Books! Books!! Books!!!
In an ironic play on words, I named my two Monday morning callers Just Man and Just Woman. Hardly could they be just since they had both confessed to the academic crime of sorting. I was unequivocal in my condemnation of their crime. They therefore had some difficulty comprehending how a principled man, such as I appeared to be, could possibly advocate that Nigeria’s problem of book scarcity be solved by having book pirates flood the nation with pirated copies of every book required at all levels of the educational system. What a contradiction! When I reminded them of the saying that every good family has or ought to have at least one thief, so that when a situation requires thievery, he would oblige, they were equally taken aback.
“That’s going too far, isn’t it?” they asked.
“No further than sorting. . . . But the truth of the matter is: publish a book today, and in seven days you will find that book being sold in the go-slow market in a pirated edition.”
“So you’re saying why not turn that evil talent of book piracy to some public good by printing and making available some needed school textbooks?”
“Exactly!”
“Na wah-o!”
“But in the essay in question I also had a respectable and legal recommendation: I suggested that either the Nigerian government or one private entrepreneur or a consortium of entrepreneurs should go and negotiate copyright permissions at discount/wholesale fees to print Nigerian editions of books published in other countries for use in our schools and higher institutions.”
“Na wah-o!”
“If I remember correctly,” said JMan, “the then-Soviet Union and East European communist countries and communist China refused to subscribe to the International Copyright Convention.”
“That’s right.”
“They simply reprinted any books they liked without obtaining permission or paying even a kobo to the copyright owner.”
“For a secondary school boy, you had a sound sense of public affairs and history back in the 1980s. So tell me, how did you ever divert to sorting? What happened? How could you go so wrong?”
“Oga, lef-am! Please. Remember what the crayfish, swimmer of great oceans, said to the shark: na condition make crayfish bend so.”
“I remember. In fact, I once asked crayfish that same question, and he gave me the same silly answer. No imagination whatsoever.”
“This is getting really interesting,” said JWoman. “So why didn’t you recommend that the Nigerian government should do like Russia and China and simply reprint the books and don’t bother negotiating permissions or fees?”
“I actually did.”
“You did??!!!”
“Mostly tongue-in-cheek. I knew Nigeria had no guts and would never do such a thing. In fact, from the First Republic through all the military coups and after, every in-coming Nigerian government takes the trouble to assure the world in its inaugural speech that it will abide by all international conventions and pay all debts.”
“But then,” said JWoman, “it’s 30 years since you put forth this remarkable proposal but no entrepreneur or government has taken the trouble to adopt or explore it.”
“That’s exactly the point. In a situation where government as well as legitimate businesses have failed to supply a critical need, isn’t it logical for smugglers and pirates to take over?”
“But still, in 30 years the book pirates have not taken over,” said JWoman. “It is failure all round!”
“Nigeria is a basket case indeed,” said JMan. “In the vacuum created by the absence of books—books which are the fountain and vehicle of knowledge and the basic implements of academic work—all sorts of noxious germs come to flower and take over the campus, including murderous campus cults—and sorting! . . .”
“That is the great Nigerian tragedy!”
I had the sense that this phone call had dragged my callers into rather deeper waters than they bargained for. They needed to get back to shore and a safe landing.
“You see, it’s like this. Both of you—Just Friends, right?—you can become the entrepreneurs that could save the system. Abandon sorting. Go for honest money. Find out what books the schools and universities regularly need. Get a team of experts, whether Nigerian or foreign or both, to write the books or to assemble them from previously published materials. Or, as the case may be, adopt entire books previously published. You call yourselves scholars, for God’s sake! Negotiate discounted/wholesale re-publication rights. Pay the fees. Disseminate the materials in a low-paid internet network targeted and accessible to Nigerian students.
“From the large volume of small naira and kobo you will make more money than your current criminal sorting system. And when online advertisers discover your platform, you will make so much money you won’t know what to do with it. You might even decide to pay me for giving you the idea, plus ask me to show you what great things you can do with your money. In my writings I have explored other ways of flooding Nigeria with books—but you will have to do that research yourselves. . . .”
- Concluded
Onwuchekwa Jemie
