Krio

"I'm deeply enamored of Sierra Leone "-Syl Cheney-Coker on Writing through Exile

Syl Cheney-Coker is a Sierra Leonean poet, novelist, and journalist. Born in Freetown in 1945, he was educated at the University of California, Los Angeles, the University of Oregon, and the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He returned to Sierra Leone but went into exile in the 90s after he was targeted by the government. Cheney-Coker is the author of several novels and anthologies including The Last Harmattan of Alusine Dunbar, which won the Africa region of the 1991 Commonwealth Writers' Prize. He now spends his time between the US and Sierra Leone. In this interview, he talks to the Poda-Poda Stories team about how literature shaped his work and writing through exile.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Ngozi: Your memoir, Jollof Boy: The Early Years, was released this year. It is a rich account of Sierra Leone during the colonial era when you were a child. Why now? Why have you decided to share these stories with us in your memoir at this time? 

Cheney Coker:  I never really thought about writing my memoir. The best way to get to know anybody is through an account of what we see about our society and whatever contribution we may have made. And in my case, being a writer, I felt that I have been doing that through my books. 

However, last year, Mallam O, the publisher of the Sierra Leone Writers Series, said to me “have you started writing your memoir?” So I thought about it and said, why not? Especially as Sierra Leone is not the Sierra Leone it was before. So seeing where we are at the moment- an incredibly bankrupt society-I just felt that perhaps I should go ahead and write this memoir and reflect on a period of glory. It was not perfect, but I think it was better.

Ngozi: You've gone into exile because of your work as a writer in Sierra Leone. Can you talk about how being in exile changed your relationship with Sierra Leone over time?

Cheney Coker:  I always tell people that I never left the country, because it is Sierra Leone that gives validation to my being a writer. Without Sierra Leone as a stimulus, I wouldn't be a writer and I don't want to be a writer that is not tied to my heritage. I'm sure you've been reading African literature quite a lot. The current scope of African writers, mainly those under 50, delight in bashing the African continent. They're all writing about an escape from their various problems and the problems of society into which they were born. They’re coming to the West and saying “take me, give me a new name.Things are so bad in my country!”

But it's the madness of escapism.

My relationship with Sierra Leone has not changed and it will never ever change because as I speak to you right now, we are putting the finishing touches to my house on Leicester Hill. I don't know how many more days I have left on this planet so I'm looking forward to going home to reconnect with what is still there. 

Of course, I'm not unaware of the fact that a lot has changed. For a start, the landscape has changed. In addition to destroying all moral values, we’ve also destroyed the ecology and the environment of our society. Everything has been chopped out while we delight in being a barren landscape. And we have all of these ugly metallic buildings, concrete buildings going up. So Freetown has become, in my view, a concrete jungle and it's not what I expected Freetown to be like because I've been to other African capital cities and it's not like that.

Having said that, I'm going home hopefully sometime this year. For good. 

Charmaine: I recently graduated from an MFA program in creative writing from Texas State University and a conversation that kept coming up among us African students was how much someone's writing changes based on geography. One Nigerian classmate in particular, felt that being in America stifled his writing which is usually set at home in Nigeria. Could you speak to this: do you think wherever the writer is geographically affects the quality and the content of their work? 

Cheney Coker:  Congratulations on doing your MFA! Having said that, I don't believe that an MFA makes someone a writer. I think an MFA allows you to teach, particularly.

To be a writer is to be consumed by passion that no other expressive cultural form does to you because writing is a lonely vocation, as opposed to being a composer, a musician, or a painter. A painter has a palette and she begins to draw to paint images and colors. A composer or musician has an instrument, and the instrument talks back to you, right? But a writer, you wake up in the morning and all you have is a blank screen, or in my day before computers came to be, you have a blank piece of paper, which you've got to fill with words, and those words must be extremely very close to you. One thing the writer does not want to do is to lie to himself or herself because literature can be extremely vindictive and very treacherous. So writers who think that they can lie about their heritage or their experience just to fulfill a publisher's request are making a mistake. It's always going to be terrible when it comes out. 

