A Life Without Borders: The Many Worlds of Dr Wale Okediran
There are men who live within the boundaries of one calling, and there are those rare spirits who seem to stretch life itself across many frontiers, leaving footprints where others scarcely dare to imagine.
Dr Wale Okediran, the Secretary-General of Pan African Writers Association (PAWA) and former President of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), belongs firmly to the latter.
From the quiet discipline of the consulting room to the restless imagination of literature; from the charged corridors of political power to the principled turbulence of student activism; from the rhythm of sports fields to the reflective solitude of the writer’s desk, his journey is not merely a career, but a constellation of purpose.
In a world that often demands singularity, he chose multiplicity, and mastered it.
In this deeply reflective and expansive conversation with AbdulHafeez Oyewole, Dr Okediran, who is a Physician, Writer, ex-Lawmaker, Cultural Custodian, Columnist, Sportsman, and Pan-African Visionary opens up about the man behind the many titles: the struggles, convictions, contradictions, and enduring philosophies that have shaped a life lived in service to humanity, literature, and nation.
The full interview below:
The Man Beyond the Public Record (For Posterity)
1. Dr Okediran, before titles, offices, and institutional affiliations, there is the private man. What aspects of your life, convictions, or inner struggles do you feel the public record has overlooked, and which of these would you like to consciously place on record for posterity?
I will start from my childhood. Let it be known that my parents were civil servants who valued education above everything else. They were not very rich, but they were in a moderate middle-class position where they could look after their children in a comfortable and decent way. That is why most of my early influences came from them.
My mother was a teacher, and she made sure that my homework and assignments were carried out diligently. My father, being a civil servant in the Ministry of Agriculture in the then Western State (now Oyo State), was often on the move due to transfers. But whenever he was around, he ensured we were provided for and disciplined.
Because of his frequent transfers, we were fortunate to experience life in different parts of the old Western Region– places like Akure, Lagos (Ikeja), Ondo, and even parts of what was then the Midwest (now Edo State). So I had exposure to different environments early in life.
What many people do not know is that my original talent was in sports. I played hockey and football. When I gained admission to the University of Ife in 1973, I was awarded a university scholarship as a sportsman; not for academics. I went to medical school on a sports scholarship and had hoped to pursue a professional sporting career.
However, because of the demands of medicine, I could not continue beyond university. It was also during that time that I enrolled in a creative writing course at the School of Creative Writing. I had always loved writing– I was a member of the Press Club both in secondary school and at the university.
So, alongside medicine, I consciously nurtured my writing.
2. Do you still have any inclination towards sports?
Well, I am over 70 now, but sports has not left me.
While I was at the University of Ife, I endowed a competition for medical students, the Wale Okediran Cup, in 1980. That competition is still ongoing today, over four decades later. In fact, the latest edition was held just a few weeks ago.
To show that sports is still part of my life, I take early morning walks every day and go to the gym three times a week. That is the level of sporting activity I can maintain now.
3. Looking back across medicine, literature, politics, and cultural diplomacy, what version of yourself surprises you the most when you reflect deeply?
What surprises me most is my ability to combine all these activities up till today.
I am still involved in sports through the endowment. I still attend political meetings, even though I hold no office. My literary work continues, and I still run a medical practice here in Ibadan.
I had thought that by this stage in life, I would have dropped one or two of these engagements. Perhaps I would have settled down fully into writing.
But even now, I still write a weekly medical column: “Ask the Doctor”, in the Nigerian Tribune. I have maintained that column for over 25 years. Every Wednesday, I must submit it.
That consistency surprises even me. It is not easy.
God has been very faithful, granting me good health and the ability to continue.
4. Were there defining moments: quiet, uncelebrated, perhaps even painful, that shaped your worldview more profoundly than your more visible achievements?
Yes, certainly. Life always has its low moments.
One was during my time at Ife when I was Editor of a campus newspaper called Rip Off. One of our reporters brought a story about a Deputy Vice-Chancellor allegedly caught urinating in a flower bed. We published it, with a cartoon captioned “Expensive Urine.”
The university authorities were furious. The paper was banned, and I was almost rusticated. I refused to retract the story because doing so would have betrayed my reporter.
Years later, the chairman of the panel that nearly expelled me, Professor Agbede, became a beneficiary of my medical expertise when I saved his father’s life. He was deeply moved. That moment stayed with me.
Another defining moment was when I led a protest as President of the Ife Medical Students’ Association. A lecturer was detained by the police for refusing to alter a postmortem report. We mobilised students and marched to demand his release.
My parents were worried. They even travelled to Ife to caution me against what they called “radical activism.”
Then, of course, one of the most painful moments of my life was losing my first wife to pancreatic cancer, despite treatment abroad. That loss left a deep void before I remarried.
All these experiences shaped me.
II. Medicine, Humanity, and the Literary Imagination
5. You trained and practised as a medical doctor, a profession rooted in science, diagnosis, and human vulnerability. How did medicine shape your moral imagination as a writer?
Yes. You know, medicine has a way of humbling you.
I recall that when I was deeply involved in campus journalism, as Editor of Rip Off, I was also active in sports as the Vice-Captain of the university hockey team. I was very engaged on many fronts, and because of my scholarship, I needed to continue playing for the university so that it would not be revoked.
In addition to that, I served as President of the Medical Students’ Association. There were occasional protests and marches to demand our rights. Apart from encounters with the police, there were several instances when we had to confront the authorities of the medical school: for example, when the buses meant to convey medical students to the hospitals broke down and we were stranded. There were many such situations. All these activities reflected a period of intense student activism.
At that point, my parents became worried. They even discussed the matter with my Dean. But my Dean told them, “Leave him alone. Medicine has a way of humbling people. By the time he enters the clinical years, starts seeing patients, reads overnight, and faces examinations, he will mellow down.”
And I think that was exactly what happened. That was the beginning of my being mellowed by medicine.
