Sade Adeniran's blog
Sade Adeniran, Best First Book winner in the Africa
region for Imagine This
Sade was born in London and moved to Nigeria, which is where she spent her formative years before coming back to the UK. She is a graduate of the University of Plymouth and also spent time as an exchange student at the University of Massachusetts. Her foray into writing started with a Radio Play – Memories of a Distant Past – which was her final year project at
university. She sent this into BBC on a whim and it was subsequently produced as part of BBC Radio 4's First Bite festival. Sade has also written various pieces for theatre and had her work performed at the
Lyric, the Bush and the Riverside Studios. Sade works and lives in London, Imagine This is her first novel.
- Johannesburg, 12 May
Hi everybody and welcome to my Commonwealth Writers blog. I’m truly excited to be in South Africa and my first impressions are, it sure aint LL (Lagos or London). Beyond the rush hour trek from the airport, the reading at Xarra bookshop and the discussion at the Roka Lounge, I haven’t yet seen much of Johannesburg and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to. What I have seen, has been through sleep deprived eyes, so I can’t comment yet. But so far it has been a wonderful experience, I’m just glad to be here. It’s so weird, it’s 3 in the morning and as I sit here tapping away I’m trying to think of words to describe how I’m feeling right now and the only way I can describe it, is that I feel like an Oscar nominee. Every year when I watch the Oscars, every nominee says, to be nominated is an honour. Now I know what they mean, it’s the validation every artist craves, whether it’s through a gong, ticket sales or in the case of a writer, lots of books flying off store shelves. Don’t get me wrong I’d love to win the overall prize, but I have to admit that being a regional winner is just as good. It has opened doors that six months ago were firmly closed and has raised my profile in a way I didn’t think would ever happen, especially with Imagine This being self-published.
So first day in Johannesburg and there was a reading, I’m not sure how everyone else felt, but I was terrified. First on, I stood there hands and voice shaking and just willed myself through the whole experience. It’s not even as if it was my very first reading, so I knew what to expect, but still the nerves kicked in and panic took over. It didn’t exactly help that I only picked the passage five minutes before I went up to the mic. Before I even go on to talk about Roka lounge, I have to say I’m so cold. I thought to myself, I’m going to South Africa and only packed shorts and sleeveless tops thinking they had the same climate as Nigeria. Shame on me really, I remonstrate with people who lump the whole of the continent together and what do I do? There is always a silver lining, tomorrow I’m going shopping with my flexible friend, Not that I’ll have space for anything I buy, my luggage is already over the 23kg weight limit. I really do need to learn how to pack light.
Roka Lounge was interesting. I was on a panel discussion on History, Politics, Gender and Identity: The state of African Literature in the 21st Century. When I got the email, I remember thinking to myself, what is African Literature and am I qualified to talk about it. In true Sade fashion, yours truly hadn’t prepared anything before hand (my middle name is lastminute.com), there must be a gene that makes me do it. Every time I say to myself, I’m going to prepare and make sure I get stuff done well in advance, lets just say, it’s never happened. Anyway, I digress. So I had three brilliant speakers go before me, two professors and another writer and they were eloquent and succinct and they made sense. Then came my turn, I’d been scribbling notes to try and focus my thoughts. I’m not a speaker, so while I was giving a rambling comment all the time I was wishing for the ground to swallow me up whole. But I got through it and breathed a sigh of relief. My hope now is that I can only get better at the speaking in public, I dread it with a passion but figure it’s what I have to do to create an awareness of Imagine This. Sx
- Johannesburg, 13 May
- Johannesburg, 14 May
- Cape Town, 15 May
It has been a long, long, long day and I’m dog tired and really should be in bed, but again dedicated soul that I am, I’m blogging away, because I don’t want to forget everything that happened today.
I got to bed in the wee hours of the morning, 3am to be precise and was up at 8am because we had an early morning start. Not as early as tomorrow or should I say this morning, seeing as it’s already past midnight. We’ve got to be on the bus for 6am to catch our flight to Cape Town. I didn’t really get to see much of Jo’burg, what I have seen has been through a bus window on the way to the various venues. This morning’s bookshop is called Boekehuis and is in a wonderful house, with requisite garden. I think I’ve improved on my reading style, the audience were receptive and laughed in the right places.
The judging started today, they were sequestered away in a windowless room while we were out being feted and I don’t envy them their task, because according to the word on the street, all the books are really good. We’ve had three readings so far and listening to everyone else, I’m in awe and truly honoured to be amongst them.