“My soul is that of a poet’s.”

Syl Cheney-Coker

So my response to that is that it depends on what background the writer is coming from. Nigerian writers of my generation came from a very rich background and it didn't matter where they were. Take Wole Soyinka for instance, who spent many years in exile and still wrote some of the greatest plays like Death and The King’s Horseman, which are about his Nigerian heritage and his perception of what Nigeria was going through at various periods. No one could draw a line between whether they were written in Nigeria or written abroad. I have been in exile for a good many years and I have still been able to write about Sierra Leone. Emotionally and culturally, I'm very deeply enamored of Sierra Leone and I'm very deeply enamored of the background that I inherited.

So, it all depends on whether you bring your country or your heritage with you when you leave, or whether as soon as you get out and step into the so-called melting pot, you feel like you must become someone else.

Charmaine:  What authors, poets and novelists shaped your journey as a writer when you were growing up? 

Cheney-Coker: African literature was not taught in schools during my time. We went through the grinding machine of colonial education. So strictly speaking, the two people who shaped my perception into being a writer, were writer and physician, Raymond Sarif Easmon, and then the journalist Ibrahim Taqi, who was sent to the gallows by (then president) Siaka Stevens. 

I never really fancied myself becoming a writer. I actually wanted to be a journalist. I came to the United States during the sixties, and it was the period the Harlem Renaissance was being brought back into being, and all the writers, like James Baldwin were being taught. Of course David Diop and Leopold Senghor had all become part of the Negritude Movement and we were all being swept up into consciousness by what was going on at that time. That’s when I realised there was something in me that was empty.

I also felt that my Krio identity was not any different compared to the Harlem Renaissance or the Negritude school. I had been fed a lot of crap by colonial education and there was a subterranean journey that I had to undertake to find myself. That journey could only be achieved by becoming a writer.  

Charmaine: What were some taproot texts that inspired you to became a writer? And you’ve written poetry, creative nonfiction and novels. Which form have you most enjoyed writing in?

Cheney-Coker: I’ll answer the second question first. My soul is that of a poet’s. I think anyone reading my work would realize that. Even in my memoir you can see that it's of a poet writing. I express myself much more passionately in my poetry, because it's personal to me. Fiction gives me an opportunity to write about the collective in a wider and more dramatic format. 

To the first question, when I started writing poetry, I discovered Leopold Senghor and other negritude poets and my favorite for a long time was the great Congolese poet Tchicaya U Tam'si. He's probably the most famous French writing poet at that time from Africa. Then there was the great Peruvian poet César Vallejo whose poems I really love. The English speaking writer I admired the most because of his approach to landscape and someone's existential crisis, is the Australian writer Patrick White, particularly his books Voss and The Tree of Man. It was Patrick White who showed me that it's possible to look at a vast landscape that has not been populated before and to try to make sense of it.

I also like One Hundred Years of Solitude. When I read the first page I thought “oh my God, this is an African book!”And what Gabriel García Márquez taught me was that it is possible to write a political novel and infuse it with magic and culture.It is possible to write a political novel that is not boring.

Ngozi: I remember reading your poem, the Colour of Stones, and just marveling at the beautiful imagery that you used to describe our culture. Can you just comment on how you've examined the interiority of Sierra Leonean lives in your work?

Cheney-Coker: Culture becomes extremely central when I write about Sierra Leone. It isn't just my own immediate culture, but the general culture as a whole. I'm deeply enamored of all the cultures of my country and I may not speak the other languages, but I recognize their beauty and validity because this is what makes Africa as a continent extremely very important and different from other societies.

We are truly in the real sense of the word, a melting pot, but we don't destroy the individual ingredients that contribute to that melting pot. It's like in Sierra Leone, we have plasas, but you would taste the efo nyori, or cassava leaves or egusi. 