I mentioned this during a tribute we held for the late Professor Biodun Jeyifo. He was one of those who supported us in Ife– someone we looked up to. I was not a Marxist, but he was always willing to assist whenever we had challenges mobilising students.
By the time I completed medical school, much of the radicalism in me had reduced. That is how medicine shaped me and made me more humane. Not that being radical is not humane; but when you begin to see patients who are suffering, and you are able to help them recover, you begin to understand life differently.
You see people in pain, you see people dying. Some you can save; others, unfortunately, you cannot. And then you begin to appreciate the limits of human existence. You realise that there is a higher force in control of life.
For those of us who are Christians, we believe in God and Jesus Christ. Our Muslim colleagues also believe in Allah and the teachings of Islam. All these deepen your sense of humanity and your reliance on faith. You no longer arrogate to yourself the power over life. You understand that life ultimately belongs to God.
That is what medicine has done for me.
6. In what ways has the consulting room influenced your sensitivity to character, suffering, empathy, and narrative truth?
Yes, I will go back to my primary school days because I grew up as a young boy who loved reading. I read a lot, and I believe this was influenced largely by my mother. My father also played a role, but my mother, being a teacher, introduced me to books very early in life.
I loved opening books and immersing myself in them. My father, on his part, made sure that even when we could not read newspapers ourselves, he would sit us down and read to us. As we grew older, he ensured that we read them ourselves after he had finished. So the culture of reading was instilled in me from a very early age.
When my O’ Level results came out, my best subjects were in the humanities. I had distinctions in Literature and English, while my science subjects were merely credits. So when my father asked what I wanted to study at A Level and in the university, I told him I was interested in Mass Communication or Literature. I had a passion for journalism.
However, my father said, “I have been a civil servant for many years. I would prefer my children to go into professions where they can stand on their own. Since your science subjects are also good, why not consider medicine?”
That was how I was nudged; not forced, into studying medicine.
Even while studying medicine at the University of Ife, my inclinations remained with the humanities. In my free time, I spent much of it with students in the arts. I was always at the theatre, watching plays by Ola Rotimi, Wole Soyinka, and others. I also founded a campus newspaper, where I served as Editor-in-Chief.
So you could see that the trajectory towards writing had already been set.
Even while in medical school, I was contributing articles to The Guardian and other newspapers. To further strengthen my writing, I enrolled in a Creative Writing course and obtained a Diploma from the London School of Writing through correspondence. In those days, there was no Internet– you completed assignments by post and sent them back for assessment. I did that for about ten months before earning the diploma.
By the time I began practising medicine, I was already well grounded as a writer.
I also discovered that many medical doctors had become accomplished writers: people like William Faulkner and Anton Chekhov, among others. That encouraged me.
In practice, I found that my patients provided me with stories. Each time a patient came into the consulting room and I asked for their medical history, they would recount their experiences in detail. Those narratives often sparked ideas for my writing.
For instance, one of my books, Boys at the Border, was inspired by a patient. She came into my consulting room with swollen feet. When I asked what had happened, she said she had gone on a business trip and had to trek long distances. I asked what kind of business it was, and she replied, “Smuggling. I am a smuggler.”
I was surprised and asked, “Smuggling! Is that a business?”
She said, “Yes now, it is business.”
That encounter inspired the story.
Many of my works have drawn from such experiences. The consulting room, in that sense, became a laboratory: a place where I could harvest raw material for my literary work.
7. Was there ever a point when medicine and literature were in conflict for your time and loyalty? How did you resolve that tension?
Yes, there has always been some level of conflict between medicine and literature; even up till now. Although my medical practice is no longer as intense as it used to be.
In fact, the conflict began during my medical school days. There were times when I would be in class, and while the lecturer was teaching anatomy or physiology, I would have a novel, sometimes Shakespeare, hidden on my lap, reading quietly.
On a few occasions, I was caught. A lecturer would ask a question, and I would not realise it was directed at me because I was absorbed in my book. Then I would be asked to stand up. That was how the conflict started.
When I began practising medicine, it became more pronounced. While working in government hospitals or for private employers, it was manageable because I had some free periods during which I could write.
However, when I opened my own practice, it became a 24-hour responsibility. Patients were constantly seeking attention, and at the same time, I wanted to write, read, and develop my literary work. It was a serious challenge.
I eventually realised that I needed to create a structure to manage both.
The first thing I did was to allocate specific periods as my free time. Wednesday evenings and the entire Sunday were set aside. During those times, I would arrange for another doctor to stand in for me. That allowed me to spend time with my family and also focus on writing.
Secondly, I developed a personal routine. I would close work at the hospital around 10 p.m., and when I got home, I would dedicate about two hours to writing before going to bed, usually around midnight.
That was how I managed the tension between both callings.
8. Do you consider writing, in some sense, a continuation of healing; only by other means?
Yes, I see writing not just as healing, but as therapy– it is deeply therapeutic.
Even before the recent integration of the humanities into medical practice, I had realised that reading and writing have therapeutic value. When you are tired or emotionally burdened, reading a good novel or a collection of poetry can have a calming effect.
Similarly, writing can serve as an outlet. When you are frustrated or under tension, putting your thoughts on paper, whether as poetry or prose, helps to release that pressure. It allows you to pour out your emotions and find relief.
Later in my medical career, I began to see more clearly that my writing was, in a sense, an extension of my healing work as a doctor.
A few years ago, the University of Ibadan introduced a course on Arts in Medicine, and I was invited to participate. Artists were encouraged to use their skills as part of patient care. Visual artists painted hospital spaces, especially paediatric wards, in bright colours to uplift patients’ spirits.
Writers, on the other hand, were invited to read to patients poetry, short stories, or even teach them how to write, so they could express themselves.
It was observed that patients exposed to these artistic interventions often recovered faster than those who were not.
So yes, in many ways, writing complements medicine. It is another path to healing– one that touches the mind and the soul.
III. Politics from the Inside: Power, Ideals, and Disillusionment
9. Having served as a lawmaker, how did proximity to power alter your perception of Nigerian politics compared to when you were an observer?
