Leila Aboulela, Judge 2013; writer and winner of the inaugural Caine Prize in 2000

Today I finished reading all the stories submitted for this year’s Caine Prize. In February the postman had delivered a sumptuous box full of books, journals, magazines and photocopied sheets.  I opened it straight away. Inside was the future winner of the 2013 Caine Prize and I was going to play a part in discovering him or her.  What struck me first was the practicality of running a prize.  Each book, for example, had a typed label on the front cover with the name of the submitted story and the page numbers. A spread-sheet, three pages long, listed each entry by title, author, country of origin, publication and whether the story was included in a book, journal or as a photocopy (most of the photocopies were internet publications). Each of the five judges must have received an identical box.  A lot of hard work had gone into this, I thought. Running a prize was not an easy matter.

            

And would judging it be any easier? At first I dug in and read haphazardly but I had to develop some system. I decided to grade the stories.  I gave a D to those stories that should not have been published in the first place, let alone submitted. I gave a C to the mediocre ones. And I gave an A to the exceptional, outstanding ones, the kind of stories I would want to pass on to friends, the kind of stories I would be keen to recommend. As for the Bs, they intrigued me the most because here was talent that needed development, here were shy voices that needed to be raised a notch, here were first drafts that needed more work and here were flashes of brilliance bogged down by clumsy skills and what I suspected to be lack of sufficient exposure to critical reading and editorial support. Perhaps the As would forge ahead no matter what but the Bs were the ones in need of encouragement    

In conclusion, the statistics were as follows:

            A s      19 stories        18.4%

            B s      26 stories        25.2%

            C s     36 stories        35%

            D s     22 stories        21.4%

I made notes on the As and Bs and I am now looking forward to reading them again. But before I started on this next stage, I decided to jot down the top ten stories that made the biggest initial impression on first reading, the ones that stood out in my memory.   It turned out that six of them were ones I had given an A grade and four a B. Perhaps they would be the stories I would take with me to the judges’ short-list meeting, perhaps on a second reading I would swap them for others.  Have I steered away from the more brutal themes? Am I more inclined towards the domestic and emotional?  I am looking forward to discussing my choices with the other judges.  I am sure my own tastes would be challenged at times but hopefully, too, my instincts would be confirmed.

Nearly every submitted story reflected the economic, political and social difficulties of life in Africa.  The writers did not shy away from sensitive issues or gruelling realities.  But serious subject matters do not guarantee a good story.  There are other qualities that are more important – creative imagination, skills, the ability to invoke delight,  plough depth, stir drama and chart connections, a sense of place, history and culture,  characters who intrigue, an individual vision. Here are some of the notes I jotted down on the entries I judged worth re-reading, the ones that scored As and Bs

Earthy, confident writing with a sense of integrity

Poetic and strange

Chilling with a neat ending

No-nonsense rending of a familiar tale of tragedy

Spirited, universal

Creepy

Vibrant, great opening line

Confident, superb pacing

Wacky, gripping,

Fluid narrative, touching

Bold…. I want to read more from this writer.

  

Throughout the past two months I have read approximately one hundred stories and kept company with the diverse voices of African writers. A literary prize such as the Caine confers recognition, exposure and an international stamp of approval.  African writers deserve their place in the sun.  Whatever their themes, regardless of their chosen setting,  at the end of the day it is excellent writing that makes the powerful impact, it is the cream which rises to the top.

"The Africa I recognise and love" by Augustus Casely-Hayford, Chair of Judges 2013.

When earlier this year Ansar Dine fled Timbuktu pursued by the French contingent of the African-led International Support Mission, it seemed like UN Security Council Resolution 2085 had been fulfilled.

The bad guys were in the retreat, aid and support was forthcoming, and the ancient libraries of Timbuktu and the adobe shrines had been saved with barely a shot fired.

But then came the reports of a traumatised populous, of seemingly ransacked libraries and the abandoned carcasses of empty archive boxes. The unthinkable nightmare had occurred - retreating Ansar Dine had meted out an ideological scorched earth strategy, destroying or stealing some of the most valuable contents of the great libraries of Timbuktu.

They knew the significance of stories, of how libraries can be repositories of identity. If we needed reminding, it showed us again what we had learned from previous conflicts across the continent; the importance of narrative, of stories that can be used like weapons to bind peoples together more powerfully than any contract, as ideological rallying points and totems. It is as true today as when Timbuktu was home to one of the great medieval universities of the world.

In the wake of the liberation of Timbuktu, there are renewed hopes that the stories of archives emptied in the fog of war might not have been wholly accurate. They have been counteracted by new stories of salvaged manuscripts being secreted south, or even carried north to be buried in the desert. The only thing that is clear is the importance of words, the power of ancient stories, the potency of new narratives and the way in which they are charged.