And so I recognize the nature of our cultural dynamics. For example, when I visit a place like Port Loko, I'm not looking for the influence of Freetown in Port Loko. I'm looking for Port Loko in Port Loko. I'm also very particular about expressing the culture which I was raised in. I try my best to recollect, to re-narrate and to express as best as possible the chapters and the passages that, my mother especially, passed down to me. And I hope she'll be very proud of me. Infact she was the inspiration behind the character, Jeanette Cromantine in The Last Harmattan of Alusine Dunbar.

Ngozi:  What a beautiful tribute to her! And that’s a great segue to the next question. The Last Harmattan of Alusine Dunbar recently went into reprint and Charmaine and I have our copies! The book tackles a lot of themes like the effects of the Trans Atlantic Slave trade and nation building. What does it mean for you for this book to go into reprint?

Cheney-Coker: I'll tell you a story about Alusine Dunbar. In 2012 or thereabouts, I was at the University of West Virginia in Morgantown. I was the keynote speaker at this conference and a woman came up to me and said “do you know how much I paid for this copy when I realized you were going to be the keynote speaker because I wanted you to autograph this book for me?” The book was selling for anything between five hundred and a thousand dollars! And not one penny came to me. I don't know how this happened. 

Ngozi: Yeah, I was looking for a copy on eBay and it was around that price, so I had just given up.

Cheney-Coker: Yeah, and not one penny came to me. I would get so mad I would say, how is it possible that my book is being reproduced and people were selling it online. But anyway, The Last Harmattan of Alusine Dunbar is back. It never should have gone out of print. And so it was this new publishing house at Bloomsbury who bought some of the rights of the Heineman books.They reached out to me and said they would like to republish it. So I am glad Alusine Dunbar is back in publication and circulation and I plan to bring some copies to Sierra Leone later this year.

Anyway, how do I see some of the things related to Sierra Leone today? When you get towards the end of Alusine Dunbar, about 30 years ago, I started predicting that what is happening now, was going to happen. I saw the collapse of all moral values. I saw the greed and hunger in our intellectuals who were always sitting by their telephones waiting for calls. In those days there were only landlines. They were sitting by their telephones waiting for a call from Siaka Stevens or Saidu Momoh, so they could abandon teaching, and become ministers, et cetera, et cetera, so they could line up their pockets.


But I'm happy to see that your generation is changing everything. I'm happy there are so many writers in Sierra Leone right now, especially the poets, writers and editors like you and that is the greatest reward to me as a writer. It is not in the many books I’ve written or the dissertations on my work. What brings me the greatest joy, and I mean that sincerely, is to see that in my lifetime, there are so many promising young writers in Sierra Leone, especially women. I would not have thought this possible, given the destructive influence that my generation and the generation immediately after mine imposed on Sierra Leone. Because what is going on now is toxic. Not even the worst days of Albert Margai were like this. 

Now people are afraid. I get letters from people who say they are afraid. Since when did we become a society where people are afraid to communicate? We are supposed to be a society where regardless of where we are from, we are one nation, one country, one people, and that is what makes Sierra Leone unique.


Charmaine: What is your advice to young Sierra Leonean writers?

Cheney-Coker: The epochs are different. By which I mean, I came into writing at a different epoch, and so my narrative is different. And you're writing during a completely disorganized and dysfunctional period where all the threads that held our society together - and this applies to Nigeria, to Kenya, Cameroon or Senegal - have disappeared. But in those other societies, they have not disappeared as they have been allowed to in Sierra Leone. There is still some semblance of cultural preservation and societal responsibilities that we no longer have in Sierra Leone. Sierra Leone is a complete collapse of anything pertaining to the maintenance and the integrity of the state, and that is what frightens me.

So, your generation has a much more difficult task than my generation did. We had a lot to feed on. Ours was an expressive period. We were expressing the norms and the passions and the traditions of society. You are now singularly charged with rebuilding society.

