Samuel Ajibiye

Jatinder Padda, editor with Read African Books, interviews Samuel Ajibiye about his debut novel, The Master of Fate (Malthouse Press, Nigeria). 

Jatinder Padda: Congratulations on your debut novel! Your background is in academia. How did you come to writing a novel?

Samuel Ajibiye: Thank you so much. As a little boy raised in a densely populated rural area in Lagos State, writing has been a way of life for me since my teens. I write fiction and non-fiction. Growing up in a community with many out-of-school children, my mother single-handedly ensured that I had education funded by government. When I was admitted to study English at the University of Ilorin, I saw a blank-cheque opportunity to hone my craft and become a better writer. As an undergraduate, I also took courses in theatre under the tutorship of Professor Abdulrasheed A. Adeoye, fiction taught by the late Dr Adunni Joseph, and creative writing by Professor Adedimeji Mahfouz, who is also a creative writer. These courses shaped my passion and deepened my core interest in writing. I also used to write bi-weekly articles and essays on the theme of personal narratives with the heading Campus Life and Me pinned on the Department’s Notice Board for an audience.

From 2007 to 2008, I was at the Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ogun State, for my National Youth Service scheme. While undergoing my national scheme at the Department of English and Literary Studies, I was drafted to co-teach a course in creative writing with Dr Adeniyi Adebanjo as he had proceeded on a sabbatical in China. This first-time teaching experience also re-ignited my inner voice to becoming a creative writer.

In 2014, I submitted opinion articles on issues of national concern to The Punch newspaper in Nigeria. In September, I became a full-time faculty member at the Yaba College of Technology, Lagos, where I still lecture today. Being a full-time academic is undeniably challenging because I spend most of my time lecturing, attending conferences, and workshops and writing academic papers. I have a number of publications in blind, peer-reviewed indexed journals. My two undergraduate textbooks on English grammar and communication studies were published in 2021. However, the flair for writing fiction in order to tell my own stories still keeps me awake at night.

From 2011 to 2023, my socio-political and economic experiences in Nigeria became a source of inspiration that rekindled my interest in personal narratives. I saw an opportunity to change a misleading perception among Nigerians of diverse ethnicities. The shared perspective is captured as ‘Governments take all the blame for everything bad and sour, and taken for granted is our people’s complicity in spinning the webs of growing national disaster.’ Spurred on by the current crisis of existence, I began writing The Master of Fate—my first published story—in 2019. Getting the story published gave me a deep sense of fulfilment and unspeakable joy.

Essentially, I write to engage the minds of readers and mirror a sense of self-involvement in personal fate. The thematic preoccupation that engages the whole story is captured proverbially as: When lice is on one’s head, one’s fingernails cannot be free from bloodstains. It is a mental conditioning spread like a viral pandemic that needs a fix, because our people cannot continue to live in denial.

The story is told over two parts – the first is a very local story of a couple hit by tragedy, and then follows the woman, Funmi, as she raises her son, Remi. There is a lot of interesting detail about local life. The second part is set against a much larger canvas, a more global and materially comfortable setting. Why did you decide to separate these two aspects?

Life is full of mysteries and uncertainties, but how each individual responds to life’s contradictions influences one’s destiny, and by extension, fate. Life has proven again and again that humans may rise from the abyss of emptiness to the pinnacle of greatness, and similarly, people have fallen from the splendour of a shiny palace to the dark basement of nothingness. Although I wanted to tell a story, I also sought to weave my story round the universal truth that I have seen and heard happened to people, who started life off with nothing but emerged to achieve a measure of greatness.

Set in a rural community, Isale Odo, the residents are predominantly low-income earners, who are trampled on, with impunity, by people in high places. The community is without government presence, and there is no provision of basic amenities—good roads, healthcare centres, security, electricity, drinkable water, and schools. The couple, Yinka and Funmi, yield to the threat of human cruelties and the power of people who are meant to protect them. In the midst of this stark absurdity, Remi survives the depravity and alienation that life throws at him.

After losing her husband, Funmi faces life alone as a single mother with her only child. She understands that her lack of education and limited resources make her and her child susceptible to manipulation, domination, and oppression by those with financial resources and political connections. Remi’s decision to yield to his mother’s advice transforms his own life, which confirms the truism that ‘No condition is permanent in life if one does not relent in one’s effort to break even’.

Yes, the story is in two parts because I seek to enact the duality of existence. As I mentioned, I grew up in a similar community and have first-hand experience of the adversity and depravation such inhabitants face on a daily basis. The stories are relatable to me because that period was a challenging period in my journey of life, as a boy growing up, raised by a single mother. This is what I tried to replicate in the story so that my readers, who find themselves in similar circumstances, do not despair or relent in their efforts to break even. Their situation is not hopeless. After all, evolution precedes progress.

For our readers who don’t know about this part of the world, could you talk about the place that inspired your story?

The place that inspired my story is Lagos, Nigeria. Lagos State, also known as Eko, is located in the south-western part of Nigeria. It was a major trading hub of the Portuguese merchants in the sixteenth century, before it became a British colony in 1861. When Nigeria gained independence in 1960, Lagos became the capital city of Nigeria until 1991. Though Lagos is predominantly inhabited by the Yoruba, there is an increasing presence of other, diverse, ethnic groups across the country. English remains the official language, Yoruba, Pidgin-English, and other indigenous languages are spoken by residents. Lagos is a secular state with Christianity, Islam, and traditional worship practices in place.

