(Being Statement delivered at the Association of Nigerian Authors – ANA – Abuja Chapter 70th Birthday Event/Celebration of Dr. Wale Okediran and a Reading/Writers Dialogue held at the Mamman Vatsa Village, Abuja, on the 19th of April, 2025)

In this piece, I want to specifically pose the question of how literature and literary writing can serve the purpose of representing the significance of the public service to the Nigerian public. Narrating the nature, significance and dynamics of the public service, admittedly, is the sphere of the social sciences—especially of political science and public administration. But then, why can literature not come to the aid of the political scientists cum administrative scholar-practitioner in documenting the ups and downs of the public service and its role in enabling good governance? 

Literary writings narrate humanity. the human experiences and endeavors in ways that reveal horizons and frontiers of possibilities while also laying bare the depth and dynamics of the familiar. The literary eye sees beyond the normal and transcends the ordinary. All literature reveals their time and context; and this is why literature is a dangerous endeavor: it poses narrative questions that do not reveal easy answers. And yet these questions enable us, if we keep unraveling them long enough, to find a way out of our mental cocoons, according to Elif Shafak, the Turkish novelist. We can all easily agree with C. S. Lewis therefore: “Literature adds to reality; it does not simply describe it. It enriches the necessary competencies that daily life requires and provides; and in this respect, it irrigates the deserts that our lives have already become.” 

Is the writer then a revolutionary? From Chinua Achebe to Naguib Mahfouz, Wole Soyinka to Mariama Ba, from Niyi Osundare to Abdulrazak Gurnah, from Ngugi wa Thiong’o to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and from Nadine Gordimer to Odia Ofeimun, we have writers who have championed a rebellious forthrightness in narrating the conditions for the existence of their postcolonial existence and future. We have writers who enable us to see our ordinary experiences and to transcend them. Let us take Odia Ofeimun’s The Poet Lied (1980) as a starting example. That poetry collection signals Ofeimun’s sensibility as a poet who has a deep understanding of the sociopolitical and economic anguish Nigerians have been going through for much of Nigeria’s sixty-five years of existence. As a poet, according to him, “I cannot blind myself/To putrefying carcass in the market place.” In the poet titled “A Foot Note,” Ofeimun laments:

In our model democracy

The magic promises of yesterday

Lie cold like mounds of dead cattle

Along caravans that lead nowhere…

More specifically, in “A Civil Servant,” Odia Ofeimun highlights a critical dimension of any civil and democratic government in terms of the machinery that makes any government function efficiently. This is in terms of policy formulation and service delivery of the dividends of democracy to the citizens. 

A dull day:

you sit on the dung-heap

of boredom, a lizard

basking in the cold sunshine

of banal precedents.

Your lymphatic smile

is decorated with the painless anguish

of pedestrian hours

An idle star

streaks across your sky

This dull day

you bear the unproductive patience

of a dismantled industrial spider

you cannot say, for certain, what you want.

This poem represents not only a scathing critique of the neglect of the civil service by any Nigerian government, a neglect that makes the civil servant “sit on the dung-heap of boredom” like a lizard basking in a “cold sunshine.” It is also a poem that hits very hard and poetically at what I have called the bureau-pathology of the Nigerian public service, and its capacity for blind conformance at the expense of productive efficiency. A civil servant, Ofeimun aptly remarks, bears the “unproductive patience” of a “dismantled industrial spider”!

In Niyi Osundare’s “My Lord, Tell Me Where to Keep Your Bribe,” written in 2016 at the height of the corruption scandals that traumatized the sensibility of Nigerians, and especially the undermining of the professional integrity of the Nigerian judiciary. Imagine a servant bowing constantly in fake submissiveness, and asking, “My Lord, where should I keep this bribe?” merely asking that question, with the two contraries of “Lord” and “bribe”, already implies a deep and bruising moral judgement. When we conjoin that with the suggestions of the various hiding places, then we see that the judge being addressed has already, in the space of that monologue, been stripped of all honour. In “No Hiding Place for Politicians,” Osundare was at his poetic height in railing against corruption, embezzlement, clientelism and the betrayal of democratic trust. Take just these lines:

When the man of power
Tells you his tale
Ask him to wait till
You bring a sieve
​
****
Whoever believes what the politician says
His ear is blocked by the carcass of truth
A politician tells you to wait
And you heed his words…
Your sole will tell you
The biting pains of folly

These few lines already project not only the politician’s alienation from truth, but also the futility of listening to any form of “politicspeak” by which politicians have deceived Nigerians from independence to date. The “biting pain of folly” is what has indeed attended the constant optimism which has characterized Nigerians’ trust in the politicians who come, make noise, get our votes and then turn to stab us all in the back. But then, it behooves the poet, and the writers that a nation has produced, to bring the citizens to awareness. This is exactly what Barbara Kingsolver had in mind when she said, “What a writer can do, what a fiction writer or a poet or an essay writer can do is re-engage people with their own humanity.”

Wale Okediran, who celebrates his entry into the septuagenarian circle this year, provides a larger and more experiential context for examining the mindset of an average Nigerian public servant. In his Tenants of the House (2010), Wale Okediran fictionalized his short-lived experience as a member of the Nigerian House of Representative. That was an experience, we can say, that was stranger than fiction. We get to read the fictional account of what we all know has been going on—the greedy consumption of Nigeria’s commonwealth by a few who translated democratic stewardship into a license to steal and loot. What makes Odia Ofeimun’s and Wale Okediran’s literary accounts so graphic and significant is that both have traversed the public service space in Nigeria for a while. They were not just fictionalizing hearsays and the fecundity of their imagination. Any Nigeria, from what we daily encounter about the shenanigans of the political class, can fictionalize their misdeeds. But when one had walked the corridors of power and perceived the dark odor of political corruption, the literary imagination becomes even more effective than it could have been when fashioned on the imagination alone. 

Nigerian literature serves as the handmaiden of social scientific and humanistic inquiry into the state of the Nigerian sociopolitical affairs. As a social commentary, it provides a complementary analysis of where the rain began to beat us as a nation, to quote Chinua Achebe. Indeed, the Nigerian literary space itself suffers significantly from Nigeria’s bureaucratic pathology and policy inchoateness. We all know the cost implication of getting published by a traditional publishing firm today. Many of Nigeria’s literary figures, from Chimamanda Adichie to Nnedi Okoroafor, get published elsewhere. This provides an occasion, therefore, to memorialize the great and persevering efforts of the Association of Nigerian Writers (ANA) for keeping the Nigerian literary spirit alive, and for serving as the breeding ground for literary effervescence. 

Nigeria is a literary space; the precarity and suffering instigated by misgovernance and the policy somersault of consecutive administrations in Nigeria provide the occasion for rebellion of the literary imagination. In fact, I am very glad to call on the literary figures in Nigeria as collaborators in the institutional reform of the Nigeria state and its public service machinery. I have often written that institutional and governance reformer is a lonely figure even in social scientific analysis. For more than twenty years, I have been raising the alarm about the debilitating state of the public service in Nigeria, and how institutional reform, as well as the political will of any government, can reverse the rot and restore the machinery of government to an efficient state. 

However, these critiques and analyses cannot compare with the fictional narration of Nigeria’s democratic struggles, the greed of its political class and the suffering of Nigerians. Chris Abani’s Graceland (2004) tells the story of Elvis Oke and his struggle to overcome the poverty, violence and corruption of ghetto life in Lagos. Wole Soyinka’s Chronicles of the Happiest People on Earth (2021) consummates his damning and devastating literary chronicling of the political corruption that has perpetuated a season of anomie in Nigeria since independence. And there are more: Chika Unigwe, Abubakar Adam Ibrahim, Helon Habila, Chinua Achebe, Unoma Azuah, and many others. When even an average Nigerian encounters these writers and their fictional narration of the inefficiency of the Nigerian government and the suffering it engenders, the novels and short stories mirror their experiences. There is no Nigerian lady who will not empathize with Sisi, Efe, Ama and Joyce, the three ladies –in Unigwe’s On Black Sisters Street (2011)—who left Nigeria to become sex workers in Belgium in order to make a good life for themselves. 

