Inside Olatunji Ololade’s long-awaited novel

Like every nation on earth, Nigeria isn’t perfect and there’s no doubt that many of our challenges are self-inflicted, and the solutions are in our hands. And until we confront these issues head-on, we will continue going in circles, trapped in a cycle of stagnation.

Olatunji Ololade and Remilekun Balogun (RB)—the protagonist of ‘Of Gods and Their Claytoys’, his debut novel, whose initial draft I read many years ago—have much in common. Both are products of the Mass Communication department of the then Ogun State Polytechnic. They are serial award-winning journalists, driven by a passion for people-centered stories and an innate willingness to take risks.

However, unlike his protagonist, Ololade is married with children and holds second and third degrees. Commitment to a woman, a challenge for his character, is not an issue for him.

Written in rich poetic prose, combined with a smooth mix of simple, compound, and compound-complex sentences, the novel follows RB, who often claims to be an only child, orphaned two decades ago by a tragic accident. But the truth is far messier—he has never known his biological father and he has every reason to doubt the woman who insists she gave birth to him.

Given the circumstances of his birth, RB’s early years are hard. Funding his education involves menial jobs and being helped out by a friend.

The death of the woman he calls Mama—the one who told him that “black was the colour of bad things, of dirty, unwanted things”—forces him to move through life alone. Friendship, to him, is a luxury no one has earned.

When RB comes of age, he chooses journalism as a profession. On the job, he discovers that the profession is not as honourable as he thinks. For instance, he discovers senior colleagues—men he once admired while growing up—are entangled in racketeering; their hands stained with filthy lucre, their pens unwilling to commit the truth to paper. Also, he finds out that election season is financially advantageous for journalists because of the abundance of breaking news stories and the influx of money from political campaigns.

RB sees how during election periods, politicians are more willing to spend to influence media coverage or public perception. The author’s use of the imagery of money “flooding the economy like a burst dam” emphasizes the sudden and overwhelming flow of funds. The personal benefits journalists gain—such as buying new cars, acquiring bigger homes, or paying school fees—suggest that lucrative opportunities arise during this time. However, this also raises ethical considerations about the influence of money on journalistic integrity.

Though everyone seems to be losing their heads, he chooses to keep his and this creates antagonism for him. The opportunity to cement his image as the incorruptible one falls on his lap when he witnesses an ethical breach at the State House, where correspondents openly brawl over cash handouts from a governor. The altercation turns fatal, resulting in the death of one journalist, a tragedy swiftly covered up. But RB refuses to let the truth be buried. He publishes a damning report, unleashing chaos as powerful forces move to silence him. Death threats collide with death threats.

He is transferred to Enugu as punishment for his audacity. Months into his stay, he stumbles upon a major story—one a powerful senator is desperate to bury. Determined to uncover the truth, he pushes forward, only to face the wrath of his boss in Lagos, who promptly summons him back. From that moment, his life spirals into further chaos, a relentless cycle of danger and escape, as if he were born to run—or destined for trouble, one day at a time.

Beyond its strong focus on journalism, Ololade’s novel is about Nigeria. The Nigeria in his story, much like the one we know, struggles with corruption, poor leadership, decaying infrastructure, and mediocrity.

The Nigerians in his novel grow weary of coexisting and decide to go their separate ways along ethnic lines. At some point, cities fall, their foundations shaken as violence spills into every corner. In open streets and secluded courtyards, the air, heavy with gunpowder, distorts the line between friend and foe. Pitched battles transform bustling avenues into rivers of blood. Spent shells and smuggled arms scatter across the asphalt, while the ordinary become warriors, standing shoulder to shoulder with soldiers in the chaos of war.

The fallout of the disintegration reveals that the solutions to our challenges aren’t as simple as each region forming its own republic.

The novel’s pages brim with remarkable characters. There’s Chiamaka, a fierce feminist who eats like a newly freed convict, drinks like a sailor, and loves with the hunger of a nymphomaniac. Mama, the only mother he has ever known, provides a grounding presence. Then there’s Gbotie, the closest thing RB has to a father figure—a journalist with an unshakable devotion to truth. Enitan and Alhaji, a couple pivotal to his journey, offer him a lifeline toward becoming someone in life. And finally, there’s Alhaja, Enitan’s mother, who boldly encourages her daughter to take a lover to make up for Alhaji’s shortcomings in the bedroom.

Ololade skillfully deploys allusion, imagery, and poetry to craft a novel that is both probing and powerful. Its crackling energy and unflinching depth of this keenly observant and compelling novel make it an unforgettable read. It will resonate long after the final page.

My final take: Ololade wears his social responsibility cap with pride, offering sharp insights into critical issues affecting Nigeria’s growth in this audacious, scathing, and riveting work. Through robust discourse on leadership, subsidy removal, and more, he provides a thought-provoking guide to the nation’s most pressing challenges.

The issues he raised make me come to the conclusion that like every nation on earth, Nigeria isn’t perfect and there’s no doubt that many of our challenges are self-inflicted, and the solutions are in our hands. And until we confront these issues head-on, we will continue going in circles, trapped in a cycle of stagnation.