Gus visited Timbuktu when he presented the "Lost Kingdoms of Africa" series for BBC 4. 

For Africans, fighting for the right to tell their stories is something that has been hard won – whether in the form of the establishment of ancient libraries, or the challenging of colonial regimes or repressive governments, words have been our allies.

It is one of the reasons why I have been a long-term Caine Prize groupie.

Over the last decade, I have read the short-listed stories, speculated on who the winners might be and, after the announcement, I have followed the subsequent writing of contributors over the years.

The true impact of this prize is difficult to calculate.

Over its lifetime there have been seismic shifts in publishing economics, distribution mechanics and international book-culture – and African and diasporic authors have been profoundly impacted - but the Caine Prize has stood as one of the few positive constants.

Looking back, the direct benefit to many of the shortlisted authors and eventual winners is clear to see, but I would imagine that Sir Michael Caine (after whom the prize was posthumously named) would have been equally proud of the more ineffable by-product, of simply reminding us of the important and particular contribution of African and diasporic writing to contemporary literature.

As I have begun to read this year’s submissions, I am once again made vividly aware of that particular voice. This is not just cutting edge writing of real quality, but at its best it offers a unique window onto Africa as it confronts the stresses and profound changes that the 21st century has bestowed upon the Continent. Caine writing does not describe the Africa of 24 Hour News, but it somehow captures that little heard voice of the loving, laughing, crying, complex Africa that I recognize and love.

African Violet: "For the beach or for the stocking."

The 2012 Caine Prize anthology African Violet has been featured on page one of WANTED Magazine's 6-page book supplement (December edition). 

"African Violet and Other Stories showcases the Caine Prize for African Writing's five shortlisted stories for 2012. The stories are diverse, veering away from the war torn, poverty stricken image of Africa. Characters have iPhones and iPads, are entangled in complicated relationships, create their own republics and even hoodwink their bosses while in the middle of a three-day bender."

We're delighted that WANTED have recommended this year's anthology as a must buy for the 'beach or for the stocking.' African Violet, as well as all the other Caine Prize anthologies, are available to buy here.

My Caine Prize story by Tolu Ogunlesi

I first heard about the Caine Prize in 2001, when Nigerian journalist Helon Habila won it. It was only in its second year; the debut prize awarded to Sudanese Leila Aboulela in 2000. I remember the Lagos Guardian’s coverage of it – as I write this, a black-and-white photo of Habila - posing next to that now-well-known statuette of the late Sir Michael Caine (former Chairman of Booker Plc, and after whom the Prize is named) - hurriedly assembles itself in my mind. 

It was a big deal in Nigerian literary circles back then; a continental prize coming to a country that, until two years earlier, was aptly captured by the following excerpt (a conversation between the young aspiring journalist Lomba, and James, editor at the weekly magazine where he works and dreams) from the collection in which Habila’s award-winning story, Love Poems, first appeared:

“You won’t find a publisher in this country because it’d be economically unwise for any publisher to waste his scarce paper to publish a novel which nobody would buy, because the people are too poor, too illiterate, and too busy trying to stay out of the way of the police and the army to read. And of course you know why paper is scarce and expensive – because of the economic sanctions placed on our country. But forget all that. Say you found an indulgent publisher to publish your book, someone who believes in this great book as much as you do; and because you are sure your book is good, you’d want to enter it for a competition – what is the most obvious competition for someone from a Commonwealth country? Of course, the Commonwealth Literary Prize. But you can’t do that.”  

 “And why not?” Lomba asks. He stands and moves to the window, away from James, so that they stare at each other, the table between them, like antagonists.

“Because Nigeria was thrown out of the Commonwealth of Nations early this morning. It was on the BBC.”

Following the 1995 extra-judicial execution of writer and activist Ken Saro-Wiwa, Nigeria had earned a suspension from the Commonwealth - only one of the many manifestations of the pariah status that defined Africa's most populous country.

Habila’s win was a huge vote of confidence in Nigerian talent. He lived and worked in Lagos as Arts Editor with a daily newspaper, and locally published the collection of stories in which the award-winning story first appeared. He was home-based in a country whose finest literary talent appeared to have fled into exile in Europe and North America.

Life changed dramatically for Habila from that moment – a two-book deal followed, as well as a fellowship at the University of East Anglia (UEA).

Helon turned out to be the first Caine winner I’d meet in person, at a British Council Festival of African Writing in Kampala in October 2005. Years later he would kindly oblige my request for a reference to accompany my application to study for a Creative Writing Masters at UEA.

