[Commentary] The Question of Language in Contemporary African Hip-Hop: Locating Valsero, 2Face and eLDee

Rene Nyah Yong

Although hip-hop historians cite 1978 as its birthday, hip-hop’s roots can well be referred to the African continent. Music had long been part and parcel of the religion and culture of the African people. It had always been used as an accompaniment in everyday life, as Mbiti puts it: “Wherever the African… is, there is his religion; he carries it to the fields and where he is sowing or harvesting new crops, he takes it with him…”  Slavery only abetted in bridging this cultural heritage across the ocean. David D recognises this cultural shift and revels in the power of lyricism in African folklore: “West Africa is where most brothas and sistas within the USA can trace their ancestry. Here there was a concept called Nommo. This was the belief that there was magical power in words. It was believed that words actualized life and gave man mastery over things”

The fact that many African languages are rhythmic and tonal languages only goes a long way to establish the melodic pattern that African music carries and this has been the form and style that jazz, blues and the Negro spirituals obtained. This has led to a list of genres of African popular music, some of which are: Afrobeat, Benga, Bongo Flava, Sakara, Zemba, Hiplife, just to name a few. In line with the question of language, so to say, in the 20^th century, the ethnomusicologist Arthur Morris Jones described African music as being functional in nature and its shared rhythmic principles constitute one main system.

 

Language in Today’s African Hip-hop

Being a human capacity for using complex systems to communicate thoughts and emotions, language is very unique because it has most of the properties of productivity and displacement, and most especially because it relies entirely on social-cultural convention and construction. David D reinforces the claim that the power of words plays a great deal in the core of rap. To him, rap is so powerful because of its lyrical nature and the power of words (what he calls Nommo) – words whose roots are traced in West Africa.  He says:

Africans believed that no medicine or potion would be effective unless accompanied by words. The belief in Nommo was so powerful that all work had to be accompanied by speech. Even warfare was preceded by a verbal battle. Nommo had productive powers. West Africans believed all living things rested upon the word. 

Bearing this in mind, African hip-hop has taken a rapid turn in language form— from what might have been the romantic style to songs whose lyrics are radically speaking, satirically informing and metaphorically appealing. Worthy of note at this juncture is the fact that the content and form of these contemporary hip-hop artists is formed and informed by the socio-political and economic environment in which they find themselves. Historically, several factors have influenced the music of Africa. This music has been costumed by language, the environment, a variety of cultures, politics, and population movement, all of which are intermingled. By and large, saying that environmental determinism is one of the major raison d’être why these postmodernist African hip-hop artists are radical and satirical in their language cannot be underrated. They are socio-economically and politically alienated. Becky Blanchard relates to such youthful alienation and justifies why rap and hip-hop music is violently and radically expressed.

If rap music appears to be excessively violent when compared to country-western or popular rock, it is because rap stems from a culture that has been seeped in the fight against political, social, and economic oppression…Violence in rap is not an affective agent that threatens to harm America’s youth; rather, it is the outcry of an already-existing problem from youth whose worldviews have been shaped by experiencing deep economic inequalities divided largely along racial lines.

To Blanchard, the ideology that surrounds such music is grounded by the socio-economic and political events that have culminated to breed meaning and form to it. As such, these artists are, according to Bate Besong in an interview with Pierre Fandio, “…saddled with numerous problems that include the personal, the social, the economic and the political.” For this reason, these hip-hop artists have engaged in the business of alternative literature; that which seeks remedies for their socio-political phenomena. Besong describes this type of art in the following words:

The alternative literature that we write, with apologies to no one, is people-oriented, and this entails a dialectical approach of looking at society from the materialistic angle, and unearthing the contradictions which bring about discrimination, injustice exploitation and marginalisation in {the African} society…we question those in authority. We know that under a dictatorship, a nation dies…

 

In Cameroon, the language of hip-hop has been rechristened as what is referred today as ‘rap mboa.’ Rap mboa is a mixture of English and French (Camfranglais) known to have been popularized by Koppo, (as well as others before him) in his track ‘Si tu vois ma go’ (If you see my girl). This has provided the Cameroonian hip-hop artists with a new identity and uniqueness in the rap industry. To better comprehend this, we get details from an Interview by Amber Murrey with Cameroonian Rap-Reggae Artist, Soumalek:

Le rap mboa means African rap. From the beginning, my rhythm was ‘hard core’ rap, this was when I was still performing with Core Supreme. As I developed, I wanted to get away from the American style and develop more of a Cameroonian genre – what we call the ‘rap mboa’. It is a rap genre adapted with local techniques: The sounds of the forest, tam-tams, the ndjimbé, the guitar. We use our languages: Pidgin, different patwas and Camfranglais…We sing for everyone. We sing for the young. We sing for the party, we sing to deliver messages, we sing to provide solutions to problems that we see, we sing to encourage the youth. To valorize women, children, to promise peace, to provide advice, particularly to those who practice corruption. We sing for women; for the mother of humanity. It is not to provoke, but it is also the law of show business. We try to give messages that would make God proud…

