Wole Soyinka on His New Satire of Corruption and Fundamentalism

This is The New Yorker Radio Hour, a co-production of WNWC Studios and The New Yorker. Welcome to The New Yorker Radio Hour, I'm David Remnick. In 1965, five years after Nigeria gained its independence, the playwright, Wolleshoyenka, was already known as an opposition figure. Authorities falsely accused him of armed robbery. And before the country's civil war of the late 60s, Shoyenka tried to avert fighting. He was accused of conspiring with rebels and was then imprisoned by the Nigerian government. He's a writer within astonishing history of putting himself on the line for his political and social commitments. Shoyenka has received the Nobel Prize for Literature. He's written more than two dozen plays, a vast amount of poetry, several memoirs, essays, and short stories, and just two novels. His third novel is out now nearly five decades after the last one. It's called Chronicles from the Land of the Happiest People on Earth. It's both a political satire and a murder mystery. It involves four friends, a secret society dealing in human body parts, and more corruption than any one country can bear. Staff writer Vincent Cunningham spoke to Walla Shoyenka at his home in Nigeria. I heard that you've been thinking about this story for many years now. How does it feel to have it out in the world? It's been a little bit overwhelming, I think, I wasn't expecting this kind of reception of it. This is just part of my own creative continuum in a different format, it's taking time off from theatre to write a novel. Yeah. This is your third novel, and of course, you're known most prolifically for your works of theatre, but what is it that the novel does for you, that theatre does it? This change in form. Are there necessities that it meets that theatre does it, and vice versa, what's the form about for you? What the novel does for me as a medium of expression is to assuage the masochist in me, because the novel is very taxing, taxing in the sense that it's tempting to go in so many directions. Theatre for me is more focused when you're in a theatre, and you're juggling a number of characters and the system wandering in very willfully in directions, which you did not review, you know, and then you forget where you last saw them, and so on. I really praise novelists, those whose nature is a novel, they have a hard time at it. Yeah. But you do in this way, and it's interesting to hear you talk about them in some ways willing themselves, but you offer us this total panoply of great characters. There's a crooked religious leader, there's politicians, a sort of earnest diplomat, a famous doctor. Did you, in the course of writing this book, was there a favorite character that you aligned on? Was there one who was especially willful and sort of surprised you in different ways? Well, there's no question at all that a number of the characters were, quote unquote, inspired or triggered into being by personal encounters, and to great pains to ensure that some of the villains knew that they provided the base material, and in fact, I've even met one of them since the novel came out, and it came out to me and I said, "Well, you're coming to me, I hope you realize that you were this in the novel." And it was a politician, and like a good politician said, "Oh, prof, that's okay, but I really want to discuss a certain issue with you in the novel, again, by character." But so the novel does give one that latitude, I must confess, and then it can play variations far more than in theatre. I think theatre is almost pre-written, by that I mean, they are more constricted in case of a theatre, and that is one of the reasons why tackling a theme like this human tumult, in which I've been existing, watching others survive, it made me to survive in my way, watching that deterioration of society, the novel intuitively stuck me as the only medium in which I could actually approach myself, of this oppressive sense of a society going gaywire. It's interesting, there is this sense, this dark sense of a, as you say, a society going haywire, and it's contrasted against this wonderful title, the land of the happiest people on earth. Now I heard that this was inspired by the quote-unquote world happiness report, where Nigeria was rated one of the happiest countries in the world, first of all, is that true, and what did that reality, if so, what did that present to you artistically? Well, when I saw that book, that world report, I thought, look at these people laughing at us, why they are so cruel, why they are doing this, and then I realized it was supposed to be a serious poll, a serious estimate, supposed to be objective and a liturgical, even scientific, and so I looked into this, I said, maybe I am in the wrong place, but when I looked around, which is still a society, which I recognize as my own, as one of which I functioned. So it stuck in my head for quite a while, this was some years ago, and when I began working on it, it actually began with other titles, eventually I suddenly realized, oh, wait a