I am a Lagos resident from birth. Lagos is composed of the rich and the wretched; the mighty and the meek; the high and the low. Sadly, there’s a thin veil of segregation instituted in Lagos as one’s place of residence is a function of one’s financial status. The high and the mighty are normally crowded within secluded locations, while the meek and the low are often populated at a distant location. Living in Lagos is quite expensive for low-income earners, with rising costs of house rents, food, healthcare services, and transportation, prompting a growing number of residents to seek shelter in neighbouring states, especially Ogun State and Ibadan, the capital city of Oyo State.  

The stories weave around the lives of poor inhabitants, who suffer a high degree of depravation, alienation, and injustice in terms of unemployment and limited economic opportunities, poor housing, insecurity, environmental degradation, and poor sanitation (i.e. increasing pollution, gully erosion, and flash flooding), lack of access to drinkable water and electricity, poor transportation systems resulting in back-breaking traffic congestion due to bad road networks, inadequate healthcare facilities and quality education. Although there are concerted efforts by governments to address these perennial challenges, grassroots initiatives sponsored by successive governments have not led to desired sustainable developments, especially given the growing population in these areas.

Despite the searing impacts of these many challenges, the residents have a vibrant sense of communality and social bonds that serve as a coping mechanism to survive the biting hardship. With their limited resources, they are able to care and cater for one another’s needs and wants in such a way that the residents rely on one another for continuing supports. Since Lagos is a multicultural environment, inclusion in the midst of diversity is an integral part of the culture among residents. In other words, socialisation and good neighbourly relations are celebrated cultural practices. These people are described by the late Afro beat legend, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, as “suffering and smiling”. However, self-isolation or the Western nuclearized family system is frowned upon by residents in these areas.

The malign effects of corruption and inequality run through the novel, permeating every aspect of people’s lives. We have the state of roads, aviation industry corruption, as well as the way in which not having money to pay a single exam fee can be crippling. What motivated you to write about this?

The story’s themes show the ripple effects of socio-economic inequalities, pervasive corruption, and a lack of fellow-feeling. I write, with firmness of purpose, stories about flagrant injustice and all shades of inhumanities with impunity against servile people in order to create awareness and encourage reactionary activism. What we have is the weaponisation of expanding economic inequalities, resulting in biting hunger, gradual reduction in life expectancy, and a low-quality education by those in high places, especially government functionaries holding positions of public trust. More disturbing is the resurgent climate of fear that characterised the military regime—an affliction that many Nigerians could not have imagined possible up to two decades ago.

Sadly, the timidity and complacency with which Nigerians concede to bad governance has inflamed, with heightened intensity, the glowing inferno, especially with the complicity of bootlickers, jobbers, and saboteurs, working against the people’s collective interests just for pitiable crumbs that fall from the masters’ tables.

With the presence of these ‘Judases’ among the people, there’s still a long walk to freedom. You don’t negotiate for freedom with murderers; it inflates their ego and heightens their resolve to keep their victims at their own terms. Servility is a subtle form of complicity. There is a saying among the Yoruba: “You don’t appeal to a witch that sucks blood as a form of power enactment to stop it. Witches are known and feared for killing humans and sucking human blood.” You confront the evils if they must stop killing people through bloodsucking. Freedom is neither cheap, nor granted. It’s fought for. If you seek peace of mind, a better life and good governance, confront the evils that make them impossible. It is sheer cravenness that makes a man go to sleep when he sees that his house roof is on fire. Our roof, as a people, is on fire, and our people have gone to sleep, snoring furiously.

It is striking that much of the novel, even when we follow Remi in his adult life, looks at life from a woman’s perspective, including an incident of sexual violence against a woman. But some of the writing did suggest the male gaze had taken prominence. How difficult did you find writing from a female perspective?

Yes, you’re right. Writing from a female perspective is a challenging experience as a male author, but I just have to strike a balance. The day-to-day experiences that women face in the rural communities empower my inner voice. As I mentioned earlier, living with my single mother and watching her go through some depravation and stigmatisation, over the years, deeply resonates with me, expands my horizon and shapes my perception about what women, especially single mothers, experience in real-life situations. Besides, an author explores diverse relevant materials and incorporates valuable resources that make his or her stories relatable to the readers. This is the spine of every story told by an author. So, connecting the dotted lines and creating the stories took several months of writing and re-writing.

The book is rich with plot and characters. Could you tell us about some of your influences?

I am an avid consumer of books, especially literary texts. I love reading drama texts and novels. Some authors that have shaped my writing are Chinua Achebe, Ben Okri, Isidore Okpewho, Nadine Gordimer, Ngugi Wa Thiong’o, and Ayi Kwei Armah. Others are Wole Soyinka, Ola Rotimi, Olu Obafemi. Reading works by these great authors enriches my intuition, expands my horizon and energises my vision for a just cause.

I am also a critical observer of my environment in order to increase my knowledge and broaden my experience. As I mentioned, from 2011 to 2023 my socio-political and economic experiences in Nigeria became a source of material inspiration that spurred my interests in crafting stories that enact challenging themes.

Are you working on another novel or another literary project now?

Yes, the manuscript for my second novel is ready for submission. I started writing it over a year ago. I believe that when it’s published, I hope that it will be more fascinating and warmly received like The Master of Fate.

Samuel's novel, The Master of Fate, is available from African Books Collective. 
To find out more about Malthouse Press, take a look at their publisher page.