The other problem you have to contend with is publication. There's only a small publishing house in Sierra Leone. So, we need more publishing houses but also we need a couple of good bookshops. There's not a single good bookshop in Freetown, which is a shame! I hope other Sierra Leoneans will invest and support publishing in Sierra Leone.

Ngozi: Something we always ask writers we talk to is how has writing saved your life? 

Cheney-Coker: Without writing, I probably would be dead. I could not become a doctor because the only branches of medicine that I like are pediatrics and veterinary medicine and I can’t stand seeing children and animals suffer. I hate the legal profession. I've not balanced my checkbook in the last twenty years, so I could not have become an accountant. 

So, writing saved my life in the sense that it gave me a dimension to express myself about my society and my role, without my drinking myself to death if I had done something else. And it’s also saved my life in the sense that it has exposed me to the validity of other societies, to other people and other traditions which have made me much more humane.

I cannot tell you how grateful I am that I can write and express myself in that way. Writing imposed itself on me in the sense that I never set out to be a poet or a novelist. It is just that I found that when faced with a particular situation to express myself, I picked up my pen and I started writing. 


The Last Harmattan of Alusine Dunbar is available to purchase from Bloomsbury. Sacred River is available to purchase from Barnes and Noble. Jollof Boy and other books by Cheney-Coker are available to purchase from the Sierra Leone Writers Series.



Remembering Professor Eldred Jones-Elizabeth Kamara

To remember  the legacy of Professor Eldred Jones, Poda-Poda spoke with Elizabeth L.A.  Kamara, Professor Jones’s  granddaughter and mentee .  

 Poda-Poda: Thank you for granting us this interview. How would you describe the legacy of Professor Eldred Jones? 

Elizabeth: Professor Eldred Jones was a distinguished scholar and I count it an honour and a privilege to talk about him. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so. The legacy of Prof. Jones, the national monument spreads far beyond the borders of Sierra Leone.   When he was born in the east end of Freetown, no one knew how great he would become. No one knew that the doors of all the leading universities in Africa and the Western world would open for him or that the academics in those great universities - would yearn for him to share his wisdom with them.  And he did. He travelled widely, attending conferences, delivering papers and teaching African Literature and Shakespeare. His publication of Othello’s Countrymen and The Elizabethan Image of Africa were the first studies on blacks in Shakespeare. By writing these works Jones as it were broke into a forbidden territory of writing hitherto reserved for whites. He and his wife, Mrs. Marjorie Jones also edited the esteemed African Literature Today, for a  little over three decades. He was a founding editor  of African Literature Today and this enabled him to promote African Literature and African writers. His were the shoulders on which many African writers stood to gain visibility and prominence. In fact, in Sierra Leone, the name Eldred Jones is synonymous with education. Prof Jones’s dedication to scholarship is a tribute to a man who believed that whatever one does, one must do to perfection. 

 Poda-PodaHow did Professor Jones influence Sierra Leonean writers and academics? 

Elizabeth: Apart from being well known internationally for his scholarship, Prof. Jones greatly influenced Sierra Leonean writers and academics in his homeland. Professor Jones was Professor of English in the Department of English at Fourah Bay College and later Principal of Fourah Bay College and Pro Vice Chancellor of the University of Sierra Leone before he retired in 1985. During his lifetime, he gave some writers and academics the opportunity to publish in African Literature Today and helped to provide scholarships/ grants for others to further their education. Many prominent men and women in Sierra Leone and elsewhere studied at his feet. For a long time after his retirement, he continued to offer his services to Fourah Bay College and students conducting research would often visit him. Writers or academics, researchers, friends, family and others frequently visited him for pieces of advice or asked him to write forewords, introductions, reviews and the like. Although he was not physically in the limelight, he was there behind the scenes, helping to create a space for others.  

