Diary in Pencils Art Studio

By Okechukwu Nwafor

October 16 2004

Pencils Art studio

Emma Nnaemeka Street

Awka

6.00pm.

I sat on the studio, overlooking the street. There was the characteristic evening buzz. The noise on the street constituted a heavy pollution. The blaring horns from both cars and ‘Okadas’ (motor bikes) pierced my brains causing me intermittent loss of concentration. I had just finished sketching a portrait and I sat in front of my studio, ruminating, pondering, and trying to empty my pregnant mind.

My mind was heavy with many loads and as I tried to unload it, it gathered more. Thoughts of my country came; thoughts of my own immediate environment also came. The air of sadness and bitterness around me ceased to go. The general state of darkness produced strong dozes of anxiety and tension inside me. I shuddered. I thought of the responsibilities challenging me to manhood. I thought of this fight, which toughened with the passing days. I wore a pensive look. People walked past my studio and we exchanged greetings, though I was absent-minded. I tried to harden my emotions. I tried to take solace in the Lord. I tried to digest some inspirational words I learnt from Napoleon and Norman my friends, finally, I hardened. I said the following words:

Let the world go to blazes.

Let everybody go to blazes.

I don’t give a damn.

My thought pattern, however, changed to other things, having perhaps, rid my mind of poignant memories. I suddenly took a quick glimpse on the wall clock. 7.00pm. I stood up, parked my portraits inside the studio and left

                                                                                               

Friday 29^th Oct. 2004.

Today was hectic. Chigozie Anarado slept in my house on the 28^th of Oct. 2004. We talked at length on many issues including marriage. Today being Friday he left and I rounded off a painting, which I started the previous day. I will be going to Enugu with Mr. Nwanna for the mounting of works for Africa Heritage 2004.

We got to National Museum Enugu slated for Africa Heritage and  expected to see PACA members mounting works but none of them were present safe for some unfamiliar boys we met mounting Africa Heritage Banners on the premises. We met the P.R.O of National Museum who also complained that he had not received any message from Ayo. Cliff called Ayo’s G.S.M number and got him on line. He directed Cliff to see the director to make arrangements for the opening of the premises the next day being Saturday to enable PACA members mount the works since the mounting could no longer hold on Friday 29^th as planned. We did so and left for Ogui road. We stopped briefly at Noble Art shop where I bought 2 big tubes of white & cadmium yellow hue Winsor & Newton oil colour, at N1,600 each, 2 yards of canvas at N300 each. We arrived at PACA office where we met Chike Obeagu (painter), Ifeanyi Aniude (painter) & Ayo Adewumni all working together in readiness for the exhibition tomorrow. We left Enugu around 5.00pm. On our way back to Awka we could not stop discussing the problems associated with PACA, and life generally.

                                               

30^th Oct. 2004

Saturday.

This morning, I was fired by an overwhelming desire to succeed. I always dreaded the thought of poverty. Sometimes I was gripped with a feeling of melancholia and desolation. I ground my teeth and flexed my muscles ever ready to defeat poverty in this battle of life. So, on this day, when this feeling came, I started my paintings again. I aimed for ten high quality sizable paintings for an exhibition. I worked as though there was no tomorrow. At about 9.30am, I went to Ofe Akwu joint and ate. I went and received the injection at Dr Akpati’s hospital. I forgot the injection the previous day, probably because of my moody state of mind. Since 2001 when my state of mind changed, I almost gravitated towards the condition of a hypochondriac. The thought of sickness had haunted me so much so that I almost became a drug addict. But sometimes I vigorously shook off such thought and pushed forward. That was temporarily after I had read through the pages of Napoleon Hill or Norman Pearce. Because of this I could not differentiate real illness from imaginary one. That was why when malaria struck me I almost gave up but thanks to Halfan and Dr. Akpati.

I came back and completed 3 paintings. 3.30pm. I went to Regina Caeli junction and ate foofoo & egwusi soup. I took my drugs and left for Benjamin Okolo father’s funeral. At the funeral venue I saw Jaco & K.C. We sat together and enjoyd good times. I commiserated with Benjamin, though I did that earlier. I gave him 200 Naira. I later left with K.C & Jaco to my house. They both saw my works. We all left and while K.C & Jaco went to St. Patrick Cathedral, I went to my Art Studio from where I went to send Nkiru mails.