Yes, thank you.
For a long time, I was a critic of governance in Nigeria. I criticised politicians, lampooned our leaders in my columns, and did everything to castigate those in power. However, when I eventually entered politics myself, I realised that the reality is quite different.
There is a saying that the way the highway appears to a passenger is different from how it appears to a driver. As a passenger, you do not see all the bends, potholes, and difficult turns. But as a driver, you encounter all of them directly. That was exactly my experience.
When I got into politics, I realised that leadership is far more complex than I had previously imagined. I also came to understand that human beings can be quite contradictory. The same people who criticise you publicly during the day may come to you privately at night, asking for financial assistance, without concern for how those resources are obtained.
So, my foray into politics gave me a different perspective. It helped me understand Nigeria better and appreciate what leadership truly entails.
During my time in the House of Representatives, our oversight functions required us to travel extensively across the country. I visited many states, and that exposure taught me an important lesson. Nigeria is a beautiful country, and Nigerians, across different regions, are generally good people who share common aspirations.
Whether in Sokoto, Lagos, Maiduguri, or Enugu, the average Nigerian is concerned with the same issues: putting food on the table, paying school fees, raising a family, ensuring safety, and securing employment for their children.
This made me realise that ethnicity, religion, and other divisions are often secondary to ordinary people. Unfortunately, these differences are frequently amplified by political and community leaders for their own purposes.
I have visited predominantly Muslim states in the North where Christians and Muslims live peacefully together. I recall a friend of Igbo origin living in Katsina who told me that whenever he travelled, his Muslim neighbour would take his children to church on Sundays and bring them back home. Likewise, when that neighbour visited his home, they would provide him with a prayer mat and even remind him of prayer times.
Experiences like these deepened my appreciation for Nigeria. They showed me that most Nigerians are simple people with shared values, even if the country itself appears complicated.
At the same time, I also observed that some greedy politicians and community leaders contribute significantly to the nation’s problems. Funds meant for the public are sometimes diverted for personal gain, to the detriment of the general population.
That is why it is important for citizens to elect leaders who will genuinely serve the people, rather than pursue selfish interests.
10. What did your legislative experience teach you about the psychology of politicians, particularly the gap between campaign rhetoric and governance reality?
There is a saying that campaign is poetry, while governance is prose.
During campaigns, politicians often use grand and persuasive language. They make sweeping promises, sometimes unrealistic ones. I experienced this firsthand.
While I was campaigning, some of my advisers, who were experienced politicians, instructed me to promise constituents amenities such as water, electricity, and many other things. I questioned this approach. I told them that as a legislator, my primary role was to make laws and perform oversight functions, not to execute projects, which is the responsibility of the executive arm of government.
However, they insisted that these were the kinds of promises people wanted to hear. They said I could always explain later, but for now, I should make those assurances.
So, in many cases, it is not just the politicians themselves, but also party leaders and political structures that encourage exaggerated promises during campaigns.
When I eventually assumed office, I realised that the expectations of constituents were quite different from the constitutional role of a legislator. When you return to your constituency, people ask, “What have you brought for us? Can we eat the laws you are making?”
As a result, legislators often feel compelled to provide material benefits. You find yourself buying motorcycles, awarding scholarships, distributing food items, and supporting community events. This is sometimes referred to as “stomach infrastructure”.
To meet these demands, some lawmakers go to great lengths. They may seek contracts from the executive in order to generate funds for such expenditures. Others may engage in questionable practices, such as budget padding, where figures are inflated to create financial room for these obligations.
This situation has, to some extent, corrupted the practice of politics. Instead of focusing on legislation and policy development, attention shifts to raising funds for constituency demands.
Ideally, the role of a legislator is to enact good laws and ensure that public resources are properly allocated and utilised. However, public expectations often do not align with this responsibility.
If we want our political system to function effectively, there must be a shift in both leadership practices and public expectations.
11. How would you assess the Nigerian voter today: more enlightened, more cynical, or merely fatigued?
I would say that Nigerian voters today are more fatigued than anything else.
They are certainly more knowledgeable, largely due to the influence of social media and digital platforms. Compared to previous generations, people now have greater access to information and are more aware of political developments.
Of course, social media also has its drawbacks, such as the spread of misinformation. Nevertheless, on balance, it has increased political awareness among the populace.
However, despite this increased awareness, voter turnout has declined significantly. For example, I understand that in a recent election in the Federal Capital Territory, less than ten per cent of eligible voters participated. That is extremely low.
Historically, voter turnout in Nigeria has rarely exceeded fifty or sixty per cent, even in the best circumstances. But the current decline is concerning.
Several factors contribute to this situation. One major issue is the increasing influence of money in the electoral process. Vote-buying and inducements have become widespread. Many voters feel that, regardless of their choices, the outcome may still favour those with greater financial influence.
This has led to apathy and disengagement.
So, while voters are more informed, they are also more disillusioned and fatigued by the system.
12. If literature had a formal seat in Nigeria’s political process, what role do you think it should play in shaping public ethics and accountability?
I believe literature plays a vital role in reflecting society.
Most literary works mirror the realities of their time. That is why many past works, especially those addressing governance and corruption, remain relevant today. They provide lessons that leaders can learn from.
For instance, works such as The Man Died by Wole Soyinka and A Man of the People by Chinua Achebe offer powerful critiques of leadership and the abuse of power. They highlight the dangers of greed, corruption, and the excessive pursuit of authority.
If more leaders engaged with such literature, they could learn from the mistakes of the past and improve their approach to governance.
Literature has the capacity to shape moral consciousness. It can serve as a guide, a warning, and a source of reflection for both leaders and citizens.
Therefore, I believe it can play a significant role in promoting ethical leadership and accountability.
13. Do you believe writers should actively participate in partisan politics, or is their greatest power exercised from a critical distance?
I would encourage anyone with an interest in politics to participate actively.
One of the reasons I entered politics was influenced by my mentor, the late Chief Bola Ige, who was a former Attorney-General of Nigeria. I served as his personal physician.
