Joop, Chief Joop Joop: A tribute

Joop Berkhout is gone, one of the closing leaves of the great and colourful publishers that traversed our nation. Joop may not have been lettered, but he was a literary luminary. He placed in our hands the voices of Nigeria, particularly the movers and shakers. He will be sorely missed. He found Nigeria ever so sweet and warm.

He had lived in the Netherlands, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, South Africa, Kenya, Tanzania, and Zambia, a wandering spirit of some sort, before he arrived in Nigeria as an extraordinary salesman. His salesmanship brought him to Nigeria as the pioneer head of Evans Publishers in 1966.

He entered the book industry after working as a clerk with a shipping line in Bahrain. He had ventured to marry a Saudi woman until the lady’s father found out and ensured he was kicked out of the Gulf. He landed in Tanganyika, now Tanzania, and got a job in a bookshop.

He moved into sales with Oxford University Press in Zambia from the bookshop. He had not settled into the job long enough when he made an outlandish proposal to his boss stationed in Kenya. He wanted a particular house bought for his use when he couldn’t easily find a preferred house to rent. His alarmed boss denied him. Joop was unrelenting. He offered a bargain to double his sales target. If that be it, a deal was struck; he had the house, and Joop had tripled his sales target at the end of the year.

Payment on the house was cleared in two years. For this feat and his sales record, his star spread to Europe.

When Oxford University Press recalled him to Europe to be a part of a global marketing force, he didn’t want the cold or the drudgery of Oxford life, so Joop demurred. Reading the situation, Evans Publishers seized the chance, and he was headhunted by Mr C.T. Quin Young, Overseas Director of Evans Publishers and a former Director of Education in Eastern Nigeria. He made him an offer to start their Nigerian office. Joop jumped at it. He arrived in Nigeria on October 31, 1966 and never looked back.

Joop arrived in Nigeria with his family, a brief and a letter. He and his family were initially housed at Premier Hotel, which was the topmost hotel in Ibadan at that time, and a waterhole in the evening for the expatriates in town. From that waterhole, Joop soon raked all the stories in town, and in years to follow, he had all the stories that mattered in the country. Joop’s network in the country was massive.

His letter was addressed to a tall, dark and lanky Nigerian. A complete gentleman. Joop’s boss had met this man in Edinburgh, and he had left an imperishable impression on him. His boss advised, ‘Stick to him, and you will hardly go wrong’. The man in reference was Mr Ayo Banjo, who became Prof Ayo Banjo, the former Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ibadan, Emeritus Professor of English. The associational recommendation could not have been better or more fortuitous for Joop for an incursion into the intelligentsia of Nigeria. There was plenty of occupation ahead for Joop, and his association with Banjo favoured him.

Banjo remained a director of all the publishing businesses Joop built to his very end.

His brief was to gain a respectable market share in Nigeria. With Evans Publishers, Joop struck gold. One of its authors, Herbert James Larcombe, wrote a masterful series in Arithmetic, which was used in every nook and cranny of Nigeria as Larcombe’s Arithmetic series. In his flush of triumph, Joop canvassed the country, selling books, seeking out new authors, and making a name for himself while forming friendships. Very soon, Evans Publishers, a relatively small publishing company in the UK, was on par with the big publishing giants: Oxford University Press, Longman, Macmillan, and Heinemann Publishers in Nigeria. Joop had excelled beyond his brief.

Evans Publishers was thriving, yet they repeated the same mistake made by Oxford University Press by inviting Joop to accept a senior position in the UK. Joop submitted his resignation. The appeal of Nigerian soil, water, sunshine, hospitality, and opportunities proved too strong. Joop understood Nigeria well enough to identify where the opportunities lay and where the money could be found. With the support of Chief Olu Akinkugbe, Spectrum Books was established, with Joop serving as

Managing Director and Olu Akinkugbe as Chairman.

With Spectrum, Joop was now doing something refreshing. He could scent books not dictated by the UK but purely as relevant to Nigeria. He published beyond schoolbooks. He felt so many unheard voices, a book in everyone, and he soon found fodder in the politicians and soldiers. It was a good chemistry. Joop introduced razzmatazz into book presentations or launching. It was an avenue for the politicians or the powers that be to gather to backslap and flaunt money and power. Money was collected, a few books were sold, and much less were read.

Read also: Chief Joop Berkhout – Lover of books and grand father of book publishing in Nigeria

Suddenly, under Joop, Spectrum rapidly climbed the ladder and was spewing out bestsellers. It was also a crucible for growing creative and versatile young publishers. In a short time, Spectrum fell into the league of major publishers in Nigeria. Today, some of the dominant indigenous publishers in Nigeria grew under Joop’s tutelage.

While Spectrum flourished, a parallel publishing outfit was allegedly floated when the enticing World Bank Book Project came knocking. Head high, Chief Olu Akinkugbe exited and Joop’s Safari Books Ltd was born into the open.

