‘I didn’t set out to be a whistle-blower with my novel’
Lola Akande is the author of two novels, ‘In Our Place’ and her most recent, ‘What it Takes,’ which tells the story of Funto and her decade-long ordeal to obtain a PhD from a fictional Nigerian university. The author herself holds a doctorate degree in English Literature from the University of Ibadan and teaches African […]
Lola Akande is the author of two novels, ‘In Our Place’ and her most recent, ‘What it Takes,’ which tells the story of Funto and her decade-long ordeal to obtain a PhD from a fictional Nigerian university. The author herself holds a doctorate degree in English Literature from the University of Ibadan and teaches African Literature in the Department of English, University of Lagos. In this deep and loaded interview, she talks about what pushed her to write this stirring novel, and how she thinks literature can be used to change the system, amongs many more issues. Enjoy!
Lola Akande, ‘What it Takes’ is your second novel. The first, ‘In Our Place’, focused on the ordeals of a graduate during the course of national youth service. This one focuses on the tribulations of a PhD Student. Is there a pattern that readers should look out for in your work?
No, I don’t think the readers should expect such a pattern. My first novel’s main subject is tribalism in Nigeria. ‘What It Takes’ is about the absence of true merit in tertiary institutions. What is common to both novels is that we have women as main characters and both of them have to struggle to overcome challenges.
Being very familiar with the university system, as a PhD holder yourself and a lecturer, how much of reality was infused in your work?
Well, what I have written is a work of fiction. However, fiction does not exist in a vacuum. Literature students are constantly reminded that fiction and reality are inseparable because literature is life. Fiction is a re-creation of reality and so imagination has continued to be shaped by reality. It probably wouldn’t have occurred to me to write about the challenges doctoral students, particularly, female doctoral students face in their efforts to earn a doctorate if I hadn’t walked that path. In every fictional work, there are elements of reality just as there are fictional elements in our real existence. The moments when we imagine ourselves or our loved ones saying or doing things to us, for example, the many times when we dream of accomplishing goals, and doing things some of which we end up not doing are fictional moments in our lives. So, in What It Takes, we have a situation in which absolute fiction engages reality in a traditional, familiar relationship.
What made you write this book, considering it would be a sort of whistle blowing from an insider? Did you consider the risks involved in writing this tell-all tale?
Well, I don’t know about whistle blowing and I didn’t set out to be a whistle blower. As a Nigerian, I have been at the receiving end of ethnic bigotry and I have seen people suffer undue hardship simply because they happen to come from particular parts of the same country. What is interesting, in my view, is that I had thought the ivory towers are insulated from the destructive tendencies of ethnicity and tribalism. I saw the universities not only as citadels of knowledge but also as solution centres where Nigerians could find solutions to all her problems including ethnicity. I imagined academics to be nearly super human beings, who, by virtue of their enormous knowledge and exposure, have been saved from the afflictions of tribalism, ethnicity, nepotism, favouritism, needy culture, and corruption. Because I am aware that education has a strong capacity to change the way we look at ourselves and the world, I thought academics are a different kind of people and that they are the people to look up to. Therefore, I wanted to be among the people that solve the nation’s problems. But I found out, sadly, that the Nigerian problem permeates every sector of Nigeria and that the trouble with Nigeria resides with every Nigerian, including me. So, I think we need to take ourselves and our situation more seriously.
What has been the reaction of your colleagues to the novel?
My colleagues are extremely excited about the novel. A good number of them have finished reading it. Some professors are already responding to the novel by writing academic articles which they intend to publish, while some of them are still reading. Colleagues from other universities have also been giving me feedback on their impressions of the novel. So, the reaction of my colleagues, particularly from my department has been very encouraging.
Is the novel in any way autobiographical?
I don’t know really, but I don’t think it is. There are many parts of the novel that do not bear the slightest resemblance to my own experience or the experience of anyone I know. In other words, these parts are a product of my imagination only. But, truthfully, there are aspects that are drawn from my personal experience as a PhD student. In writing about a subject with which you are very familiar, it is almost unavoidable that you would drop yourself from time to time, voluntarily and involuntarily.
In the pursuit of her PhD, your main character, Funto, is confronted by the many challenges that students in universities face such as nepotism, sex-for-grades (which in her case was sex for supervision) and demands for bribe. How do you think literature can play a role in sanitising the education system from these vices?
I believe literature can play a huge role in helping to sanitise the university system. Part of the responses I have got, for instance, has been, ‘oh Lola, your novel is so real.’ Now if we have this kind of belief about arts, about literature, that it depicts experiences and situations that are real and true to life, then, we are faced with the challenge of not wanting to be like some characters in the novel. If you take me as an example, if you believe I have written from the perspective of a student, that I have complained about some of the challenges students face in school, and that I have used the complaints to advocate for improvements, then, it becomes almost mandatory for me to want to take up the challenge, especially now as a university lecturer. It would be important for me to want to work harder at ensuring that my students do not face a similar situation that my character faces in my novel. And don’t think I do not know how herculean this could be for me as well and that is the reason why literature teaches us not to judge. In the first place, I’m human. I’m also a Nigerian. But the task to seek improvement is undeniable and it is a task worth pursuing. Similarly, the novel is in public domain and university authorities can be better educated about the challenges students face in the course of their academic pursuits, even the government ought not to feel unconcerned about these problems. My opinion is that if everybody, or, at least a good number of people as well as relevant authorities, institutions and the government could key into whatever value the novel has to offer, then, the role of literature and its relevance in making society better could be achieved. Fiction is not just a story, it is a social experience. Human societies have always been defined and redefined by its stories. Fictional works are transformative works. Fiction is powerful, it changes the world, and Nigeria cannot be unchangeable. It is my hope and prayer that ‘What It Takes’ will bring positive changes to degree-awarding processes in Nigerian universities.
