In Hoping, We Ascend
“Transcending” is the derived theme for issue 35, and I cannot help but say how delighted we are to curate this edition. From issue 29, September 2020, themed “Discovery,” we are now at a new turn where we transcend to heights that outstand us. One year later since then, we can say — and we may be correct if we do — that we have finally discovered what we were searching for. This turn presents a most beautiful experience, for in transcending, we evolve. We morph. In our search for hope, we rise.
To transcend means to ascend to higher planes. It means to progress upward rather than in horizontal directions. We noticed how the works in this issue pay their debt to this movement. Transcending occurs in multifaceted versions in the issue: from the spiritual to the physical. From a renewed zeal to attain higher ideological heights to a desire to rub shoulder with God, the contributors lean towards this motif.
Physical trancedence here implies geographic shift and movement. Migration is a recurring theme in modern literature. Writers and artists are finding new paths away from home, in order to find greener pastures, to get an education, or to simply relate with other hitherto unknown cultures. African-European migration is in most cases for job search or to acquire formal Western education. This migration had led to the melding of cultures, and writers now speak of new, often shocking, realities.
In more of the works in this edition, the characters are often shown to run away from their troubles to a better place, or they get to encounter troubles when they transcend to newer places. Sometimes both. In all, vis-á-vis transcending is the recurring trace of adversity. In a larger sense, there is an unmistakable motif of movement from point A to point B. The characters move, change and evolve.
Bisi in Adewale Maja-Pearce’s short fiction, Babylon is a Bitch, not only finds out that England has become the ruin of her son, Rotimi, but also in the end, becomes part of the ruination that is racist England.
The narrator in Ariyo Ahmad Akanni’s “Dear Brother” worries about the chances of his brother returning from his travels alive. Time separates them both, and he, perhaps like Bisi in Babylon is a Bitch, attributes distance to be a “gluttonous bird devouring into us.” Movement is therefore not substitutable for progress or a shot at good fortune.
In “Happiness is a Boat,” Ozota Gerald Obinna tells us “how boats bring us to new lands.” The narrator wishes he can smell the roses at his mother’s grave, but he is far away from it. His departure from home does not bring him the happiness he craves. In his “The Plight of a Heart at War with God,” the narrator rises to a surreal plane when he says that, “the walls of my heart are at war with God.”
Likewise, in Ókólí Stephen Nonso’s “this journey ends as an infinite poem,” the narrator demands to grow beyond the boundaries of time. In his search for miracle, he wishes to “paddle down the seas of time.”
In João Melo’s short fiction, The Fetus, the young, black female character and her mother flee their country home only for the former to prostitute her body in order to survive. They transcend the danger and hardships of their country home, but they meet greater travails that threaten to crumple their resolve to survive.
The other works in this issue show us glimpses of different, unique facets of transcending and movement. The works were selected carefully based on thematic merit and sophistication of language. They tell bold stories that would transcend the hold of time. We are indeed excited that these pieces constitute important fragments in the tapestry of 21st century African literature. For this, we are proud and privileged.
Dear reader, it is our utmost hope that you enjoy this 35th album. We can only wish that you draw from the experiences herein more meanings than we could ever see.
Nzube Nlebedim,
September, 2021.
