Review of Canoe Town
A novel by Opusam Ekinisam Ete
I
 BECAME a fanatic of the novel as an art form when I met Professor 
Charles Nnolim at the University of Port Harcourt. Nnolim is reputed to 
be the foremost authority on the novel in all of African literary 
exegesis. If Nnolim says your novel is good, then it is good, and if 
Nnolim condemns your novel outright, he means it fell far short of the 
standard expectation. But, in either case, he would give you cogent 
reasons, so that if your novel is good, you want to write a better one 
next time, and if your novel is bad, you want to brace up and write a 
good one next time. 
Nnolim would be the first 
to laugh at himself, and tell you that he has never written a novel, yet
 he can tell a good novel from a bad one. He will tell you that the 
critic is like a man who knows the way to a given destination, but can’t
 get there himself. That definition of the critic pretty much describes 
me as well because I have never written a novel. I have a book of six 
short stories entitled A Birthday Delight. But while the short story is a
 clip of life, a slice of life, the novel is an extended narrative, and I
 have never been able to summon the stamina to write one. Even so, I 
have read a good number of great novels, so much so that I can 
confidently tell a good novel from a poorly written one. 
That
 is why I mustered sufficient confidence to tell my good friend, Opusam 
Ekinisam Ete, that his first novel could do with some revision. He had 
given me a complimentary copy of Aru-Ama: Town Of Canoes, in the course 
of the last international convention of the Association of Nigerian 
Authors, ANA, at the Writers Village in Abuja, and I was grateful. 
We are here today, 
ladies and gentlemen, to celebrate that revised edition. In the 
sentiments of Jesus Christ, new wine should be put in new bottles, so I 
went so far as to suggest that this revised work should go with a new 
title. For reasons of wider marketability, I felt that Canoe Town would 
be a more appropriate title for the book, and I even took the trouble to
 design a new cover concept for the book. The author gladly accepted the
 new title, but decided to stick with the old illustration for the 
cover. The composite result is what we have in hand today, new wine in 
old skin.
For the critic, the strength of a 
novel lies in some basic elements in the text itself. To start with, the
 critic looks out for a good plot, a fascinating story line, in a given 
setting. He looks out for characters that come alive, a selective 
attention to detail, credible dialogue, and sheer narrative power that 
is compelling enough to keep the reader awake and turning the pages till
 the very last full stop. In the hands of an accomplished novelist, 
these ingredients combine to make a good broth, if not a delectable 
feast altogether.
Let’s not search too far from
 our shores in Bayelsa. I have never hidden my admiration for the craft 
of Michael Afenfia. As a novelist, he has a great sense of plotting, 
characterization, dialogue, attention to detail and compelling narrative
 power. He understands the aesthetics of fiction, with particular regard
 to the novel. My favourite Afenfia novel is entitled Don’t Die On 
Wednesday. The subject matter, the engaging thematic interest of that 
novel, is unique. 
Afenfia, in short, is adept 
at working with sub-plots, adroit at creating suspense, and qualifies to
 be called a believable story teller in his own right. He remains a good
 example to follow. As far as memorable novels from Bayelsa writers go, I
 will always vouch for Condolences by Bina Nengi-Ilagha, an 
award-winning novel that deserves all the commendations showered on it 
so far, simply on account of the deployment of those vital elements of 
artistry and language control that go into making a compulsive read, if 
not a great novel. 
I am concerned right now 
about the potential of Canoe Town, the novel under review, precisely 
because it takes on a very ambitious subject matter, namely the 
trans-Atlantic slave trade. If Professor E. J. Alagoa, perhaps Africa's 
foremost living historian, were to read this novel, he would see reason 
to convert the vast raw material at his disposal, offered by history, 
and make capital of it by elaborating on the human involvement with 
everyday situations, the dilemmas faced by individual characters, and 
their efforts to resolve them. Opusam Ete has done what the respectable 
professor would not even contemplate at his age. He has told a story 
around an infamous historical subject, the subject of slavery, and he 
has done this by naming one of his principal characters Alagoa, no less.
The
 novel begins with Alagoa fleeing his fishing settlement with his 
pregnant wife, Omiete, when slave raiders invade the village. The woman 
gives birth to a baby boy on the high seas, and dies in the process. 
Confused about what to do, and in pain over the sudden loss of his wife,
 Alagoa paddles his canoe in the dead of night to the nearest parcel of 
land, all the while holding his newborn son. It is a tragic scenario 
that calls us to suspend disbelief as we witness the boy, Owei, 
virtually grow up in the course of one day, crawling away from his 
father and distracting him with various antics beyond the dictates of 
infancy, as the man tries to dig a grave in which to bury his wife.
Caught
 between mourning his wife and celebrating the birth of his first child,
 Alagoa paddles away from the deserted settlement he calls Aru-Ama, 
finds refuge in Igbogene where he leaves the new born child with his 
long-standing friend, Sorgwe and his wife, Izibefien. In the course of 
