Majek Fashek the musician. 

Everyone in the village knew them, Tiemo and Abigail, always walking hand in hand everywhere they went. She changed Tiemo, made him less of a prankster. She also separated him from me and the rest of the gang, and I resented her for it. I and Tiemo were brothers. Who was this girl with whom he would rather spend time with than hang with us?

Then it happened. 

No one claims to know how it started. But we knew that suddenly oil – black and smelly like when palm kennel fell in dying fire – was leaking from the pipelines that ran behind the village school toilet and from the stand below our rickety makeshift jetty. That jetty is over fifty years old. The oil company had promised to build one since over forty years ago, before I was born. It was the immigration point from our village. Everybody that came and went from the village by sea had to go through it. Legend has it that after the oil company that laid the pipeline had built a rack stack for the pipes that they used, people converted it to a meeting place for discussing happenings between the workers and fishermen. One by one, each would bring a frond of palm or any piece of driftwood or metal pipe remnant and connect to the stack against the rack. The rack kept getting higher as the tide gradually ate below it and took residence deeper and deeper along the shoreline. I always wondered how one could walk for almost a mile out in to the sea and the water would only be chest deep at most. For us, we would use it as a diving place. Our tiny feet scrambling up and then, posing like Eupele, our African Games champion from the village, we would dive into the sea amidst squeals of laughter from the smaller kids who would only watch with admiration. That is how it became the commanding point for the leader of the pack that arrived in boats that day. 

People could not fish, could not farm, and nothing could be done. Emissaries were sent to the oil company, but weeks later, the oil was still leaking. The fishermen and the farmers decided to go to the company’s camp to protest and get them to do something about the leaking oil. I went with them that day. I was excited. My life had been boring without Tiemo but here was a chance to get some fun. 

When mama heard that I was with the protesters at the oil company camp, she sent Tiemo to come and drag me home. As usual, Abigail followed him. 

The oil company camp looks very different from the rest of our village, barbed wire fences, floodlights, well cut grasses, paved roads. I overhead one of the men from the village saying this was how America looked like. We all believed him. Even the smell of the place was different from the one that came all the time from the water just over the copse of palm trees and washed our village. The man said that they sprayed perfume in the air all the time and that the gods loved to sit just on the other side of the fence in the European quarter. I dreamt of America. 

There were armed men at the gate who refused us entry and ordered us to turn back. Some of the village men started turning away. Was this why I had come? To be turned away like a leper? I wanted some excitement; I wanted to smell a bit of America a bit longer. So I picked up a stone and threw at the guards, then they started shooting. 

I was shocked, and filled with fear. I started running. I hadn’t run too far when the shooting stopped. I turned and I froze at what my eyes beheld! I saw Tiemo covered in blood, screaming. He was sitting on the ground holding Abigail as she lay covered in a pool of blood. I walked in trepidation towards him and stopped. All around, men of the village were wailing, some were injured, most looked dead. Was it guilt, was it cowardice, what was it? I couldn’t tell, but I couldn’t bear the sight either. I turned and ran.

That was ten years ago. 

Tiemo disappeared after then and we never saw or heard from him until three days ago. Of course we had heard some stories. We had all heard of Commander T. 

As I got to the house, the soldiers were there already, and they were pushing mama, Ebi and everybody from their houses to the village square. I joined the line and walked there with them. 

A man who seemed to be in command was pacing angrily as we got to the square. He spoke into a radio briefly then picked a megaphone, turned and faced us all. Where is Tiemo? 

I froze! 

(To be continued)

Editor's Note: Jide Atta is a strategy consultant with bias in operations. He has been a member of the Abuja Literary Society for years where he has anchored many of its programs. He has a life long mission to mentor creativity in all forms.

Interview with Eugenia Abu

EDITOR'S NOTE: You are not alone if you fall in love with Eugenia Abu’s voice the first time you hear her read news on TV. As the Assistant Director, Creative Writing and Presentation with the Nigerian Television Authority (NTA), she anchors the 9pm News twice a week, a profession that has made her a household name in Nigeria. She is also a published author and newspaper contributor. In this interview that appears in the current issue of INSIDE TRACK MAGAZINE- PRINT EDITION, the author of In the Blink of An Eye talks about motivation, success, writing, and what "making a difference" means to her...

Eugenia Abu, writer and ace newscaster

WHAT MOTIVATES YOU?

EUGENIA ABU: My Family, a good book, life and the spiritual, achievers, charitable persons, ordinary everyday people doing extra-ordinary things.



HOW DO YOU DEFINE SUCCESS?