Whenever I visited him, I often met him in the middle of political meetings. After those meetings, I would sometimes comment on the quality of the individuals present, expressing my reservations about their contributions.
On one occasion, he told me, “We work with the people who are available. Many professionals and members of the middle class avoid politics because they consider it dirty. As a result, those who are willing, regardless of their capacity, are the ones who fill the space.”
He also reminded me of a well-known idea often attributed to Socrates, that those who refuse to participate in politics are ultimately governed by those they consider inferior.
That statement stayed with me.
So, I believe that people with integrity, ideas, and a genuine desire to contribute should not shy away from politics. Their participation is necessary to improve the quality of governance.
For those who cannot participate directly, they should at least support credible individuals who can represent their values.
That is how the political space can gradually be improved.
IV. The Writer as Traveller: Travelogue, Memory, and Cultural Witnessing
14. You are widely known for your travel writing, chronicling journeys within and beyond Nigeria. What draws you repeatedly to the travelogue as a form?
Yes, firstly, I am someone who loves travelling.
At a point, during one of my trips to another state in Nigeria, I decided to start keeping notes. Because I enjoyed travelling so much, I also read widely. I subscribed to magazines that focused on travel stories, and I always enjoyed reading travelogues written by established writers. At that time, I never imagined that I would one day begin to write such stories myself.
On one occasion, I travelled and kept detailed notes of my experiences. When I returned, I decided to write about the journey and sent the piece to a foreign magazine. To my surprise, the story was accepted and published. Not only that, I was also paid for it.
That experience opened my eyes to the possibilities within travel writing. I realised that it was not only fulfilling but could also be rewarding.
Around that same period, I became actively involved with the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA). This gave me the opportunity to travel extensively across Nigeria for conferences. Unlike now, when many conferences are held in Abuja, different states used to bid to host them, so we moved around frequently. Through these travels, I became familiar with many parts of the country.
I made it a point to write about every place I visited. Later, when I entered the National Assembly, my oversight responsibilities required even more travel, both within and outside Nigeria. This further strengthened my engagement with travel writing.
That is why today I have built a substantial body of work in that genre. As you rightly noted, I already have three collections of travel stories, and I am currently working on a fourth.
In addition, I have been invited by universities, both in Nigeria and abroad, to teach the art of travel writing. One of the key things I always tell students is that to be a good travel writer, you must genuinely enjoy travelling. You must also enjoy meeting people, and more importantly, you must respect and appreciate other people’s cultures, religions, and ethnic identities.
You cannot visit a place and attempt to impose your own culture on others. That approach will not work for a travel writer.
I am glad that, through my work, I have been able to encourage many Nigerians to take an interest in travel writing.
15. When should your fourth collection of travel stories be expected?
I am planning for my fourth collection of travel stories to be published before the end of this year.
16. Beyond landscapes and itineraries, what are you truly documenting in these works: cultures, power relations, or the Nigerian self abroad?
I would say I am documenting humanity.
When you write about people and cultures, you begin to see patterns. From my experience, having travelled across all 36 states of Nigeria and visited more than 50 countries around the world, I have observed one consistent truth. Human beings are generally kind.
People are usually warm, welcoming, and willing to help strangers. Only a small percentage of people, both within Nigeria and abroad, can be hostile, negative, or driven by prejudice, whether based on race, religion, or ethnicity. That group is very small, perhaps not even up to ten per cent.
So through my travel stories, I am celebrating shared humanity. I want people to understand that, regardless of where we come from, we are fundamentally the same.
If you visit a typical family in Germany, Spain, or America, you will find that their concerns are similar to ours. They want to raise their children well, send them to good schools, keep them healthy, and ensure they succeed in life. They are happy when their children do well, graduate, and build their own families.
It is the same everywhere.
So my travel writing is about celebrating global humanity and reminding people that we are all creations of one God, despite our differences.
It is also meant to encourage self-improvement. When you travel, you realise that people respect success and achievement. They are interested in your accomplishments and what you represent. That awareness can motivate individuals to strive for excellence.
Finally, I see my work as contributing to the revival of a genre that is no longer as prominent as it once was. Travel writing used to be very popular, and there have been notable figures, including a Nobel Prize laureate, who gained recognition through this form.
So I also hope to encourage more writers to explore travel writing and contribute to its development.
17. How has travel recalibrated your understanding of Nigeria’s place within Africa and the wider world?
From my travels, I have come to appreciate Nigeria more than ever before.
Beyond our economic potential, our greatest strength lies in our human capital. Nigerians across various professions, including doctors, engineers, architects, technologists, and teachers, are making significant contributions around the world.
You find Nigerians excelling in countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and across Europe. Many occupy important positions in international organisations and are doing remarkable work in science, medicine, and other fields.
Because of this, I am proud to be Nigerian. While some people may feel otherwise, my experiences have deepened my appreciation of the country.
Of course, there are challenges. A small percentage of Nigerians involved in criminal or unethical activities sometimes create negative perceptions. However, they do not represent the majority.
Overall, Nigerians are respected globally, and our contributions continue to speak for us.
V. The Chinua Achebe @ 50 Project and Literary Continuity
18. You played a pivotal role in the publication marking Chinua Achebe @ 50. What did that project represent for you personally and institutionally?
Yes. At that time, I was a key official of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), and we had the privilege of travelling to Achebe’s hometown, Ogidi, to celebrate his birthday with him.
As part of the celebration, we initiated a publication project. We invited writers to contribute poetry and other creative works, which we then compiled into an anthology.
For me, that publication was a landmark achievement. It brought together the works of several writers who were relatively young at the time, but who have since become significant figures in Nigeria’s literary landscape.
It also set an important precedent. It was one of the earliest commemorative literary publications of its kind in Nigeria, and it inspired similar projects. Subsequently, both state and national chapters of ANA began to adopt the model of producing anthologies to mark notable events and milestones.
