Preface
IN the beginning was the word and the word was without walls that separated thoughts from deeds. On the seventh phase and in several places a city in text started to emerge for readers and critics to behold. You do not need to hold your breath as we walk around this giant city of words. We shall appreciate the streets and streams of thought constructed over decades.
Those who have baskets should be ready for a harvest of laughters because on our way the webs of remembrance will help us find the past in our present. Did you not hear that a seven-way crossroad confuses only a stranger? Shuttlesongs America [which is] a poetic guided tour will help navigate the city of the mind. As we tour selections from lovesong for my wasteland will be held at waistline to measure our meter of affection. As the land, presently dances to the tunes of crises gather my blood rivers of song as a signpost to a future tense. Most major cities have rivers and seas, Remi Raji will wake us with sea of my mind, and in no time, those who can swim will be drenched in the fluidity of thoughts and ideas.
Introduction
This is about the shortest tribute you will ever encounter in the universe of text. That virtual world of inter-text and subtext. The world in which the author disappears after the train of thought arrived at the final terminus. The response to the question above is not the core of this tribute but the many tributaries that the simple response pulls along.
In the tradition of scholars of thought, it is imperative to pose a few pertinent questions;
(1). Why is anyone interested in what takes to be a fully-grown masters of his art and craft. A producer of knowledge who has paid (and keeps paying) his dues to students, scholars and the society at large.
(2). To effectively deliver on this self-imposed trajectory we need to decide on the appropriate qualitative method that has the potential, the needed latitude to construct and deconstruct the man, his mind and the material condition of his humongous production.
(3). In conclusion to what end would a textual exercise such as this serve posterity or those plying their trade in the present.
The reason for this season
The path of seeking answers to the tripartite questions is littered with praises that must first be allowed their due else, the flaneur whose father was a hunter and gatherer in years gone by may stumble on the information highway. Now their son is a renowned hunter and gatherer of texts deposited on the Internet. As you all will come to observe an “African flaneur is tense and [a] nervous observer” (Gayland, G, pg. 61), I present you with words coming from the throat of a praise singer we encountered on the way to Bodija market. His voice of the sonorous timbre sang with gusto saying when Remi Raji turns sixty…
Please send for Sumonu onisakara to play tunes of old when his bones told the muscles how to turn and twist on dancing floors made from reused wood, trampled upon by recycled soles. Did he not know when the Naira, that same Naira bought a Beatle for what just one tyre costs these days? There is nothing just these days; the jaws seek justice, while the nuts cry for power taken into the Rock and the East like the eaten, hope for luck. Has the national purse become like hidden honey every hoe seeks to dig? They cannot rig, if we form a league, they cannot eat if we turn on the heat like the famous Re-Bad-Do who hits and cannot miss.
When Remi Raji turns sixty and the holes in his account remains unfilled and the dreams he has carried like the hunter’s pouch still sticking to a worn-out side. Will Remi Raji plan to take every dream apart and give new parts to a tongue that refused to lie, a new role to rolling eyes that saw evil and won’t tell... If the powers that be sell the national theater he plans to steal a stage for tired feet to perform a new play for a nation born deformed when others accepted reforms and coerced individuals and institutions to conform. So that their future may be sweet. When Remi Raji turns sixty will, the song still be about the sweetness of life or the life of sweetness. I tell you readers and listeners this life is sweet oooo Can’t we tell from the colour of hunger that paints a face blue black and a red tongue as white as wool for lack of rice stewed and peppered at different mama-put joints. Have we not seen the rich, hunger for Cognac sold at a good percentage of a poor’s yearly wage? Have we not heard of rich daughters who cry for lack of pancake that costs more than the bride price promised for the Agbero’s daughter? In all our years, we have never felt that gutter water could taste so sweet and the salt in tears good for leftover stew. Days have crawled into years and tears have formed fine patterns on a sinking chin but the ship of state remains afloat carrying unproductive thieves and chiefs to Dollar destinations. As every day takes from the journey to sixty We the friends of the Poet will not allow our imagination run dry The poor must pour their dreams like dry gin and dry their tears with numerical Sun. Now that Aderemi Raji has turned sixty, the song of the poor must seek that Sankara’s tune cut before it grew.
