A Review of Gil Ndi-Shang’s The Radio and Other Stories
by Nsah Mala*
It must be pretty difficult to review or comment on a book after so many renowned scholars and critics have variously and aptly described and praised it. That said, my commentary of this timely and timeless book will struggle to be as terre-à-terre (down-to-earth) as possible. And I have no doubt that all our reviews and comments on the book up to now are just tips of the numerous icebergs it harbours in its pages awaiting more sustained critical unearthing.
Given the countless relations I have with this book, one of the numerous lessons I draw from it is that life is a radio. By way of a title, I could as well say something like this: Listening to the Radio that Life Is: A Review of Gil Ndi-Shang’s The Radio and Other Stories. As this book demonstrates, everything, every place, and every person constitute radio sets for us because they speak to us, because they educate and entertain us, because they record and/or announce life to us. Being aware of the radio qualities of life, Gil Ndi-Shang travels with the eyes of a news writer and the ears of a radio reporter. This journalistic alertness combined with Gil’s expertly scholarship and literary craftsmanship all converge to deliver a gripping narrative on a wide range of people, objects, places, topics, and relations without being disparate as the motifs of memory, travel, globalisation or better still glocalisation and more coherently connect them together. The outcome is an arresting story with unlimited relatability and punctuated with humour.
Indeed, one of the numerous strengths of this book is that it is highly relatable to everyone, including all of us here today, irrespective of our social status, colour or level of education. Village parents and farmers, first school leaver, secondary and high school students, university students at home and abroad, teachers, historians, university professors, beignet-haricot sellers, clando drivers, file chasers in ministries, coast-goers, village storekeepers, masquerade or juju lovers, bush fallers, mbenguistes … all hear this book, all hear this paper-radio, speaking to them intimately. Of course, this long list is far from being exhaustive. Now, let me give you some teasers to illustrate some of these claims.
First, I am pretty sure that all Cameroonians in this Zoom launch have seen or heard about the returnees from the coast who animate(d) their village with a radio cassette. In Ndi-Shang’s native Luh, one of such persons was called Nyakoh. Now, let us tune in and listen to The Radio:
Nyakoh was a huge man with a deep voice who had spent several years in Douala. When he returned, only those of his age group could retain memories of him. After all those years of plantation labour, the most valuable property he had brought home was his radio, an eight-battery set. He would carry it up and down the village main road, setting the volume as high as possible, earning him the nickname ‘Nyakoh disco’. He had many other nicknames in the neighbouring villages. (p. 13)
You got that? Maybe you thought it was Donga-Mantung Community Radio (DMCR), one of my favourites when I was/am in Mbesa. Hahaha! That was Ndi-Shang’s The Radio. And if you listen further, I mean, if you listen-read from your own copy of The Radio, you would find out more about Nyako and his likes, including the nostalgia such people often display for their good old days in the coast (and by coast we mean all those places outside the village where our people went/go and worked/work money through blue-collar jobs). Without doubt, many, if not all, of us will find connections with Nyako. Interestingly for me, we had at least two people nicknamed Nyako in my native Mbesa, but our radio-owning returnees from the coast had other nicknames. One of our Nyakos was a returnee but without a radio. Hahaha! And you know how we call people like Nyako in Ndi-Shang’s book? In Mbesa, we call them Chifang which is a short form of Chifanghatum, meaning someone who overstayed in the coast. Hahaha!
Second, who among us has not had issues with their shoes at one time or several times? For example, like me, have you ever waited for nightfall in order to go home from the market because of your undersized and painful shoes? That is, you had to wait for the night to remove the shoes and go home barefoot. Or, have you ever been in a place, like I once was in Bambili, dancing in a circle with faulty shoes? As you danced, you suddenly saw the heel of someone’s shoe inside the dancing arena and started suspecting it was yours just before a friend called on phone asking you to pick his shoe heel? Hahahaha! Now, listen to Gil Ndi-Shang as he fascinatingly tells us a similar story:
You removed the sock from your right foot and pocketed it while holding part of the shoe in your right hand, making sure it did not come close to your black shirt. At some point, you felt like throwing the shoe into the surrounding thicket. But then you looked at its brother, seemingly very strong and you consoled yourself that the right foot could be repaired subsequently. You made sure you put the pressure of your gait on the left foot, the shoed one, to lessen the burden on your right foot. (p. 29)
You heard that? Funny, right? In order to know what exactly happened before Ndi-Shang had to remove the sock, you need to purchase a copy of The Radio.
