Luminescence: A Run-Down of 2021
It was a crazy year folks. Lots of good & some bad stuff happened to me. I published a number of all-time favorites, and learnt some personal lessons. Here's my run-down of 2021.
Luminescence: Any emission of light that cannot be attributed merely to the temperature of the emitting body.
It’s the last day of 2021. What a year. For many, it was supposed to straighten the unfamiliar roughness of the previous year. High hopes we had, some unrealized, others checked off, and yet. There’s still an unresolved quality to each last day of the year, as though we merely existed for over three hundred days, and with little to show for it.
This isn’t a motivational piece. I feel like everyone else. Unaccomplished, incomplete, tired. Some months had no distinguishing events, rolled into one. For most parts, I was in Awka, the capital of Anambra state where I’m an undergraduate of a federal university. As in many Nigerian institutions, there was a consistent need to display power, often to the detriment of the student. To fill the academic inactivity of 2020 (which suffered a double blow of the pandemic and ASUU’s strike), the university decided to pack two years worth of lessons into one.
The period between a semester’s first class and an exam was thinned, sometimes just a little over two months. Students were often overwhelmed. Walking the streets of Ifite this past year, I’ve found weariness in the eyes of fellow students, heard the tired song of their bones, the jagged walking steps a consequence. Yet, for all the melancholy which threatened to cloud my thoughts, my work blazed an alternate reality.
No, not an alternate reality—part of the real thing actually. My work is a real thing, and several moments through the year, whenever I felt down and had no one close, I Googled my name. The search results hold many pages, all of which confirms this: Emmanuel Esomnofu is one of the best culture journalists in the country. Over the past year, I’ve written about the most fascinating creators, scenes and events in Nigeria, covering music, art, literature, film and tech. Unfortunately, I didn’t publish a short story or poem (wrote several; didn’t send them out) but my good friend, the brilliant editor and writer Carl Terver, got me to publish a short essay on Afapinen, the literary magazine he founded. It’s titled “Portrait of a Man Finding Himself” and is based on an acquaintance that slept over at my place when he visited Awka in August.
There were plans to delve into corporate writing and production, to work with brands and imprint my other talents on my portfolio. My friends Leo and Justin, along with myself, tried to find partners to execute a tech-related project. News flash: it didn’t work out. But, I’d really be lying if I said trying didn’t do anything for us—conversations we had, journeys we took, letters we wrote: the fire. We all have it, and 2021 taught me so, though I’m not yet in that ‘creator’ mold that I’ve long craved.
However, as a well-published writer, I sometimes feel I do not brag enough. As artists, our talents allow us to build our mythologies, to become gods and goddesses whose vision can be perceived from a thousand miles away. With the gift of language, writers particularly have the ability to construct a complicated portrait of themselves (and others). On social media, I’ve found myself admiring some friends who thread carefully the line between sharing and over-sharing, putting out succinct, well-formed opinions and insights on happening stuff. I want to be like them. I’ve tried, yet something fundamental keeps me from becoming free in the world. Or on social media, I guess. It’s really ironic that the year I’m most social—meeting new people and going places—is the one I’m least active online. Hopefully I’ll find adequate ways to express myself in the coming year, to exert my skill and knowledge on all the things that move me.
I want to share my most beloved pieces of 2021. About three or more were published in Open Country Mag and edited by Otosirieze Obi-Young, the magazine’s founder. Last year, Otosirieze, who I’ve always admired from afar and who published my first ever creative piece (a poem titled “Chanting Fire”), reached out to me. He expressed his ideas for a literary and cultural platform, and said he trusted my talent. We recently celebrated our first-year anniversary, and working with him has been an illuminating experience, both on a human and professional level. He’s helped temper my natural inclination for stylistic excess, teaching me that less is truly more. I’m grateful for my colleagues too, especially Ernest Ogunyemi, who’s one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever engaged with; a thorough genius and compassionate gentleman. Burning joints with him at The Afrikan Shrine remains a highlight of the year.
Now—to the pieces. Achebe’s oeuvre remains a towering influence in world literature and I wrote about its statement on “the Nigerian oppression.” An early draft was read and commented on by Chiedoziem Chukwudera, a friend and intellectual I deeply respect. A review of Imbolo Mbue’s second novel, How Beautiful We Were, was so good the internationally-renowned author shared it. Similarly, Romeo Oriogun called my review of his Lambda-nominated Sacrament of Bodies as the best he's read on the book. Profiles on Agbowó and Griots Lounge took account of the spaces opening up greater possibilities in African literature.
Talking of profiles, I wrote the most immersive feature you’ll read on a contemporary Nigerian artist. 21-year-old Anthony Azekwoh is blazing new paths in artistic production and it was a pleasure documenting his journey. On a cool Awka afternoon, I was interviewing Chuka Obi, the Director of Creativity at Globacom and a veteran in the advertisement industry. He designed the iconic cover of Burna Boy’s Grammy-winning Twice As Tall, and is an alumni of the university I currently attend. I also wrote about Osinachi, the Nigerian visual artist who’s breaking new grounds in utilizing tech (and recently NFTs) into creating, promoting and selling art.
Music-wise, I had a productive year as well. I didn’t pen a lot of opinion pieces, neither did I review projects with the same vim I once did. Most times, I was willing to but then, there are few local spaces paying for these works or editing them with the deserved respect. Like most music journalists, I got my early critical education from reading reviews, and they remain a delightful part of my professional vision, which is contextualizing the cultural touchstones of our generation.
With that said, I profiled Yung L for OkayAfrica, discussing his Yaadman Kingsize album which was among my favorites for the year. The same magazine was lucky to publish another profile, on Mavin Records star Crayon. A duo of features I also love is this Culture Custodian-published consideration about the destiny of black music and my second piece for the UK-based Reader’s Digest, where I chronicled the rise of Afro Pop, right from its origins to its modern impact, and of course speaking to insightful professionals within the industry. Near the year’s end, I turned in an encompassing review of Phyno’s Something To Live For, his fourth album, for Native Mag, a publication I’ve always loved. Bounce Radio also commissioned a piece on the culture-defining moments of the year, and I spazzed on that, of course.
But the biggest of them all was the CKay profile. I’ll one day write about how I met and interviewed CKay last year in Lagos Island, and almost shared a blunt with him. But today, I’ll ask you to Google “CKay interview.” Three pieces on the first page were written by me. Among those is the most recent, one I didn’t pitch but was assigned: on how CKay made “Love Nwantiti,” the biggest song of 2021. Today, I saw a picture of CKay and David Guetta, and I couldn’t help but feel inspired. There’s someone I’ve been with; there, with Guetta, of the Sia bangers and EDM bops; Guetta.
In my personal life, I made some advancement towards becoming the man I want to be. There were toxic habits to unlearn, truths to embrace. I met a woman I want to be with. I made female friends, something of a hard task in previous years. I moved into my own rented apartment for the first time, bought property and celebrated my birthday in August. I learned to make eye contact and keep my head high when walking. I joined a book club, interacting with geniuses like Chiedoziem, Mark Osuchukwu, Counsel Precious, and Gerald Eze.
Next year, I want a lot of things. But I’ll be careful with wishes, cos sometimes they come true and we get overwhelmed by them. Most of all, I want money and ease. I want family and friends to cradle me, to ease the pressures of being so strong. I’ve been strong since I was ten. Now, I want all pictures of me loving my people to be in color.