I came back around 7.30pm and was re-visited by the ambition to defeat poverty. I swore to do so. I fed on indomie & egg.

Sunday 31^st Oct. 2004

I wanted to work but was prevented by a stomach upset. I lay on the bed and rested for sometime. I went to Mr. Nwanna’s house and we both drove to Nnamdi Azikiwe University (Unizik), then to Alex Asigbo’s house. Alex was absent, but the wife gave Alex’s PhD thesis to Mr. Nwanna to deliver to his (Alex’s) supervisor at Ibadan. I gave the wife 200 Naira for the newborn baby. We drove back to my house where I drafted a note for Nkiru & enclosed 1,000 Naira & ear ring to be delivered by Mr. Nwanna to her at Ibadan. Mr. Nwanna left & I worked on Ifeoma Ozoemena’s portrait and some others. I rested once more and called Nkiru alerting her of Cliff’s arrival the next day to Ibadan around 9.00am. I went to church, came back and read. Then I slept.

Monday 1^st Nov. 2004.

Today is the All Saints day. I went to 6.00am mass at St. Patrick Cathedral. I went to see Dr. Akpati for the final medical check-up. As I prepared to go to Unizik, Chioma Ezenagu called me and directed me to one Okey Chukwuogo who she said needed a portrait. I went to his (Chukwuogo’s) house beside the stadium. On entering the sitting room I saw Nnatuanya, an old artist friend and portraitist. We came for the same mission. Suddenly the man in question, Okey Chukwuogo, entered. He is an architect, a handsome looking man in his late forties. We all engaged in lively art discussion. He promised to give me a job and also to visit my Pencils studio the next day. I left for UNIZIK. At UNIZIK, I met Chris Ibenegbu and convinced him to go to Enugu with me for the opening ceremony of Afrika Heritage 2004. Since he had a car, I promised to buy fuel. At last we left. I bought 900 Naira worth of fuel on our way. We got to National Museum, Abakaliki Road Enugu, the venue of the exhibition at about 2.00pm. The exhibition opened with a performance by the Enugu State Cultural Troupe. Present during the opening ceremony were Director, National Museum Enugu, Barr. Mrs. Anyaegbunam, Henry Mujunga, PACA representative from Uganda, Director, Alliance Francaise Enugu, Syl Paris Koutoun, PACA representative from Benin Republic, Enyo Dackey, PACA representative from Togo, President PACA Nigeria, Nnaemeka Egwuibe, Ayo Adewunmi, Krydz Ikwuemesi and some other artists from the above mentioned countries. The exhibition was declared open by the Director, National Museum Enugu. After going through the works, I spoke with Krydz briefly and then left for Awka with Chris Ibenegbu. I came back and checked email but none from Nkiru. I also sent a mail to Carpenter.

Tuesday. 2^nd Nov. 2004.

I took my portraits to my studio, Pencils Art Studio in readiness for Arc. Okey Chukwuogo’s  visits. I waited till 10.00 am but he did not come so I left for National Secondary School (NSS). I booked an appointment with N.S.S to deliver a lecture on the career prospects of Fine and Applied Arts to the students. I did that successfully. The students were thrilled. The management in appreciation gave me a brown envelope containing N2,000. As I was rounding off, Okey Chukwuogo called me on phone. I told him I was on my way.

I met him in my studio with Chioma Ezenagu, a third year Theatre Arts student and a friend who introduced me to Okey. I discussed with Okey and listened to his criticisms of my works, some of which I did not take. They later left. Chioma came back later and met me inside Unity compound where we were struggling to kill a snake that had just ran into some heaps of planks. We later killed the snake. I went with Chioma to Ken’s fast food joint where I bought food for both of us.

Wed. 3^rd Nov. 2004.

