All posts filed under: Books

On The Farafina Workshop

Published by Osemhen

The first thing I miss is waking up to memories of last night’s Smirnoffs. Waking up to the thought of breakfast with my literary kindred: litres of orange juice and mounds of French toast disappearing as we lament the fact that we have been irresponsible and not typed one sentence decent enough to be read in class, much less critiqued. Liars! I miss sitting in the Coaster bus, gossiping about our tutors as we wait for Buchi (perennial latecomer that she is) to prance downstairs so we can go for class. I miss posing for pictures. I miss how the room brightened when Chimamanda walked in bearing apples and Ferrero Rochers (because we were such great students 😀 ) I miss the laughter during lunch at the Lagos Resource Centre where we held our sessions from 10 am to 5 pm (sometimes 7). The workshop was many things. New friends. Self discovery. Surprises. I would find out that Chimamanda did not read the entry I sent in; someone sent her the link to one of …

A Really, Really, Really Brief Writing Workshop

Published by Osemhen

In a few weeks’ time, two writing workshops will begin. The first is organized by the Farafina Trust and hosted by Chimamanda Adichie. The second is organized by Fidelity Bank and hosted by Helon Habila. Understandably, not a few wannabe authors are anxious about being selected. The hosts are big names in the industry and for many people, yours truly included, the opportunity to interact with them is one to die for. Almost. The truth is that not everyone will get in. Sucks big time. Word on the street is that Farafina Trust received about four hundred applications. Only twenty people will get picked. Daunting odds. My stomach goes all funny at the thought of it. And so, to take my mind off it, I am reviewing everything I’ve learned about creative writing. If I don’t get in for either of the workshops (sigh), I’ll re-read John Gardner’s Art of Fiction and hope I get in next year. 🙂 So here goes. My mini creative writing workshop. I won’t say I’ve been faithful to them …

I Was Going To Write A Story (Really!)

Published by Osemhen

So I plugged in my trusty Azure (she’s a solid black HP, not blue like her name says), booted her up and opened a new page in MS Word. My story was quite a simple one. A love story. A heroine. A hero. Boy meets girl. Crisis. Attraction. Love. Marriage. The End. Your typical M&B. Only Nigerian. My heroine was called Edel. Short for Edelokun. Edelokun means The river can’t ever be greater than the sea. A typical Ishan name. Wantonly boastful. I liked the name Edel, still do. It sounds exotic, doesn’t it? I mean, a girl called Edel, what would she look like? You see? Edel, however, did not like her name. “It sounds French, Osemhen. I prefer Elokun. It’s a more appropriate name for a proud, black, African woman.” And just like that she went from being a slightly light-skinned, tall, slim, size 6 chick with a fantastic Brazilian weave to being the colour of burnt sugar, with a size 14 figure and a full head of beaded dreadlocks tied up in …

On Fela! and The Book Thief.

Published by Osemhen

First, FELA! Amazing. The dancing, the music, the sheer energy! Out of this world! The storyline itself, meh. But then again, I didn’t go to see Fela’s biography enacted. I went to see a Broadway production. And it was spectacular. The turn-out was lower than expected; I heard the play was shunned because peeps were miffed at the thought of a wholly American cast and (horror of horrors! *said in his pseudo-Nigerian accent*) an American/Haitian Fela. Haha! Please! Stop with the beef already. Why didn’t a Nigerian Director hit upon the idea? What stops a Nigerian from still producing a Fela play? Let’s face it: we let Fela die in our hearts, in our minds. He’s an international icon! They celebrate him, his music is taught in schools! And we, we rejected our prophet, reduced him to much less than a symbol. We forgot him and put him on the shelves, the back burner, the archives or wherever the hell it is we relegate our “heroes past”. It really is shameful that it took foreigners …

Ugliest Girl In The World – Elaine Irabor

Published by Osemhen

On a lighter note, please welcome guest writer, the incorrigible Elaine! All opinions expressed herein are solely hers, and I”m hereby indemnified against any liabilities 🙂 For as long as I can remember, since I was old enough to be compared, (the instant I left that embarrassing A-cup stage), it’s been, ”Your Mommy is finer (sic) than you”. I smile and say thank you, at least it’s nice that one’s Mom isn’t an embarrassment. I try my hardest to ignore the second meaning, which is that a woman who has birthed four children, and is more than twice my age, still looks better than me, who’s supposedly in her prime. I got used to that though, and saying my thank yous that is until my little sister started growing breasts. I’d always known she was going to turn out better than me: It’s the curse of the first child to sit back and watch younger siblings get the best gene combinations. All the ”errors” in me are corrected in my little sister: My crowded teeth …

