Decade Blogs
If it
has not yet occurred to readers of my blog, one of the reasons why I thought of
this #YourBlogOnMyBlog Series commemorating my
Decade
of Blogging was to encourage writing. Writing our own stories, in our
own way, with our own voice, the best way we can.
I am proud to say that I have a few first time writers and some relapsed writers who have since revived their dormant blogs, then I have the veterans who write either for a living or for pleasure and we are all enriched by the experience.
I have known Saratu Abiola as both a voracious reader and an incisive writer, more so a very good reviewer of books, novels, texts, award shortlists and opinions. I am always in a mad rush to see what she has put up on her blog.
Besides maintaining
a blog titled Method to the Madness
she tweets with the Twitter handle @saratu
and is the Political Editor for Nigerians
Talk that “provides a Nigerian perspective of issues, and we feature
opinion and analysis with a distinctive Nigerian point of view.”
The first paragraph of her piece here is a litany of the typical Nigerian
story at any point in time, but as she weaves her thoughts into a narrative, we
are given a perspective of what is the Nigerian psyche, our survival instinct
and what writing does to give us a clearer perspective of things. This is good
reading.
On Nigeria and Why Writing
Matters
Another day, another scandal. Someone stole
U.S. $50 billion from the crude oil account mere months after someone
bought two armoured vehicles that seem to be covered by an invisibility
cloak since no one has ever seen them. Let’s not forget, of course, the many
days in which schools
have been closed, the number of days since the constitutional
review process has been abandoned, the impending nationwide
strike by doctors, the number of heists pulled that we do not yet even know
about. [Reuters]
[Vanguard
Nigeria] [Vanguard
Nigeria] [Premium
Times Nigeria] [Premium
Times Nigeria]
There is a lot that ails Nigeria and if one reads the news daily or even
engages with one’s political environment at all it is sure to be overwhelming.
So out of step are our collective reaction to our national malaise that it is
tempting as someone who writes – be it fiction or on a blog – to dedicate one’s
life to attempting to find the right words to shaking ourselves out of our
collective national slumber. What, then, brings about the impetus to write?
There is a recurrent conversation in circles that I orbit about what
exactly our responsibilities are to our country as politically-conscious, young
Nigerians who want better for Nigeria in creating the country of our dreams. It
is a good question, and one worth asking in a country where we are all
complicit in the mess that we find ourselves in.
I’m quick to shrug off any moral and/or ethical responsibility ascribed
to me, because I know I owe neither a group nor a narrative any room in shaping
my life. But I do understand that when you’re in a situation as dire as Nigeria
is, with a leadership void as wide and as open as the hungriest mouth, the
desire to mould yourself into what is missing in your environment even if it
means bending yourself well out of shape.
Writing has helped in seeking answers to this question, but it has also
helped to re-centre priorities to more personal aspirations in important ways
that I don’t always see. In the daily hustle and bustle of my life, as I jump
from one project to another, it is easy to forget that in our pursuit for a
better Nigeria, it is important to first seek a better us.
My writing allows me time and tools to process my thoughts; it is my way
of keeping my brain-space tidy. I write infrequently, so the jumble of thoughts
in my head is like a tornado just swept through it, so the pressure is on each
piece of writing to count. Not always a good thing, as it adds undue pressure,
but here I am.
Nigeria is very much like that tornado, because it is easy in the aftermath of yet another week of not having light [In Nigerianese, light and electricity supply are synonymous.] or a trip somewhere that makes you wonder why more people are not taking up arms and throwing rotten tomatoes at every government official they can find, to feel the pressure bunching up in your shoulders that must find a way to be released. For me – and I imagine it is so for many bloggers – writing is it, even if it what I’m writing about is not ostensibly about politics.
A friend said to me once: “Saratu, we are all surviving o. Even rich
people! IBB [Ibrahim
Babangida] and OBJ [Olusegun
Obasanjo] and Otedola [Femi Otedola] and Dangote [Aliko
Dangote], they are all merely surviving. Look at how we are all scrambling
to get all the money we can possibly get, as if we need it to hibernate in
winter! If they were sure that they would never be broke and that even if they
were less rich it won’t be the worst thing in the world, they’d stop stealing.
But that’s not the country we live in. Money rules all. Nothing else matters.”
In a country where we are all in survival mode, the most important relationships we have are transactional ones that help ensure our survival. But what if the urgency we feel about this need for survival was translatable into other less tangible, less capitalistic pursuits? What if we found that our hunger for relevance, for respect, for pride, could be sated in other less avaricious ways?
The urge to write always serves for me as a constant reminder of a more
personally fulfilling goal that I could attain from a well within myself.
Knowing that it is there and knowing what it does for me is invaluable.
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