EUGENIA ABU: I believe success is how much one has been able to impact positively on one’s environment and persons around them. Success is also translated to how efficient one is in his or her chosen field. If you are a successful doctor for instance, it should not be about how much money you make but more about how well your patients are pleased with the treatment they receive, how much of modern medicine and current trends you know, and are conversant with. A successful doctor for example is one whose patients trusts his judgement and his skill. He also brings kindness and a listening ear to his job. An arrogant doctor who is wealthy I am afraid I may not consider successful. Of course it is good for the doctor to be comfortable so I am not advocating that poverty is synonymous with success. Successful persons ought to be comfortable as well. But all these things earlier mentioned, kindness, efficiency, courage and knowledge of your field are the hallmarks of success. I am intolerant of arrogant, rude and disrespectful people. No matter how good you are, I cannot consider you successful. Success is generally about how you live life to make the world a better and strife-free place.



IF THERE IS ONE THING YOU COULD TELL THE WORLD AND YOU KNOW THAT THE WORLD IS LISTENING WHAT WOULD THAT BE?

EUGENIA ABU: It would be to stop the wars. It is not worth it. When it is all over with wounded soldiers, raped women, displaced families and the smell of death and sadness everywhere, where do the war mongers hide their faces? Was it really worth it in the end? In some cases, at the end of the war, not one of the stakeholders will remember why they went to war. It is a tragedy. In near zones women who go to fetch water, young, old under aged, grandmas and wives are still being raped by rebel soldiers, government soldiers, refugee workers, everyone takes the women for granted. The hunger, the deprivation which makes some women sell their bodies in exchange for food for their families, is so sad. When the war is all over what will one do with the broken pieces of life all over the landscape. Stop the war and adopt a poor person today.



ON HER FIRST BOOK

EUGENIA ABU: My book In the Blink of an Eye was presented to the public in 2006 and has been described as the longest running literary endeavour in Nigeria. We have had 31 book readings in Abuja, read in prisons in London, at a writing conference in Cambridge, in three cities in Australia and have had book tours in Jos, Kano, Bauchi, Kaduna and Kafanchan. Lagos, Lafia and Calabar are in view. The promo of In the Blink of an Eye will be brought to an end after doing it in Lagos. We are waiting for the reprints and a special hard cover edition for Lagos. The new book is finished and we should be presenting it to the public soon.



ON HER WRITING

EUGENIA ABU: I started writing when I was seven years old. Lucky that my father let me run around his library early enough, so I am a voracious reader. That has helped my writing. Writing features for The Guardian Newspapers for over 23 years polished my writing skills. I also write a column for my church newspaper, The Good Shepherd and also the Voice of Nigerian, VON Quarterly. In the past I wrote a column for MTN Quarterly. I contribute literary reviews to the Leadership Newspaper. I have a collection of poetry, a collection of short stories, a half written novel and a cookbook; they are all works in progress.



WHAT DOES MAKING A DIFFERENCE IN YOUR COMMUNITY MEAN TO YOU?

EUGENIA ABU: Making a difference in my community means everything to me. The world is constantly looking for role models. Communities deserve role models, are thirsty for it even if you consider that what you do is insignificant or too lowly. There are young people with no focus and no future who can change as a result of what you said and how you said it. We can all make a difference. It may be your loyalty to your boss or your thoroughness at your work. Role modelling is a huge community service and selfless too. More people should impact their communities through exemplary living. Exemplary leadership is too highfaluting even. Just exemplary living will do. People watch you. As a growing child, you may complain endlessly about your parents but there would be a neighbour, a doctor, a writer, a bricklayer, a hairdresser, a driver whom you adored. Exemplary living by these neighbours can change a child’s life and impact community.



In the summer I teach Creative Writing to children between the ages of 7-14 years and it is one of my more exciting projects, The Treasured Writers. The reward of making a difference in your community is awesome. Also I try to put something in place for the less privileged, I support St. Vincent de Paul, a society for the less privileged in my church (I am Catholic). Also, I try to send books, provide furniture, send pencils when I can to the schools n my community and my husband’s community in Kogi state. There is an afterglow with community service, it is indescribable. Soon I will start something with caregivers in hospitals around Abuja, people who look after their relations in hospitals. It is very traumatic. People care more about the sick person. Caregivers also go through their own stress and need help and empathy.