minute, that estimation, that analysis is the exact title I've been looking for. You know, happiness is such a fraught idea, here in America, of course we've sort of encoded it into our national myth, you know, the pursuit of happiness, has all these factors. Yes, yes. What does it mean for you? Because of course can be totally vapid, fun-seeking, surface sort of epicureanism, I guess. But it can also speak to a real joy. What does it mean for you, and why did it fit so well? It fits so well, of course, because it's an irony, this country, the people in this nation are not the happiest by no strength of the imagination. And yet, at the same time, if they went deep enough in society, I think they would flee or consign this nation to the place to be during your own, what's that season of yours? I'm Skeletons all over the place, the Halloween, but maybe this is Halloween nation, and then I can understand it. Right, right. But then, again, as I was saying, you do encounter those who extract, possibly a measure of contentment, of fulfillment, even of the most meagre kind, they're buoyed either by religion or by an ingrained tradition of philosophy that the worst is yet to come, and therefore you better enjoy the present, because Nigerians do celebrate, I mean, that is not allowed, and those people all over the world when Nigerians are, they do salute Nigerians for their spirit of celebration, which is why it took pains to ensure that at least one character represented what the pursuit of happiness might be, through creativity, through just love of others, through just making others happy, if only for a few moments. So it's a mishmash of the ironies, about non-legments, of concession, of even a measure of salute to the people, I hope that measure comes out, that element comes out. Staff writer Vincent Cunningham, speaking with Nobel laureate, Wally Shea, for to come. Speaking of this issue of happiness in the different places where it can be found, or not found, you know, where it can be promised, but not delivered, perhaps. One of those is religion, and a lot of this book turns on a kind of an upswing in religious fundamentalism. Is it okay if I read a very short passage that I just love from this book? It's about a preacher who we get to know better on, his name is Papa Divina, and he has this epiphany. He's on this kind of long comic journey across West Africa. We see him in Liberia, Senegal, Sierra Leone, and he's in Ghana, and he has this epiphany. He's just kind of made this pun on the word a sight of prophecy or prophet sight. And he says this. He looked nervously around, hoping that no one else had caught that creative slip, or at least that it had not registered with anyone in that audience with apostolic ambitions. The flash momentarily unnerved him, as it inserted profound doubts in his mind. Could it be that he was after all the genuine article, that he indeed responded to an authentic [BLANK_AUDIO] to prophecy, prophesied. Why had all his predecessors failed to formulate such an exquisite, indeed malifluous name for a place of spiritual quest? Could it be that he was unbeknownst to himself till now truly called this person who's clearly a charlatan of a kind but almost convinces himself that he's not in uncertain ways? I wanted to talk to you just about this emphasis on fundamentalism. What role did that play for you? You know, some of the greatest charlatans of religion, of the religious profession, are really very likeable people, very lovable people. First of all, they're performers. They enjoy performing. Now, if you enjoy what you're doing, you're a happy person and you infect others with some of that happiness. So even while you're blabbering pie attitudes and knowing very well that you are conning your congregation, you do produce not just happiness, sometimes rupture, genuine authentic rupture. And so I have found very complex people, the genuine legionists. Of course, some of them I just sinister, they're fundamentalists, for instance, both of Christianity and of Islam and the Hinduism, for instance, you have the fundamentalists. Our religions have their fundamentalist sectors and those are really sinister, dangerous people. They have no sense of humor. They cannot see the the prophetic side of life. They cannot even look at themselves in the mirror and give themselves a patch on the back and say, "You shall attend." But today wasn't bad. You know, you get people out of it. Yeah. They're just still, they believe, that's it. You kill anybody who doesn't aspire to your level of my level and conviction. I'd love to talk to you about, you know, over the course of your career, and I feel career is not as capacious of where it is I want. You've been able to bring your activism and your intellectualism and your sort of art all on to the same plane, all operating at once. I learned that in, please, correct me if I'm wrong, is Fela Kuti, your cousin? Yes. Yes. My cousin, Anikolako Yes, of course. I had not known that and it struck me so apt because here was another person whose art and intellect and political sense were all