The need to engage in different forms of activities other than that of creativity, which can be regarded as the primary enterprise that defines Soyinka as a person, suggests a kind of exile which for every writer is one to be viewed with seriousness. In other words, exile would extend beyond a geographical change of location and the greater pain of it would reside in the denial of the individual involved the opportunity of freedom to engage in activities which tend to offer him much fulfillment. As Olu Oguibe observes:
exile is not so much about movement, relocation or departure as it is about loss; loss of the freedom to remain or return to things familiar. Exile is a rupture, the cessation of things previously taken for granted, the collapse of a world of relative certainties, and therein lies its sting. (Oguibe,2006, p.22)
This kind of rupture which Oguibe points out can be seen in several events narrated by Soyinka in the text. Perhaps the most poignant of these is the death of Femi which signals a kind of terminal exile embarked upon by the deceased and also represents a cessation of life engendering a painful moment in the life of family members and acquaintances chief among whom is Soyinka himself. Soyinka’s choice of words in narrating what he considers the final moments of the life of his friend is indicative of an evocation of exile, particularly the form that leaves no room for return except in the symbolic form:
Femi’s eyes appeared to dissolve and sink into a deep, endless tunnel, fathomless. I stood above these opaque windows and stared into their roiling recesses, encountering nothing but space, just space, infinite space into which I was violently pulled, so that I felt weightless. I came to and found that I had leaned over and encased his free hand in both of mine. I withdrew slowly, chilled to the bone, acknowledging that he had withdrawn himself from the world, even as my hands left his. (p.340)
The palpable fear which this description engenders as well as the presence of withdrawal both in lexical terms as well as in the ambience and mood generated by the author are all indicative of a form of exile with its attendant pains and disorientation. The pain of exile which Femi’s death imposes on Soyinka is made greater by his burial in exile which is what is implied in the question: ‘Why did his family choose to abandon his body in an obscure German village called Wiesbaden?” (p.336). This question clearly demarcates between burial and abandonment. For Soyinka, drawing on African philosophical thought about the ideal place of final rest for the human soul, no burial could take place in a foreign land as the spirit of the dead is deemed to be in proper tranquility only when the body is interred in its ‘home’ land. This belief is reinforced by the contention of Oseloka Obazie that ‘in the Yoruba and Igbo custom, regardless of costs, loved ones who die overseas are brought home to rest’ (Obazie, 2006). The insistence by Soyinka, therefore, on bringing the body of his dead friend back home is indicative of a return after a period of exile as well as the desirability of return after a period of absence no matter in whatever form or how long the period of absence. The spirit of Femi is therefore brought to rest because of Soyinka’s commitment to ‘bringing him home in defiance of the unfathomable conspiracy to leave him in that foreign land like a stray without ties of family and friends’ (p.3). As Soyinka clearly shows in You Must Set Forth at Dawn the fragmentary capacity of exile is often appreciated best in the concept of death. This is evident in the way the author feels about the departure of close associates like Femi Johnson, Ojetunji Aboyade, Dele Giwa and Ken Saro-Wiwa among others.
A similar incident which signals the imperative of return for the exile is that of the attempt by Soyinka and his culturally conscious colleagues to retrieve Ori Olokun, a bronze head which is a mythical embodiment of memory, culture and genealogy for the Yoruba nation. The search for the original head, believed to have been excavated by a German explorer in Ife and taken to Britain during the colonial period, signals the importance attached to history, memory and the cultural being of a people whose roots cannot be allowed to remain in a foreign land. The whole idea of rootedness, therefore, dictates that the exile must return even against all odds in order to reclaim home which is his original habitat and a place where his impact is especially felt and his being appreciated. Although some critics, like Maja-Pearce (2007) have expressed disquiet for the kind of illicitness attending efforts to bring back the bronze head the point needs to be made that exile is often a very provocative issue especially when it involves matters that border on people’s individual or collective identity. In order to understand further the urgency of this cultural object and its mythical quality, for the culturally inclined Yoruba especially, we may wish to turn our mind to the annual ritual of the washing of the head preceding its expatriation which Soyinka vividly describes in the text:
Together with some companion figures, Ori Olokun—the head of Olokun—was traditionally buried in the courtyard of Ife palace by the priesthood, brought out only at his annual festival, when it is ritualistically washed, honored, and then returned to its resting place until the next outing. (p.191)
This annual ritual which features a great deal of celebration symbolizes return for Ori Olokun and the blessings which the adherents of the deity believe accompany this return signifies the spiritual and material capital which the return of the exile often translates to for his community.