So, for me, it was not just a celebratory effort, but a foundational contribution to literary culture in Nigeria.
19. How important is conscious literary memory in a country that often struggles with historical continuity?
It is very important.
Memory, by its nature, can be fragile and easily lost. This is particularly relevant in Africa, where there has traditionally been a strong reliance on oral literature. While oral traditions are rich and valuable, they also carry certain limitations.
When stories and events are passed down orally, they can be altered over time. Different narrators may reinterpret or modify them, sometimes unintentionally. As a result, the original meaning or context can be distorted.
Documentation, on the other hand, provides permanence. When events, ideas, and experiences are recorded in written form, they are preserved more accurately for future generations.
This is why conscious literary documentation is essential. It helps to safeguard cultural and historical memory.
In my current role with the Pan-African Writers Association (PAWA), we have made deliberate efforts to celebrate and document the contributions of notable African figures. We invite writers to submit essays, poems, and reflections in honour of these individuals.
Through such efforts, we ensure that their legacies are not forgotten.
So yes, conscious literary memory is not only important, it is indispensable.
20. Are contemporary Nigerian writers doing enough to engage their literary forebears critically rather than ceremonially?
I believe they are doing their best.
Contemporary Nigerian writers face many challenges, including securing livelihoods and finding publishing opportunities. These pressures can sometimes limit the extent to which they engage critically with earlier generations of writers.
However, I am encouraged by the level of engagement that does exist. For example, interviews such as this one, as well as collaborations and critical reviews, demonstrate that younger writers are actively engaging with established figures.
I have personally experienced this. I have been engaged through interviews, collaborations, and scholarly critiques of my work.
Recently, some colleagues came together to produce a publication in honour of my 70th birthday. In that volume, my works were critically analysed and examined from different perspectives. It was a deeply gratifying experience.
So, while there is always room for more critical engagement, I believe contemporary writers are making commendable efforts.
VI. The Ebedi Writers Residency: Vision, Survival, and Impact
21. What philosophical and personal motivations led to the founding of the Ebedi Writers Residency in Iseyin, the very first in the country?
Yes, one of the motivations was personal.
At a time when I had begun writing biographies for notable Nigerians, I realised that I needed a quiet and secluded environment to work effectively. My usual environment was filled with distractions, from professional responsibilities to family obligations.
On one occasion, I travelled as far as Kaduna and stayed in a guest house specifically to focus on writing. Within just one week, I accomplished far more than I had been able to do in an entire month under normal conditions.
That experience made a strong impression on me. It made me realise the importance of a dedicated writing space.
I was also aware of writers’ residencies abroad, which some of my colleagues had attended. From discussions with them, I learned that such initiatives required a dedicated space where writers could stay and work.
Fortunately, I had a suitable property. My country home in Iseyin, a four-bedroom bungalow, was largely unused except during the Christmas holidays. So I decided to convert it into a writers’ residency, making it available from January to November each year.
That was how the Ebedi Writers Residency was established in 2010. This is now its sixteenth year of existence.
22. In a country where cultural initiatives often collapse under economic pressure, what has sustained Ebedi over the years: is it your vision, sacrifice, partnerships, or sheer stubborn faith?
I would say it is a combination of all these factors.
You need a certain level of determination to sustain a project like this. Without strong belief and persistence, it would be easy to give up. At the same time, I must acknowledge that God has been faithful.
We have also been fortunate to attract meaningful partnerships. For instance, when Erelu Bisi Fayemi, the wife of a former governor of Ekiti State, learned about the residency, she expressed interest in supporting it. She now sponsors the participation of female writers, while we seek resources to support male participants.
Another important factor has been community engagement. The residency is located in Iseyin, and we have made a deliberate effort to involve the local community. We organise interactions between residents and community members, ensuring that there is a sense of ownership and support.
In return, the community provides a form of informal security and support for the writers.
We also require our resident writers to engage in mentorship. For two days each week, they visit local schools to mentor students. This creates a meaningful exchange between the residency and the community.
Of course, personal sacrifice has also played a role. There have been times when funding was limited, and I had to make adjustments, either by reducing personal expenses or seeking support from friends and well-wishers.
All these factors combined have sustained the residency.
23. How do you respond to critics who see writer residencies as elitist or disconnected from local realities?
I believe that perception is not accurate, at least in the case of Ebedi.
It may apply to some foreign residencies, where participants are required to pay significant fees, including travel and accommodation costs. However, our model is different.
At Ebedi, participation is free. Writers are provided with accommodation for four weeks, along with a stipend to support their basic needs. We also have support staff to assist with daily activities such as cooking and housekeeping.
Importantly, the residency is situated in a rural community. Writers live within the local environment, not in an isolated or luxurious setting. They interact with the community and experience local life directly.
In fact, some of our international participants often share interesting observations. For example, some compare everyday aspects of life, such as livestock or local cuisine, with those in their own countries. These exchanges highlight cultural connections rather than separation.
So, in our case, the residency is grounded, accessible, and closely connected to local realities.
24. What measurable impact do you believe Ebedi has had on Nigerian and African literature?
One of the most significant impacts is that the residency has placed Nigeria, and specifically Iseyin, on the global literary map.
If you search for writers’ residencies, Ebedi appears among them, demonstrating that Nigeria has a recognised platform for literary development.
In terms of creative output, the residency has influenced a growing body of literary work. Many writers draw inspiration from their experiences in Iseyin.
For instance, there are works such as The Iseyin Lady, a collection of short stories based on a writer’s time at the residency.
More broadly, several writers who have participated in the residency have gone on to achieve international recognition. Some have won prestigious literary awards, while others have served as judges for major competitions, including the Caine Prize.
Writers such as Ayobami Adebayo, who worked on her novel Stay with Me during her residency, have received significant accolades. Others, including Romeo Oriogun and Saddiq Dzukogi, have also achieved notable success.
These accomplishments reflect the impact of the residency on both Nigerian and African literature.
25. If Ebedi were to be studied a century from now, what would you hope scholars would identify as its most enduring contribution?