We have arrived at the city gate of songs, stories and seas of narrations. The Flaneur’s feet is fine and fit for the long trek ahead. Do you recall the days of “Ibadan and the memory of a generation: From the Poetry Club to the Premier Circle” Now that we have taken the journey from poetry club to a premier circle, let us attempt a response to the initial question of what it takes to be Aderemi Raji-Oyelade, a poet scholar and a prophet in camera.
To respond fully to the question of what it takes to be a poet-scholar we must first frame the ability to respond to multiple demands in a way that has antecedents in the academy. Hillary Gravendyk (2015) provides the notion of a poet-scholar with the needed context; “poet-scholar is an increasingly common figure in academic life, one that suggests the official convergence of creative and scholarly output.” The description is further elaborated by Julie Carr (2015) who submits that a poet-scholar is “a person who reads and a person who writes, a person who researches and a person who invents — a person who teaches and a person who edits.” It is certain that these sketchy descriptions does not yet give us a full picture of what it takes but they draw us near to the eclecticism of our subject.
If anyone knows Remi-Raji’s corpus of works at any level, you will not fail to notice that he is not a historian but his verses harbour historical accounts. He is not a political scientist but his lines drip with scientific analyses of policies, politics and politicians. To buttress this assertion Sule Egya (2007) reflected on the “Nationalist imagination in Remi Raji’s Lovesong for my wasteland”(pp.111-126). In this seminal work, Egya brings out the hidden and lays bare the cryptic in a title with contrasting ideas such as love and waste. “Raji traces the history of Nigeria, in the symbolic forty-five verses of the volume, exposing the leadership failures and plunder of yesterday and today, and presenting a hope that is predicated on the people's collective stand to build their ravaged land” (pg. 111).
In the elaborate review of Remi Raji’s works, Egya shows vividly how the rootedness of the poet-scholar affects his poetry and how conscious positioning of himself in the world and within his nation gives extra credence to his creative offerings. It will not be surprising that his knowledge of self and society comes from a deep understanding of what Remi Raji describes as the cultural pool from where he and other older writers pull their cultural elements. In his words (and quoted by Sule) “I believe these older writers and myself write from the same cultural pool” (pg. 114).
So what does it take to be a man of culture and nature? Abiodun Oluseye, Senayon Olaoluwa and Charles Ogbulogo (2020) argue that Remi-Raji’s Sea of my mind “is a fine illustration of the animist turn in ecocriticism. By engaging with the import of the natural elements that incarnate with the imagination of the sea, we discuss the various ways in which Raji’s poetic oeuvres address the environmental exigencies of the times” (pg.1). To living in Ibadan, which is framed, to be the nightmare of town planners and planners of cities, it is not difficult to understand why Remi Raji’s lines will resonate with environmental tones. Did Tanure Ojaide not submit that “a writer is not an air-plant but someone rooted in a specific place or environment and time. Place and time are respectively geography and history and they form the bedrock of human experience.” Remi Raji is not only a rounded scholar but also a grounded and committed poet who will be on the picket line at the drop of a hat.
As this very brief tribute, rides to its conclusion allow me reveal an appropriate qualitative method that has given latitude to construct and deconstruct the man, his mind and the material condition of his humongous production. The data so far collected has been those in the public domain. To be sure, that Remi Raji exists also, in what is termed grey literature, the sort that hardly see the light of day.
ABOUT 21 years ago, the Sun was already overhead and legs pounding the streets of life, an email crawled into my electronic mailbox and I have kept it ever since. The words portray the writer, as a willing fighter and a worthy of trust one at that. “You can be sure I will always be willing to do battle of the mind/intellect, for self and country.” He then asked for the nature of the battle, “how do you want to start.”
Since this is a private exchange between Remi and myself, you may need a little context to his response. I sent out a long email about starting “a Harvest of Ideas: constructing the foundations for real Development.”
“I hope by this we too can produce a collection of 40 Nigerian original thinkers in various fields. Check, the proceedings of the Promoting the reading culture conference and you can begin to appreciate my burden. How many of those ideas have we been able to actualise?
Let us not even mention those in various creative expressions. Here lies the core of my burden. Can you be my friend and companion in this mission? I know how busy you are, but please help set the ball rolling by linking me with FO and any other person that may feel as concerned as yourself.