Ok obsequiousness over, I reckon it must be really difficult for the judges, because they have to eat drink and be merry with us authors and at the same time choose a winner. It’s weird for me, the question that is uppermost in my mind I can’t ask. Questions like ‘what do you really think about my book, and do you think it stands a chance.’ I don’t know if it’s the same for the others, but I’m so trying to be on my best behaviour and not pepper them with questions like, ‘so what criteria are you using to judge? What are you looking for in an overall prize-winner? Do you take the personality of author into account? Do you factor in the commerciality of the book?’ And so on and so on.
We had a grand dinner with the top literati of Jo’burg and yours truly was a tad over-dressed. Gone are the days where formal actually meant a ball gown for women and tails for guys. I miss those times, well I never actually lived in those times but being a gal that loves to dress up… Talking of clothes, I did manage to snag a jacket from Woolies yesterday, so it’s bye-bye cold.
Well I’ve managed to say a lot at the same time say nothing at all. So it’s off to Cape Town and more excitement. I just need a second to catch my breath. Sx
It’s 8:20am and we’re at the airport waiting for our flight to Cape Town. I can’t actually believe it’s Wednesday already, I’m going to blink and it will be Sunday, the ceremony will be over and I’ll be back home wondering where the week went. I want to savour the experience but the hard taskmasters have devised such a tight schedule that everything so far has been rushed. I guess it hasn’t helped that I had a deadline today and I’ve been trying since Monday to send the document, but the Internet connection at the hotel was slow beyond belief. Every night I’ve bought credit, sat in the lobby and tried to email a 7.5MB document, but no joy, all I had managed to do is worry myself silly about missing a deadline instead of basking in CWP glory. I have no one to blame but myself, last-minute-sade is my name.
Gotta dash, flight to catch. Will be back later, got a high school and a university to visit.
So it’s been another long day, a 5am wake up for a 9am flight. We’re now in Cape Town and it’s nothing like Jo’burg, for one it’s a lot warmer and closer to my expectations of African sunshine. There’s also a vibe that’s different, maybe because I was cold and didn’t really see much of Jo’burg but Cape Town IMHO is much more laid back and vibrant. But I would say that wouldn’t I.
I’m off to bed in a moment, It’s another early start in the morning. A much anticipated trip to Robben Island. The problem with this blogging lark is the fact that none of the hotels we’ve stayed in so far have had Internet access in the room so it’s been rather difficult to post blogs on a regular basis. For someone who lives on email, I’m feeling strangely cut off from friends and family, and no I have no intention of running up astronomical charges on my mobile. Sade phone home, would be the sensible thing to do, but I’m being mean with money I don’t have. Anyway moving on swiftly, I’m sure no one wants to know the state of my finances.
Our nanny Nicky, who has been an angel magically produced a packed breakfast, we got on the bus and on every seat was a food pack
Before I forget, I must mention the year 12 students at Westerford High School. The general consensus amongst all the authors is that it has been the best event of the whole trip so far. Karen opened the show with a song and a poem that had them mesmerized. She asked them if they were ready for her, they said yes, but they weren’t. She had them eating out the palm of her hand. The rest of us read from our books and we ended the session with a Q&A. My favourite question of the evening, ‘is there any competition between the writers?’ My least favourite comment of the evening came from a student at Cape Town University, according to her I speak such good English, you’d think she’d stop there. But no, she then went on to explain that the majority of black South Africans couldn’t be elevated because they can’t speak English, the word she used was ‘they.’ I sidled sideways and left a conversation that left a sour taste in my mouth.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings. ? Sx
It’s 5pm and I’m about to dash off for another reception with the hosts of the Franschhoek literary festival.
The day started with a trip to Robben Island, the Judges had finished their deliberations, and could finally come out to play. They were all giddy with excitement and glad their task was over, but still pretty tight lipped about their choices though, which is when I wished for the power of Matt Parkman. Heroes fans know whom I’m referring to. ?
The trip to the Island – which in my ignorance, I thought was another Alcatraz – has been an emotional one. All I can say about the excursion, is that I’m truly humbled by the human spirit. Our guides were former inmates and this added poignancy to the tour. One of them admitted to blowing up a building and injuring 53 people, for his crime he was sentenced to 18 years. You might say a sentence he richly deserved, but did his father deserve to be shot eight times because he wanted to visit his son in jail? He survived the assassination attempt, but ended up in a wheelchair. The three men who committed this atrocity are running million dollar companies and living large. This is South Africa. Does reconciliation really work? Can one really truly forgive such crimes especially when the perpetuators go unpunished?
After the visit it was straight onto the buses and onward bound to Franchhoek. Waiting on the bus was another fabulous picnic, after which I settled down for a snooze. I figured I’d catch a glimpse of the countryside on the way back on Sunday. Sleep is dragging me under and I’m no longer making sense even to myself. Before I forget, the reception was good, dinner was better and I’m getting better at introducing myself and talking about nothing. ? Sx