Valsero (Cameroon) and 2Face Idibia and eLDee (Nigeria) are, in my opinion, insightful and I take this platform to declare their music as alternative literature— that which has ‘apologies to no one.’ Their language is culturally inclined as it relates to their audience: Camfranglais, Pidgin English, Igbo or Yoruba respectively. These artists’ microphones speak of bravery and truth in a plethora of ways but most especially, they expose the politics and socio-economic sectors which I am very much interested in.

Politically Speaking

Cameroonian hip-pop is politically engaged and rhetorically speaks for the people. It is considered as the mouthpiece of the masses. Its vulgar figurative language serves as a therapeutic weapon to expose the societal ills that contribute to the decay of the nation. In the same Besongian line of thought, Eustace Palmer in ‘Social Comment in the West African Novel’, considers these alternative African social artist as not only being instructive but also corrective. To him, “…the African writer’s/(artist’s) role has therefore changed slightly from being merely educational to being corrective. Several are making use of their unique privilege to point out their countries’ ills and suggest alternative lines of conduct.” (219) this is exactly what ‘le rap mboa’ portrays as Soumalek has clearly expressed in his interview – “to provide solutions to problems that we see”. In most parts of Africa, music has generally been used by the new generation as a tool to deride the political maladjustments that prevail in their societies. In a thesis titled The Role of Rap/Hip Hop Music in the Meaning and Maintenance of Identity in South African Youth, Dror Cohen supports this claim as he contends: “Music was also often used in the past to creatively object to the racial inequalities that were enforced in South Africa. However a large majority of youth music in South Africa began receding from protest politics as its defining feature after apartheid.” (25) To Cohen, rap/hip-hop is a valuable tool for the youth of South Africa to portray their cultural identity and, as a platform for political struggle.

This is exactly the visionary standpoint that Valsero maintains in his music. In one of his songs, titled ‘Lettre au President’, Valsero, from the French speaking part of Cameroon confidently takes the bold step with an aggressive microphone to address the President in his letter. His infuriated letter reminds the President of being on the throne for three decades already. Valsero reminds him of his promises of “les grandes ambitions”— promises that had never and do not seem to yield any fruits for the youth, the “theoretical” leaders of tomorrow. Valsero is desperately in need of answers. He poses a handful of rhetorical questions— why, after a long period as a student, doesn’t he have a job? Why are things not going on well with the youth? Why is there an excessive rate of brain-drain in Cameroon? Why is a 16 year-old-girl selling drugs? Why are young people’s future and dreams deferred? He openly blames the President for the ills that prevail in Cameroon “Presi, le Cameroun va mal…le responsible c’est toi”. (Presi, Cameroon is erroneous…you are responsible.) For all his worries and questions, which he still gets no answer, he advises the President to retire and give way to another person who has a better vision and a declared objective for the nation and for the youth as he boldly puts it: “Presi.., arrête ça …” (‘Presi, stop this). As if to ignore the cry of these destitute youth, the president vehemently gives a deaf ear to them. But Valsero composes a second letter to him titled “Réponds”. He questions the president’s silence to the problems of the youth and yearns for their own chance and dialogue with him: “Tu as eu ta chance, donne nous la notre” (You have had your chance, give us ours). His engagement on the problems of the youth in Cameroon is well renowned in another title ‘Ce pays tue les Jeunes’. He lambasts the old white-haired political figures that hold tight to the system and never give way to the qualified youth to partake in nation building. In ‘La Corruption’, Valsero metaphorically relates corruption in Cameroon to an apocalyptic end; metaphorically considering it as a cankerworm to the economy, and with such a system, only one thing is certain— doom, end time and decay. In his depiction of a society on the brink of suicide, Valsero has created a deeply disturbing picture of the foibles of a decadent political system in Cameroon as he proposes the need for power change, expert governance and socio-political reforms that design a favorable nation for its growing and ambitious youth.

