Celebrate literary prize winners without bringing on too much cultural baggage

By Ng'ang'a Mbugua
Photo by  David Fleming

There are social and literary critics who have a problem with the fact that the Michael Caine Prize for African Writing is awarded in a very "English upper class" setting that is devoid of anything African. Of course, we are meant to be outraged by such sentiments but ought we? Is it not the prerogative of the host to choose the time and place in which to bequeath his generosity to his guests?
The critics have also argued that by giving the 10,000 pound prize to a short story rather than a full length novel is somehow not right because it sends the impression that probably African writers cannot sustain to write longer works. But is this necessarily the case? Is it not the responsibility of the sponsor of an award to set the criteria for entry?
The short story is an important genre in literature and one of my laments over the years has been that compared to writers like Maxim Gorky, Guy de Maupassant and Nathaniel Hawthorne just to name a few from various cultures, the African short story has not reached its zenith; indeed it is far from it. As such, at least from where I sit, there is no problem whatsoever for a patron to pay his or her attention to the growth of the genre, after all, we take it as a self-evident truth that people put their money where their mouths are.
In fact, judging by the quality of this year's winner, Okwiri Oduor's "My Father's Head", one can only come to the inescapable conclusion that the quality of the winning entries for the Caine Prize has gone up. Which, in all fairness, implies that the prize is doing something to improve the quality of writing in Africa and especially yanking previously unpublished authors from the throes of obscurity. Even if the prize failed to achieve anything else, these two contributions are testament of the positive impact it is having on the literary scene. What those who are unhappy with it ought to do is build on this and start a new prize to fill the gap that has not been filled not just by the Caine and Commonwealth Prizes but also by the smaller ones run in various African countries, including the Jomo Kenyatta and Wahome Mutahi Prizes in Kenya.
What is more intriguing, at least for me, is that those who have a problem with the cultural setting of the award ceremony (of all things) and criteria of the Caine Prize in fact honoured their invitations. It is only after they got there that they found everything the matter with the entire idea. Why not, I wondered, not borrow a leaf from Benjamin Zephania, the British poet with Carribean roots who was once honoured with one of the most coveted titles, the Order of the British Empire (OBE). Zephania declined the honour bestowed by the Queen and he gave a simple reason. As far as he was concerned, this was a recognition given to those who stood for the empire and he did not feel that his contribution was to the empire. Indeed, he felt that all he had stood and fought for negated everything that the empire stood for. Zephania took a position of principle. And it was hard to argue with the decision he had taken, or as we say in Kenya, it was easy to see where he was coming from.
Such a principled argument stands in contrast to the position taken by the critics who have fired me to write this piece and to writers like Helon Habila, who, after winning the inaugural Caine Prize, turns around to criticise its criteria and its other aspects including the judges' choice of themes to reward (post-colonial poverty, war, malaise and other shackles that are standard fare in many African countries). Are these themes not of the authors' own choosing? Or, as the late Nadine Gordimer once said, are authors not chosen by their themes (rather than the other way round?)
The position attributed to Habila, for me, represents both a moral and intellectual conundrum. I can't, no matter how hard I try, figure it out.
And this brings me to the point I have been yearning to drive across. If we choose to celebrate authors who have won one prize or the other, let us, by all means, do so with or without reservation. We reserve that right. However, if there something to discuss in relation to such awards, it should be more on the quality or suitability of the work; the merits, moral and aesthetic vision of the views expressed by the judges and - when this is critical to a holistic analysis - a comparison between the winning work and the shortlisted ones. All these would form the basis of legit criticism and commentary. But to talk about the ambience of the award ceremony, or to take a potshot at the founding principle behind an award after bagging the prize money and running off it with it? Ah!

Ng'ang'a Mbugua is the author of 12 titles and two time winner of the Wahome Mutahi Literary Prize.