I left for UNIZIK for a lecture with 3^rd year students. After the lecture I left for Pencils Art Studio.  Mr. Amifor came. Innocent Okoye also came and after spending time with them they both left. Uche Osunkwo also came. I later went to Onwurah Street where I met with my Mum.

What is love (for PSHA reading group)

by Okechukwu Nwafor


Do you really love me?
Of course I love you?
How can you ask that?
Are you sure you really love me?
Yes I love you my love.

For Jean-Luc Nancy
If love is Occidental
And closes itself into the sentimental
then is it a dream?
If love is mean
Then it means that hate is as good as love
And if the saying that no one
ever loved anyone
the way everyone
wants to be loved
then be it known that no one could ever be totally loved
by anyone
nor could anyone ever be hated
by everyone


And for Jean-Luc Nancy
Is love not erotic?
And romantic?
Yet disguises as realistic
And altruistic?
And quite imperfect
In its attempt to perfect

If I may ask Jean-Luc Nancy
What do you mean when you say that ‘thinking is love’?
And if I shower in a pool of love
Does it mean that I will glitter with the glimmer of love?
And
Plato do you think that Jean-Luc Nancy
Understands the philosophy of love?

Stanley is thinking love and is love thinking?
If it is then Bridget do you think that love is thinking out of the box
or is love not a paradox?
Charles are you guilty of love as charged or not guilty?
And if you are not guilty
what do you think when Nancy complains
of the nature of love
which is the “contradiction of contradiction and of noncontradiction.”


Now Nancy let me ask
Is love the possibility of an impossibility or the impossibility of a possibility?
Or Morris do you think that love does not love hate
Or that hate actually loves love.


Jean-Luc Nancy
Philosopher
But why?
why confuse us?
Do you really love us
Jean-Luc Nancy?

But I think you do
Please I am asking all of you
Do you people think he loves us?

A Way to Die

By Okechukwu Nwafor

 

The collection of poems by Obumneme Ezeonu opens with a poem titled “Nobody Knows My Name” being a poem he dedicated to the late American novelist, James Baldwin. This poem fumes with profound sincerity needed to re-examine the worth of contemporary living in Nigeria. The poetic style lends itself into the nature of phobia that characterizes present-day Nigeria. It seems for Ezeonu that life is that inner pathos occasioned by a nameless memoir on earth. The poem seems to suggest that when living is jeopardized by anonymity, individuals are compelled to resign inexorably to drunkenness, self-pity, agony or desolation. These translate to a process of dying. Here Ezeonu is haunted by this dangerous feeling of dejection in the face of rejection. He wishes posterity to celebrate his nameless renown much as they (posterity) should reminisce his obscurity in a world characterized by injustice and inequality. Moreover, his poems underscore the potentials and limits of activism and social justice which perhaps epitomizes his personality as someone “halfway between militant and writer” (Bleiker 2000: 273).

The second poem titled ‘A Way to Die”, dedicated to Late Dim Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, seems to reinforce the irony of life using simile in a very productive manner. There is a creative interweaving of paradox and aphorism that elicits such a biting spontaneity in the reader. A note of ambivalence in the poem seems to mark Ojukwu as a hero whose life and exit were constituted by reckless denials, discredit and unresolved conundrums. Quite undoubtedly, unresolved conundrums are recurrent factors in this book seen especially in such poems as “When we run amok for wealth”. This poem feels the pulse of a contemporary moment where the pursuit of wealth would eventually extinguish the passion and fire of gainful living. The poem paints a gloomy picture of the Nigerian state in a highly suggestive manner. It seems to suggest that we can never live to embody the good in man if we continue to run amok for wealth. When Ezeonu pours out his stream of cascading thoughts into the canvas of our grieving emotions, he leaves no stone unturned. He scribbles these painful graffiti on the walls of our heart, forcing us to shed blood as tears. But we never did. This is because we seem to have imbibed that ambivalent maxim of Fela’s “Suffering and  Smiling”.

