In Frank Aig-Imoukhuede, you can hardly find an extroverted artist. For the literary statesman who has now scored 90 golden goals in the match of life, it is indeed too late to expect a loquacious personality.
Yet, a reflective look at the history of his contributions to the development of arts and culture in Nigeria and across the continent reveals a rebellious artist who prefers to tread a different path towards a clearly defined destination.
Put less clumsily, as the creative community rolls out the drums to celebrate the icon now joining other legendary writers like his sister, Mabel Segun, and Wole Soyinka in the 90s club, they will be saluting no less than a consistent custodian of revolutionary craft.
Reflect on Aig-Imoukhuede’s exploits in literature, and you see a word merchant who, like the thumb among a crowd of fingers, often chooses to stand apart from the usual crowd.
This is particularly validated by his choice of language, a stylistic hallmark also shared by other greats such as Chinua Achebe, Soyinka, and Niyi Osundare.
Achebe, for instance, dared to be different with his highly successful fusion of English and Igbo, as seen in Things Fall Apart. Soyinka, on the other hand, shook the literary scene with his often complex metaphors enriched by Yoruba’s profound linguistic assets.
Aig-Imoukhuede, however, engagingly courted Pidgin English, as exemplified in his popular collection Pidgin Stew and Sufferhead. Published in 1982, when the Shehu Shagari-led Second Republic was floundering and, as usual, wobbling the country towards a seemingly bottomless pit, the collection consists of 36 poems largely written in Pidgin English, forming a “kaleidoscope of the Nigerian condition.”
By embracing pidgin, Aig-Imoukhuede proved creatively rebellious, helping to democratise the language of modern literature on the continent.
Moreover, he succeeded in demystifying poetry, often perceived as unnecessarily complex and intimidating.
His romance with pidgin poetry mirrors how Fela Anikulapo Kuti employed popular street and market language to propel Afrobeat — the globally acclaimed genre that arguably gave rise to Afrobeats, the modernist form that has now revolutionised Nigerian music, featuring superstars such as Wizkid, Davido, Burna Boy, Chike, and Ayra Starr.
Interestingly—or ironically, if not disappointingly—while many of our artists and comedians have wisely continued to productively explore pidgin, most younger Nigerian writers have failed to pick up the baton where Aig-Imoukhuede left it.
True, the likes of the late Tunde Fatunde, Femi Fatoba, Odia Ofeimun, and Folu Agoi experimented with pidgin in their writings, but many have simply failed to recognise its potential in spreading the gospel of poetry.
Some of the poems in Pidgin Stew and Sufferhead are ‘Flood don Come’, ‘Wetin you Get Wey your Head dey Swell’, ‘One Man, One Wife’, ‘Sufferhead’, ‘Aduke’ and ‘Kilimanjaro’.
Although the taste of the pudding is in the eating, the titles sound inviting, and that is one of the things Pidgin does best. Indeed, in Pidgin Stew and Sufferhead, Aig-Imoukhuede proved that pidgin is not inferior to any other language in terms of conveying all kinds of messages.
In some poems, he addresses politics; in others, he speaks to cultural values, while he explores love and other human experiences in yet others.
So, apart from helping to make the genre more accessible, he proves that pidgin can be as rich as any other language.
It must thus be emphasised that with his cultivation of it at a time when many of his colleagues ran to the market with conventional English, he proved himself a literary rebel with a great cause.
As a student at the University of Ibadan, Aig-Imoukhuede had also deployed his creative rebellion to counter what he perceived to be racial abuse — even if subtle.
He had observed that in theatre productions, certain roles — like those of animals — were often given to Nigerian students, while their white lecturers enjoyed the privilege of elevated roles.
His response to this was not to carry placards, though the father of the foremost banker, Aigboje Aig-Imoukhuede, of Access Bank fame, was also an activist then.
Rather, he engaged in a passionate and revolutionary dialogue with his muse. The result was a series of plays he wrote, which were then staged by the theatre group of the same varsity.
With this achievement, Aig-Imoukhuede made history, as his play became the first by a Nigerian to be staged by the UI theatre group. By breaking this barrier, he not only paved the way for his fellow playwrights but also emphatically asserted that literature should not be a vehicle for racial discrimination.
While he has also been involved in mentoring younger generations at both individual and organisational levels, Aig-Imoukhuede, who also scripted radio series such as Oga Mr Councillor and Constable Joe, and authored other books including Between God and Man and A Calendar of Nigerian Traditional Festivals, has equally proved that an artist can thrive in both public and corporate spaces.
As noted in one of his rich profiles, in 1971, Aig-Imoukhuede was appointed the very first Cultural Officer of the Federal Civil Service, rising to the position of Principal Cultural Officer by 1975.
During this period, he supervised Nigeria’s entries and exhibitions in the 2nd World Black and African Festival of Arts and Culture.
Between 1975 and 1988, he held the post of Director, National Council for Arts and Culture, coordinating states’ arts councils and the yearly National Festival of Arts.
In 1988, Frank Aig-Imoukhuede was appointed the Federal Director of Culture, a position he held until his retirement in 1995.
Throughout his service, he served as a bridge between the artistic community and the powers that be.
No wonder he has remained so attached to the sector that, even in his grey years, he was at the forefront of those who protested the sale and questionable concession of the National Arts Theatre, Lagos, now renamed the Wole Soyinka Centre for Culture and Creative Arts.
It is reassuring that after various attempts to ‘concession’, ‘privatise’ or otherwise tamper with the monument, it is now evolving into a bigger and better multicultural centre, thanks to the intervention of the Bankers’ Committee — with hopes that stakeholders will not be sidelined when the Theatre is finally fully back in business. Of course, if every other person keeps silent while the arts community is marginalised, one man will surely rise and fight their cause: the birthday celebrant, Frank Abiodun Aig-Imoukhuede, the seasoned and trusted voice, the most senior advocate of our cultural landscape.