AS the news of the demise of the literary icon, Professor Chinua Albert Achebe, filtered into the ears of his admirers across the globe, many kept wondering how blind and inconsiderate death could be. Some argued that if she (death) had her eyes widely open she might have reconsidered her resolve to snatch him away from us. But that would certainly be if she were considerate enough to realise we needed him all the more.

More so, can we ever find a suitable replacement for the man whose ground-breaking Things Fall Apart (1958) serves as our (Africans’) first response to the West that “we had a past” and that “we have come of age to tell our own story”? But who/what had the most significant contribution to the development of this man’s literary skills? Why couldn’t Western education alienate him from his African root? What is his view on the role of creative writers in politics? And finally, what can we say is his parting message to Nigerians?

Achebe recalls the remarkable influence of his parents, siblings, teachers and friends in his life vis-à-vis his keen interest in literary works. Of particular mention are his “energetic, egalitarian principals such as the Reverend Robert Fisher and W. C. Simpson, who created and encouraged the ‘textbook act’ – a time between 4:00pm and 6:00pm when all textbooks had to be put aside and novels picked up and read” (There Was A Country, p. 25). It was his encounter with the likes of Shakespeare and Dickens in their works that served as his initial leap into the literary world. As the French rationalist philosopher, René Descartes, would write: “Reading of all good books is indeed like a conversation with the noblest minds of past centuries who are the authors of them” (Discourse on Method, no. 5). One can therefore say without mincing words that the gains of the “textbook act” wonderfully blended with the art of story telling (learnt from the Igbo culture) formed the basis of Achebe’s literary escapades.

Looking at the happenings in our world today, where many Africans easily lose their identity in the name of Western civilisation, one would wonder how the likes of Achebe were able to stick to their African root despite obvious encounters with the Western culture. Reading through the English novels, he (Achebe) got to the point – a turning point indeed – where he recognised an obvious omission in the world story – the true African story told by Africans themselves – and opted to fill the gap. He maintains that “we must tell our own story so that the world story - the Great story – may have the chance to develop” (op. cit., p. 60). It follows that it was his deep-seated commitment to play “the politics of representation” (op. cit., p.55) that made him stick to his African root without shifting grounds.

It is nice to mention that Achebe’s commitment to telling the African story is closely linked with his firm resolve to use this medium to correct the ills in our society. He notes that a true African writer has a significant role to play not just of facilitating Africa’s gradual emancipation from the grip and bigotry of the West but also from the exploitation of her corrupt leaders. He equally counsels that “decency and civilisation insist that the writer takes side with the powerless… [He should not take side] with the emperor against his powerless subjects” (op. cit., p. 58). He enjoins creative writers to be the voice of the voiceless, and the hope of the powerless and the downtrodden in our society. But how is the writer to handle his words?

Professor A. B. C. Nwosu, former health minister and one of Achebe’s close associates, in an interview with Saturday Sun (March 30, 2013) discloses that “ he [Achebe] thought a lot and spoke little … Whenever he said something, he said so in measured words” (p. 45). This quality is exemplified in Achebe’s last published work, There Was A Country, where he discusses many sensitive issues with much discretion. One can argue that the criticisms so far meted on this work are purely based on the issues raised and not necessarily on his style as the author (especially his choice of words).  One can say that his parting message to Nigerians is: “In all your writings and speeches, always remember that words are not innocent – they are supercharged with meanings.” He regretted that the Nigeria-Biafra war, the greatest calamity that had befallen us as a nation, was the culmination of some chain reactions resulting from the description, in some quarters, of the January 15, 1966 coup by two words – “Igbo coup”. Thus, what began as an appeal to tribal sentiments ended as a national disaster of the highest order.

Achebe’s death is indeed a great loss and we pray God to console us especially his immediate family. May what he hoped for while he lived come to pass in Nigeria now that he is no more.

Idoko wrote from Blessed John-Paul II Major Seminary, Awka.