paddling through the creeks, grieving all the while for his wife, he 
stumbles upon fabulous fortune that would command a fair bargain even in
 the eyes of local slave dealers. He journeys on to Mbiama where he 
finds favour in the eyes of the Headman after courageously saving the 
princess, Ada, from slave raiders. The princess is duly given in 
marriage to Alagoa who goes on to become the father of three other 
children, but the memory of his first son, Owei, is so strong that he 
brings the boy to stay with him.
The princess 
sees a threat in her step-son, with particular regard to ascending the 
throne, and plots his downfall. She succeeds in mobilizing the youth to 
drive Owei into exile, but the young adventurer has a date with destiny.
 He survives great hardship and torment in the rain forest, and is 
rescued by the guardian spirit of his mother, who leads him to confront 
the slave raiders  with the help of Nabia, a clairvoyant priestess of 
the wild. The resolution of the story comes with the eventual arrival of
 Owei in Aru-Ama, the resting place of his mother, where he is 
proclaimed king over the people, given his heroic exploits to overcome 
the slave dealers with the symbols of power in his hand.
In
 this first novel, Opusam Ete revisits the nineteenth century and 
recreates the response of coastal communities to the havoc of the slave 
trade, underscoring its disruptive effects on life among the first 
people to come in contact with the colonialists along the Niger Delta 
coastline. By popular historical accounts, the slave trade was stopped 
by William Wilberforce and other explorers of his ilk. 
In
 this work of fiction, the viewpoint alters dramatically, and the 
treacherous role played by greedy chiefs and local merchants comes in 
for scrutiny as exemplified by Chief Ekundayo Ogundele, the middle man 
who shuttles the creeks from Arogbo in the Yoruba axis to the salt water
 territory in Ijaw land as typified by Nembe, Ogbia, Kaiama and Mbiama. 
It is even more refreshing to know that the hero of the struggle against
 slavery is a hapless boy rejected by his people who goes out of his way
 to free captives, reverses the status quo, and holds the slave raiders 
in bondage.  
The novel comes in seven 
sustained chapters, and an epilogue that presents a satisfactory 
resolution. The events are circumscribed within a time bracket which 
takes its initial pillar in 1807 and ends with the relative close of 
slave trading activities in 1832. It is safe to say that, in this novel,
 Opusam Ete underscores the power of the younger generation to bring 
about change in society, even if they act on wrong advise. 
The
 author also gives pride of place to women of great activism in the 
mould of Tari, the voluptuous Nembe lass who runs away from home to 
escape capture. She provides succor for Owei in her solitary hut in the 
jungle, and gives the young man a greater resolve to hunt down the slave
 raiders when she is kidnapped at the point when their feelings for each
 other begin to flourish. But the real heroine of the novel may well be 
Nabia, the Ogbia-born priestess with the temper of a tigress who leads 
Owei on a dizzy expedition across mysterious short-cuts to the hide-out 
where the slave raiders lie in wait to export their human cargo.
Needless
 to say, the author shows a commendable familiarity with the Niger Delta
 terrain. We can virtually follow him as he navigates the swamplands, 
traversing Nembe kingdom, Ogbia kingdom and Epie kingdom at large, 
recreating cultural patterns of life and living. He goes from one 
fishing port to a palm kernel outpost in an era when the plate and spoon
 had not replaced fingers feeding directly from the floating calabash. 
The sea itself becomes an inevitable character in this novel.
Chapter
 after chapter, the author does well to capture the changing temper of 
the creeks and rivers as they pour into the wider waters of the Atlantic
 Ocean, marked by calm and sobriety as much as the occasional tempest in
 due season. The swampy mangrove vegetation of the Niger Delta, with its
 rich and variegated content of marine life, is evoked to great effect 
in the body of this work in much the same way as the range of characters
 are portrayed in recognizable terms by their actions, the thoughts 
which propel them, and the credible dialogues they articulate.
It
 bears repeating that Canoe Town celebrates the heroic adventures of 
Alagoa, the brave fisherman who loses his wife in the throes of giving 
birth to their only child, Owei, a son imbued with greater mettle, 
destined to become king of his people, in spite of truly gruelling odds.
 Like every worthwhile odyssey, the younger protagonist arrives at a 
point of fulfillment when he steps on the shores of Aru-Ama twenty-five 
years after he was born, and is duly acknowledged by the kingmaker, 
Ebele, who recognizes the totems of authority in his hand.
Ultimately,
 the strength of this novel lies in its unrelenting spirit of adventure,
 the promise of the crusading youth to change the future for the better,
 the intrigues conceived by traitors, and the faithful evocation of 
pristine nature in a rugged terrain. Canoe Town will count amongst the 
few historical novels to have emerged in this day and age from the 
annals of Niger Delta literature. This review is by no means exhaustive.
 The least I can do, therefore, is to recommend it to the individual 
reader who may be curious as to how our forebears confronted the menace 
of slavery in nineteenth century Africa, along the Niger Delta 
coastline. 
Mingi-Yai Nengi Josef Owei-ilagha, 
Pope Pen The First
August 18, 2024. Yenagoa.

 
 
 
 
 
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