Socially Speaking

2Face Idibia is considered worldwide as one of the leading hip-hop artists and entertainers in the contemporary African music scene. Coming from grass to grace, his songs are socially appealing; identifying himself with the downtrodden and the have-nots; speaking for them and taking their bullets. His release of the song ‘Man Unkind’ springs the necessity to raise awareness on the menace of fake and sub-standard drug products in Nigeria. The issues he raises in this song are rampant in almost all parts of Africa as fake and sub-standard medicines are sold in pharmacies, streets, and buses. Being a social critic, 2Face’s song provides a fundamental rhetorical question: “what type of world is this where man is so unkind to man.” As he laments the death of his very good friend, who dies from consuming fake drugs he, in intrepidly evokes the need for a change of mentality from such shameful and reprehensible practices. He penetratingly christens such perpetrators as “silent murderers, children killers, grave diggers, innocent people snipers, mass murderers, soul robbers, dream shatterers, heartless brother or sister, inconsiderate bagger” who kill just to make a Naira. His song ends with a profound message for these perpetrators: “Think about it.” Ultimately, he is providing them with another chance to change their ways by stopping these malevolent practices and to safe mankind.

eLDee has also stepped onto the contemporary African music scene with a socially conscious muse, speaking for the youth, the future of the nation and about the social structure of the rich/poor binary opposition that has constantly divided and redefined the African landscape with nations where the rich get richer and the poor permanently get poorer. eLDee is inspired by Nelson Mandela and he quotes him, saying: “There can be no keener revelation of a society than the way it treats its children” . In his song “One Day”, he takes Martin Lurther’s spirit of an aspiring and fruitful future for the African youth. eLDee opens his song with this vital quotation: “I have a dream that one day the children of this great nation will look forward to a much brighter future; one day we will fully utilize the resources of this great nation to its full potential…I have a dream.”

He intensely critiques the Nigerian rulers who have betrayed their citizens: the same guys (politicians), bearing “the same lies, same breed and same greed,” who kill those who dare ask questions. Very interesting is the question of lack of electricity, health and education that eLDee raises in this song: “cos if light no dey, generator must sell, and if you get gen, you must buy fuel, and to buy fuel no be small matter…now how small child supposed to fight sickness; if for hospital drugs no dey…now our education don di fall short, all skilled worker just want to comot.” The Niger Delta produces millions of barrels of oil a day and is known worldwide as the oil power of Africa; the country has a satellite; yet, its citizens still live on generators, with no electricity, no good healthcare, no food to eat, no common accommodation and poor wages for its skilled workers, that is why they prefer to migrate to Europe and America for greener pastures. He openly says in “I go yarn” that he does not care but to speak his mind; to let the politicians be aware of their roles as leaders and not as corrupt rulers. In his Yoruba language and in a very lyrical figurative style, he laments: “O ma shey, O ma shey! O ma shey, O ma shey! ilu ta gbe ta tin gbadun tele ; lawa d’ eni to toro je” Translated as: “It’s a pity, It’s a pity. The country that once basked in abundance, now we are beggars”

According to this artist, the Nigerian system is not sustainable. However, he believes that: “One day … one day, e go better for naija, money go circulate, light go dey,” and most importantly, the basic amenities will be available and there will be no reason to ‘comot naija’ (emigrate from Nigeria); and he wishes that this hopeful ‘one day’ were to be today.

For such change to take place, the afore mentioned contemporary artists propose the necessity to say NO to the corrupt system, as well as the urgent commencement of mind changing and constructive thinking in Africa, and this is where their music comes in as a weapon of change.

 

Sources

Blanchard, Becky. The Social Significance of Rap and Hip-hop Culture. EDGE (Ethics of Developent in a Global Environment) Available at http://www.stanford.edu/class/e297c/poverty_prejudice/mediarace/socialsignificance.htm July 26, 1999. (Assessed on 19/03/2013)

Cohen, Dror “The role of Rap/Hip-hop Music in the Meaning and Maintenance of Identity in South African Youth” Master thesis: University of Witswatersrand, Johannesberg, June, 2008. Available at http://wiredspace.wits.ac.za/bitstream/handle/10539/6628/The_role_of_rap_-_Final_Edit__2__BB.pdf?sequence=1 (Assessed on 19/03/2013)

Davey D. “Why Is Rap So Powerful”. Davey D’s Hip-Hop Corner. http://www.daveyd.com/whyrapispowerart.html. 20/03/2013.

Jones, Arthur Morris. Studies in African Music. 2 vols. London: New York, 1978.

Palmer, Eustace. “Social Comment in the West African Novel”: Studies in the Novel. 4.2 (1972: Summer) P. 218

Pierre Fandio. Anglophone Cameroon Literature at Crossroads: An Interview with Dr. Bate Besong: Research Group on Africa and Diaspora Imaginary/GRIAD, University of Buea, Cameroon; In Africultures No 60, September, 2004. Available at  http://www.africultures.com/index.asp?menu=revue_login&no=3510&gauche=1 (Accessed on Feb. 20, 2013) »

http://politicsinspires.org/2012/10/le-rap-mboa-conversations-on-cameroonian-rap-and-politics/ Posted on October 2, 2012 by Amber Murrey(Accessed on Feb. 10, 2013)

 

