Reclaiming and Redefining African Fiction.
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At the heart of our shared humanity lies a fundamental and transcendent art form: storytelling. It's more than mere words on a page or lines in a script; it's the magical realm where imagination dances with reality. Whether through epic poetry like the "Mahabharata" of ancient India, timeless fables like Aesop's "The Tortoise and the Hare," or the art of oral tradition with stories about Ananse the Spider from West African folklore, stories have been our companions throughout history. They're the mirror to our souls, reflecting our values, culture, and beliefs.
Fiction often finds itself relegated to the corner of leisure and entertainment. It's seen as the refuge of those seeking mere escapism, a realm where words on a page or scenes on a screen provide a brief solace from the rigors of reality. And yet, beneath this façade of entertainment lies a world teeming with power, a force that has shaped human history, incited revolutions, and sculpted the very essence of who we are.
Our ancestors, sitting around flickering fires, shared tales of bravery like the "Epic of Gilgamesh" from ancient Mesopotamia. They inscribed tales on ancient parchment, like "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" by Homer, which became the bedrock of Western literature. These tales weren't merely entertainment; they were the vessels carrying the wisdom of generations, the moral compass guiding societies. In those early days, stories weren't passive experiences; they were communal gatherings, where laughter, tears, and shared experiences connected people. From the oral traditions of indigenous communities to the epic poems etched in stone and parchment, storytelling has served as a repository of collective knowledge, a bridge between generations, and a mirror reflecting the intricacies of societies.
Whether addressing themes of morality, ethics, or the human condition, fiction serves as a conduit for philosophical exploration, inviting readers and viewers to ponder life's most significant questions. Think about the enduring impact of characters like Luke Skywalker from "Star Wars," who became a symbol of hope and resilience for generations. Or consider Frodo Baggins from "The Lord of the Rings", whose journey resonates with anyone who has faced seemingly insurmountable challenges. These characters, born from the imaginations of creators like George Lucas and J.R.R. Tolkien, transcended cultural boundaries and united people across the globe. It has the ability to convey complex concepts through the lens of narrative, making philosophy accessible to the masses.
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The digital age has transformed the landscape of storytelling, ushering in an era of unprecedented accessibility and democratisation. Platforms like Wattpad, which have become breeding grounds for emerging voices across the spectrum. Here, writers from all walks of life, including those who may have been marginalized or overlooked by traditional publishing, have found a global audience eager to devour their tales. The power to create and consume narratives has been placed directly in the hands of the people.
This democratisation of storytelling has opened up avenues for African fiction to emerge, and emerge wide. African writers, from diverse backgrounds and identities, are seizing the opportunity to amplify their voices. Works like "Freshwater" by Akwaeke Emezi, which explores the intersection of Igbo spirituality and identity, are gaining recognition on a global scale. Emezi's novel delves into the complexities of identity, mental health, and the spiritual realm, offering a unique perspective rooted in African traditions while resonating with readers worldwide. Yaa Gyasi, with her novel "Homegoing", traverses the complex history of slavery and its enduring legacy. Writers like Binyavanga Wainaina, in his celebrated essay "I Am a Homosexual, Mum," have opened spaces for important conversations about identity, acceptance, and human rights. These narratives challenge traditional norms and contribute to inclusive dialogue within African societies.
However, many of these seminal works are still relegated to the libraries of the niche avid readers and the conversations of the literarily inclined. Access to the forefront of the wider cultural consciousnesses is likely to be gatekept by the hallowed halls of publishing houses and movie production studios, who are typically bound by a dual mandate—nurturing artistic authenticity and ensuring commercial viability. Sadly, we live in a world where profit margins often dictate the fate of creative works. Publishers and production houses, driven by the bottom line, are naturally inclined to invest in stories that promise mass appeal. These are the tales that seem, on the surface, to have the broadest reach and the highest potential for profitability. The formula is clear: stories that align with familiar tropes, cater to existing market trends, and resonate with a wide audience are seen as safe bets.
Yet, in the relentless pursuit of profit, a dilemma emerges—one that creators grapple with daily. This dilemma revolves around the decision to either conform to the expectations of a market driven by shallow, easily consumable narratives or to adhere to one's artistic authenticity, even if it means swimming against the tide.
In the African space, this effect is very pronounced as the market is still in its burgeoning youth. The capital investment and infrastructural systems required to create a viable sustainable market for stories are all in their infancy in Africa. This amplifies the tight-fistedness of the few with resources and the vested stakes. As a result, valuable and unconventional stories often find themselves on the cutting room floor, deemed too niche, too complex, or too challenging to be marketable. This tension between artistry and commercial success is not merely an artistic struggle; it has far-reaching implications for the diversity of ideas and voices in the realm of fiction. When stories are shaped to fit the mold of mass appeal, they often steer clear of controversial or unconventional subject matter. This, in turn, can lead to a form of self-censorship, where creators avoid exploring radical ideas or pushing boundaries out of fear of alienating potential audiences.