Literary activism is the response of Nigerian literature to institutional reform that demands that the administrative dynamics must be responsive to the yearning and aspirations of Nigerians. Literary activism encounters the Nigerian public service as the seat of misery and of transformation. Most Nigerians encounter the Nigerian state from the deficiencies of infrastructural debilitation—bad roads and highway networks, inefficient healthcare facilities, inadequate education sector, etc. Literature engages politics from the perspectives of literary visions of possibilities. We can tell the stories of the civil servant who refuses bribes; the Oga who stands up to the powers that be for the sake of efficiency; the public servant who champions transparency even at the cost of losing her legislative slot; a group of civil servants who presents alternative policy implementation blueprints, and many other possible stories of administrative events that can inspire.

Here, ANA has a lot to still do in terms of its commitment to literary activism as a mode of speaking truth to power. I think that the genre of the administrative literary genre should be added to existing genres. Rather than the appearance of the public service as a monolithic endeavor in the literary imagination, ANA can encourage Nigerians to harness their experiences of the multifaceted dynamics of the Nigerian public service system to articulate poems, novels and short stories that speak specifically to civil servants, procedures, departments, and systemic experiences and narratives. I will be glad to see special calls for literary editions around the public service and its dynamics. Such special literary editions can elevate the consciousness of Nigerians on what it means to reflect imaginatively on the present and future of the public service in relation to human flourishing in Nigeria.

For the Russian poet, Boris Pasternak, “Literature is the art of discovering something extraordinary about ordinary people, and saying with ordinary words something extraordinary.” We owe it to the institutional reformers and literary activists to transform the banality of human suffering in Nigeria to the refreshing discovery of the extraordinary power of social change.

Let me end with a tribute to Dr Wale Okediran at 70. Dr. Okediran has come a long way and has blazed many trails so consistently that at a beautiful age of seventy, he has achieved a sublime legacy that embodies existential fulfilment. 

Dr Okediran is in my estimation Nigeria’s answer to C. P. Snow’s two-culture thesis. According to that thesis, there is a significant and unbridgeable divide between the humanities and the natural sciences in ways that ensure seeming lack of communication between the two. The literary intellectuals and the natural scientists pride themselves on their inability to understand each other, and this, Snow argues, leads to an inhibited intellectual progress. In Wale Okediran, we have a fluid and exemplary personification that firmly undermine that thesis. Dr Okediran fluidly incorporates the love for science and the humanities. He is the very embodiment of the renaissance man—the multi-talented man imbued with a secular sensibility that draws on the human condition to articulate an Afropolitan sensibility of humaneness, compassion, strength, open-mindedness, passion and empathy. 

It was almost inevitable that Dr Okediran’s love for medicine and literature would be deployed in the service of the humanity in Nigeria and on the continent. Medicine is not just physiological and psychological, at least not in Africa. Medicine ministers to the brutalized bodies of Africans. As a medical doctor therefore, Dr Okediran has the unenviable space to confront the many psychotic manifestations of governance failure in Nigeria. His literary interests and skills provide the opportunity to tell the postcolonial Nigerian stories as he encountered them over the course of his own personal existential and professional trajectories. And this explain Dr Okediran’s path into politics; what better way to effect significant changes than being in the corridor of power? 

One could only wonder how long a man of such literary sensibility would last within the murky space of Nigerian politics. Fortunately, public service is not restricted to being a member of the House of Representatives. Dr Okediran’s public service space encompasses the local, the national and the regional—from the National Old Student Association of Olivet Baptist High School to the Pan African Writers Association (PAWA). Dr Wale Okediran’s literary sensibility enables him to build a community of service. The Ebedi International Writers Residency at Iseyin is unique defining sense a built metaphor for Okediran’s enlarged sensibility that draws in people and create possibilities.