“Suffering and Smiling” (p.15) is the third verse of the poem “Unemployment” and it paints an ever-ambivalent picture of today’s Nigeria: sublime yet dangerous, painful yet enjoyable, ugly yet beautiful. It is eminent that most Nigerians can approach so much suffering with such serenity and peace of mind. Indeed one can state that Ezeonu’s paradoxical use of language in “suffering and smiling” invokes a world that is both genuine and tactless; an astonishing and audacious work of metaphor in which the limits of being a Nigerian are brutally interrogated and rewritten.

It will be pertinent to dwell more critically on the title of this book, “A Way to Die.”  The American poet Hart Crane dived from a passenger ship and drowned himself. His last words: “Good-bye, everybody.” For Crane, a way to die is to wave goodbye to depraved humanity before a suicide mission.  Certain individuals have died more fatally or more peacefully but it is instructive that Obumneme Ezeonu captures the drama of death in his poem, A Way to Die. However, it seems that the only verse in Ezeonu’s poem that addresses something close to the deadly excesses of Crane is “some die like a reverberating echo, receding but heard.” Crane is the reverberating echo that receded yet heard. His works demystify death in that logic: he is physically absent yet commands imposing presence through his works. I would rather add to Ezeonu’s verses that “some die like unsung heroes, who have bidden farewell without a word.”  Crane fits into this verse. 

While Crane exposes a way to die, other great individuals have pronounced the nature of ways to die. For example, in the last words of the Scottish Physiologist, Dr William Hunter:  “If I had the strength to hold a pen, I would write down how easy and pleasant a thing it is to die” (Bleiker 2000: 273).  Hunter’s declaration, no doubt, casts dying as a gratifying process which individuals should embrace without apprehension or fear.  If Hunter deploys words to moderate death and mollify its ominous characterization then it means that life itself could be a systematic collection of words needed to moderate severe human conditions. It means that words could be used to weave thorny life into malleable robe of gratification.  Or that words could also be deployed in binding blissful living into hard resin of immutable sorrow. This later version, in my mind, is exactly what Ezeonu’s  A Way to Die does in this collection. Therefore this collection encapsulates the tragedy of life, the folly of struggle, the acme of sorrow and the irony of fate.  While a few poems deal with joys of living, a good majority dwell of melancholia and despondency as the current blight of Nigerians’ psycho-social consciousness.

What strikes one with admiration are the sheer finesse, skill and ingenuity that aggregate in Ezeonu’s poetry. He gives us so much to rest upon, so much which communicates his disenchantment and cynicism with the contemporary society in Nigeria, especially through a solemn kind of emotional engagement that solicits our entire devotion. His collection is replete with a prognosis of danger, a lamentable feeling, a menacing outcry of emptiness and eternal damnation.

Pablo Neruda, a former Chilean diplomat, called for an “engaged poetry, one that speaks not only of love and beauty, but that is also permeated with a profound concern for social justice, for the impurity of the human condition” (Ibid, 273). Indeed Ezeonu’s commitment to the cause of social justice in unquestionable from his words:

The world is spinning on its head

Buoyed on a mind gravely led

This roaring wind blows nobody well

But we’ve got a franchise from hell

Abomination has come to stay

Evil ways are back from holiday....

In a time when the minds of average Nigerians are pervaded by a disheartening euphoria and a psychology of resignation, it is instructive that Ezeonu’s poetry can serve to envision and re-vision a new form of socio-political life, one that weaves collective crises into an urgent poetic intervention.

Roland Bleiker observes that poetry began as a form of speaking that revolved around rhyme and other regularities (273). In this regard, one can argue that the rhythmic and rhyming elements of Ezeonu’s poetry seem to fulfil the function of social and moral memory. This, in my mind, is what is needed to maximize our likelihood of remembering and transcend the commonly perceived Nigerian syndrome of collective amnesia. In actualizing this task of remembering, one notices that this stylistic component of rhyme marks Ezeonu as a serious and active producer of meaning from non-meaning. To a large extent, Ezeonu deviates from the reigning trend of free verse which has seemed to arrest the attention of the younger generation of poets and which casts them as inactive writers who neither want to labour nor sweat.  

In his continuous exploration of the imageries of violence, another poem titled Pandemonium in the North captures the increasing insecurity in Northern Nigeria. Ezeonu declares thus:

I see sorrows, tears and blood...