Rene Nyah Yong holds a B.A (Hons) in English/Linguistics and an M.A (Hons) in African Literature from the University of Buea, Cameroon, and is now pursuing an M.A degree in English, Literature and Culture at Freie Universität, Berlin, Germany

[Conversation] Joyce Ashuntantang: Foreign Publishers Determine the Nature of our Stories

 

“As long as foreign publishers remain the mid-wives of our stories, they will keep determining the nature of these stories.” Joyce Ashuntantang

 

Interviewed by Dibussi Tande

 

In 2009, Joyce Ashuntantang published a book titled Landscaping Postcoloniality: The Dissemination of Anglophone Cameroon Literature which Bernth Lindfors describes as the “most comprehensive study of Anglophone Cameroon literature that has been published to date”. In the book, Dr. Ashuntantang, who teaches literature at Hillyer College, University of Hartford, USA, demonstrates that contrary to widespread belief, literature from the English-speaking part of Cameroon is alive and well, in spite of a host of obstacles that have slowed its development and reduced its international visibility. In this interview, Dr. Ashuntantang discusses her ground-breaking book and the state of Anglophone Cameroon literature with Dibussi Tande.

 

 

 

DT: To the man in the street, a viable literature is one that produces many books and has writers of repute. Rarely does dissemination enter into the equation. Can you explain why/ how dissemination is equally, if not more important, in assessing the viability of a national literature?

JA: It is not that dissemination is more important in assessing the viability of national literature. The point I make in my book is that the way a book is disseminated influences the way it is received by readers. For example, African literary works published by multinational companies are disseminated internationally and so the works also receive international acclaim, while works that are published and disseminated locally do not get known widely no matter how good they are.

If dissemination is the key to the development and sustainability of a literature, can we really argue as you have done that Anglophone literature is vibrant?

Yes it is vibrant. The point I make is that while judging African literature, we should not only look at works that are coming out of international distribution channels. As Buma Kor puts it      “ the way to know about all the literature of Africa is to know the different writings from different parts of Africa, the distinctive characteristics embodied in all writings from country to country or region to region. It is not grouping them together, but singling them out, analyzing the different themes problems, styles, messages”.                                                                                                                                            

In a recent interview, novelist Patrice Nganang argued that Cameroonian literature does not belong to Cameroonians because the copyrights to major Cameroonian literary works are owned by European and American publishers. He adds that we cannot develop a sustainable literature which serves as the foundation of our collective memory under these circumstances. Is this also your view?

Certainly. The problem even goes beyond copyrights. As long as foreign publishers remain the mid-wives of our stories, they will keep determining the nature of these stories.

What then is the role of Cameroonian publishers such as Editions Cle, Patron Publishers, and Langaa in this regard? Will the problem of sustainability and (re)appropriation of our literature be resolved by simply having more Cameroonian authors publishing locally or through partnerships between local and foreign publishers?

Of course, no one is an island – a viable partnership is the way forward. Local publishers have to network with foreign publishers for wider distribution. For example, Langaa has networked with Africa Book Collective, so works published by Langaa are distributed in the USA by Michigan State University Press and in the UK by Africa Book Collective.

What role can an English language university such as the University of Buea play in ensuring that literary works by Anglophone Cameroonians become part of our collective memory, our literary consciousness?

I have proposed that the University of Buea library should become a depositary/archive for Anglophone Cameroon literature. You know, the University of Buea provides an all-Anglophone academic environment which engenders a sense of identity. Buea itself is quite a historic town as the capital of former Southern Cameroon and is considered the unofficial capital of Anglophone Cameroons. The Government Archives in Buea could also perform this role, but it is expected that a university archive will be relatively free from Government bureaucracy and the vagaries of national politics.

In your book, you argue that “Anglophone Cameroon publishers do not treat books as commercial commodities”. What exactly do you mean by this?

Books are meant to be sold and if publishers expect to make this business lucrative, then they have to put marketing strategies in place. In fact, before delving into publishing, publishers must at least investigate their immediate market to determine the size of their audience. They have to determine their distribution chain to work out in advance the publicity strategy for their commodity. Publishers must attempt to determine where their potential readers are located and put the books within their reach. For example, Cyprian Ekwensi argues that “Our culture recognizes retailing as hawking. If that will be the final answer to making our people read more books, then books must be hawked”.

You also highlight the disconnect between writers, booksellers and the reading public, which further hampers the availability and dissemination of published works in Anglophone Cameroon. Is there a feasible solution to this problem?

The solution is cooperation between the writers, booksellers and readers. Booksellers and readers are important elements of the book chain. Therefore there has to be a thriving relationship between these two. Booksellers are established intermediaries through which readers can get the books they desire.  In order to boost reading, booksellers must publicize the materials they own and stocking items readers are interested in. In Cameroon where writers usually fund their own publishing ventures, they have to assist the booksellers in initiating this publicity.

