ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing ktravula – a travelogue! blog archives for July, 2010.

On “Stickfighting Days”

I read the 2010 Caine Prize-winning short story yesterday. “Gore” is the first word that came to my mind afterwards.

Olufemi Terry’s Stickfighting Days is a moving story that one never forgets in a hurry for its description of raw violence among (pubescent) boys in an imaginary dump site. I’ve read a few stories of raw violence that moved me. One of them was Fola by my friend Olumide Abimbola. It is a short family story with enormous prospects that I believe should be expanded to a standard short story length. It definitely comes to mind right now, but Terry’s offering takes us deep into an isolated world free of societal interference. There is no redemption at the end, just violence, and perhaps some jungle justice that must serve as the only catharsis afforded the reader.

Benson Eluma has written a review aimed at the insularity of the lives of the characters of the story. My friend’s observations in his review take the dialogue on literary craft and responsibility of the writer to a different direction and force us to ask a different kind of question. For me however, it is the stark violence without a chance for a real redemption that puts me off the story. It is not a deficiency as far as craft is concerned. The story is very well written and I don’t think I’ll be reading it again. Read the review on Nigerianstalk. You can read the story itself here.

On “Stickfighting Days” was published on July 28th, 2010, with the tags , , , , under the Art, Literature category. There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

Writing a Book

I have broached this idea of writing a book from my experiences in the United States, or from some of the observations I’ve shared with you on the blog. I’ve been surprised by the poll responses and I thank you for taking the time, especially to those who left comments. All the poll options reflect my own thoughts and preferences, so thank you for pitching in, although I’d hoped that everyone would ask me not to write it. Now I have got myself in a corner :). Time to get myself to work.

The fun thing about a book is that you don’t really know what you’ll find when you open it, right? If you knew what you’d find, then it doesn’t make much sense, does it? My hope was to write something totally new on a particular theme, of the peculiar experiences I’ve had visiting places and the impressions they’ve had on me, not put the whole blog down into print, even thought that has crossed my mind before. So here it is, many choices as to consider. I do want to write something more than just an essay with ideas that will last for a while, and will contribute to thought.

And then, what about pictures? When I was young, like everyone else, I used to like books only if they had pictures. Growing up changed that, or did it? What is the place of photos – or maybe artistic illustrations – in a serious book? Well, it has to do with what kind of book, isn’t it? A travel book will have more pictures and less texts. A book of original random memoir-like essays will have more texts and less photos, isn’t it? Or what about just write many books, one of them just a photo essay book on interesting places of interest?

Random thoughts in my head, and July is already crawling out of hands. I guess it’s time to change the poll now. Thank you.

PS: Novelist Salman Rushdie has decided to write a novel about his days under the fatwa. I look forward to reading it, yet with a fear that he’s putting himself on the spot once again. I hope that he will be deft enough not to stroke any new fires this time. News is here. (Thanks Chris for the link).

Writing a Book was published on July 28th, 2010, under the Academic, Opinion, Soliloquy category. There are currently 2 comments on this article so far.

My City Has Gone Mad

Today was a strange day of many proportions. I missed a robbery shootout between robbers and the police at three different parts of the city, many times during the day. It’s not pretty. Earlier in the morning, I came across a crowd of people gathered around a young man recently hit by a stray bullet by fleeing robbers. He died on the spot. Had I left home just three minutes earlier, I would definitely have been in the vicinity of the attack. Returning home a few moments ago, I had missed another robbery on a fuel station on my way home by about five minutes. I’m shaken.

The spate of robbery attacks on banks and other financial centres in the city has been on the rise for a while now. This was just one of my closest encounters. The good news was that one of the robbers was shot dead while one other was captured. The bad news is that the situation that makes robbery viable to unemployed youths still remain in the country while the government plans over a feast of millions of dollars to celebrate the nation’s 50th anniversary of official existence. Shame!

We all deserve a national award for survival.

My City Has Gone Mad was published on July 27th, 2010, with the tags , , , , under the Observations, Soliloquy category. There are currently 5 comments on this article so far.

First Words

“May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, flatly baffled in the sun.”

– Arundhati Roy’s The God of Small things (1997)

“Excuse me, sir, but may I be of assistance? Ah, I see I’ve alarmed you. Do not be frightened by my beard: I am a lover of America. I noticed that you were looking for something; more than looking, in fact you seemed to be on a mission, and since I am both a native of this city and a speaker of your language, I thought I might offer you my services.”

– Mohsin Hamid’s The Reluctant Fundamentalist (2007)

“I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills. The Equator runs across these highlands, a hundred miles to the north, and the farm lay at an altitude of over six thousand feet. In the day-time you felt that you had got high up, near to the suun, but the early mornings and evenings were limpid and restful, and the nights were cold.”

– Karen Blixen’s Out of Africa (1937)

“The blow catches him from the right, sharp and surprising and painful, like a bolt of electricity, lifting him up off the bicycle. Relax! he tells himself as he flies through the air (flies through the air with the greatest of ease!), and indeed he can feel his limbs go obediently slack. Like a cat he tells himself: roll, then spring to your feet, ready for what comes next. The unusual word limber or limbre is on the horizon too.”

– J.M. Coetzee’s Slow Man ((2005)

First Words was published on July 26th, 2010, with the tags , , , , , , , , under the Academic, Fun category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.

Ife

These were taken in Ife on the 7th of July.

I remember feeling very inspired while watching the morning rehearsals of students of dance and theatre at the Faculty of Arts from afar while waiting for my other colleagues in nearby offices. The students were rehearsing for a performance, and there was an affecting charm in the energy they displayed while moving to the rhythm of the drum beats. So early in the morning, there they were grooving into the day’s dawning promise with all their spirit. It was charming.

I wrote a poem of the experience. I hope I can still find it.

Ife was published on July 26th, 2010, with the tags , , , , , under the Academic, adventures, Art, Fun, Observations category. There are currently no comments on this article so far.