Dear Fellow,
Before the meeting at the bookstore in September, we had met only once. We had barely talked for two months online when we first met face-to-face. She is one of the people who have demonstrated genuine interest in my becoming the previous year. Once, she voluntarily edited a post I made on Facebook. In her opinion, based on the conventions of social media content creation, densely packed paragraph pieces are less likely to be read to the end. So, she fixed my post in the DM and sent it to me as a suggestion. She earned herself a special place in my heart since then.
This year, I taught a course to only six teenagers in my city called #Bookmatics for six weeks from the first week of August. We met three times a week—Mondays and Thursdays were for basic secondary math modules, and Fridays were set apart for the reading of literature. On Fridays, a (literacy-driven) content creator in my city joined us for the two-hour reading sessions. On the last day of the event, this lady was present. That was the extent to which I valued her influence on my life—of course, this was after her voluntary edit of my post on Facebook.
At the end of the closing day ceremony of #Bookmatics at the state library board in my city, she squeezed naira notes into my palm and said, “This is for a copy of your book. Please purchase a recharge card with the rest.” We had to plan a meeting afterwards since I wasn’t with copies of my book at the meeting. Later in the month, we agreed to meet at the central bookstore in my city. (That meeting was the third of its kind for me this year—a meeting at the bookstore with an acquaintance without any plan to purchase a book. However, in each case, the person I met buys a book.)
Both lovers of books, we talked a great deal about the books at the store. We talked and walked around the store, you’d think we were the owners of the place or some agents on an investigation assignment. At the height of the moment, she cuts in: “What is your locus standi for writing your book?” I wasn’t sure if the italicised words were foreign, or if I didn’t just listen carefully. So, I asked her to repeat her statement again. She did. Then I asked, “What is locus standi?”
Her definition agrees with this second definition by the Merriam-Webster online dictionary: “a right to be heard.” (The term is common among legal practitioners, and it means, “a right to appear in a court or before any body on a given question.”) By implication, she asked which of my credentials gave me the authority to write a book on the University of Jos library.
“You should read the book to find out,” I said.
Too few people have asked me the same question concerning my book #TheUniversityLibrary—about the credentials that support my writing the book. Of course, one ought to ask this question before engaging any piece of information. It helps to know the experience and expertise of an information source; it helps in deciding how to engage with his or her information; it helps in scrutinising the information, especially in an age where there is a surplus of information. But there was something about her attitude when she asked that question: she was apologetic, not wanting me to feel offended. But it wasn’t her fault. Neither was I offended at all. It was only a reflection of the society we’re in.
In online communities of writers, for example, there are too many teachers on the craft of writing. These folks range from those who teach you how to write a post on Facebook to those who teach you how to write a book. They are all over the place, and you wonder if teaching online courses isn’t the next economic boom. It becomes difficult to tell apart those who fit for the job or not. You have so much to choose from, you tend to lose the ability to clearly reason through the situation. In this age online, you stand the risk of being labelled an envious, attention-seeking fellow when you share your doubts regarding the capacity of one of these teachers. Meanwhile, there are those who launched their online courses right out of a four-week course on whatever subject they are to teach. So, you see, it wasn’t a surprise that my friend felt quite sorry for asking me that question.
But I have grown myself. I know better that it is good for me to question. I think and believe that it is for our own good if one’s credibility is questioned more often—that our every work (especially intellectual works) be judged in reference to our credentials and educational backgrounds. We’d be better off as a country (Nigeria) if drug stores, schools, buildings, etc. were subjected to scrutiny by regulatory bodies to ensure only what is standard is allowed to come to fruition.
I didn’t take this matter seriously when I wrote my book. Maybe because the book wasn’t about the management or functionality of the library. (The book is primarily a collection of my unique, momentous and memorable interactions with other users of the library and some of the library resources. I often say that the book makes the argument that the library is not just about books only.) Now I know better.
The aim is to produce excellent works that are in compliance with every standard set in place for any specific endeavour, especially in this area of mass communication. I believe change begins with me whenever I realise that the right way isn’t the norm. I may falter along the road as I reach for the golden standard because the situation in Nigeria looks like it is more a result of mass ignorance of the standards. Yet, I am committed to seeking what the standards are. I am committed to living up to them. I am committed to making it the norm—more so, compliance with them—even as I exemplify living up to them.
This despatch is likely an open commitment to seeking and living up to the correct standards of operations. As I desire to live up to this commitment, do not be apologetic the next time you want to ask me: “What is your locus standi for this work?” I hope the effect doesn’t find me dumb. We will get better this way, good Fellow. Do apply this approach in bringing about necessary change in your everyday dealings with men, especially in Nigeria, thereby being the model of the needed change.
Your LetterMan,
Tongjal, W. N.