The activities which distract the writer from creativity are usually not always a result of victimization from the state. What this calls our attention to is the fact that exile is not always a political phenomenon. In fact, there are as many factors responsible for it as the variety of forms of exile which can be identified especially when we talk of the term in relation to artists or writers who combine activism or intellection with the creative vocation. This point is by no means intended to undermine the power of politics in the vexed issue of exile as one cannot agree more with Sara Forsdyke in her contention that ‘decisions about who is included or excluded from a community are always bound up with political power and that, in some sense, political power is the power to determine who shall and who shall not be a member of a community’ (2005, p.8) v. As rewarding as the Nobel is, the attention it brings to the writer as Soyinka narrates in the text is enough to impact negatively on his creativity. This perhaps explains the contention that ‘The Nobel appears to be a bug whose bite is craved, sometimes without any sense of inhibition’ (p.331). The pressure on the recipient of this craved ‘bug’ becomes great considering the numerous sponsorship engagements which subsequently take the writer away from his primary business of writing. The impression that Soyinka creates of himself in form of his reaction to this kind of dilemma is that of someone who finds the distraction unpalatable. But there is the need to understand the fact that intellectuals also like Soyinka command a great deal of power which their achievements like winning the Nobel and other prizes confer on them and which also help them to become individuals that the state is unable to deal with at will as it would have if they were not in the class where such awards thrust them. Beyond the level of the state the kind of international recognition which such a prize offers can be said to be part of what the writer needs in the course of his emergence into an intellectual of note within and outside his home country. A good example of this is the kind of ‘generosity’ Soyinka receives from the Erico Matei Foundation after the conferment of the award:
I found myself at the receiving end of further generosity from the Erico Matei Foundation, the ENI (AGIP) people. I was set up in a luxurious hotel where if I chanced to sneeze, the management came running. I was not allowed to pay for anything. I was provided with an escort who was extremely pleasant and charming but talked my head into a coma. She was entrusted with a budget for shopping—outfitting me for the cold of Stockholm. (p.324)
This description of his experience clearly shows Soyinka as a powerful individual who, though in most instances would want to be identified with the subaltern populace, assumes a kind of power which cannot be taken for granted and as a result gets the kind of treatment that an ordinary individual would not have got. The major question that this raises for us is that of the culpability of the state in all experiences of exile that the intellectual suffers. It is possible to argue that there are certain forms of exile, physical, creative or otherwise that the public intellectual goes through as part of the price he has to pay for his own being and not necessarily a condition arising from the alienating and imperialist tendencies of the state or the ruling elite.
It then becomes clear that the alienation which the intellectual or artist is likely to suffer in terms of his or her inability to be creatively engaged is a product of two potential dilemmas—the intolerance from the state as well as the responsibility which the intellectual’s public acclaim confers on him as a powerful individual. This is the kind of orientation we find in Soyinka’s engagement with exile prompting Norman Rush (2006) to conclude that ‘Soyinka’s unceasing political activism has been carried out within Nigeria when that was possible and overseas when it wasn’t, utilizing the connections and institutional support his growing academic stardom and literary eminence afforded him.’ Stardom itself, it must be noted, is a form of power which gives privilege to intellectuals all over the world and which by implication makes them different from the ordinary citizen or the subaltern character that they may seek to be identified as. The power conferred on intellectuals by their stardom notwithstanding, they remain vulnerable to the crushing influence of state power especially when such power resides in the hands of individuals or regimes with dictatorial tendencies. As Pavel puts it:
By emphasizing universal education … states gave intellectuals a key role; at the same time, the nation-building process promoted them to a central symbolic role in the legitimation of national unity. The power and prestige they henceforth carried by virtue of what Paul Benichou (1973) called “the coronation of the writer” also made them more vulnerable to fears and whims of the potentates, especially those who ruled with an iron hand at the apex of an illiberal system. (1998, p.28)
This kind of scenario has made several other critics to suggest that exile, in whatever form, is not a desirable thing which the writer willingly opts for. In one of such instances Oguibe observes that ‘the sojourn of exile is particularly tragic because it is inevitable, inescapably bracketed by the fact of loss, not of things willingly forsaken but of things forcibly left behind, things from which separation is a violent act that leaves a wound for which there is no healing even to the grave’ (2006, p.22).
However, the stardom, prominence and eminence which most intellectuals draw on especially in taking on agency for the community requires a kind of globality which makes rootedness less attractive. This is the point at which global citizenship and nationalism combine to produce a serious dilemma for the intellectual. Soyinka’s desire to remain in Nigeria notwithstanding, he opts for flight when it becomes obvious to him that the Abacha regime would not be any considerate in dealing with activists who do not see issues with the same political lenses of the authorities. The fear that is generated in this development is captured by Soyinka in his reaction to the confirmatory encounter between him and Ibrahim Alfa who is the air force chief of the regime: ‘Inwardly, I shook like a leaf and began to give serious though to relocation’ (p.372). Exile becomes obviously tragic and undesirable when it involves physical relocation as a result of threats to the lives of intellectuals. What is to follow the takeover of the country by Abacha, as Soyinka describes it, would leave no one in doubt about the palpable danger that intellectual activity under the regime would imply:
Good essay!