Caine Prize: Eyes on shortlisted stories
In 2013, the Caine Prize for African Literature (worth £10,000) recorded one of its most intriguing contests when it had a final shortlist of five that included four Nigerians and a Sierra Leonian. They were Elnathan John, Tope Folarin (who emerged winner), Abubakar Adam Ibrahim, Chinelo Okparanta, and the Sierra Leonian, Pede Hollist. This year, […]
In 2013, the Caine Prize for African Literature (worth £10,000) recorded one of its most intriguing contests when it had a final shortlist of five that included four Nigerians and a Sierra Leonian. They were Elnathan John, Tope Folarin (who emerged winner), Abubakar Adam Ibrahim, Chinelo Okparanta, and the Sierra Leonian, Pede Hollist. This year, it’s almost a replay with three Nigerians on the list, namely Nneka Lesley Arimah, Chikodili Emelumadu, Arinze Ifeakandu, Bushra al-Fadil (Sudan), and Magogodi Makhene (South Africa).
Arimah’s ‘Who Will Greet You at Home’
I have never read anything like this and wondered, from the beginning till the very end, what it really was about. Nneka Lesley Arimah is the same writer who was Africa regional winner of 2015 Commonwealth Short Story Prize and this story is completely unlike anything she has written. Was she trying to show the superstitious belief of a time, when mothers first made artificial babies, crafted with mud or thread or yarn, in anticipation of giving birth? Would the way the ‘fake’ child looked, strong or weak, determine the strength or weakness of an expected offspring? So I waited, meeting Ogechi, the central character, and thrilled by how important it was for her to make a baby that will make her mother and everybody else proud. She worked at Mama Said Emporium for a woman called Mama, who had two assistants. It seemed a thing of pride to practically make your own child, and Ogechi had never made a child who had won people’s praise. It was a tradition to sing for mothers, who expected the child to grow and flourish. But after failing over and over again, Ogechi made a child with the hair of customers. This was where I began to sense something mythical and supernatural. Earlier I suspected plain superstition, but this was too much-her child became a monster. So, I was struck, more, by the uniqueness and creativity behind this tale than how much I enjoyed it.
Emelumadu’s ‘Bush Baby’
Growing up, I heard a lot about bush babies. Many times, we were sure we heard them crying in the bush behind our house. I used to even picture them, walking and drooling. So Chikodili Emelumadu’s story was a rare thrill for me. I can’t remember when last I have thought about a bush baby, and here I was, taken back in time. So I liked the way the story began, with great suspense, when Okechukwu, the central character’s ‘good-for-nothing’ brother visits her at night looking like a walking corpse. He’s not in a hurry to tell what’s chasing him, and this heightens the tension for me like crazy. Everything about him says there’s danger coming…and it does, darkness, strange sounds and then everything is back to normal again. They are left shaken and this goes on every night. What did Okwy do to deserve this chase by a, what, demon? What will it take to get him out of it? Is the risk he took stealing the bush baby’s prized possession worth it?
Fadil’s ‘The Story of the Girl Whose Birds Flew Away’
This tale runs like a maze and begins with a man awed by the sight of a girl he sees on the street. Obsessed, he follows her and a little girl she carries. Sometimes you wonder if indeed she was carrying anyone because of Bushra al Fadil’s delivery of this narrative. I was carried by the story, all the while trying to decipher what got him enamoured with the girl. Did she possess a kind of charm that made him follow, or was it just her beauty? Writers are becoming more and more creative, perhaps this is why there’s an actual drawing of the girl right where she’s described. So I follow the central character as he chases the girl who turns and questions his motives. It’s not a strange thing when a man makes a mission out of stalking a girl, but this poet does it well, and woos her with poetic lines. This is not an easy tale to grasp, but when a reader does (especially words like: I approached one of the piles and pulled out my queuing tools – an elbow and the palm of my hand – and then together they helped my legs to hold up my daily depleted and yearly defeated body.) it is totally arresting.
Ifeakandu’s ‘God’s Children Are Little Broken Things’
There weren’t quotation marks to indicate dialogue in this entire story, but it worked out beautifully. Using the second person narrative-fast becoming a favourite of mine-Arinze Ifeakandu narrates the love story of two young men. But the fact they were homosexuals, wasn’t apparent from the start (a good trick if you ask me), mainly because Lotanna’s (the central character) gender wasn’t. I only unravelled these bits when they almost had sex and Kamsi talked about his kissing encounter with one of his male friends. Don’t be misled, everything about this story was set for romance from the onset: how the two met, the fact that Kamsi was a keyboardist and their very first encounter. But it isn’t the kind of romance that gets them nods in their part of the world-Nigeria. Lotanna has a girlfriend and appears to love her, Kamsi is prayerful, a church goer who reads his Bible. How everything ends, is another tale entirely.
Makhene’s ‘The Virus’
This satire uniquely crafted by Magogodi oaMphela Makhene may not be your everyday story. Molded around South African history, it talks about the relationship between blacks and whites in that part of Africa and how they viewed each other. Written strictly without dialogue and more like an essay or the thoughts of the narrator, I found it difficult to follow, particularly because of the terms used. If you know much about South African history though, you may find this story an enjoyable read. All in all, I enjoyed it the least among the five.