Photo by Omoregie Osakpolor
Interview by David Ishaya Osu
In this interview, Bibi Ukonu speaks on his return to creative writing, his influences, the birth of his short-story collection Things That Start Small but Sweet (Griot Lounge, 2017), and the import of his writing. He also shares his experiences venturing into publishing: the risks, successes, plans and possibilities. Here is one Nigerian architect cum writer shaping a path not only for himself but for other writers with a vision to reimagine the world through storytelling.
It’s intriguing that your short-story collection starts from your personal story. In the acknowledgements you mention you “had given up as a creative writer.” Do you mind sharing what it was like? What first sparked your interest in writing and in the arts generally? Can you also walk us through your return to creative writing?
My Dad is the author of a couple of books and numerous sermons. While growing up, Anglican priests would barge into our house on weekdays, begging him to write sermons for them to read to the congregation the following Sundays. Sometimes, he read the sermons himself. My friends would all turn towards me, give me a stare and muffle their giggles. It was either the vocabulary he uttered that made them laugh or the mere admiration they had for him. My father is admired by many who have come across him. My Mum loved collecting poems written by famous poets. I have an uncle who was the foremost writer of Igbo literature. So, I can say I was influenced by these older people, although I only started writing later on in life.
After my first collection of short stories, published in 2011 by Indian publisher Serene Woods, my writing began gaining an audience and I started receiving invitations to literary festivals. I didn’t struggle so hard, like I almost do now, to get big authors to read my works and give me honest reviews. In fact, my debut collection was thoroughly edited by a globally renowned author, who is also one of the past winners of the Nigeria Prize for Literature. But then, something happened that stopped sales. It was a decision I had to make, even though I slipped into depression afterwards.
Then family came. I had my beautiful daughter in October 2011, and my priorities changed. I had to take care of her and keep her safe. She was my world. Suddenly, everything changed. It wasn’t a time to start imagining characters and plots. It wasn’t a time to chase literary circles and festivals about. So I primarily faced my job as a facility manager, taking care of accommodations for personnel in the oil and gas sectors. The next five years welcomed her brothers, our two sons. So, basically, family stole me away from creative writing, besides the fact that I had to abandon my debut for a few personal but painful reasons.
When I returned in 2017, it was because I had already started writing for my magazine and a few other architectural and facilities management journals. I had then started writing in my pseudonym–Bibi Ukonu. I was working with a couple of international advocates, and we focused on slum and waterfront settlers. We advocated for the provision of proper housing for these poor citizens and against forced evictions. It was through my new love and communion with these waterfront people that my last collection, Things That Start Small But Sweet, was birthed. Those stories belong to the poor.
Things That Start Small But Sweet is quite an engrossing read, I must say. Like the title points, the stories start small, they start sweet and then become bigger and bitter. The complications of life, the multiple complexes of individuals. Desires, fears, faith, expectation, bleakness, loss, all these are captured in the collection. For instance Nduka in “Things of the Lord” — here is a character that is good, adorable and active in church, yet stands in multiple layers of cloudy, unpleasant and nasty backgrounds. Can you speak on this?
(laughs) Yes. Nduka is actually a nice young man. Everyone loved him, especially the women of Mary Sumner, who wanted him to have their daughters for free, until shady things started happening around him. The protagonists in all the stories are usually good people faced with awkward challenges and daily trials. They live moderate lives, which at some point turn either sour or beautiful. They do not promise anything, neither happiness nor sadness. They are stories I wrote when I felt I needed to write them.
Still in church, there’s then Ndukamkpa in “Things that prosper us” who, to salvage himself after losing his job at a brewery, decides to start a church. Shameful, yes, but it does boldly speak about the state of affairs in the religious scene of Nigeria and the extent to which hundreds of pastors go to make miracles and win millions of naira. The story, however, ends with a great laugh, a kind of mockery when Adamu brings out the blue handkerchief he picked to wipe his sweaty face, the same blue handkerchief that made miracles happen. I am aware you’re Christian yourself, what was it like deciding to mirror this aspect? Were you ever concerned what Christian readers will make from this?