Third, and on a more personal note, I have many connections and relations to this book. Personally, the book is not only relatable to me because I visited Gil Ndi-Shang in Bayreuth in 2016 when he was writing it. Indeed, I heard those two church bells first-hand ringing competitively as Ndi-Shang worked on this book. I mean the bells which made him the collateral damage of their fierce sonic competition. Yes, those bells which reminded me of other bells, which reconnected Ndi-Shang to other bells, including the church bell and his father’s voice annoyingly waking him up from bed in his native Luh. Other connections I share with The Radio include the man splitting wood on the moon and the legendary Lungai, the man who went to heaven alive, both folkloric aspects of Luh and Mbesa cultures. But you can only hear more about these by getting your own copies of The Radio. And watching out for more books in this direction. Perhaps from Ndi-Shang. Perhaps from me. Who knows?
Apart from the very relatable fun and entertainment which The Radio and Other Stories provides, among others, the book offers an opportunity for Ndi-Shang to sarcastically comment on the socio-political life of Cameroon and beyond. Two examples on Cameroon will suffice here. I am particularly touched by the books subtle call for reforms in our Cameroonian university system, notably the tortuous experience of the scoreboard or le babillard where some students’ marks often disappear in Ngoa-Ekelle and where some students’ destinies are often thwarted with deliberately poor marks and other malpractices. Any one of us here today who has been to the University of Yaoundé 1 has either been a victim or witnessed victims of the babillard. Moreover, Ndi-Shang’s The Radio evokes an issue which has been preoccupying me for long, as I am sure it does to many of us here today. I am talking about the ordeal of retired civil servants who bask in the sun, drown in rain, and undergo all forms of psychological and physical torture as they chase their retirement benefits in Yaoundé. As you listen to The Radio, I mean as you read your copies, to find out about this incident, let us all reflect on how to pressurise the Yaoundé regime to treat retirees with dignity. And I must remind you that Ndi-Shang’s The Radio joins Babila Mutia novel The Journey’s End (2016, also published by Spears Books) to denounce the plight of retirees in Yaoundé. Let more ink flow in this direction, I plead! Both creative and scholarly ink.
Now, let me conclude my review of The Radio. As I have struggled to demonstrate in what precedes, whether you went to school or not, whether you reside in Cameroon or abroad, there is something for you in The Radio, something offered in a gripping manner. Ndi-Shang does not scratch at subjects and pass. He has his way with producing measured and vivid details, which are neither too much nor insufficient.
Grosso modo, Ndi-Shang’s The Radio beautifully defies classification due to its depth and breadth which lend it to numerous interpretative angles. It is part memoir, part autobiography, part travel writing, part documentary, part critical commentary. Accordingly, Moulay Driss El Maarouf notes that it is “A must-read for the students of African literature, critical theory, philosophy, sociology, psychology, media and cultural studies.” Whoever you are here today, do not say I did not recommend this book. Grab your copy, read it, listen to it, identify your connections with it, and tune in to thank Ndi-Shang later.
You can get copies of the book from the following contacts in Cameroon: Buea (Jato Passi, 75222564), Douala (Wanja Walters, 665207242 & Bongbimi Electa, 676588215), Yaoundé (Nfor Edison, 73626295) and Bamenda (Njeba Festus, 67585 8695).
Beri wi! Anyiongha Kena! Isoko! Thank you! Merci. Gracias! Tak! Nsah Mala.
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*Nsah Mala is a Cameroonian poet, writer, children’s author, journalist, translator and literary scholar. He writes in English, French and Iteangha-Mbessa.
NOTE: This review was first presented in a Spears Books Zoom Launch of The Radio and Other Stories on Saturday 22 May 2021.
