Odili Ujubuoñu
I met Hyacinth Obunseh a few weeks after the publication of my debut novel, “Pregnancy of the Gods,” in April, 2006. I was there to submit the book for the ANA prize. I didn’t know anything about him or much about ANA before that Thursday evening. I would later learn, when we met at that year’s ANA Convention in Bayelsa, he was the publisher of the Hybun imprint and the then Publicity Secretary for ANA. Hyacinth and I became friends. Through him I met most of the wonderful friends I have today within the Nigerian literary circle across the country. We stayed close to each other at most of the conventions I attended where he introduced me to writers and scholars. He was a recognisable and welcomed face to my colleagues in the office and my family members at home. Such was the nature of our relationship that we called each other “Nwa Mama.”
The period he shared ANA’s office space, at the National Arts Theatre, Iganmu is unforgettable. He was the de facto welcoming hand of the gathering of literary journalists and writers within the surroundings of the Samarkand Tree. The friendships, criticisms, literary banters and quarrels that feted those evenings and weekends are stories for another day. I suspect that the seeming death of the National Theatre bars as writers’ afterhours- rendezvous might not be entirely unconnected to his eventual relocation to Abuja.
In 2008, ANA through him and Denja, invited us to design and package the 50th Anniversary celebration of the book, “Things Fall Apart.” It was a book trek design that would take us around five states of the federation. This enjoyed a worldwide media blitz for the book, the great author and for ANA, an organisation founded by Chinua Achebe. Having worked closely with him, I can testify that Hyacinth was at the centre of the success of that project
Privately, we were good friends. We worked together and played together. I was hard on him where I found him weak and he didn’t spare me either way. We disagreed on a lot of things for we were products of different histories and values. Like the Igbos would say, it is understanding that makes canines play with their teeth and not hurt each other. Many of my friends and writer colleagues couldn’t fathom how we were best of friends. I always quipped that they didn’t know Hyacinth.
Hyacinth was a strong man, who hardly bent to the pressure of opinions when he’s convinced otherwise. Even his worst enemies would attest to how passionate he was with his beliefs and how battle-ready he always was to defend them. Sometimes, taking the lethal bullet of ignominy yet moving on like the one described by the British rock singer, Sting as “It takes a man to suffer ignorance and smile.”
Unarguably, Hyacinth fuelled his belief in ANA and it’s survival as a writer’s organisation with a filial intensity that dispensed suspicion. But that was the price he had to pay for doing what he loved doing and the manner he went about it.
At the last ANA Convention in Ilorin, It was obvious our friend was going. Seeing how weak and sick he was, I asked him more than a dozen times, why he had to be at the convention. He didn’t answer me. Instead, with frail hands on tether-hooks of a waning life, raspy voice and failing eyes, in- between spasms of chest-searing coughs, Hyacinth wanted to discuss ANA 40th Anniversary celebration. I was cross with him, asking him to do something about his health which was obviously failing before it became too late. If there was a dent on the glorious moment of that occasion in Ilorin, it was Hyacinth’s condition. James Eze, Edozie Udeze and I talked about it for hours driving back to Awka after the convention. I followed up weeks after but with Hyacinth you’d only know if you’re close by.
Hyacinth probably lived this long, after his first battle with this same terminal illness that walked him home, because of his love and passion for ANA which was going through a turbulent period at that time of his bed status. He loved and lived for this organisation.
Hyacinth tied and broke many lasting bonds of friendship in ANA. He was not a perfect man, ANA is also not a perfect organisation and we the writers that make it up are no where near perfect. I think his “perfect imperfections” should guide us to a better understanding of ourselves as we live today to mourn him, and rebuild a united organisation in his memory. He’s gone with his strengths and weaknesses but can the story of modern ANA be fairly told without his name in it? No.
Journey well, son of Oko-Ogbele! See you on the other side whenever, where the great river and dialects don’t divide our shared tongue, memories, friendship, fraternity and life.
• Ujubuoñu is a Lagos-based author
