Lecture delivered Monday Jan. 30th at the Pre. Lunching of
Transformation and development Conference at Miatta Conference hall
But government alone cannot address all of these changes. As a matter of fact, there are some contributions to society that are best carried out by the philanthropy of men and women whose families had made money in the past, or who in their own right are currently well-placed to make significant financial contribution to the educational, business and cultural development of our children., By so doing they would not only be contributing to the progress of a nation but would be paying homage to the souls of the dead.
Let me give you an example of how philanthropy works: Many years ago, I was invited to a huge poetry festival in Medellin, Columbia. As some of us might remember, Medellin was then famous as the drugs capital of the world, with Pablo Escobar as the untouchable kind. Well, he was eventually killed: a good thing for the world.
When we were in Medellin, we were taken on a grand tour of the museum there, to see some of the huge sculptures of one of the world’s greatest sculptors, the Columbian artist Fernando Botero, in the beautiful gardens of the museum.
But what left an even deeper impression on me was that there was a piece of sculpture in front of nearly every major commercial or business building in Medellin. They were not all Botero’s; other artists were represented.
From the purely aesthetic and cultural point of view it was nice to see these works; but the really amazing thing about the sculptures was that it was the city government’s policy, enacted, as I was informed, by a very enlightened mayor, that no permit would be issued for the erection of any commercial or business house that did not include a provision for a sculpture in front of that building. What an amazing policy of enlightenment, I reflected; what a wonderful way to showcase part of the cultural heritage of a nation? They wanted to give something back to their nation. Ladies and gentlemen, there are dollar millionaires in Sierra Leone; they can give something back to this country.
And speaking of giving something back to the nation, one of my concerns about our last independence anniversary celebration is that there is nothing archival for future generations to examine: we did not give any attention to what may well have proven to be the most important documentation, fifty years hence: an anthology of writing covering not just the past fifty years, but of the entire writing tradition in this country, both oral and written. Fifty years from now, our great-grandchildren will want to know what our writers were saying, long before we received our independence and afterwards. We can correct that omission.
We can start with the oral tradition. This form of poetry is a very rich one in Sierra Leone and the rest of Africa; As a matter of fact, some of the best love poems anywhere in the world are the poems sung by praise singers in Africa: by the jelebas and jelemusus of our regions. They celebrate not just love for one another, but love for other forms of endearment. But look at any available anthology of oral poems from Africa and you would be hard pressed to find a single one from Sierra Leone.
I feel it was important that as we marked fifty years of our independence, a major anthology of poetry from Sierra Leone should have been produced to celebrate our heritage. In addition to its oral section, it should have included the works of pioneers like Caseley Hayford, Delphine King, Thomas Decker, Gaston Bart-Williams. And, because they capture the present concerns so well, the poetry of the fine crop of poets this country has produced in the past fifteen years, whose work deserves to be known by a wider public; both here and abroad.
May I therefore issue a challenge to the captains of industry, to rich real estate owners, lawyers, business houses and others, to do what is necessary: support the publication of a work that will stand as testament to this country’s past history: there is no point talking about being the Athens of West Africa, when we do not even have a single bookshop in Freetown.
I am aware that my work as a writer imposes upon me a great deal of responsibility. Yet, as much as I feel deeply honoured that I have gained some form of international recognition, I am, as mentioned earlier, concerned that a young student, say at Makeni Teacher’s College, cannot walk into the college book store and purchase a copy of any of my books, or that of Sarif Easmon, for that matter.
Hopefully, once the Minister of Education enacts a National Book Policy for this country, all Sierra Leoneans will be able to read the books written by their own countrymen and women.
All my life, I have felt that being a writer was one of the most noble professions in the world; one of the most challenging and rewarding. I believe a writer is someone who, having looked at all the practical professions in the world-soldier, nurse, doctor, engineer, carpenter, bartender, seamstress, footballer or archaeologist, went to sleep one night and decided he wanted to become that most difficult of creators: someone who dares to be the conscience of a nation; a people, an epoch. And, of course, a writer, like most artists, has to contend with many, many years of hardship; and exile and torture in some cases.
Would not recommend the profession to the faint-hearted; to the people who want instant gratification; to those who are envious of other people building mega-mansions or driving expensive cars. But I would recommend it to those with a desire to ask questions about the larger picture: political sanity, economic opportunities, affordable health, communication, love, life, death, human rights, history, and then remind others that no matter how threatening some situations are, the man dies in us, if we remain silent, as Wole Soyinka famously said.
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