Professor Wole Soyinka was quoted saying his latest book is the
“nastiest” that he has written so far. InterInventions:
Between Defective Memory and the Public Lie- A Personal Odyssey in The Republic
of Liars (Ibadan: Bookcraft, 2015, 136pp) is quite close to being just
that. But who knows if an even nastier book may follow as Soyinka embarks on
the task of exposing lies in our Republic as he has promised that InterInventions, a follow up to Interventions series (I-IV) will be
dedicated solely to the dismantling of lies in the public space: malicious and
non-malicious lies, lies told, lies magnified, lies fraudulent, murderous lies,
accidental lies, uttered from depraved minds whose sole intention is to create
burdens for their victims, malign, impugn and lower the other so they can be
raised or their stomachs can be nourished at other’s expense.
This is
nevertheless, a publication in which Professor Soyinka settles strictly personal
scores, but this is no pamphleteering that he modestly alludes to, but a fine,
extended essay in the distinguished tradition of that form. He is polemical,
punchy and critical - without mercy or measure! There is no deceit, no pulling
of punches, not much of deliberate concealment; it is Soyinka wielding a
Bazooka in one hand, and a gilt-edged knife in the other, shooting down the
hypocrisy and pretensions of representative figures in a Republic of Liars,
where defective memory, an affliction worse than amnesia, but much closer to
dementia, and psychosis, is standard fare. He deploys language dramatically and
draws blood even if his mood remains charismatic and entertaining as he laughs
at human folly, and the verminous antics of his named and shamed traducers.
The
writer focuses on his personal experiences as a victim of the burden of being
lied to, being lied against and being pushed to defend his right not to be lied
against, but his theme is probably far more important than his content and mood.
He ends up inviting us to think further about a social malaise, a missing,
distorted, disjointed ethical link, and so his subjects - including Obasanjo, Chinweizu,
Adewale Maja-Pearce, Peter Enahoro, Major Salawu, Gbenga Daniel, Abiola
Ogundokun, Olagunsoye Oyinlola - rise off the pages, as illustrative archetypes
of a hydra-headed crisis at the heart of society, namely how self-delusion,
ego, power and an obsessive, compulsive, alimentary propensity turns adults
into liars. Other associated themes along this line of moral exhortation will
include the sheer uncertainty of life, the unpredictability of human character,
and the near-helplessness of victims in a nation of fabulists.
Thus, the entire narrative is organic, with
the humanistic import of the content, imbued with a personal orientation as it
were, taking us closer to larger questions of ethics, humanity, the
inviolability of truth. Man and his foibles is the central subject of inquiry
invariably; there is a certain universality in the tendency of man, including
those who quote the Bible with practised ease, to be nasty and brutish. I
recommend this book for everyone’s reading pleasure and instruction. It is
quite affordable, only N1, 000 per copy, and certainly, a temptingly quotable
book - more so as the reader is reassured by the author’s statement of
indemnity. Here goes: “My publishers are
hereby fully indemnified by me against court processes, as well as the
consequences of any libel suits that may arise from this maiden number of the
InterInventions series” (p.93). The stoutly flagellated figures in the
book, who are described as “the greatest
public liars I have ever known”, thus ridiculed have every reason to be
angry but obviously, Soyinka in taking his pound of flesh cannot be bothered.
There can be no greater
denigration to be sought beyond his depiction of former President Olusegun
Obasanjo, as the philosopher-king who is “an overgrown child of circumstance;” “Double-O-Seven”,
“an infliction”, “a hypocrite”, and “irredeemable egomaniac” or Chinweizu as
“Chichidodo”, a bird that feeds on shit, or Adewale Maja-Peace as “the area-boy
of letters”; or Peter Pan as “lying, opportunistic, contemptible”; Olagunsoye
Oyinlola as “the Prince of Darkness”; Gbenga Daniel as “DaaniElebo”. Professor, ki lo de? Or when of Maja-Pearce, whom
he calls “Ade-Boy!”, the writer says: “It is a time to remind him that the
stern rod of Ogun awaits all lying tongues.” (p.38). Professor, ewo ni t’epe!