I also mentor two or three young persons a year. I take them in as my Personal Assistants and pay them a stipend. But when they leave, they have learnt so much. Everyone should be encouraged to do the same. Build a well rounded community, mentor a young person today. ■



(Eugenia Abu will be the Guest Writer at the Abuja Writers' Forum on Saturday, the 30th of January 2010 at 4pm. Venue: Pen and Pages Bookstore, White House Plaza, Plot 79, Adetokunbo Ademola Crescent, Wuse 2, Abuja. Editor)

Akachi Adimora Ezeigbo

Prof. Akachi Adimora-Ezeigbo is one of Nigeria’s most illustrious writers and role models. Her first work of fiction for young readers, The Buried Treasure, was published by Heinemann of UK in 1992. Since then, she has been making significant—and incomparable—contribution to literature by writing novels, short stories, and children’s books. But long before these feats, she was appointed as a lecturer in 1981 at the University of Lagos and became a Professor of English in 1999. As a scholar she has written and edited academic books in addition to teaching courses in English and African Literature and in Literary Theory to both undergraduate and post-graduate students. She also teaches Creative Writing and organizes Creative Writing Workshops in various venues in Nigeria and abroad. And while some women are too busy thinking of how to increase the size of their wardrobes, Prof. Ezeigbo is busy collecting awards. She was declared one of the two winners in the NLNG Prize for Literature for her children’s novel My Cousin Sammy in 2007. Another novel, House of Symbols, won four medals. Two of her books were shortlisted for the ANA Prize this year, one of which (Heart Songs) won the Cadbury Prize for Poetry. On top of all that, she is one of the most visible gender and feminist writers, theorists and critics in Nigeria today. She also travels in and out of the country regularly to give lectures at different venues—and she is writing more novels. All these make you want to ask: Is she a hard act to follow?

Hoping that we may learn some great lessons from the Professor, we asked her a few questions:

WHAT MOTIVATES YOU TO WRITE AND WHY?
AKACHI EZEIGBO: It depends on what I want to write and the audience I mean to write for at the time. You see, I write for adults as well as for children. I am motivated by the desire to write an interesting or pleasurable story that will also teach one or two virtues if I write for children. Mind you, I don’t preach but my stories still end up instructing the child like any well written children’s book. That total acceptance you see in children when they love or trust you is what motivates me to write stories that they can enjoy and identify with. But it is different with adults; I am motivated by what I see around me or what I read about. Sometimes an idea from a book or from what someone tells me motivates me. It could also be an experience I had or witnessed. Other ideas may develop from that single idea and I begin to develop a plot and create characters that act out the plot. I like experiencing life fully and from different perspectives, and then sublimating these experiences in fiction or any other literary mode that I consider most suitable for what I want to say.

WHAT’S YOUR PERSONAL DEFINITION OF SUCCESS?
AKACHI EZEIGBO: For me, success means doing my best in whatever I do so that I feel satisfied with the result. It also means empowering others to do well as I have done, if not better. From what I have said you can then understand if I describe myself as successful, especially considering the number of students I have produced over the years, and those whose lives my works and my life have impacted upon. These people are everywhere in this country contributing to its growth and development in various ways. Anyone who manages to touch so many lives positively is successful, as far as I’m concerned.

WHAT DOES MAKING A DIFFERENCE IN YOUR COMMUNITY MEAN TO YOU?
AKACHI EZEIGBO: Making a difference in my community means being able to identify what needs to be done and doing it even if no one else wants to do it. I’m prepared to support what is right even if it is unpopular. One aspect of making a difference is to have an important effect on a thing, situation or condition. For instance, making an impact in the place where one works. I can say I am a good teacher and that my being at the University of Lagos and in the English Department has made all the difference for many students and even some members of staff. You could investigate this if you choose.

JOYS AND PAINS OF BEING A WRITER?
AKACHI EZEIGBO: Being a writer certainly has its joys and pains. But for me it has been more of the former than the latter. I have had what I could describe as a successful writing career. I have had publishers inside and outside Nigeria and my books are fairly visible. But what makes me very happy is the ability God has given me to create – to writer for my people, especially for children. I love writing for children and have more than fifteen titles in this genre. Some were published abroad and some in Nigeria. It’s wonderful writing for young people. Their appreciation of a writer’s work is pure, unpretentious and is not sullied by envy or bias, as adult readers’. Children will tell you they have enjoyed your work and express their pleasure openly. But some adults read your work, know it is good, but sometimes out of envy or mischief, they run down the work. It could be a deliberate attempt to ridicule or hurt you. Their criticism is not objective and may be spiced with untruths and faulty analysis. This is the pain a writer could go through. You feel you are being judged unjustly and that the reader or critic has become emotional and subjective. It becomes a personal attack on the writer rather than an objective analysis of a work of art. I believe Flora Nwapa, Ama ata Aidoo and Ifeoma Okoye had complained about this type of negative, destructive, paternalistic or patronizing criticism. Some of us have experienced it at one point or another. I tell you, it can be disconcerting. But one shouldn’t bother with such people really. One of our renowned writers stated that writing has nothing to do with age. I agree. It has nothing to do with gender either. The business of writing goes on as long as the writer has something to say and has the capability to say it. For me the pain of writing comes when my work is given subjective, false and illogical interpretations by inexperienced and half-baked critics, and when I am attacked personally by people who do not have facts. But then such people actually expose their ignorance and bias. I pity them because they are out to hurt others, but end up hurting themselves the most. They expose their incompetence. Other pains of writing include not finding a publisher, your books not selling and not getting your royalties from your publisher. But the joys of writing far out-weigh the pains for me and for most writers, especially writers who are serious-minded, profound and committed to their craft. For such writers, the act of writing brings great joy. Part of the joys of writing is getting published and being read, winning prizes if possible, meeting people and knowing places, because you are sometimes invited to read or participate in a festival inside and outside your country. ■

(First published in the 3rd Edition of Inside Track Magazine - Print Edition)

Literary arts in Abuja

The Abuja Literary Society hosted Dr. Wale Okediran at the Transcorp Hilton Hotel on April 3, 2009.