Over the span of ten years it took for Funto to get her PhD she is transformed from someone obsessed with her looks to someone who has aged considerably. To what extent to you think the education system frustrates Nigerians who are desirous of obtaining better qualifications? How damaging is this for their psyche?
This problem is almost exclusive to PhD students and it is very damaging. An average PhD student in Nigeria is thoroughly drained of energy and enthusiasm by the time he achieves his goal. The damaging effect plays out at different levels. For some, it could be as bad as not having a chance to use the certificate to work because you might have become too old to be employable by any institution. There are age limits attached to all categories of job vacancies and if an individual spends more than a decade to obtain one certificate, then, there are possibilities of losing whatever chances that may exist in the employment market. Also, the damage could be emotional and psychological. Someone who spends too long a time trying to acquire a degree could experience self-doubt, low self-esteem, and depression. I didn’t attend my convocation ceremony, for instance, and it was largely because by the time I got the PhD, I no longer felt there was something to celebrate. My PhD journey was so tortuous that by the time I finished, I was content with knowing that the ordeal was over. I was in no mood for celebration.
That is quite sad. One thing that came through in your novel is the impression that other lecturers in the universities are aware of the way their colleagues abuse the system by exploiting students, why do you think lecturers still band together to support each other in abusing the system?
Well, some do, others don’t. For those who do, it is possible they do it in the spirit of camaraderie, a sense of being together. That’s my guess, I don’t think I know.
In her desperation, Funto resorts to all sorts of methods, including referring to spiritualists and shamans in a bid to get her PhD. From your experience both as a PhD student and a lecturer, would you say this is a common practice within the citadel of knowledge that the university is meant to be?
I would say this seems to be a common practice among the generality of Nigerians, and that contrary to what may be the expectation of many, the universities are no different. Across social classes and irrespective of our religious beliefs, many Nigerians tend to turn to religious charlatans and marabouts for solutions to real or imagined problems. It is sad and disheartening especially because it is illusory, but it seems to be our reality for now. Maybe we need to look for more practical approaches to trying to solve our problems.
One formidable character Funto comes across is the nepotistic Prof. Ephraim, who agrees to supervise her but then ends up frustrating her for years. What do you think leads to the existence of characters like this in the system?
I think it’s a complex problem really and there are many factors responsible, First, we have the human problem in the sense that we are all flawed and it only takes getting a little close to an individual to discover their own defects. So, I think my heroine’s professor has his problems; my character has hers as well. Two, in every human relationship, there is always a tendency for one party to want to take advantage of the other, how much they can go may depend on the situation and what the other party allows. In a master-servant relationship, the servant is at a disadvantage, and if the master is the type that enjoys taking undue advantage of another, then, there may be little or nothing the servant can do to their advantage. Another problem may be the loopholes in the university system, which I believe relevant authorities need to look into critically, for the sake of the system and society. I don’t think it’s good enough to permit individuals to hijack a system and run it according to their whims. There ought to be boundaries because all relationships have boundaries
At what moment did you decide that this is a story you simply had to tell? What was the defining moment for you?
The defining moment for me was after I completed the PhD and I engaged in a mental search for the purpose of my doctorate. I remember congratulating myself for what I told myself was a monumental achievement. Then, I wanted to know the purpose especially having gone through equally monumental anguish and suffering. I didn’t think the purpose was merely to teach since I had had the privilege of teaching even when I did not have a PhD. So, it was important for me to search for that singular purpose that could explain and somewhat justify the very difficult journey I had undertaken. Eventually, I arrived at what I thought may be the purpose. I concluded that maybe God wanted me to share the experience so that current and prospective PhD students may be saved from the kind of discouraging experience that I had, as a way of using literature to bring improvement to society.
As a teacher of African literature, what have been the most fascinating trends you have noticed about African literature?
The most fascinating trend about African literature, for me, is that Africans are getting more and more interested and involved in telling their own stories. The Western world have told their stories, we need to tell our own. They, that is, the Western world, have also attempted to tell our stories on our behalf, but we know the consequences, we have had misrepresentations based on ignorance and sometimes outright mischief. What is interesting now is that no one needs to tell our stories for us. We are good enough, we can do it, and we are doing it marvellously well, in my view.
And in the larger context of African literature, where would you situate literature from Nigeria? What makes it distinct from what the continent as a whole is producing?
What makes Nigerian literature distinct from what Africa as a whole produces is that there are elements that are authentically of particular ethnic groups historically and in terms of the mythologies of these ethnic groups. Now, the way Nigerian writers deal with these elements differ from the way that other Africans deal with mythologies and even the proverbs they have. A proverb that may be dealing with the forest environment will be different from a proverb that comes from a savannah environment but both of them are equally Nigerian. We have a fusion of different traditions which can be regarded as the Nigerian way of narration.
Concerning this debate about what African literature is, whether it is literature by Africans about Africa or literature about Africa by anyone, including none Africans. What is your take on this?
For me, African literature is literature about Africa, written by Africans.