You seem to place high value on an author’s manuscript, although the layman’s view is that a published work is much more important than the manuscript on which it is based. What exactly is the literary value of a manuscript when the work is already published?

You see, written literature depends on effective record keeping. Literary texts and biographical information need to be preserved not only to keep the text for posterity but to help in reconstructing accurate editions of texts and literary biographies. For example, fifty years from now, when scholars are attempting to edit the complete works of Bate Besong they will find it extremely difficult to establish accurate texts for Beast of Nation, (just one example of his published work with a number of typographical errors) if none of the author’s manuscript and none of the publisher’s proofs are available for study. In my book I give the example on page 19 of Beast of No Nation, some copies have “Agbada go crisis come” while others have “Agbada go trouble come”. “Crisis” and “Trouble” are similar but their connotations are different. Which is the authentic version? Did the writer change it during another print run or is it an error from the publisher’s end? These are interesting questions that can only be answered with the help of a manuscript or publisher’s proof.

One of the most fascinating sections of your work is the chapter that deals with literary canonization in Anglophone African literature. Can you shed light on what you mean by canonization?

Literary Canonization is the process by which some works are selected and preferred, while others are marginalized and neglected. My argument is that the way Things Fall Apart, the first modern African literary text was published and disseminated pretty much established the dissemination pattern for African literature. In fact this novel shaped the criteria used in judging” worthy” texts of African literature as a whole.

In your work you explain that Heinemann’s African Writers Series and its pioneer editor, Chinua Achebe, were instrumental in determining which books became part of the African literary canon, and that these books and authors still hold sway over African literature in spite of the emergence of second and third generation writers who are as good as, and if not better, than many of the first generation writers. Is it possible to rewrite or redefine the canon of African literature to accommodate later generations of African writers?

The canon is slowly changing. At least it now includes African women writers like Buchi Emecheta, Tsi-Tsi Dangaremgba, Assia Djebar to name a few, and of course some younger writers like Chimamanda Adichie are being read, but you must understand that African literature is also trapped in the same postcolonial web like African nations. So the strings that control canon formation in African literature are controlled from the west and it will take more than publishers or authors to influence an effective shift.

What do you make of the news that Penguin will launch the Penguin African Writers’ Series in August 2009 with Chinua Achebe as its Editorial Adviser, and that the series inaugural six books will include Achebe’s Girls at War and Ngugi wa Thiong’o's Weep Not, Child? Isn’t history repeating itself all over at the expense of newer writers?

Well History may be repeating itself, but I will use King Solomon’s wisdom here not to divide the child and kill it. Any opportunity to showcase African literature is welcomed. The idea behind Penguin’s project is to re-publish the African Literature classics originally published by Heinemann. Some of these works have been out of print for so long and I welcome any opportunity that makes them available in book stores. The problems of publishing and dissemination of African literature run deep and will not be solved if Penguin were to scrap this project.

Some have argued that Penguin and African literature would have been better served by selecting a young writer from today’s generation able to “understand the pulse of their generation in the same way that Achebe understood what was necessary when he was in charge of the African writers series”… 

Achebe is going to be an Editorial adviser, but I believe he will be working with younger editors. However I applaud Achebe’s appointment because he more than any other African, understands the politics that control writing. If you read his essays collected in Morning Yet on Creation Day, Hopes and impediments and Home and Exile, you will find that these essays still frame African literature even in the context of today. I had the rare opportunity to interview Achebe last year on the 50th anniversary of his classic, Things Fall apart and this living legend still exudes wisdom in a prophetic manner.

A lot has been written and said about the negative role that western publishers have played in stifling African literature or alienating it from the people. Isn’t it possible to make the argument that the African/Cameroonian state has played an equally nefarious role by ignoring that literature, keeping it off the streets, and locking it up within what poet Kangsen Wakai has described as the “tyrannical walls of academia”? 

The fact that African literature is tied to academia is not limited to Africa or Cameroon. However the way African readers associate African literature with school examinations goes back to the fact they were introduced to this literature in the classroom. My research on Cameroon literature documented in my book shows that most readers out of school indicate an interest in popular literature, therefore Anglophone Cameroon writers have to write for this group of readers to balance the types of books available for reading. It is true there has always been a debate whether low brow literature should be encouraged, but research in many countries has shown that only 10 percent of all adults read serious literature.

In April 2009, the University of Yaounde hosted what was arguably the most important conference on Cameroon literature in over two decades. One striking aspect of the conference was a complete absence of discussions and papers on Cameroon Anglophone literature in the Diaspora. Doesn’t this prove that claims of the vibrancy of Anglophone Cameroon Literature in the Diaspora are highly exaggerated? Can a literature that is unknown or shunned be considered vibrant? 