Hunger and starvation

In the North.

This is a political poem as much as a poem that mirrors the poetics of (in)security. For quite some time now, Northern Nigeria has been embroiled in severe terrorism and insecurity championed by the Boko Haram sect. In recognition of this, and given his other haunting thematic such as “What the Madman of Umunachi Said (2)”, “My Life is a book”, “Death of an Uncle”, “Unemployment”, among others,  it is most befitting to describe Ezeonu’s poems as mementos of a national mess, loaded with heavy burdens of tragic events and armed with the yoke of political mis-governance.  It is most remarkable that in “Unemployment” despite the fact that Ezeonu “has lost his dreams again” he exhibits a heroic defiance of extraordinary faith. Ezeonu writes:

I trudge home in despair

Clutching my fate

A bunch of diplomas

That evades the eyes of luck

Suffering and Smiling

I hear the sound of Fela

Lifting my spirits

Beyond the agony of another lost day

The personification of providence is seen in “the eyes of luck” and powerfully used to understudy the illicit abuse of office in Nigeria: a place where struggle does not survive on the platform of integrity, professionalism and meritocracy. Instead the use of “luck” serves as a tactical and ostensibly political language euphemistically shifting the real causes of unemployment. One would rather not want to believe that “a bunch of diplomas” would consistently “evade the eyes of luck” if excellence were not sacrificed on the altar of mediocrity.

In the poem titled “Life is very much like a poem,” we see a deft interweaving of personification and simile. Here, life becomes a feminine gender that compares to a poem; a poem that is itself “short and poignant”, “immortal,” “humorous,” “emotional,”  “beautiful,” to name a few. The powerful use of simile in this poem seems to drain the last drop of optimism in our pool of hope. This construction rather becomes a metaphor that problematizes the link between conviction and hopelessness. Either in “Ziena, child of destiny,” or in “Unemployment,” or in “A way to die,” we see how simile is deployed to capture the complex occurrences and even inconsistencies and contradictions in the poet’s life. These are, however, accepted as the poet’s effort to make sense of certain socio-political phenomena in Nigeria.

In Ezeonu’s work, modern poetry’s subversion of realism is given a tangible exigency reminiscent of what the French philosopher, Henri Lefebvre, describes as “a false

world” (1991: 5). Ezeonu’s poems connect us with the impressive promises of social realism, the pathos and struggle of daily life, and the grand betrayals of governance that pretends to ‘democratize’ us. In “The Infidel” Ezeonu mocks the pretensions of religious bigots, exposes their hypocrisy and delusions, but always returns to the struggling, human voices of the misled and dispossessed.  

“Memorabilia,” “Abominations has come to Stay,”  “Death of an Uncle,”  “Here I Lie,”  “The Lingering Hope,” “After Death,” “The Infidel” all invoke a certain poetic modernity  that enables us to address the jaggedness – the corruption, the insecurity, and death – that is central to our structural, economic, and psychological reality. However, while “Memorabilia” recognizes the hidden fatality of a death that lurks by the corner of every vibrant life, “Death of an Uncle” ponders the vile with which apocalypse stifles the very strength of struggle.  While “Abomination has come to Stay” mourns the blatant impunity of acculturation and globalization, “Here I Lie” bemoans the wasteful remnants of temporality. Yet if the exegesis of death is revealed in “After Death”, “The Infidel” only reflects the violent and fundamentalist relations leading to death itself.  If we must insist on understanding the process of dying better, then we may be compelled to believe Sylvia Plaith who says: “Dying is an art like everything else, I do it exceptionally well.” Now considering Plaith’s position it means that each of us does dying exceptionally well, especially if we believe that living is a process of dying. However, it does seem that “The Infidel” rejects the existential interdependence of faiths, problematizes it and promotes a new politics of religious irresponsibility and injustice.    

Ezeonu strongly believes that even in the midst of all these terrible happenings that:

Nothing weird under the sun

Can frighten my feet to run

Nothing strange on earth

Can make me hold my breath (p.14).

