gideon diego

African Psycho was published in 2003. It was written by Alain Mabanckou, Congo Brazzaville’s accomplished novelist, poet, and professor of literature. Mabanckou’s novel invites us into the disturbed mind of Grégoire Nakobomayo, a low life mechanic living in the destitute parts of a fictionalised neighbourhood that goes by the odd name of He-Who-Drinks-Water-Is-An-Idiot. Although the title bears a resemblance to that of Bret Easton Ellis’s infamous book of a similar subject matter (American Psycho), Mabanckou’s African Psycho is far from just an Africanised version of Ellis’s tale. So instead of Patrick Bateman one should see African Psycho more along the lines of Dostoyevsky’s Notes From Underground. Mabanckou’s protagonist, Grégoire, has an odd obsession with a notorious serial killer known as Angoualima.

I read, listened, and watched a bit of things this year. I narrowed down my list of favorites to five books, five movies, and five albums. It was tough cutting the list down to only three sets of five, but doing this allowed me to see what really stuck out in 2024. In no particular order here they are:

What is Africa and what is the meaning of being African? For some, answers to these questions might seem obvious. But the very idea of Africa, in its contemporary sense at least, was not common knowledge until a century ago.

The Stone Virgins was published in 2002. The book was written by Zimbabwean author Yvonne Vera and the story follows the lives of two sisters, Thenjiwe and Nonceba. We see how life unfolds for them in the backdrop of war and conflict. She immerses her readers into the world of postcolonial Zimbabwe. Her prose are as beautiful as they are terrifying. And her ability to interweave her narrative style with lucid imagery, phantasmagoric landscapes, and the power of moving poetry makes this book an unavoidable read. Vera’s central focus rests on her women characters, who are not only the protagonists but are the very life force of her stories. Vera also gives the land a subtle voice, and a close reading will reveal the murmuring cries of its heart. It is these murmurs that speak of the becoming of a young nation that once sought to strive for independence. A nation birthed at the cost of its own people.

Touki Bouki was released in 1973. The film was directed by Senegal’s and one of Africa’s most renowned filmmakers, Djibril Diop Mambéty. Mambéty’s film has garnered praise and critical acclaim from all over the world. It is seen as a cinematic achievement not only in African cinema but in world cinema too. The film’s exuberant aesthetics has seen it have a relative amount of influence in pop culture spaces, such as African American music videos. The standout look of the film’s poster, which has the two main characters riding a motorcycle with a cow's head mounted at the front, has been a fascinating feature for many who come to this intriguing but very strange piece of cinematic art.

Nigerian playwright, Wole Soyinka, published Death and the King’s Horseman in 1975, at a time when Nigeria’s military dictatorship was at its most critical. The times were marked by multiple coups that sprang from intermittent points in time. Added to this turbulent period was the Biafran War, or the Nigerian Civil War, that horribly marred the young nation. Soyinka’s work bears the markings of these political events. He saw it fit to raise the cause of what it meant for people to live and even die under such conditions. Soyinka was a member of that unique group of African writers and intellectuals that rose to prominence in the dying days of colonialism. He, like his peers at the time, witnessed the promises of independence and lived through the failure of those promises.

1960’s Africa was a time for new possibilities. The shackles of colonialism had fallen. African societies were gearing themselves up towards self-determination. And now nationalism, something that was once considered rebel talk for the streets, had become the main topic of discussion in all sectors of civil society. Doors that were once closed had now opened. But amidst these budding prospects one important question remained – who will lead us into the new dispensation? The answer to this question came in different ways. The most notable path of all was through the rise of the political messiah – that leader who held the scepter of love for his people in one hand, but who also swung it in violence against those who opposed him, blurring the lines between friend and foe. We remembered them as the generals, men of war turned into statesmen, men who spoke of coup d'états being more frequent than croissants on the breakfast tables of Parisians, men who rose and fell in different forms. In 1965, at a moment when this idea stood at its highest in the political imaginings of the people, a relatively known Kenyan author by the name of Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o published one of the most important post-independence novels.

There were a couple of good books I read and films I watched in 2023. Many of them were forgettable.                 

I was first introduced to Chinua Achebe when I listened to a reading of his poignant poem, Refugee mother and child. At the time I was just a naïve teen. The name Achebe never even stuck out to me. But what remained with me was the vivid imagery he had crafted with his words. Achebe has a way of sticking with you, even if it is only through words. And an excellent example of his ability to stick with you comes from his seminal work, Things Fall Apart. Yet, what more can be said about this novel that hasn’t been said already. It is the staple of many curriculums in Africa. It is accepted by many around the world as the quintessential African novel. And at times it appears as if its reputation precedes it.