Poda-Poda: In what ways did he serve his community? Were there any special projects he worked on ? 

Elizabeth: Prof. Jones helped to raise the profile of his community just by his presence. He and his wife, Mrs. Marjorie Jones were among those who helped the community to retain its peace and quiet. I also learnt from his memoir, The Freetown Bond that he used to hold classes in the city and surrounding villages, for – the elderly , pensioners and school teachers.  He was also one of the founders of the Mountain Rural Secondary School that was set up to provide education for underprivileged kids in the mountain rural community. As a student and later young lecturer staying with Prof. Jones and his wife, I remember them going for walks in the evening and a neighbour or two dropping in to chat with them on certain days. 

Poda-Poda: What are some of your favorite memories of him, both personal and professional? And how did he influence and support your work and journey as a writer?  

Elizabeth: My memories of Professor  Jones date as far back as the 1980s. However, I came into close contact with him and his wife in 1991 when I stayed in their lovely house as a student, my father being the adopted son of one of Prof. Jones’s favourite aunts. That is how our lives crossed and that is how I came to call Professor Jones, ‘Grandpa’. I can almost see him now in my mind’s eye as he used to sit in his swivel chair, listening to me as I read something to him from social media or a book. I spent a lot of time with him especially after the death of his dear wife in 2015 and used to visit him thrice a week or sometimes twice a week because of work pressure and my domestic life.  

One of the favourite memories I have of him is the near-surprise personal statement that he prepared for me on the launch of Distilled , which is my debut collection of poems. It made me feel proud and singled out that the extraordinary   Professor  Jones could not only find my poems a thing of joy but delighted in preparing a statement in my honour.  This demonstrates how he relished spreading happiness.  

 On the day before he died, when I visited him in the morning, he told me that he was afraid that it had got to the point where he had to depend on others to do everything for him and he did not like that. I told him that it was because of his age and ill health. Even when my husband and I visited at dinner time on that day  and supported him to take his food and medication, little did we realise that will be the last time that we shall see him alive. And when we were called to his bedside at 1:35 A.M on Saturday 21st March, we discovered that the gentle and unassuming academic colossus had quietly passed away. He was a blessing and a joy to be with. 

Poda-Poda: How can we continue to remember him and carry on his legacy as Sierra Leoneans? 

Elizabeth: This is a very weighty question. For me personally, it will be impossible to forget him. How can you forget someone you have known for over thirty years? How can you forget someone who helped to educate you? How can you forget a father figure, who had nothing but love for you?  Some of us who were close to him will attempt to carry on his legacy. He will always be remembered not only as an academic giant but also as a “human being”. I know that all the people on earth are human beings, but when Sierra Leoneans say that someone is a ‘human being” we know what that means.  I have captured the idea of Professor Jones being a human being in ‘God made him a human being’, one of the poems I wrote on his passing. 

To come back to the question, Professor Jones will be remembered for his integrity, solidity, humility, generosity, fortitude and equanimity. As Sierra Leoneans we can carry on his legacy not only by promoting education, but by being humble, true and kind. 

If I continue to be humble when greatness comes my way; if I can light a smile on someone’s face; if I can help to educate someone who is not related to me; if I can help to lift someone out of the mire of poverty; if I can offer my ear to those who need help; if I do not allow challenges to drown me; if I can do all of these, I shall consider myself as remembering him and carrying on his legacy. May his gentle soul rest in perfect peace. 

 Elizabeth L.A Kamara holds an Honours degree in English Language and Literature and a Master of Arts degree, both from the University of Sierra Leone. She is the Head of the English Unit and currently lectures the key genres of Literature in English in the Department of Language Studies at Fourah Bay College, the University of Sierra Leone. Kamara is also the Founder/Coordinator of the Poetry Reading Club FBC where she continues to inspire members to read and write poetry. She is the author of Distilled : A Collection of Poems and has published some of her works in several anthologies. She is married with two lovely sons.