In 2014, the Nigerian Book Industry received a shocking directive from the Nigerian Customs that a 35%–50% tariff would be slapped on imported books. What! We were having enough challenges selling books and a tariff of that magnitude would kill education. Books are sacrosanct in transmitting ideas, memories, narratives and civilisation. For that reason, UNESCO accords it a global zero-duty tariff to facilitate universal human development. This Customs tariff of 35% was wrong and retrogressive. We were going to fight it. Joop and I picked up the gauntlet and went to see Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, the Minister of Finance under whose Ministry the Nigerian Customs was, going around the country with a few others canvassing against the tariff. We missed seeing the Minister of Education and former Governor of Kano State, Alhaji Ibrahim Shekarau, while we were in Abuja. Luckily, we got wind that he would be in Abeokuta as a guest of honour at the annual conference of the Nigerian Library Association.

We made it to Abeokuta at dawn on the event day, uninvited. When the ushers accosted us, we said that we were guests of the Minister and we were led straight to the VIP seats on the front row. No one would have noticed that we were gate crashers. Still, Joop was restless, always craving attention and continually waving the programme booklet in his hand to get the attention of the Minister, who was at the high table. Joop was a nuisance. At that point, we were noticed, and we were both kicked out of the hall. We were no librarians, neither were we guests of anybody. I fumed at a lost opportunity because we would have waited and seen the Minister at the end of the event.

The trouble is that Joop had a knack for making himself noticeable. If you left an empty seat at the high table during a public function, Joop had no qualms about walking straight to the stage and taking it. When he did this, he wore a visage that seemed to wonder why others thought his actions were against decorum. I was pained by missing that golden opportunity to see the Minister. A wasted trip.

Then Joop said he had an idea. He suggested that we wait for the Minister in the Presidential lodge in the Governor’s residential compound, where he would likely stay. When we got to the Ogun State Presidential Lodge, there was a heavy police presence at the gate. It didn’t matter. We invented some stories, and they let us through. They even graciously pointed us to the specific lodge where the Minister stayed. We got there to find people waiting outside the house for the Minister. Joop unhesitantly walked to the living room with me behind him. We took our seats before we were accosted. Again, we gave them a good storyline in which the minister asked us to wait for him in his living room. Satisfied, they soon returned with drinks and snacks for us. Two out-laws were feted, and I almost choked.

Finally, the Minister returned from the conference. As he alighted from his car, we could hear him say loudly that he didn’t want to see anyone until he had performed his prayers. As he walked into his living room, he walked straight into our ambush. We had a ten-minute meeting with him, and I made the pitch. He agreed that the 35% tariff was wrong and would join us in fighting it.
Stepping out of the living room, I could breathe a sigh of relief and joy of accomplishment. Now famished, I asked Joop if he knew of any restaurant in Abeokuta that we could go to for lunch. He rolled his head and could not come up with one. Suddenly, he said, ‘Kolade, let’s go to Obasanjo’s house. He will have food!’. Just like that, to go to Obasanjo’s house in Abeokuta without an invitation or an appointment! ‘Come on, let’s go.’ I followed Joop.

When we got to President Obasanjo’s residence, a polite gentleman carrying a very mean gun asked who we were. ‘Joop, Chief Joop’, Joop said. I gave my name as Kolade. The man went to the sentry to pass on the intercom to the residence that, ‘Joop, Chief Joop Joop and Dr Christopher Kolade would like to see Baba’. “Oh, my God, Kolade”, I said to myself, not Dr. Christopher Kolade. For all the day’s troubles, impersonation had been added to it.

Soon, the gates of President Obasanjo’s residence were flung open, and we made our way in. We were tucked into a small anteroom because a crowd in a big living room was waiting to see him. I prepared for a long wait until five minutes later when the doorknob turned, President Obasanjo emerged. As we greeted the President, Joop did not mince words or hide our feelings; he said we were hungry. Obasanjo led us to the table, and I used the opportunity to solicit his support for our mission to rescind the custom tariff on books. He, too, saw some sense in our mission and promised to help.

A few weeks later, we pleasantly received the letter and directive from the Minister of Finance rescinding the 35% tariff on books. This victory for books was helped by Joop’s gargantuan reach across the nation.

One of Joop’s most outstanding points of pride was carrying a Nigerian passport. The country, in turn, rewarded him with an OON, Order of the Niger, a national merit award, for his services to the publishing industry. I will never forget the joyful smile, pure childlike, he carried all day when the Ooni of Ife, Oba Okunade Sijuwade, conferred a Chieftaincy title on him.
At 94, he would have been wise and realistic enough to know that death could come calling. He chose to die in Nigeria because this was home. He loved Nigeria, and it was good to him. He found Nigeria ever so sweet and warm.

I had called him twice the weekend before he passed, but it went unanswered. On Monday, 10 February 2025, his assistant and caregiver returned my call to let me know he was very poorly. A few hours later, Joop breathed his last.
Joop Berkhout is gone, one of the closing leaves of the great and colourful publishers that transversed our nation. Joop may not have been lettered, but he was a literary luminary. He placed in our hands the voices of Nigeria, particularly the movers and shakers. He will be sorely missed.

One of Joop’s most incredible pride was carrying a Nigerian passport. The country, in turn, rewarded him with an OON, Order of the Niger, a national merit award, for his services to the publishing industry. I will never forget the joyful smile, pure childlike, he carried all day when the Ooni of Ife, Oba Okunade Sijuwade, conferred a Chieftaincy title on him. At 94, he would have been wise and realistic enough to know that death could come calling. He chose to die in Nigeria because this was home. He loved Nigeria, and it was good to him

Dr Kolade Mosuro is a publisher and chairman of The Booksellers.