Well, it was not a total absence because there was a paper by Babila Mutia on two short stories by Makuchi; The Healer and Your Madness, Not Mine. Anyway, I don’t think writing from the Diaspora is shunned. The works are simply not available in Cameroon or are not known. Take for example Makuchi’s fascinating collection of short stories, Your Madness, Not Mine: Stories of Cameroon. This work is not available in Cameroon and I bet you Professor Mutia must have picked up a copy of this work during one of his visits to the USA. Also take the more than fifty works published by Langaa; these are not yet available in Cameroon in bookstores because Langaa prints out of Cameroon. I know this is a problem Langaa hopes to rectify soon and once this is done, Cameroonians in Cameroon can start reading and critiquing these works.

Back to the issue of sustainability and collective memory. The poet Wirndzerem Barfee has lamented that in Cameroon, writers are not accorded the same status and even privileges like footballers (medals, financial incentives, audiences with the head of state after international awards, etc.). Patrice Nganang, on the other hand, sees no problem with this, arguing that unlike football, literature does not need instant and ephemeral adulation and an obsessive presence on TV because sustaining and developing a literature is a long term intellectual endeavor. What is your own take on this?

I believe that medals, financial incentives and public recognition in themselves do not make a writer or keep his name for posterity; however, these are all aspects that help to sell books. If a writer is visible in the public eye most likely his works will be visible too. Visibility is the stuff on which the canon feeds.

There is a “nationalist” school of thought which postulates that by advocating for a distinct “minority Anglophone literature” separate from the general Cameroon literature, Anglophone writers, scholars and critics are inadvertently locking up Anglophone literature in a literary ghetto, and are developing a laager mentality which hinders the growth of that literature…

I don’t believe so. Understanding Anglophone Cameroon literature only helps in understanding Cameroon literature as a whole. According to that argument, we may as well just talk of African literature and no Cameroon or Nigerian literature. Today we hear of Yoruba studies or Igbo studies, so how do these hinder Nigerian or African studies? Whenever someone tries to suppress another person’s identity for whatever reason I become highly suspicious.

Thank you for the insightful answers.

[Commentary] Anglophone Cameroon Literature: the Travails of a Minority Literature

[Part 1]

Oscar C. Labang

For a very long time now, I have struggled with inner pressures not to join in this theoretical quibbling about Anglophone Cameroon Literature and just content my soul in a quiet corner and make my modest contributions (whatsoever) to projecting it to the heights that it deserves. I have tried not to enter the debate but to use the usually very informative and enthusiastic arguments to develop something.

This escape is somewhat part of my upbringing. My father was a teacher with a Psychology (Education) background and he often thought me that life is made better by doing your share to the best of your ability not by asking who has not done their share. It is pretty interesting how boyhood scolding can resurface now. As much as I try to avoid asking the questions, it seems the critical effort just like its seismic half never goes away when you want. Consequently, I have chosen to develop a series of short follow-up essays on what is clipping the wings of Anglophone Cameroon Literature (ACL). Evidently, I am plucking my immediate inspiration from Dibussi Tande’s interesting and cogent argument titled Soaring with “Clipped Wings”: Anglophone Cameroon Literature on the Move.

The truth is that we are soaring. But the question is Can we soar better and higher than we are already doing? My answer is a quick and strong affirmation. Then, my research question follows: what is clipping our wings or stopping us from achieving these higher heights? As of this moment, two defining causes have come to mind— what I term lack of apologists and academic gangsterism. In this essay I will be concerned with the lack of apologists as a factor that prevents a minority literature from soaring very high.

Lack of Apologists

Anglophone Cameroon Literature (ACL) can comfortably be classified under Minority Literature. The definition and very nature of this literature justifies this position. No Minority Literature can survive without apologists. It needs critics who are dedicated to writing, commenting, reviewing and critiquing this literature in other to give it currency in the literary market place. It needs Journals, Reviews, Newsletters, Blogs and Notebooks dedicated to the publishing of any “trash” written about this literature. It needs writers’ associations, literary interest groups, genre associations/clubs, and literary pressure groups. It needs awards and prizes, honors and rewards. It needs conferences, symposia, readings, writers meetings, cafés, discussion and workshops. Anglophone Cameroon Literature is deficient in much of these.  

The first proof of life and need for survival of a minority literature like ours is the need for a band of individuals who are dedicated to writing, commenting, reviewing and critiquing this literature in other to give it currency in the literary market place. The absence of reviews, commentary, and critique of a literature in the market place of literary culture is a clear indication that such a literature does not exist. Literature exists when people read it, mock it, play with it, evaluate it and celebrate it. When I talk about dedicated individuals, I mean people who love this literature for the sake of the literature and not out of need for promotion in the academia, or to achieve a particular political goal or as a favour to a colleague, or need for friendship.