Hashim's Story

Published by Osemhen

She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Hashim approached the counter holding a loaf of bread and a can of insecticide. Yesterday, it had been a bottle of bleach and a six-pack of Imperial Leather. The day before that, a year’s supply of candles and two tins of Kiwi polish. Tomorrow? Detergent, cereal…and maybe, maybe he’d work up the courage to ask her out. ‘Nicole’ her name tag said. She looked … like a Nicole. Artful make-up, perfect manicure, caramel complexion, thin braids that cascaded down her back. When his turn came, she flashed him a quick grin. “Hello.” He decided he liked the lilt in her voice. “Hi.” Say something more, you doofus! – Like what! – Like… say something! “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Seriously? Are you kidding?!! That the best you could do? “Yes, it is.” She scanned the insecticide, arched a perfect eyebrow. “You were here yesterday, right?” “Uh.” Great! Now degenerated to muttering grunts. Perfect, Hashim! “Yes… Nice shirt.” Dude! – It’s a blue shirt! I like blue! “Thank you.” She …

Book Review: The Secret Lives of Baba's Segi's Wives By Lola Shoneyin.

Published by Osemhen

The first time I heard of Lola Shoneyin, it was in an interview she gave where she stated that she wrote because it beat ironing! I wish I could make a similar choice… ‘No, Daddy. I can’t iron your shirts, I want to write.’ Haha! Lola’s first novel, The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, chronicles the history and happenings of a polygamous household. I started the book expecting a Fuji House of Commotion kind of scenario; lots of humor, petty jealousy, and cat fights between rivalling wives. Well, check on all counts. Except that the humor arises from the author’s amusement at her characters, the jealousy is more virulent than petty, and there are no cat fights, no physical combat. Just deliberately hurtful (very hurtful) words. Ok, I thought, a serious book. Lola tells the story of the Alao family with highly evocative descriptions and with an elegant plot. Baba Segi, the head of the household, is married to four wives, Iya Segi, Iya Tope, Iya Femi and Bolanle. As the story progresses, we …

My Dad's Will

Published by Osemhen

I found this while searching for my birth certificate. My Dad can be pretty wry at times, but this just cracked us up. He wrote this in university, way before he met my Mum. Her name’s not Marianne, by the way. Or Elizabeth! To my wife, Marianne, I leave her lover and knowledge that I wasn’t the fool she thought I was. To my son, I leave the pleasure of earning a living. For twenty-five years, he thought the pleasure was solely mine. He was mistaken. To my daughter, I leave N100,000. She will need it. The only piece of business her husband did was to marry her. To my chauffeur, I leave my cars. He almost ruined them… and I want him to have the satisfaction of finishing the job. …And upon the death of my wife, Marianne, the executors of my will should in no way bury her in her rightful place in the family vault next to me. I want to rest in peace. To one Elizabeth Parker, whom through juvenile fondness …

The Question

Published by Osemhen

(I wrote this at the writing workshop I attended recently. It was inspired by the most intelligent company ever, their intellectual discourse *straight face* and a bus ride :D) They sickened you. You couldn’t explain your visceral recoil at the sight of the IBB posters; your mood soured, your emotions plummeted and you lost your train of thought to a brief desire to kill. It didn’t help that the campaign posters were everywhere. The aftertaste lingered curiously. Why are you angry? – I don’t know. You were not particularly politics-inclined. You had not been old enough to appreciate the evil the Genius had perpetrated. You weren’t zealously patriotic; the country could bloody burn and you would fiddle! Why did you care so much you lost your peace? And why was the fact that it made you lose your peace so upsetting? The Question haunted you as you circled the city on a bus. It fixed itself in your mind as you ate the sugarcane you filched from a farm. It cooed as you conversed with …

Letter to 10 year old me

Published by Osemhen

So a while ago, I rummaged through my diaries and ‘wrote’a letter basically to me. Ten year old me (she answered to Jennifer) wrote to 21 year old me. You can read it at http://eurekanaija.wordpress.com/2010/06/24/10-year-old-me-vs-21-year-old-me/ This is the reply. Dear ten year old me, Hi, there. You’ll be happy to know I turned out pretty ok considering what a nuisance you were! 😛 I now live in Surulere (bet you didn’t see that coming!). I’m through with Uni; ended up going to Unilag, oh! It’s not half as bad as you imagine, don’t worry. And no you(we?) didn’t flunk one bit, contrary to what you might think! The next few years are going to be the most tumultous of your life; two major tragedies and a house move. Mega sucks, but you’ll cope. Understatement! You’ll astonish yourself with how strong you are. You end up being best friends with Folake Dosunmu (you don’t even know her now!) and Ebiere Oki. Yes, Ebiere Oki!! And you’ll find them the best things that could happen to you …