This is an audacious pronouncement and a confident assertion that may lead us to query the other side of Ezeonu’s personality. This other side flickers with a dim glow of optimism in such poems as “I am love,”  “The jilted lover,” “I choose Knowledge.” Therefore, in conclusion, it would be quite unrealistic to dismiss Ezeonu as a cynic or one with a crestfallen heart. While his woebegone lyrics might serve as emollient tonic for the already downtrodden, he, at the same time, allows confident songs to interject his deep psychological melancholia.  Ezeonu seems to believe that one needs to mitigate the harshness of life with the ebullience and passion of brotherhood. In this vein “Tatoo girl” and the likes interrupt the macabre undertone of the entire lyrics drawing us to a conclusion that life, for Ezeonu, is a poem where the good, the bad and the ugly wrestle for verses and stanzas.

References

Henri Lefebvre, Critique of Everyday Life: Volume 1, Introduction, J. Moore (transl.), (London: Verso, 1991).

Roland Bleiker, “Editor’s Introduction” Alternatives, Vol. 25. No.3. 2000: 273.

Diary of a Travelogue: My visit to Siavonga, Zambia in 2007

A Journey to Zambia for the Insaka International Artists’ Workshop.

September 2007

Having been invited to participate in the Insaka International Artists’ Workshop in Zambia I wrote the following letter to the then Vice Chancellor of the Nnamdi Azikiwe University where I teach:

 Department of Fine and Applied Arts

 Nnamdi Azikiwe University

 Awka

 Anambra State

 Nigeria

11^TH  July, 2007.

The Vice Chancellor,

Nnamdi Azikiwe University

Awka.

Through

The Chairman,

Conference Documentation Committee

UNIZIK.

Through

The Dean,

Faculty of Arts, UNIZIK.

Through

The  Head

Department of Fine and Applied Arts, UNIZIK.

Sir,

APPLICATION FOR  PERMISSION AND FINANCIAL ASSISTANCE TO TRAVEL TO SIAVONGA, ZAMBIA FOR THE 4^TH INSAKA INTERNATIONAL ARTISTS WORKSHOP

I wish to seek  for  your permission and financial assistance to travel to Siavonga, Zambia for the 4^th Insaka International artists workshop taking place between 31^st August to 13th September 2007.

Out of all the Nigerian applicants, I was the only one selected for the workshop and the selection was based on the proposal written, professional achievements and photos  of artworks submitted.

I wish to solicit for your financial support to the tune of  one hundred and sixty thousand naira (N160,000.00)  as the Insaka committee cannot provide this for any of the participants.

The financial support will be used to settle the expenses as follows:

1.Travelling expenses to and from Lusaka, Zambia: N120,000.00

2. Overnight expenses in Siavonga for two weeks:   N40,000.00

Total…………………………………………………N160,000.00

I believe this exhibition will further elevate the status of our institution and also showcase the laudable gestures of this present administration and even initiate a working relationship between UNIZIK and the host group through which other  projects may be achieved.

Enclosed below is a copy of my letter from Insaka.

I await your kind reply.

Sincerely Yours,

Okechukwu NWAFOR (Lecturer II)

Department of Fine and Applied Arts,

Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka.

The letter was approved by Prof. Ilochi Okafor, the then Vice Chancellor together with the sum of 60 thousand Naira. I went to Abuja for my Visa and after about two weeks of rigorous Visa process, I secured the Visa for Zambia. Below is a report I wrote concerning the Workshop:

The story began and ended in Butete, the serene, sleepy village south of Zambia where the artists lived and worked during the workshop. Lurked within the dry, infertile side of Zambia, Butete indeed may not be among the blessed children of  nature as artists arrived in the desolate and forlorn landscape of this land which may have lacked rainfall for as long as 12 months or more. Greeted by an indigent inhabitants and a windy but dry weather, artists settled to the little abode of a bay comprising about fifteen thatched- roofed houses built by a European known as Kennedy. The houses had short walls which created an impression of one lying in the open-thanks to our sleeping bags and blankets. For the organisers of this workshop, the choice of the venue was advisedly for a purpose: firstly, to evade comfort and uphold Chaim Potok’s view that ‘Comfort is the death of art’ and secondly to afford artists an opportunity to experience the calmness of a great lake-Lake Kariba, the largest man-made  lake in the world, which lies beside our abode. Despite the harshness of life for Butete locals, artists convened under a most calculating union and allowed the extenuating circumstances of Butete and Lake Kariba to govern their creative instincts. Eventually, all adversities were cushioned by the common interest as ideas took precedence over suffering or in philosophical parlance, ‘mind ascended over matter’.