In the time since, I’ve met several other Caine winners – Uganda's Monica Arac de Nyeko and Zimbabwean Brian Chikwava at a winter arts festival in Belgium, Kenyan Yvonne Adhiambo Owuor at the Storymoja Hay Festival in Nairobi, Nigerian Segun Afolabi at the Caine Prize workshop in Kenya in 2006, Nigerian EC Osondu on Krazitivity, an internet listserve I joined in the mid-2000s, and Zimbabwean NoViolet Bulawayo on Facebook. Yes, Facebook, long before she won the Prize.

And then Nigerian Rotimi Babatunde, the newest Laureate (2012), who was in Kampala as well for that 2005 conference. I recall Habila, Babatunde and I staying up and talking late into the night. I had no idea back then that I was with, not one, but two, Caine Laureates – one still seven years away from being recognised.

I’ve followed the Caine Prize quite passionately (short of being shortlisted or winning, 'following' is arguably the next best thing), submitted my stories for consideration, and attended a number of events associated with it – the annual writing workshop in March 2006 (I spent my 24^th birthday there) and the Prize dinner in 2011, where I earned the (not-dubious) honour of being the first person (even before @caineprize) to tweet the name of the winner, seconds after the announcement.

No doubt it is one of the best things to happen to writers of African origin within the last decade-and-half. It has brought several writers to international prominence, and has helped maintain the tradition of short-story writing and publishing on the continent. And you cannot tell the story of the Kenyan litmag Kwani? without mentioning the Caine Prize.

Over the next twelve months we will blog once a month – random musings and proclamations about the Caine Prize, discussions of winning stories, comparisons of the Prize to similar prizes across the continent, and random bits of rabble-rousing, if we find myself in the mood for it. We look forward to getting comments and feedback, and hopefully to having some posts inspired by readers’ comments and queries. If you think there’s anything you’d like to see covered, please drop a message in the comments box. 

The views expressed in this blog are my own and do not represent those of the Caine Prize or Raitt Orr. Tolu Ogunlesi

Vox Africa Interviews

Watch an interview with 2012 shortlisted writers Melissa Myambo and Stanley Kenani on Vox Africa with Henry Bonsu here: http://www.voxafrica.co.uk/vod/videos/?v=0_isymw4jd

Looking forward

With the exciting announcement of Rotimi Babatunde's success in winning the thirteenth Caine Prize on 2nd July for his story "Bombay's Republic" a new cycle begins for the Caine Prize.  We start promoting the anthology which includes the 2012 winning story and all the shortlisted stories as well as the ten workshop stories written in South Africa earlier in the year.  African Violet and Other Stories is published by New Internationalist  alongside six African publishers in Nigeria, Kenya, Uganda, Zambia, South Africa and Sub-Saharan Publishers in Ghana, and will soon be published by 'ama Books in Zimbabwe.  

As part of the Prize, Rotimi Babatunde will take part in this year's Open Book Festival in Cape Town between 20-24 September and events in New York to be confirmed later this year.

Rotimi Babatunde, Billy Kahora, Constance Myburgh, Stanley Kenani and Melissa Myambo will all be invited to take part in the 2013 workshop.  For a reminder of the workshop participants who contributed to African Violet here are a couple of film clips shot in South Africa back in March.  

2011 shortlisted author Lauri Kubuitsile talks to Lizzy Attree about the 2012 workshop and her story "Moving Forward" now published in the Caine Prize anthology: African Violet and other stories.

2011 Shortlisted author Beatrice Lamwaka talks to Lizzy Attree in the Book Lounge in Cape Town about the 2012 workshop and her story "Pillar of Love" now published in the Caine Prize anthology: African Violet and other stories.

Watch this space for more from our new guest blogger, Tolu Ogunlesi who will start blogging in September!

pic by Ifeyinwa Uzowulu

Maya Jaggi, Judge 2012, Cultural journalist and critic

I was in the Arctic last week to interview one of Africa's leading novelists. Nuruddin Farah - who now lives in Cape Town - was in Norway's far north to tell a gathering of Ibsen experts by the sea about the impact of the great Norwegian playwright on his fiction. Henrik Ibsen's dramas spoke across centuries, continents and languages to a Somali would-be writer already disturbed by the constraints on women in his own society.

Africa's stories, such as Farah's, now captivate readers around the globe, much as Ibsen's plays have done. They reveal truths to them, not only about aspects of the immense African continent, but about their own lives. As Wole Soyinka responded when I once told him of some critics' surprise at the universality of his writing: "The universal always comes out of the particular, whether you're French or Russian or Nigerian. I'm surprised they're surprised."

As a critic (and previous Caine prize judge in 2006), I don't prescribe - or proscribe - writers' subject-matter. Writers are often chosen by their subjects, rather than the other way round. More at issue are the language, artistry and imagination with which those subjects are handled. As this year's shortlist illustrates, far from being a throat-clearing exercise for the heroic task of the novel, a fine short story can contain a universe.