I would say its most enduring contribution would be the opportunity it has given to writers.
Many writers struggle to find the time, space, and resources needed to produce meaningful work. The residency provides a conducive environment where they can focus entirely on their craft.
Writers are encouraged to take time away from their regular commitments and dedicate themselves fully to writing during their stay. With the support provided, they are able to produce works that might otherwise not have been possible.
Some of these works have gone on to win awards and gain international recognition.
So, the enduring legacy of Ebedi lies in its role as a space that nurtures creativity and enables writers to produce significant literary contributions.
VII. ANA, Institutional Growth, and the Question of Legacy
26. As a former President of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), how would you assess the organisation’s growth trajectory since its founding?
Yes, I would say that ANA has come a long way, and we give glory to God.
When you look across the world, not just in Africa, it is difficult to find many literary associations that have endured the way ANA has. Not only has it endured, it has continued to thrive.
I was particularly proud two years ago when the newly formed World Organization of Writers (WOW) approached me, in my capacity as Secretary-General of the Pan African Writers Association, to host its first congress. I travelled to different countries, including Ghana, seeking support, but I did not receive the needed assistance.
It was when I approached ANA that the breakthrough came. At the time, ANA had established its Writers’ Village in Mpape, Abuja. The association offered that facility to host the congress.
When writers from across the world arrived and were taken round the Writers’ Village, they were amazed. Many of them asked whether the facility truly belonged to ANA or if it was owned by the government. I proudly told them it belonged to the association.
That moment placed ANA on a strong global footing.
Beyond that, ANA has demonstrated remarkable resilience. In my role with PAWA, I have travelled across Africa, and I can confidently say that very few writers’ associations have survived the kinds of challenges ANA has faced. There have been disagreements, internal disputes, and other difficulties, yet the organisation has remained united.
In terms of leadership continuity, ANA also stands out. In many African writers’ associations, leadership has remained unchanged for decades. This stagnation limits growth and innovation.
However, ANA has maintained a tradition of leadership transition, which reflects a commitment to democratic principles.
For these reasons, I remain proud of the organisation and its journey so far.
27. The issue of ANA land has remained symbolic and contentious. What does it represent beyond bricks and mortar?
For those who are familiar with the history of the ANA land, there is much to be grateful for.
Despite numerous challenges, including disagreements, legal battles, and tensions, some committed leaders ensured that the project was brought to completion.
Today, I would no longer describe it as contentious. Those disputes have largely been resolved. What remains is a powerful symbol.
It represents the resilience of writers and their ability to remain committed despite adversity. It also reflects the collective effort and sacrifice that went into making it a reality.
For me, the ANA land stands as a landmark achievement in the history of Nigerian literature.
In fact, I can say with confidence that I am yet to encounter a writers’ association in Africa with such a facility. Even beyond Africa, very few can boast of something similar.
The task now is to manage it properly, ensuring that it continues to serve its purpose without returning to the period of disputes and disagreements.
28. What structural reforms do you believe ANA still urgently needs to remain relevant to younger writers?
One important step, which ANA has already taken, is the establishment of a writers’ residency. I am pleased that the association now provides a space where writers can develop their skills and complete their works.
Beyond that, there is a need to expand literary programmes. More workshops, seminars, and training initiatives should be organised to support emerging writers.
I would also like to see more literary festivals targeted at younger writers. There are already initiatives such as those organised in Minna, and ANA can build on such examples.
Additionally, the association should consider publishing more anthologies and collections that showcase the work of young writers.
All these efforts will help to sustain relevance and nurture the next generation of literary voices.
29. How do you envision ANA’s place in Nigeria’s cultural ecosystem over the next twenty to thirty years?
ANA has already positioned itself as a key player in Nigeria’s cultural and literary landscape.
The Writers’ Village in Abuja is a significant achievement and serves as a symbol of literary excellence. To sustain and build on this, the association must continue to evolve.
One important strategy is collaboration. ANA cannot afford to remain static. It must actively partner with both local and international organisations.
I am pleased that ANA is a strong member of the Pan African Writers Association and the World Organization of Writers. Through these platforms, members have had opportunities to participate in international events.
For example, we attended the second congress of the World Organization of Writers in Moscow, and ANA was well represented. The association also participated in events in Morocco during the celebration of Professor Wole Soyinka’s 90th birthday.
In addition, collaborations with organisations such as UNESCO and various foreign embassies have further strengthened ANA’s reach.
Through sustained partnerships and active engagement, ANA will continue to play a vital role in Nigeria’s cultural ecosystem in the years ahead.
VIII. The Yusuf Olaolu Ali (SAN) Endowment: An Unlikely Alliance
30. One of the most remarkable institutional achievements during your leadership was securing the annual endowment by Prof. Yusuf Olaolu Ali (SAN) in 2012. Could you take us through the human story behind that partnership?
Yes, thank you. It is indeed an interesting story.
During my active involvement in politics, I contested for a senatorial position in Oyo State but lost at the polls. Believing that the process was flawed, I decided to challenge the result in court.
The lawyer representing my opponent was Professor Yusuf Olaolu Ali, while my own counsel was the late Rotimi Akeredolu, who later became Governor of Ondo State. My opponent was Senator Hosea Agboola.
During the course of the legal proceedings, Professor Yusuf Ali and I developed a cordial relationship. Some people found this surprising, given that he was representing my opponent.
Eventually, the case was decided in favour of my opponent. After the judgment, Professor Yusuf Ali approached me, encouraged me, and spoke kindly about my work as a writer. He mentioned that he had read some of my writings and appreciated them.
We exchanged contact details and kept in touch.
At some point, he expressed interest in supporting my Writers’ Residency. However, I felt that it would be more appropriate for such support to benefit a broader institution.
I therefore suggested that he extend his support to the Association of Nigerian Authors instead. At that time, I was concluding my tenure as ANA President, and I wanted the support to have a wider impact.