On the workshop were: myself from Nigeria, Ruth from Scotland, Bevas from New York, Aditi from India, Maryan from Kenya, Sheila from Uganda, Clarence from Zimbabwe, Marna from South Africa and Daniel from South Africa too. We were nine invited artists and twelve artists from Zambia.

The very first day of the workshop was the day I arrived Lusaka and could not join them. I, Daniel from South Africa and Bevas from New York arrived late so we joined the rest on 3^rd September.

3^rd September 2007: Everybody had started work. Some people worked on oil, some on acrylic, some on wood and some on stone while some like me tried their hands on installation. I had collected chips from the sculptors’ wood and used them to build a base for a painting. As dusk approached artists retreated to their tents and prepared for the dinner. After dinner, the artists gathered together as Zenzele Chulu, the coordinator of Insaka in Zambia made an introduction and overview of previous workshops in slide format.

The night was now dark and sounds of drumbeats echoed from a little distance. Chulu announced that the sounds were that of the little village children who had come to interact with us. This was part of the aims of the workshop-interaction with the local community. The children formed a circle as one or two of them danced to the middle to the rhythm of the drums. They were excellent drummers and dancers. The artists watched in admiration and eventually few of us joined them. It was a fulfilling night.

4^th September 2007:  Work commenced as usual after breakfast. Most artists were trying something new. Marna from South Africa and Aditi from India were trying their hands on wood which according to them was their first time. I had finished an installation on a tree using polyethene bags. It looked interesting.  We took a walk into the village. We trekked close to the Kariba Lake and interacted with the villagers and took photos with them. In the evening immediately after dinner there was an art presentation by myself and Daniel. I spoke on War as my topic while Daniel spoke on Confinement.

5^th September 2007: Work commenced. Everybody concentrated. There was lunch and dinner after which Marna from South Africa and Aditi from India presented their works.

6^th September 2007 (Thursday): After breakfast we were told that we will be going on a  boat ride on the kariba Lake. The ride was in batches. Some went ahead of us. We drove in a truck for about 20 kilometers and came to a village where the boat was waiting. We entered and although I was afraid initially but as the boat moved, my fear was allayed. At the middle of the lake we saw 3 Hippos. The day rolled by and today’s presentation was by Alumedi from Zambia and Clarence from Zimbabwe.

7^th September 2007: Work continued. From my work position, the sound from the sculptors’ machines was strong. It reminded me of my days in University of Nigeria when we worked into the night and the sound of similar machines wafted from the sculpture studio into our own painting studio. But the difference here was that Zambian sculptors worked mainly on stone because there is availability of hard stones.

8^th September 2007 (Saturday): Today we went to Kariba Bridge. This bridge demarcates Zambia and Zimbabwe and the dam was a joint project between the two countries. This is where the major electric power of both countries was generated. From this bridge one could see Zimbabwe hidden by steep hills and lonely border. From here we went to a lake side where we swam. The journey back to the bay took 1 and half hours. Today, Tom Phiri from Zambia, Lombe Insama from Zambia and Ruth MacDougall from Scotland presented their works.

9^th September2007 (Sunday): Some Christian participants attended the local church while others worked. Today Mulenga from Zambia, Sheila from Uganda, Partrick from Zambia  and Adrain from Zambia presented their works.

10^th September2007: Work continued. Presentation was by Bevas from New York, Maryan from Kenya, Lutanda from Zambia.

