Billy Kahora and Okwiri Oduor. PHOTOS | FILE NATION MEDIA GROUP
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I have just returned from Oxford, one of the most beautiful towns in England, and which is home to the 38 colleges that comprise Oxford University. I was attending a workshop at the university’s Wadham College, founded in the 17th century by Nicholas Wadham and his wife Dorothy.
This college, like all the other colleges in Oxford, with its manicured lawns and rectangular courtyards, epitomises the Gothic and neo-Gothic architectural heritage that the university has preserved since it was founded in the 13th century.
In the hallowed halls of Mansfield College where I was staying, breakfast was served in an awe-inspiring hall that was once a chapel. Stained glass biblical images stared down at me as I sipped coffee and ate toast. It was utterly surreal.
I was also fortunate to be invited to the 2014 Caine Prize for African Writing award ceremony at the university’s Boldein Library, whose underground galleries contain 180 kilometres of shelves that hold many of the library’s collection of old books, maps and manuscripts.
This year, two Kenyans, Billy Kahora and Okwiri Oduor, were shortlisted. Oduor won the £10,000 prize for her short story, My Father’s Head, a poignant tale about a woman who summons her father from the dead. Odour is the third Kenyan to win the prize; Binyavanga Wainaina won it in 2002, while Yvonne Owour won it in 2003.
It has been a good year for Kenyan artists. With Lupita Nyong’o blazing the trail in Hollywood, and young Kenyan writers making a mark internationally, it may not be long before Kenya is viewed as the literary and artistic capital of Africa.
However, what struck me about the Caine Prize ceremony was how English the setting was. There, in the gardens of Exeter College, where the nominees, judges and patrons gathered while sipping champagne, it seemed odd that a prize celebrating African literature would be announced in a place that was anything but African.
Perhaps that was its appeal. The ceremony, held at one of the world’s most prestigious institutions of higher learning, forces a decorum that is, in essence, upper-class English and a tad snobbish.
The Caine Prize has launched the literary careers of several African writers, including Nigerian Helon Habila, who published his first book after winning the prize in 2001. The Kenyan winners, Wainaina and Owour, also went on to publish books after winning the prize, as did Zimbabwe’s NoViolet Bulawayo. The Nigerian author, Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, who was shortlisted (but did not win) in 2002 has published four books since her nomination.
LOWERING THE BAR
Critics of the Caine Prize say that the selection criteria are slanted towards stereotypical African images of poverty, war, child soldiers, prostitution and desperation.
Indeed, many of the winning stories have been about communities and individuals trapped in a kind of post-colonial madness or are about victims of violent or dysfunctional societies.
Some critics, such as Helon Habila, who was the first to win the prize, have wondered whether there is a “Caine Prize aesthetic” perpetuated by judges and publishers whereby “style feeds on style, especially if that particular style has proven itself capable of winning prizes and book deals and celebrity”.
The Prize has also been criticised for lowering the bar for African writers in that it judges short stories, not full-length novels, unlike most literary prizes.
The Caine Prize has also been accused of being paternalistic towards African writers. There is a feeling that Anglophone African writers need to be “anointed” by this British institution before they are taken seriously.
The Prize has certainly opened doors for young African writers who have found a market for their work, which is not so with many African writers. Many winners have become celebrities in the literary world.
Africa-based literary prizes, such as the Jomo Kenyatta Prize for Literature on the other hand, do not seem to bestow the same fame or fortune to its winners. For instance, Stanley Gazemba, who won the prize in 2003 for his first novel, The Stonehills of Maragoli, is still a struggling writer who has yet to be embraced by Kenya’s literary community as a celebrity.
rasna.warah@gmail.com
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