Initially, he preferred to support my personal initiative, but I insisted on directing the support to ANA. Eventually, he agreed.
That is how the annual endowment began, and to the glory of God, it has continued to this day.
31. How were you able to convince him to support ANA at a time when he was professionally aligned with opposing interests during an electoral dispute involving you?
Professor Yusuf Ali is a person of remarkable generosity and broad-mindedness.
As a legal professional, he understands that representing different clients is part of the job. It was never a personal matter for him.
For my part, I wanted to maintain my integrity. I did not want any situation that could create the impression that I had compromised my position or benefitted personally from the relationship.
By clearly expressing that I did not want personal support, but rather support for a national literary institution, I was able to convince him.
It was a decision rooted in principle, and he respected that.
32. What does that collaboration say about the transcendent power of literature beyond politics, law, and personal differences?
It demonstrates that literature has the power to transcend boundaries.
Literature reflects society, but it also connects people across different professions, ideologies, and experiences. In the case of Professor Yusuf Ali, although he is a lawyer and not a writer, he recognised the value of literature and chose to support it.
This shows that literature can serve as a bridge between diverse fields, including politics and law.
Personally, literature has had a profound impact on my life. It has brought me recognition, expanded my network, and taken me to places I might not otherwise have visited.
In many ways, I am more widely known as a writer than as a medical doctor or politician. Over time, literature has also become a significant source of personal fulfilment and professional growth.
While my medical practice provided the foundation for my life, literature has played an increasingly important role in shaping my later years.
33. What lessons should younger literary administrators draw from that experience about negotiation, humility, and vision?
There are several important lessons.
First, humility is essential. As literary administrators, we must be open-minded and willing to engage with different people, even those we may initially disagree with.
Second, we must be ready to negotiate and build relationships. It is not productive to permanently exclude individuals because of past differences.
Third, we must understand that criticism is part of the literary process. Once a work is published, it becomes open to interpretation. Different readers will engage with it in different ways.
I have personally encountered a wide range of interpretations of my work, some of which I never anticipated. That is part of the richness of literature.
It is therefore important not to react defensively to criticism. Instead, we should embrace it as part of intellectual engagement.
In all these, humility, patience, and vision are key.
IX. Prizes, Recognition, and the Expanding Literary Canon
34. What is your assessment of the NLNG Prize for Literature in shaping Nigerian literary production over the years?
I will give a big kudos and appreciation to NLNG for instituting that prize. You know, I belong to that school of thought that believes that writers are also entitled to a good life through their works. And if their work is so good that they should be given US$100,000, so be it.
We have people in other professions, I do not want to mention them, who make that kind of money without lifting a finger, who do not do anything and yet earn such amounts. So when people begin to say, because I have heard a lot of strange opinions, and, funny enough, coming from writers, that even US$3,000 is too much to give a writer, I say, “My God, what kind of thinking is this?” Who told you that writers cannot live a good life?
If a contractor who did not go to school can, because he knows someone in the corridors of power, be given a billion-dollar contract just like that, or someone who does not do as much work as writing, spending sleepless nights on a book, can make money simply by talking people into deals, then why should writers be denied? Some people even say that the prize money should be split among several authors so that it can go round. And I ask, “Why this poverty mentality among writers?” It is quite disturbing.
So, for me, the NLNG Prize for Literature has done very well. Each time the announcement is made and I share it on the website of the Pan-African Writers Association, other African writers read it and call me to ask, “Mr Secretary-General, are you sure this is not a mistake? Did you mean US$10,000 or US$100,000?” And when I say US$100,000, they respond with excitement: “Nigeria is making writers proud. You are making us feel very important where we are.”
So, I truly appreciate what NLNG is doing. You can also see that the quality and standard of that prize are very high. When you look at those who win it, they often go on to win other international prizes. So, when some people say that good books do not win the prize, I just laugh. For me, it is a very positive development.
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| Dr Wale Okediran with President John Mahma of Ghana |
35. With the inclusion of creative works such as short films and documentaries in recent NLNG prize considerations, do you see this as a natural evolution or a dilution of literary focus?
I think it is a natural evolution. It is a good addition. In the past, NLNG introduced literary criticism into the prize, although that has now been set aside. Now that they are considering other creative works, I think it is a step in the right direction and something that should continue.
36. How should literary institutions balance tradition with the demands of new media and storytelling forms?
The new media is here to stay. Anyone who wants to remain relevant in the modern era cannot afford to be left behind. We have to accommodate new media and new storytelling forms.
This is something I keep telling my colleagues in the writing profession, especially those of my generation who are sometimes apprehensive about new media. I tell them, “You just have to learn it.”
When I became Secretary-General of the Pan-African Writers Association, I assumed office during the COVID-19 pandemic, when physical gatherings were not possible and most activities had to be conducted virtually. What I did was to recruit two bright young people who trained me in social media and digital engagement, and we were able to adapt fully.
So, I advise all literary institutions to invest in new media by recruiting well-trained personnel. Where such personnel are not available, they should train their staff and acquire the necessary equipment to operate effectively in this space.
X. Young Nigerian Writers and the Creative Future
37. How would you describe the current generation of Nigerian writers and creatives, in terms of courage, craft, and consciousness?
I think the current generation of Nigerian writers is very fortunate. I keep telling them that they have no excuse not to excel, even more than we did.
In our time, there was no internet. There was nothing like the platforms we are using now to conduct this interview. If you wanted to do an interview, you had to travel physically. But now, everything can be done online.
They also have access to social media, which they can use to publish their works. In our own case, it was only the traditional publishing route that existed. If you were rejected, you simply had to accept it. But now, young writers have numerous avenues to showcase their work.
In addition, there are mentorship opportunities from various sources, both online and offline. So, in that sense, they are very lucky.
However, on the other hand, they can also be overwhelmed by distractions. The same internet that serves as a resource can also become a source of distraction, through films, pornography, and other negative influences. It is left to them to strike a balance between the positive and negative aspects of technology, especially Artificial Intelligence (AI).