11^th September 2007: Today was the final day for production. Most artists had finished while some were rounding off. Later in the day, the mounting started. The trees around Butete bay provided the base for the mounting of works. After dinner most of us gathered together in what appeared as the grand finale of all night sessions in Butete bay. There was no topic initially but Bevas introduced a topic, ‘My First Love’. It was very exciting listening to one another recount his or her first love experience. So private a topic was it that some people like Marna from South Africa, Sheila from Uganda and Aditi from India declined to join. But it was an attempt to kill the boring long hours of the night and create alternate leisure that propelled us into those private stories. The discussion continued and Marna, I and some others had provided some drinks which everybody enjoyed while the discussion lasted. The night advanced and the weather was becoming chilling cold. Clarence took us into more daring, adventurous stories of youthful lust and exuberance but because it was seen as an adult forum people’s sense of decency may not have been offended. It was a night of laughter, excitement and fraternization.

12^th September 2007: The opening ceremony of the exhibition was today. Each artist endeavoured to mount his works on the trees scattered around the bay. The invitees had started arriving. Around 3pm, Mr Bright Chimba of The National Arts Council, Zambia made a speech and the representative of the Minister of Community Development and Social Welfare Mr. Wesley Kaonga formally declared the exhibition open. Also in attendance were representative of The Kenyan High Commissioner, Helen kenani and representative of The Nigerian High Commissioner in Zambia, Nnamdi.   A bus filled with Zambian artists arrived. Most of them wore dreadlocks  and raucously formed a beehive in the once serene environs of Butete  bay. At nightfall around 10pm, most of these artists gathered around a bonfire singing, dancing and beating drums. I joined them and we beat drums until past midnight.

13^th September 2007: (Thursday). Works had been dismantled and packed in the long truck. The artists mounted the lorry and soon we set off for the four hour journey back to Lusaka. The journey was rough because it was an unusual road of snaking turns made more dangerous by the ubiquitous presence of heavy trucks and trailers. The risk was compounded by the ongoing reconstruction which was aimed at widening the narrow road, forcing motorists to use one lane. We got to Lusaka in the evening. Works were dismantled. We checked into Kuombouka backpackers, a guest house located along Makanta close, Lusaka.

14^th September 2007:  Departure.

Reflections

My interactions with Zambian artists were not restricted to the art domain. As a journalist, I had engaged some of them in discussions involving a wide range of issues. For example, I discovered that Nigerian home video is more popular in Zambia than any other film industry including that of Hollywood. Every Zambian I met seems to know much about Nigerian film actors and actresses more than myself. The most popular is Osuofia (Nkem Owoh) and Genevieve. And they seem to be fascinated by Osuofia’s music, “I Go Chop Your Dollar” more than the films. Moreso, Chinua Achebe commands more popularity than any other Nigerian writer. Most Zambians have either read or heard about “Things  Fall Apart” by  Chinua Achebe.

In a nutshell, to most Zambians, Nigeria remains a figure of fame, honour and accomplishment; a nation made more visible by her ingenious populace.

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Kariba Dam in my mind is one of the greatest human feats and the dam itself could be the largest in the world. The construction of the dam was actually by a demarcation of a tributary of the Zambezi River by a very high wall which could have gulped millions of dollars. Looking down from the bridge one could feel the towering and imposing sensation of a height stretching about 500 metres down. At the lake side in Siavonga, we stopped and I bought some oranges from some Zimbabwean women. These women were keen to know where I came from. Having told them that I am a Nigerian, they asked me if we were shooting a film. They only recognize Nigeria through home video from what I understood. The town of Siavonga where this lake side is located has electricity (unlike Butete where we lived) and development is religiously conservative as people have not got that radical vigour possessed by inhabitants of even the remotest village in  my country, Nigeria.

Arrival at Lusaka International Airport. L-R Zenzele Chuku, Okechukwu Nwafor, Jerry Miko. September 2007.






Okechukwu Nwafor with Daniel Mosako in Siavonga, Zambia, September, 2007.


Okechukwu Nwafor with Swala Lubinda (Right), a Zambian artist and her friend. Lusaka, Zambia, September 2007



A trek to the village in Siavonga, Zambia, September 2007.