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Dear Lola 1 of African literature,

I write to you as a lad who has been seduced by the delectation of letters into infinite rounds of cohabitation with books. Your imprints in the literary space provide some of the aphrodisiacs sustaining my libido to perpetually go into bed with arts and literature. 

Let me begin by congratulating you on the acquisition of a new pilgrimage site for African literary pilgrims in Sharjah, United Arab Emirates. Hopefully, I will be there for the next edition to fulfil this mandatory journey imposed upon me by my devotion to literature. 

I write this epistle in the spirit of the 2025 theme in Nigeria—’dey for who dey for you’, the pidgin for reciprocity. It is in this noble spirit that I offer this piece as a libation to the three shrines under your custody which are located in Lagos, Kaduna and Sharjah, where literary faithfuls gather to worship African arts and literature.

I don’t know if you have met me, but I’ve met you twice, each meeting lasting for three days. In the second meeting, I had two direct encounters with you. In the first, I stopped you and whispered into your ears, “Mummy please bring us this Games on African literature to the next edition of KABAFEST.” I don’t vividly remember your response, but it was something like a nod. 

In the second encounter, you handed me the mic to say my confession regarding my trip to Aké Festival. I didn’t say anything funny but you all laughed and mentioned the name of Dami Ajayi when I said the flexing fists of inflation in Nigeria almost coerced me into settling for Abuja International Poetry Festival as my low budget Aké. But the spirit of the year 2024—’no gree for anybody’, the pidgin for not settling—showed up and took me to the festival.

You started your journey in the literary space as a poet, transitioned into a novelist, now an art administrator and a publisher who flattened her back for established and aspiring creatives to ride on it into the land of their dreams. Many of whom have now grown wings, themselves cockpit marshals flying high in the African literary space.

“Mummy L,” so I heard your protégé, Maryam ‘Alhan Islam’ Bukar calls you.  Today, it’s the presence of Dike Chukwumerije that would stop us from declaring her as the biggest spoken word artist in Nigeria. You give her the platform to take off, and now she is competing with the stars in the game of luminosity.

Alhan is not the only girl from Kaduna catapulted by your platform into the realm of prominence. Also, there is Deborah Johnson, fondly called ‘The Global Poet’ by her friends and admirers. You took her global. Before I give you your flowers as the kingmaker, it is pertinent that I first acknowledge your reign as the king.

I first got to know you through the novel, The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives, a spellbinding tale of infertility and infidelity written with sharp wit and exquisite language. The book is so good that it continues to whet our appetite in wait now for over a decade. 

Your current role as the candle which burns to lit the room for others is probably the contraceptive behind your decade long barrenness. But we even love you more for your decision to plant the trees whose shades or fruits you may never enjoy.

As recently as the decade prior, the world knows Aké only as the birthplace of the literary sage, the Nobel laureate, Prof. Wole Soyinka. Today, the world’s knowledge of Aké has expanded, all thanks to your doggedness, as the great annual ritual where new voices in African literature are incubated and amplified. As the wounded culture of reading in Nigeria appears to be in convalescence, with you, Othuke Ominiabohs, BM Dzukogi and others serving as nurses, it won’t be surprising to see another Nobel Laureate in Literature emerge from the multiplier effects of the latter Aké. 

From Aké Arts and Books Festival, you leveraged on your relationship with the El Rufais to recreate its kind in the North—the Kaduna Books and Arts Festival (KABAFEST)—and now the Sharjah Festival of African Literature in the Middle East. I suspect the books you promote over the years have been vociferating blessings on you in a hidden paper language, inaudible to men. Your legacies are already coiling into fireproof to withstand the hell of human forgetfulness.

I must admit, I was truly impressed by Omotoke Solarin-Soda’s performance as a host at the recent Aké Festival. Her poise, eloquence, and ability to engage the guests and audience were remarkable. The calibre of your mentees, like Omotoke, speaks volumes about your discerning eye and deep appreciation for the arts and literature. It’s a testament to your exceptional mentorship and your standing as a true connoisseur of culture.

You’re not only a national but a continental treasure; a gift from heaven to the African literary space. It is a mystery that the Nigerian presidency is yet to put on your neck the national award medal.

You have created a stage that young African writers are sharing with the literary sages of the continent. Forebears like Wole Soyinka and Abdulrazak Gurnah with their great child, Alain Mabanckou were recently in the UAE sharing the stage with their emerging progenies. A joyous moment for them, witnessing how you are putting the effort to ensure the perpetuity of what they built by grooming worthy successors.

The literary festivals you curate have always facilitated peers rendezvous amongst budding and emerging writers. I met Irene Essien at the last Aké and we are now good friends. New voices like Zaynab Iliasu Bobi, Seyi Lasisi, Olayinka Yaqub, Taofeeq Ayeyemi and Timi Sanni are now my close acquaintances. Thanks to your platform.

You are the Bluetooth who directly connects writers and readers. Abi Dare and Fatima Bala are some of the Nigerian writers in the diaspora who you brought home to us last year. I hope to see you bring Umar Turaki to us at the next KABAFEST.  You already promised us the present of Elif Shafak in Nigeria any moment from this year. At the last Aké, you were able to pull together an array of incredible writers and speakers from sixteen countries which include the DRC, Ukraine, Germany, South Africa, Kenya, India, the UK, the US, Columbia and many more.

There is a book very dear to me that I would like to specifically acknowledge you for your pivotal role in amplifying its reach and impact across the globe. It is Umar Abubakar Sidi’s The Incredible Dreams of Garba Dakaskus. You gave the book its first public reading at KABAFEST, ahead of its official release in 2024. That reading became one of the festival’s most memorable highlights, and by the end of the event, all copies of the festival edition had sold out. The buzz around the book grew exponentially, and it quickly became one of the most anticipated titles of the year in the Nigerian literary scene. Later that same year, the reading of the book at the Aké Festival sparked immediate interest from international art administrators, who were eager to purchase bulk copies to share with their communities. Your support and advocacy have been instrumental in bringing this remarkable work to a wider audience. 

When the book was officially released, I was so captivated that I found myself reading it during a flight. There was something poetic about this coincidence; reading a novel written by a pilot while soaring through the skies. But this was not the only serendipitous moment tied to the book. The next came through you. A Nigerian author from Sokoto, who had crafted a story set in the medieval Middle East and was uncertain about its reception due to its experimental nature, suddenly found himself in the Middle East, holding a reading of his own work. Now it feels like only a matter of time before the book reaches non-English speakers through translations. Shukran, Lola.

For The Secret Lives of Baba Segi’s Wives; for the Book Buzz Foundation; for Ouida Books; for The Orange Tree Residency; for Aké Festival; for KABAFEST; for Sharjah Festival of African Literature, and other labours of love that you render to literature, the name Lola Shoneyin lives rent-free in the room of my heart where sweet deep-seated happiness resides. 

Yours sincerely,

Ahmad Mubarak Tanimu