AI can be used constructively or destructively. If it is misused, it can undermine their development as writers. So, they must be careful.
38. What responsibilities do established writers owe the younger generation beyond mentorship clichés?
Our responsibility remains that of guidance and mentorship, but it must go beyond mere rhetoric. It has to be practical.
We should help younger writers where possible, not necessarily by giving them money, but by guiding them on editing, structure, and content quality. I am not against marketing, but I have observed that many young writers today are more concerned with being published than with the quality of what they publish.
The question should be: what exactly are you putting out? Is it something that can stand the test of time? Is it something that can be presented on the international stage?
We must help them focus on producing quality work and avoid unnecessary self-promotion. Writing is something that requires time, discipline, and growth. It is not something one rushes into.
We used to say that writing is a good walking stick, but a bad crutch. It is not something you rely on entirely at the beginning. Unfortunately, some young writers publish one book and immediately declare that writing is their profession.
You need a means of livelihood while developing your craft. Writing requires years of practice, critique, and refinement before one can truly claim mastery. So our role is to guide them towards excellence and sustainability.
XI. Pan-Africanism and Cultural Diplomacy
39. As Secretary-General of the Pan-African Writers Association (PAWA), how do you interpret the role of literature in fostering Pan-African solidarity?
PAWA is the umbrella body for 54 writers’ associations across Africa. Writers on the continent work in different languages, including English, Arabic, French, Swahili, and Portuguese, in addition to numerous indigenous languages.
Even within these major language groups, we still face challenges in translating and exchanging literary works. Yet the essence of PAWA is to use literature and culture to promote unity across Africa.
That is why we are working towards facilitating the exchange of books and narratives among African writers, regardless of language. At the end of the day, we have realised that Africans share common experiences and cultural similarities. Literature provides a powerful means of bridging these divides and strengthening our unity.
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| PAWA President, Prof Bill Ndi and the Secretary General, Dr Wale Okediran holding the newly launch book on former Tanzanian President, John Pombe Magufuli |
40. What challenges confront African writers attempting to tell continental stories in a globalised but unequal literary marketplace?
One major challenge is translation. How do we ensure that excellent books written in French are accessible to Anglophone readers, and vice versa?
Another issue is the movement of books across borders. Trade restrictions and logistical barriers make it difficult for books to circulate freely across the continent. These are significant challenges that African writers face.
41. How are you tackling these challenges?
We are addressing these issues through translation initiatives. We have established bureaux dedicated to translating literary works.
We are also partnering with organisations such as Afreximbank and other African institutions that promote cross-border trade. These collaborations are helping to reduce trade barriers and tariffs, making it easier for books to move across borders.
As a result, more African literary works are now being exchanged without the restrictions that previously hindered their circulation.
XII. Memory, Mortality, and How He Wishes to Be Remembered
42. When the long arc of your life is eventually examined, how would you like history to remember Dr Wale Okediran?
Well, you know, sometimes people have no control over how history will remember them. But in my own little way, I would just like to be remembered as a human being to whom God gave talents, and who was able to use them to the best of his ability.
One of my friends said to me the other day that if he sees God, he will accuse Him of being partial to Dr Wale Okediran, that He gave him too many talents, and that how can one man be given so much? For me, it is simply a matter of gratitude to God that He gave me these talents and, by His grace, I have been able to use them as best as I can. That is how I would like to be remembered.
43. If future generations were to distil your life into a single enduring lesson, what should it be?
I would say the lesson is that of godliness, fortitude, and hard work.
One of the things I learnt from childhood, especially through Sunday school and church, was this simple principle: work and pray, work and pray. Unfortunately, some in the younger generation think that all they need to do is pray, pray, pray, and then expect that when they wake up, they will find a bag full of money under their bed without working.
Life does not work that way. When you call on God for help, you must also put your hand to the plough and work. Hard work, prayer, and persistence are essential. You must not give up. Nothing good comes easily. You have to cultivate the ability to persevere, to endure, and to remain steadfast.
44. Finally, what unfinished dream still keeps you intellectually restless?
I have read, and I am convinced, that music is the highest form of art. As someone once said, when you hear a beautiful piece of music, you do not need to understand the language or even what the singer is saying. If the music is good, it enters your body, moves you, and you begin to respond to it instinctively.
That is why I believe music is the highest form of art. Because of that, I would like to learn a musical instrument in my lifetime. I have tried my hand at the drums, but it did not quite work out. So perhaps the guitar or the organ.
I would love to learn an instrument and, if possible, record a song in my lifetime. That is one dream that still keeps me restless.
XIII. Other Matters That Mattered to Him
45. What other issue bothers you that I have not talked about and you would like to place on record?
One important issue I would like to mention is biography writing. As of today, I have written about ten biographies of notable Africans. I want to recommend this area to younger writers. There are many accomplished individuals, retired technocrats and people of means, who wish to document their life stories but do not have the time, temperament, or skill to do so.
Writers should look out for such opportunities and help document these lives. It is important that we learn from these individuals. Documentation is crucial, as we said earlier, because it allows future generations to understand how others achieved success.
Biography writing is also a viable source of income. I always tell younger writers not to undertake such work free of charge. It is labour-intensive, and those who require it can afford to pay. It is both a means of livelihood and a contribution to literary documentation in Nigeria.
Another area I would like to highlight is children’s literature. I have also contributed in that field and have won prizes for my work. It is an area that deserves more attention. We need to write for children and ensure that what we produce helps to shape them into responsible adults.
At present, I am working on adapting some of my travel stories into children’s literature. I want to take children around the world through these stories. That is a project I am about to begin.
Finally, there is film adaptation. I was fortunate to have my book Tenant of the House adapted into a film, which was available on Netflix Global for two years. This, for me, is a powerful way of expanding readership, because film allows more people to access literary works. Many people are naturally drawn to visual storytelling, and with subtitles, such works can reach audiences in different languages.
It is also another avenue for writers to earn income when their works are adapted. So these are some of the areas I felt I should also place on record.