Of Abiola Ogundokun, Soyinka thunders: “Of all the loathsome lumps
of slime that ever oozed from the sump of human depravity to aspire to human
form, none comes close to the two-legged parasite that goes by the name of
Abiola Ogundokun”. Whaa-a-t? And in
taking on Major Rasaki Salawu, he says “Howu Salawu” – a vocalic alliteration which
cryptically summarises the subject-matter; a considerable part of the book is devoted to
a profiling of the self-same Salawu in a manner that evokes shame or the
equivalent of a mortal decapitation. Soyinka’s anti-heroes owe themselves a
duty to say something in self-defence, for the naming and shaming tends to
stick, with all the stamp and authoritativeness of the inimitable WS. Audi alteram
partem.
Which is why I was
surprised that President Olusegun Obasanjo in a reported interview with The Punch, made light of it:
Reporter: While you were
away from the country, your friend Prof. Wole Soyinka inaugurated (sic) a book
in which he called you a child of circumstance.
OBJ: (Talking in Yoruba: Se
o so be?) Meaning: Did he say so?
Reporter: He even said he
won’t eat any food you give him without you eating from the food first.
OBJ: (Continues in Yoruba:
Mi o mo o) Ehnhenhn? I don’t know.
Obasanjo irritated by the
Soyinka questions, gets up and walks out of his study during the interview…but
the reporter keeps throwing questions at him.
Reporter: Why are the two
of you always quarrelling?
OBJ: Kini wahala yin? (What
is your problem?)
Indeed, what is our
problem? But just in case President Obasanjo has not read the book, I recommend
that he should especially as Soyinka has promised a follow-up shake down edition:
“a collective effort, a corroborative-or self-cancelling-anthology by many
long-suffering victims…dedicated solely to the Otta phenomenon.” (p. 53). Our
Republic of Liars is a temporary space for Soyinka; his reputation in the world
of letters places him historically, in the long run, beyond local dog-fights;
but as for this book, emotional responses to the vengeful biographical
dimensions cannot be unexpected.
Take-away, though: our
problem – we do have a problem as a collective - is the sobering realization
that Nigerians enjoy telling lies, much more than any other community that we
know, and that we are indeed, a Republic of Liars. We are a nation of fabulists, richly
imaginative, when that asset is well-conditioned, it produces excellence, but
misapplied, the tale bearer becomes a professional aproko, as they say, a self-made radio station, transmitter,
booster, conditioned to promote untruths, and as the tale travels from one
mouth to another, new layers are invented and added, often so viciously that
the original source often finds it unrecognizable. But much damage is done, and
it is this wickedness of man to man – as theme and principle- that Soyinka
deplores.
The
rise of the internet has even made lying so easy and convenient, the anonymity
that the social media offers allows a lie to grow until its continued
affirmation imposes it on public memory as received wisdom. Lies pollute the
public mind; they damage relationships and destroy a sense of community.
Soyinka insists on the inviolability of the truth and decent conduct, but the
rot is widespread, the phenomenon is a new normal reality. Politicians lie to
the electorate, win the votes and turn around shamefacedly to say they never
said whatever even in the face of concrete evidence made possible by electronic
reproduce-ability. This culture of deception remains unchecked because the
institutions for seeking redress remain inchoate: libel cases can go on forever,
or they may run into a technical hitch concocted by lawyers, requiring that
they be started de novo. And to worsen
it all, the followership enjoys the lies and the lying, compelling an
assessment of our Republic in real and fictive representations as the biggest
lie in search of truth.
Soyinka does
not recommend a resort to self-help; but he inflicts punishment with his pen,
and laments in a memorable instance: “Chei!
There is Death o!” Let’s add: “Chei! There is God o!...”- the ultimate
judge.
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