Writing academic papers on a literature is the surest way of exposing that literature to a world of scholarship. But the problem with the way it is handled in ACL is what leads to problems. Much of academic writing on ACL is not born out of genuine love for the literature or the work in question but out of what I call “academic gangsterism”, which I will discuss in a later part. This attitude which presupposes that you belong to the academia to have your work read and interpreted by a scholar is a stifling attitude in ACL. I dare to borrow Guattari’s phrase to call this tendency “powerful signs which massacre desire.” (qtd. in What is A Minority Literature, 13). It massacres the desires of the writer who does not belong to the academia, as well as massacres the desires of readers who look to academic scholars to recommend beautiful works to them for consumption.

Many essays have blamed the Cameroon public for not reading ACL. The public has a reason, and a good one for the matter. The public does not have critics or reviewers or commentators who can tell them which book is good, for what reason and why. Let me give you a practical example; I read Bole Butake’s The Rape of Michelle as a secondary school student because I had heard waves about the great playwright at the University of Yaounde 1; then read Epie Ngome’s What God Has Put Asunder as a freshman, (thanks to Mbuh T. Mbuh who kept talking about this great play, and later flushed it down our throats against our desires. He had a good cause!!!). Besides these two playwrights whose other works I read for personal vanity, the others have been Bate Besong and John N. Nkengasong.

More than a decade after, it still lingers in my subconscious that these are the only readable playwrights. WHY? The answer is simply, the critics who projected these works to the masses and students have either turned to academic gangsterism or have given up the supreme task they took or have simply remained parochial. This means that Mathew Takwi, John Ngongkum Ngong, K.K Bonteh and the host of other playwrights I do not know have to sing their own songs. God forbid that the writer becomes the spokesperson of his own work.

Critics, reviewers, commentators etc cannot exist without a means of getting the word out to the public. This is what brings the medium of publication to the forefront of how a minority literature needs to survive. Every minority literature needs Journals, Reviews, Newsletters, Blogs and Notebooks dedicated to the publishing of any “Trash” written about this literature. I have chosen to call it trash because a sophisticated name will limit the ability to comment or review to a limited group. Not everybody can write a scientific paper but everybody (including those given with the rear fine power to write scientific paper) can write Trash. But as far as I am concerned, trash is not Trash, because technology has given room for continuous recycling which in turn has given value to trash. Can you remember “Trashy” literature that now has a place of its own in world bibliographic literary data? Think about Onitsha Market Literature, if you want to know its international status visit the University of Kansas Library or just google Onitsha Market Literature. That is the power that such a medium of publication can bring to Trash in an age like this.

What happened to The Mould? Was it just one of the ladders? What happened to The Mongo Review? Did it die to prefigure the collapse of the bridge or the union? And most recently, (to my own very Kang) what happened to Palapala? (Let me tell you why I prefer to call you Kang, instead of Kangsen. In my village the kang, is the name of the leading juju, i.e. the captain). I, like others, have always seen/respected you as the leading online magazine personality in Cameroon literature because some of the most provocative essays of our time on our literature featured in Palapala; some of the finest pieces of art and poetry were published in Palapala until the morning I read your farewell note, (which I decided not to talk about it then because I was angry). There is not a single journal on Cameroon Literature; there is only one review (The Ngoh-Kuoh Review), there is only one magazine now (Bakwa Magazine), there is only one blog (Cameroon Literature in English) and one Personal journal (La Bang), there is an open column (Up Station Mountain Club),there are no Newsletters, and no Notebooks.

How can a minority literature with such limited representation be known or take its place in the context of world literatures. So where is this literature talked about? In classrooms and amphitheatres? In very limited and skeptical ways. In literary circles? None exists beyond the KIF /Miraclaire monthly poetry reading (Café). In beer parlors? No, there is much politics to talk about. So where then? NOWHERE!

So why are we so conspicuously absent, or do I say insignificantly present on the techno-media landscape. An outsider may be tempted to say that it is because we don’t write. Such an outsider will be right if we go by the amount of exposure our works – single poems, collections, plays, short stories, novels and criticism – have nationally and internationally. On the contrary, we do a lot of writing. The main problem is that Anglophone Cameroon writers still revere writing and publication. What I mean here is that we still think parochially that our works need to be published in international magazines and journals. We still believe that great literature is that which is published out of Cameroon; we still think that online magazines are not worthy channels to publish our works; we still think that the magazines, reviews and journals run by Cameroonians are not academically sound enough to publish our works. The issue is not with the qualification of the person who manages the review or journal or column or newspaper; the issue is the quality of the work.