A medical doctor, Dr. Okediran is also a politician and an active member of the Association of Nigerian Authors. He was a member of the House of Representatives and is the current president of ANA. He read from his recent novels The Weaving Looms and Tenant of the House.

The Abuja Literary Society is one of the three literary groups in Abuja. The other two are the Association fo Nigerian Authors (ANA) and the Abuja Writers' Forum (AWF).

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ANA RECEIVES CHINUA ACHEBE

The President (Dr. Wale Okediran) and members of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) were at the International Airport in Abuja in the early hours of January 19 to receive Nigeria’s literary giant, Chinua Achebe, who was accompanied by his wife, Christy, son, Chidi, and daughter, Nwandu.

In a short discussion with Okediran, Achebe who appeared very relaxed and agile expressed his appreciation to ANA for the wonderful celebrations to mark the 50th anniversary of THINGS FALL APART. He was particularly thrilled that ANA was able to take the celebrations to his family home and primary school in Ogidi.

When Okediran apologised for the technical difficulty that made it impossible to have the much advertised telecast interview with him during the celebrations, Achebe also apologised for his inability to be in Nigeria for the event. He put this down to some health issues which needed sorting out. He explained that his inability to fully relocate home is due to the poor facilities in the country which will further handicap his life now that he is confined to the wheelchair.

Achebe, who started his career as a medical student before switching to the arts, jokingly asked whether Okediran still had time for medicine in view of his heavy schedule as ANA President. Okediran replied that he was now more into the policy aspect of medicine instead of the usual bedside medical practice.

When showed the latest edition of the ANA REVIEW with his colored photograph on the front cover, Achebe was full of smiles and appreciation to the current ANA leadership for keeping the association going.

And when Okediran informed him that the last ANA Convention took place in Zamfara State, Achebe expressed his happiness that literary activities are being taken to different parts of the country.

View photos of Chinua Achebe and the welcoming team at the airport here.
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NIGERIAN LITERATURE

The release into the market of a novel, The Abyssinian Boy, by Onyeka Nwelue has been announced. Read about the author below:

Born in 1988 in Nigeria, Onyeka Nwelue travelled extensively to Asia, particularly to India after graduating from High School. He has received a grant from the Institute for Research on African Women, Children and Culture (IRAWCC) and is a contributing reviewer of Farafina magazine. In 2004, he was described in the Guardian as a 'teenager with a steaming pen'. His writings have appeared in The Sun, Wild Goose Poetry Review, Kafla Inter-Continental and the Guardian. He's presently a student at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. The young author has been described by Jude Dibia (runner up for the 2008 NLNG Literature Prize) as- “..... an interesting new voice. For one so young, he shows rare insights into the lives and sensibilities of people faced with racial integration; a concern as relevant today as ever before." Set mainly in India and in Nigeria, The Abyssinian Boy is based on the marriage between an Indian man and his Nigerian wife, the novel weaves a tale of love, faith and the many paradoxes of culture clash with a witty and often adventurous
narrative style.

The Abyssinian Boy will be presented to the public for the first time at a Book Launch / Book Party on Saturday 24th January 2009 at The Rotunda Hall, National Library, Opposite Casino Cinema, Alagomeji, Yaba, Lagos, from 12noon till 4pm. Senator S. N Anyanwu (Imo North Senatorial Zone) and Sir Bright Nwelue (former Chief Press Secretary to the Imo State Government) will be Special Guests of Honour at the event while Mr. Toyin Akinosho (Art Critic, Publisher, Africa Oil & Gas Report) will be Guest Speaker / Reviewer.

Though The Abyssinian Boy is his first novel, Onyeka has already made a name for himself, particularly on the internet through his blog and other websites where he has posted his interviews with writers from different parts of the world. Now taking his time to work through his second novel while savouring the history surrounding the idyllic Nsukka campus, Onyeka will travel again in 2009 to attend different literary festivals around the world and to promote his first novel. Copies of the The Abyssinian Boy are currently available at TerraKulture, Tiamiyu Savage Street, Victoria Island Lagos.

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- by Ayodele Arigbabu.

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Read more about Onyeka Nwelue here...