Transcription
Now go on to Professor Indi to give us the acceptance speech on behalf of the council. Professor Indi is bilingual, so Charles will not be disturbed again this time around. Mr. President, you have the floor.
Thank you, Dr. Thank you, Dr. Okan. Um, I will have to start. Your Excellencies, Your Royal Highnesses, distinguished colleagues, esteemed members of the Power Council, fellow word bearers and writers, lovers of literature, ladies and gentlemen.
It is with profound humility and deep appreciation, honor, and an abiding sense of duty that I stand here on behalf of the Power Council to accept the responsibility bestowed upon me to serve as president of this novel and distinguished Panaffrican Writers Association. It is a privilege to serve this eminent international diplomatic writers organization. The council and I are grateful for the confidence you have placed in us, and we are fully cognizant of the weight of the office and the expectations it carries, not merely for power but for the broader Afro-literary and cultural communities across the globe.
As we assume this role, we do so not merely as academics, poets, or critics, but as custodians of voices, many of which history has marginalized, distorted, and even silenced. We speak as sons and daughters of the African continent and its diaspora, born into vibrant traditions and shaped by diverse intellectual and cultural traditions that span the global north and south. Again, on behalf of the council, I speak as one who has wandered far across the oceans into classrooms, into manuscripts, seeking in every land the common denominator of our Africanness, of our humanity, that sacred word which we all dream of: freedom.
The present Power Council is animated by the belief in literature's enduring capacity to illuminate, to emancipate, and to restore Africa's glory in the face of challenging hegemonic wranglings. The council acknowledges a simple but enduring truth: literature is not a luxury. It is resistance. It is remembrance. It is the republic of the conscience. In this age where demagogues distort language and where memory is a battlefield, literature remains our most faithful insurgent, challenging silence, confronting erasure, and affirming the dignity of all peoples of African descent on the continent and in the diaspora.
We stand on the shoulders of giants who came before us, such as Ama Ata, Chinua Achebe, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, Léopold Sédar Senghor, Nadine Gordimer, Camara Laye, Amadou Kourouma, Ahmadou Kourouma, Agustinho Neto, Aimé Césaire, Nicolás Guillén, Wole Soyinka, Aimé Césaire, Naguib Mahfouz, Maya Angelou, Tayeb Salih, Ben Okri, Derek Walcott, Mongo Beti, Okot p'Bitek, Es'kia Mphahlele, Toni Morrison, Dennis Brutus, and a host of others. The world is increasingly imperiled by fragmentation of language, of truth, and of community, and there is no doubt, as we speak, that literature is more vital now than ever. Not as an ornamental exercise in aesthetics, but as a necessary force for ethical reflection, for cultural healing, and for global solidarity.
The writers, the critics, the translators, the publishers in us all share the sacred obligation to affirm the dignity of the human person, to safeguard memory, and to resist the forces that would reduce African and African diasporic cultures to propaganda or to a commercial tool. This is achievable through cultural diplomacy. Our lives' works have been about bridging between tongues, between continents, between histories fractured by dehumanizing human trade and colonial violences, and futures that are still under construction. If our words are to mean anything, they must serve as bridges and as barricades: bridges to one another, and barricades against tyranny, prejudice, and ignorance, as well as exogenous interferences that aim to put us apart.
As president, I espouse the Power Council's vision, guided by the following five priorities: one, re-centering marginalized literatures; institutionalizing translation as a pedagogical and political practice; fostering interdisciplinary and intercontinental dialogue; defending freedom of expression and intellectual integrity; cultivating emerging voices and future leaders. This council and the presidency will be a space for active listening, for principled collaboration, and for ethical innovation. Let us uphold literature not merely as a mirror of society, but as a compass pointing us towards justice, towards peace, and towards the reclamation of our shared humanity.
It is in this guise that the sixth region of POWER, that is, Writers of African Origin in the Diaspora, which I previously headed, will now be headed by the indefatigable Reverend Dr. Ang Khumalo, who previously was POWER's press secretary and chief book launcher. So, Dr. Ang Khumalo will take on this role.
Permit me, in closing, to invoke the words of the Cameroonian poet and writer Mongo Beti, who once declared, "Literature is not innocent." That our words, spoken or written, sung or translated, are not without consequences. May we wield them wisely, boldly, and with unwavering commitment to truth. But above all, we must remind ourselves that literature must never become an ornament of the empire, nor a trophy of the elite. We must return literature to the people as a drum, as a lamp, as a mirror, as a sword, as a prayer.
Fellow African writers, the work is vast, the burden sacred, the hour urgent. But this council believes in the relentless resilience of the human story, especially that of the African and its descendants. Let us write it together. Write radically and without fear nor favor. And we thank you all for your confidence, your solidarity, and your shared vision as I accept the office of the president on behalf of the council. And I would say, long live words that liberate. Long live literature in the service of humanity. Long live POWER. I thank you. A zillion for the investiture. Thank you.