For example, this year The Ngoh-Kuoh Review submitted some short stories for the 2012 Caine Prize, those short stories will be judged not on the strength of the Review but on the creativity of the story-tellers. The stories might not win or even be shortlisted but the judges go home knowing that entries came from Cameroon this year. That might be the beginning of their interest in that literature as a whole.

If we must soar higher than we are already doing then we need to break out of this narrow-minded reverence of our works; break away from the sentimental attachment we have with our works. A good example of a poet who is breaking out in daring ways is Wirndzerem G. Barfee who has the courage to share part of his work in progress on Facebook. The commentary that followed might seem insignificant but you can never tell what it did to the imagination of those who read the poems. Some writers fear plagiarism. What? So out of the millions of poems online only yours can be plagiarized? Well, I do not deny the possibility; I just think that it is too slim a possibility. Joyce Ashutantang’s blog has readings/performances of her poems. I am yet to hear that they have been plagiarized. Let us loosen-up the grip on our works if we have to be present on the world’s stage.

As a minority literature, ACL needs writers’ associations, literary interest groups, genre associations/clubs, and literary pressure groups to carve out avenues for its propagation. The Anglophone Cameroon Writers’ Association (ACWA) is definitely the body that should play this role. When Nkengasong, like the biblical Prophet Ezekiel breathe life into the dry bones of ACWA, I am sure this is what he had in mind. These dry bones have grown to a skinny creature that lacks sufficient flesh and energy to carry itself along successfully. Also, this is the only writers’ association that exists or that comes out fully and that is why too much is expected of it. Why is there no Anglophone Cameroon Female Writers’ Association? Are there no female writers? Why are there no literary Cliques? Why are there no Novelists, or Poets, or Playwrights Associations (genre associations)? I know there is a young writers’ association (or something of the sort) in Bamenda and the Yaounde University Poetry Club (which is gradually gaining ground again after a long hibernation). The absence of such groups beside ACWA has a deadening effect on ACL.

The very existence of ACWA is a threat to such other associations. Efforts to create such associations are interpreted as attempts to secede from ACWA, especially if the founder is a member of ACWA. It is clear that ACWA alone cannot organize all the activities, events and readings that can sufficiently project ACL. The online group CAMLIT is a good example of the kind of grouping I am talking about. The unfortunate thing however is that CAMLIT functions more like a dysfunctional ex-student network. What happened to the lofty plans – the journal, the reviewers network, the mentoring/coaching and all what not that we happily aligned with? The answer, my friends, is not blowin’ in the wind. It is hidden in the corridors of our minds.

The existence of the above mentioned groups will bring about new awards and prizes, honors and rewards as well as conferences, symposia, readings, writers meetings, café, discussion and workshops. From the 1994 Yaounde Workshop to 2012, it is almost two decades during which nothing has been done or said about ACL. The annual or biannual meetings proposed in the CAMLIT forum would have given ACL a dimension and projection that is unimaginable.  Individual papers have been presented in conferences and published in journals or conference proceedings but to pull writers and critics together has proven to be a very difficult task. Is it that it is so difficult a thing to do? I really do not think so. We simply do not have the will.

Presently, there are less than five (5) literary awards and prizes. In fact there is the EduArt Award, and the Eko Foundation/ACWA Award. These are prestigious awards with the potential needed to project ACL to glistering pedestals. The very funny thing about these awards is that the same Anglophone Cameroon Writers for whom these awards are created are skilled at second-guessing the awards or organizers. I know international awards in the US with cash prizes as low as $100 U.S. So what makes us think that awards of 50.000 FRS or 100.000 FRS in Cameroon are small or that recognition certificates are not enough? I am not denying anyone the power of criticism but what is the function of criticism at the present time (to rephrase Matthew Arnold). One is left with the impression that we think that art will be the source of existence for the artist. While we cannot completely dismiss the fact, we must acknowledge those who make the effort to offer awards of any nature – they are vital to the growth and recognition of our literature.

The popular saying in my village and in much of the grass-field of the North West Region of Cameroon goes thus “if you don’t clap for your own juju, who then do you expect to clap for it”. This points to the fact that we are the ones to champion the cause of our literature if we want it to get to the heights where other minority literatures are. We must be dedicated not only in writing, or in inflating our personal egos but in a communal effort to give a louder voice to Anglophone Cameroon Literature. As promised, in the follow-up (part 2) I will discuss Academic Gangsterism as a major force that clips the wings of our literature.

Oscar C. Labang is winner of the Bernard Fonlon Poetry Competition (2005) and author of This is Bonamoussadi (Poetry), The trial of Bate Besong (Drama),” “The Visit (Short Story), Riot in the Mind (Criticism), and Editor of Emerging Voices: Anthology of Young Anglophone Cameroon Poets. He lives in Kansas.