Since winning the Caine Prize for African writing in 2001 for his short story, ‘Love Poems’, Helon Habila’s writing career has been on the rise and includes winning the Commonwealth Prize for Best First Novel (Africa Region) in 2003 for Waiting for an Angel and becoming in 2005/2006 the first Chinua Achebe Fellow at Bard College, New York. Habila, who lives in Virginia and teaches Creative Writing at George Mason University, in this interview with Assistant Life Editor, TERH AGBEDEH, talks about his emergence among the nine winners in the 2015 Windham Campbell Prize.
How does this win make you feel?
I feel appreciated, I guess. Writers work in solitude, never certain if their work will ever amount to much, so when an award like this comes out of the blues, it reconfirms your belief in your work and your vision as an artist.
What do you plan to do with the prize money?
Well, I haven’t received the money yet; so I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. But I guess the purpose of the prize is to give the awardee the time and independence to stay true to his or her vision, independent of pressure from the market place. This will give me the freedom to continue doing what I am doing, and hopefully do it even better.
Do you think you have reached that point where you retire and go on to do all the writing you have ever wanted to do?
You mean retire from teaching? No, I teach because I like teaching. I like talking to my students; they make me better. As a writer, I feel as if I am just starting. Being a writer takes a long time. All the books I have written are just apprenticeship for what I will do. I guess that’s why the prize was so surprising, because I don’t think I have even started scratching the tip of what I want to do as a writer.
Did the news come as a surprise to you?
Absolutely! To use a cliche, it is like winning the lottery. I feel lucky and appreciated.
You and Teju Cole made the list; do you think that is a statement for Nigerian writing or what does that say to you?
Nigerian writing is entering its golden age. The Achebes, Soyinkas, Osofisans and Tutuolas have done their bit; they have laid the foundation. It is up to us to take it to another height. I think we are better-placed, less restricted to do what they couldn’t do. We are less restricted by politics, expectations, censorship and influence. No generation of African writers has ever been as free as we are now.
What book are you writing now and how soon do you think it will be out?
I will keep that close to my chest for the time being. But it is almost done; I hope to have it out by next year.
For someone who teaches writing, would you say that there is a future in that line of work?
There is always a future in any field if you believe sincerely in what you do. Artists are the voice of the people, the conscience of a generation. So teaching writing, or being a writer, is the most noble, the most engaging profession you can ever be in. They give meaning to our meaningless pains and sufferings, and voice to our mute fears and doubts. What could be more “futuristic” than that? I mean, they are already there before we even know what or where “there” is.
You have written here in Nigeria and over there in the west; how different is the experience?
They are different, in terms of logistics and infrastructure (and I am not just talking about “stomach infrastructure here” here); but they are the same in the sense that, at the end of the day, it is just you and the blank page in front of you. You can only put out what you have invested in yourself, who you truly are. That is why writing is the scariest, the most daunting profession, because it always brings you face to face with who you truly are.
Would you say that the absence of writing residencies in Nigeria has affected the craft? I ask this because despite this lack, writing from Nigeria still rules abroad; only recently, Rotimi Babatunde got longlisted for the biggest short story prize in the world.
Babatunde is a great writer, one of the best short story-writers this generation has produced, and I keep my fingers crossed for him. But, yes, we need residencies in Nigeria. And I must commend Dr. Wale Okediran for starting the Ebedi International Writing Residency. Was it Virginia Woolf who said that every writer needs a room and a certain fixed income to achieve his or her vision? That is what a residency does. It gives you a year or two, with room and board, to focus only on your work. This might seem so inconsequential to most people, a room and some pocket money, but to the artist, it could mean the difference between success and failure. We need a national library, and a fellowship attached to the library. We need a Nigeria prize, whose annual winner will be given the Nigeria Library Fellowship and Residency, so they can focus on their work, and maybe mentor other writers, and be mentored in return. How much would that cost, certainly not as much as the $100,000 the Nigerian LNG limited gives every year without any plan for the winners’ future and career. The Nigeria Prize for Literature by the Nigeria LNG Limited is a good initiative, but they are being lazy. Giving away money is never enough. They can learn from the Caine Prize model, who always attach fellowships and some sort of mentorship as part of the prize package. As a former Caine winner, I know how much the Caine Prize plan has impacted on my development.
What would you tell young Nigerians coming to the writing craft to do if they hope to, one day, win the Windham Campbell Prize or any prize for that matter?
Well, you don’t win the Windham Campbell prize for trying; it just happens. Art is not about prizes and rewards; it is about conviction, passion and belief. Just believe and keep getting better. Read wide, write wide.