inter-implicated, all together. I wonder if just your upbringing made you feel that as a responsibility? Was that a natural step for you to be sort of an activist politically aware or true citizen in the deep sense of that word and also an artist at the same time? It remains a mystery to me and why should it be a mystery? It's because, basically, I would rather not be all these things, in other words, an activist. Ask myself, I don't know, how often, how on earth did you get on this path? Why don't you just stick to what you love, really love doing? Yes. Writing bits of poetry, writing plays, directing plays, exchanging ideas, getting into arguments simply because we live also with abstractions and anybody who believes in the essence of things, the theory of things, loves the discourse about them and the same joy, which is also why I'm also a teacher about profession. I would rather be doing all those things, honestly, but I end up using that expression a closet mask of this for myself because I'm doing certain things which I know I would rather not be doing, but I also love my peace of mind, my tranquility, and I cannot attain that. That's a contradiction. I know I cannot attain that. If I have not attended to an issue, a problem, which I know is pernicious, which I know is manifesting itself in a dehumanizing way. Whether human beings, environment, child abuse, for instance, so we're not just talking about politics, we're just talking about humanity, but this is one of me. I mean restless when I see such situations and the only way I can attain that peace, which I love so much, and which I only very sparsely enjoy. That's what drives one out again and again and again. Using other means when one's literature fails one, fails to address the issue. Then of course, you have to address it fundamentally, physically, that whatever it means. Yeah. I love how you just said that your pursuit of tranquility has in some ways required that you get yourself into trouble in these other ways. It seems like there's not much glory to be had among your own people when you are confronting them in this way. It seems like a fraught position. Just on a personal level, have you made peace with that or is it a constant? It's a constant. If I am to be at peace with myself, I must confront the unacceptable from whichever side. Of course, the state has certain statutory responsibilities so the state gets it more than the people themselves. I love what quote in your book that there are two friends who really form the hardest book, who are speaking at one point, and one of them delivers one of the book's most affecting lines for me. He says, "Something is broken, beyond race, outside color or history. Something has cracked. Can't be put back together." That's something, that sort of ineffable something that's beyond all of the ideology and all of anything that we can put our finger to. I wonder if writing this book helped you put a name to that ineffable something and have maybe the politics of the last few years helped you to identify or reconsider what it might be. You know, I've tried to put my finger on it and I end up with a question, "What is human?" I think that's what we've lost. It has gone on for too long, that condition of losing what is human. From the most profound aspects of our relationships to the most trivial, we lost what is human. As a way to say goodbye, we mentioned "Felicuti" your late cousin. Do you have a favorite song of his? My favorite is "Zombie." The reason actually is one that's not appreciated by most people. That song "Zombie" applies not merely to the military, in terms of their conduct to the people in this nation. But "Zombie" and that is one of my dreams have not yet realized. They have become mimic people. They act like zombies. They expect orders, even if those orders are intolerable. They develop habits that they should not develop. So when I hear "Zombie" I see not merely SARS, those murdering police. I see not merely the bullying. So I see also what Nigerians have become. So I enjoy "Zombie" on many more levels than the average Nigerian does. Thank you so much. This has been wonderful and I really appreciate you. Welcome. Thank you. Staff writer Vincent Cunningham speaking with Nobel laureate Wally Shane. His new novel is "Cronicles from the Land of the Happiest People on Earth." And that's it for us this week. And if you missed anything from today's program, you can find it all on the podcast of our show, wherever you listen to podcasts. I'm David Rennick. Thanks for listening. We'll see you next time. The New Yorker Radio Hour is a co-production of WNYC Studios and The New Yorker. Our theme music was composed and performed by Meryl Garbus of "Tuny Arts" with additional music by Alexis Quadrado. This episode was produced by Alex Barron, Emily Boateen, Ave Carrillo, Calalia, David Crosnell, Gofan in Poutoubole, Louis Mitchell, Michelle Moses, and Steven Valentino. And we had additional help from Priscilla, Alabi, and Harrison Keith Lyne. The New Yorker Radio Hour is supported in part by the Cherina Endowment Fund.