I am a Christian. I am actually a serious one. I believe in the efficacy of my God’s divinity. But I’m not radical as such. I’m liberal to the extent that I welcome all religions I’ve come across. I think that’s synonymous with all writers, maybe because we always want to experience just about everything. My father was raised in a highly missionary home by parents that were predominantly pilgrims who travelled from church to church, chapel to chapel, community to community, teaching locals the word of God. My father read the entire collection and called to tell me that they were all well written. So, I don’t think I owe any other Christian anything, since he’s my SI Unit for measuring Christianity. (laughs)
These stories are real chronicles of life in Lagos, in London, in Port Harcourt, in Imo state. While writing, what informed what you put in or omitted? The stories are as biographical as they are fictional and fictionalized. There’s the architect in ‘Things we become’, there’s the Otodo-Gbame community that suffered demolition. What runs through your writer’s mind when crafting these stories?
My daily experiences with people, communities and nature. I write about what I feel and where I feel it. And then I try to liberate people through stories.
How would you describe the relationship between your architectural practice and writing? This reminds me of Arundhati Roy, who herself trained as an architect. She said, “writing is like architecture. In buildings, there are design motifs that occur again and again, that repeat— patterns, curves. These motifs help us feel comfortable in a physical space. And the same works in writing, I’ve found. For me, the way words, punctuation and paragraphs fall on the page is important as well—the graphic design of the language.” There’s also the Polish-born American architect Daniel Libeskind who said, “I believe that architecture is a storytelling profession. It tells a story. There’s got to be emotion… A story with emotion, that’s what makes us human.” I’m interested in your view on this, since you write poetry as well.
You know architecture, like writing, comes with unique styles. Individuals in these professions create, and their creations are influenced by the culture, scenery, fragrances and moods of where the creators are domiciled. That is why you have African architecture and also African literature. These fields are well defined. They are both art. And art is divine. Divinity is God. In some strange but loud cases, they are interwoven. You encounter architecture in my writing at different spots. I use the power of the letters to create and construct buildings that only exist in my head, only so I can effectively make them imaginable to my readers.
You’ve also ventured into publishing. What’s it like running Griots Lounge in Nigeria? As a naive reader then, I wondered why there were books printed in India but published in Nigeria, until I started getting inside facts about the challenges and cost of printing, promotion, and all that. How do you manage all this?
Na God (laughs). But that’s all I can say for now. But then, Griots Lounge was co-founded by me and Jide Aluka in 2012. We published just one book which featured at festivals and readings in Nigeria and abroad. We were at the 2013 Africa Writes in London as Publishers. We signed new deals and got distributors in London. But then, things didn’t turn out as expected. We can’t even find our London distributors anymore. They still have copies of our title, I would want to believe. We returned in 2017 with my collection, and won an Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) 1st runner prize. After that title, we have published four new works and they are beautiful works. Anyone that wants to know how we are faring can visit our website to follow our progress. Aha…before I forget, we recently launched a webstore on the website. We will sell books by us and other publishers.
Two or three questions in one: There are six authors in your catalogue and they are all men, is there a reason for this? Also, are you primarily focused on Nigerian literature, or do you intend to publish authors from just about anywhere in the world? Lastly, is Griots Lounge currently open for submissions?
First of all, I’d love to announce to you that we are at the verge of signing a title by a female author. She would, hopefully, be our last signing for the year. Griots Lounge was founded out of the burning desires of the founders to ensure that gifted writers in Nigeria and Africa, who do not gain the required attention, are supported by the platforms we create. We are not wealthy enough to sign titles written by authors in other parts of the world. When we get there, everyone will know. We are not soliciting at the moment either. But I encourage young writers to follow us on all social media and web platforms. Before the end of the year we shall open our blog to creative writings by budding writers in Africa.
Bibi Ukonu, born Binyerem Ukonu, is an architect,
facility manager, poet and novelist. He is published online and in print
magazines, such as Pyramid Magazine and Twilight Musings of International Library of Poetry. He is also the
editor of CityDezigns Magazine, managing editor of Griots Lounge Publishing Imprint. He also writes about architecture, facility management and
sustainable development. Things That Start Small But Sweet (Griots Lounge, 2019) is his second collection of short
stories, and was 1st runner-up in the 2018 ANA/Abubakar Gimba Prize for Short
Stories.
David Ishaya Osu is a poet, memoirist and editor. His work appears in Eureka Street, Slice Magazine, The Capilano Review, Transition, Salamander Magazine, New Coin Poetry, Magma Poetry, Poetry Wales, Pittsburgh Poetry Review, Poetry Salzburg Review, Platypus Press among others. David is the poetry editor of Panorama: The Journal of Intelligent Travel, and is currently doing an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Kent, England.