Gatekeepers themselves may engage in varying degrees of censorship, rejecting works that challenge the status quo or tackle uncomfortable truths. Radical ideas, subversive themes, and narratives that defy societal norms often face rejection under the guise of being "unmarketable." This further exacerbates the homogenization of our storytelling, stifling the diversity of thought and expression that fiction should inherently embrace. So, we arrive at a complex interplay between commerce and creativity, creators find themselves walking a tightrope, trying to strike a balance between producing commercially viable work and maintaining their artistic authenticity. The consequences of veering too far in either direction are profound, impacting not only the stories we consume but also the broader cultural discourse.
As we navigate this developing landscape around African fiction, it's imperative to recognize the value of stories that challenge conventions, provoke thought, and champion artistic authenticity. The power to shape the future of African storytelling lies not only in the hands of the industry powers but also in our collective willingness to embrace narratives that push boundaries and amplify diverse voices, even when they challenge the norms of commercial storytelling and our cultures.
Filtering down from the surrounding context, we arrive at a core question that must also be tackled. What truly defines African fiction? What makes a work of fiction African? It's not solely about geographical setting, character ethnicity, or genre choice. Not at all. I stand that the heart of African fiction lies in the voices behind the stories. It's the African perspective, shaped by a lifetime of experiences framed by an African identity, that gives birth to African fiction. African fiction is a canvas, ready to be painted with a myriad of narratives, whether it's a shounen anime created by Africans, a futuristic epic set in New York by a young Nigerian author, or a stage play about a South African family crafted by a Kenyan playwright. African fiction transcends neat categorizations; it is as boundless as the African continent itself. Creators are the beating heart of African fiction, reflecting multifaceted identities and diverse journeys. Whether hailing from bustling urban centers or serene rural landscapes, whether identifying with indigenous traditions or contemporary cosmopolitanism, African creators bring a broad spectrum of perspectives to the literary canvas.
In this age of interconnectedness and globalisation, the idea of what is "African" is evolving. Africans and their experiences come in all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life, with diverse opinions, politics, ideals, and values. There is no longer a Western-derived, homogenized view of what is African or what Africa and Africans can or should be. The validity of all our stories cannot be boxed in by expectations or preconceptions, as doing so stifles diverse creativity and strengthens incorrect presumptions about our people. African fiction, at its core, is a celebration of this diversity, an affirmation of the myriad voices and perspectives that make up the African experience. It's a declaration that we will no longer be portrayed as expected, but rather, we will portray ourselves as we are—vibrant, multifaceted, and unapologetically authentic.
Africa’s newfound birth in the global spotlight is presenting all sorts of novel opportunities for emerging industries to position themselves in ways that are financially advantageous, but also beneficial to what it truly means to be African. So far, music has successfully been the flagbearer of the “Africa to the World” movement. However, I believe that the timeless communicative power of fiction poses an even greater opportunity to puncture age-old stereotypes about the continent, while proliferating the under-represented beauty, intricacy, philosophy, etc. of the African people. It's a clarion call to break free from the shackles of stereotypes and preconceived notions. The African experience is a rich tapestry of narratives, from tales of opulence like Sefi Atta's "Everything Good Will Come" to the thrilling mischief found in Nnedi Okorafor's "Who Fears Death". Creators must feel empowered to tell their stories authentically, transcending the limitations imposed by traditional gatekeepers. Financiers should recognize the potential for both profit and social impact in stories that challenge the status quo. Audiences, too, play a pivotal role by actively seeking out and celebrating narratives that represent the richness of the human experience.
As such, it is time for African fiction to be decolonized. We are all familiar with that common feeling when a story, character, or setting in a work of fiction is supposed to be African, and is presented with broad strokes that inspire collective eye rolls. The genericism of the accents, clothing, dusty sunsets, and subject matter are usually relics of a colonial understanding of the continent and her people. Even our own productions are guilty of these crimes. Hence, there is a call to be answered; one that demands that we break free from the constraints of expectations and embrace narratives that resonate with the continent’s authenticity. Africa is not a monolithic entity; it is a continent teeming with diversity—a mosaic of cultures, languages, histories, and lived experiences. African creators are poised to dismantle lingering misconceptions and replace them with narratives that reflect the multifaceted reality of the continent. From tales of opulence and intrigue to stories of resilience and social change, African fiction must celebrate the myriad voices that populate the continent's cultural landscape. Decolonization in African fiction is about validating all our stories. By championing the diversity of African voices and experiences, by telling stories that resonate with their own truths, creators now have the power to reshape the narrative around Africa, ensuring that it is a true reflection of the people who call it home.
The current technological, economic and socio-cultural climes of the globalizing world present a unique opportunity for our stories to evolve and flourish. Perhaps there is even a chance in the near future for our epics to reach tentpole status as generation-defining or cult-classic tales. What is most important is that the time has come wherein African fiction is no longer bound by the constraints of external expectations. It must embody the power of self-expression, the importance of embracing diverse voices, and the resilience of narratives that can no longer be boxed in by preconceptions.
The time has come for Africa to speak for herself through stories that are as varied and vibrant as the continent.