His response was swift and the words carried fire in them “[f]or starters, I am linking you up with FO himself; get back if there are things to do. You are right I have so much to contend with here, but I guess we have to do just what we have to do” (Personal communication, July 27, 2000).
Since rivers flow without looking back, so it is with Remi Raji, ideas ride horses in the house of Oluyole. So another electronic mail landed on Thursday, Dec 6, 2001 at 12:43 PM.
Kole man!
Am sure you got my postings on PEN. One of the things i have realised is that we have undercut ourselves for so long; wherever we are, our nationality shall give us away: a mixture of respect (from others did before us) and contempt (from what we have not done or what we think we are) is what the literary world has for us. I prefer to build on that respect, as I know you two have been doing. One way of building on that legacy is to use your talent in radio, to think out ways of committing the voices of our literary heroes who are still alive, and possibly engage the new generation in more meaningful discourse and arguments and recording this. At a meeting in London, Nigeria has been picked as one of 11 other nations in the world to benefit from a grant meant to build the literary tradition. This is more like doing for ourselves a public work via PEN, which is conceived as a ‘writer service organisation’ where we are expected to give more than we expect. I believe [that] when the time comes to get you involved, you will accept the challenge. Let me dismount from this stammering. RR
This next message gave me my first break to the South African stage.
“Hey Kole man, could you send me your contact details besides email ad? Residence plus phone numbers. Reason: the organising committee of a poetry festival has asked that i evaluate 4 Nigerian poets. As follow up, they asked that I pass on the contacts for each of you. I need to pass this on by evening of Friday. Am also to let you know that have been selected to be the Nigerian bill at the festival this year in South Africa. so please send me contact details quick! Hope all goes well with you, Remi
As Remi Raji keeps on the fight on different levels there are enough materials to show his many battles at the local level. To really know what it takes to be Aderemi Raji-Oyelade that consummate poet-scholar and a prophet in camera, you need to plow the information highway for trains and vehicle of thoughts.
Sometime in November 1, 2015, 6:39AM a well-crafted response was posted to someone who stirred the hornet’s nest and the poet was forced to give an account of his stewardship. He came to the village square with facts, darts and figures.
“I have just been reminded that we did not do much for ANA in the past four years. The reason is not unconnected to the falling (and fallen) standards of education. Here therefore is our scorecard of failures! Association of Nigerian authors: Timeline of service, 2011-2015 By Remi Raji”
I shall spare you my readers the details but be sure his words are saved in my hunting bag of texts. To sum up the 1093 words, late Pius Adesanmi posted his comment thus “Prof Rem Raj, you have done well. Your team has done well. You and your team have done well. Ti egun ni ba jo re ara a ya ni. If your masquerade dances well, you are allowed to beat your chest. Well done. I second the grade awarded by Prof” (Nov 1, 2015)
Conclusion
This tribute has gone to the sea and sort to gum texts from different mothers together. Now you just may have an idea to what end a textual exercise such as this can serve posterity or those plying their trade in the present. The man Remi Raji leaves no stone unturned (if you will pardon the cliché). He melts hearts of stone and never afraid to throw a stone or two when it is needed.
How can I end without touching on the most recent incidence? As you know, this cannot be used to define this man of multiple standing? It is another feather in his cap. I therefore beg your indulgence to open a calabash that houses a past. Please, do not be upset that I was one of the well-wishers. I think you will be the next VC because your CV stands tall. The din of the Market did not bother you when you were the Dean. You made sure no head of a newborn was bent when you were the Head of Department. There is no departing now from the final rung of the Ladder. Your steps are firm like the farmer who holds his hoe to comb the soil of mother earth. Go Remi for this remaining laurel.
The man of words speaks and heaps of wisdom sprouts. This flutist has a handle and I hand over to Remi as he closes the dance…and suddenly, he will come of age, he has followed paths, routes and roads to arrive at the door and hour. Some scars have turned to stars. Every moment is made of grit and grace. He cannot explain what he has not experienced but somehow, the tale is long… And he is the evidence of miracles.
*Odutola, is a teacher and researcher at the University of Florida, Gainsville, USA
