The news arrived as a gentle whisper carried on the West Australian breeze: I had been awarded the Katherine Susan Pritchard Writers’ Residency. A thrill, both humbling and exhilarating, coursed through me. January. Two glorious weeks dedicated solely to wrestling with the narratives that clamour within, all within the very grounds on which once walked the literary titan.
My focus? To delve deeper into “Agbekoya Uprising,” my third book, a narrative non-fiction that seeks to illuminate the tumultuous late 1960s uprising in Western Nigeria. My village, Olorunda, found itself at the epicentre of a storm brewed from local political tensions, the shadow of the Nigerian Civil War, and the insidious tendrils of global economic forces. It’s a story woven from history, politics, and the very human drama of a nation finding its feet amidst a complex international landscape.
The residency was a pilgrimage of sorts, a chance to further unearth the often-murky details of the Agbekoya Uprising, a period largely preserved through the fragile threads of oral histories. My aim was ambitious: to pen the final chapters, bridging the gaps in the narrative concerning the far-reaching impacts of global commodity cartels. My research had already taken me through the brittle pages of Nigerian Year Books from that era (1965-1970) and the insightful accounts of historians and Nigerian Civil War authors, including the perspectives of Generals Obasanjo and Alabi-Isama. Yet, I knew the layers of this story ran deep, demanding more than just dusty tomes. Understanding the nuances, even something as specific as the treatment of Igbos at Dodan Barracks during that period, required a delicate touch and a willingness to chase whispers.
My sanctuary for these two weeks was the Phillips Cabin, a haven of timber and tranquility nestled amidst the whispering trees. This “cozy wooden cabin,” as I came to fondly think of it, with its well-appointed room and combined facilities, felt like a deliberate embrace, a world away from the clamour of city life. Waking each morning to the chorus of birdsong and the sight of squirrels darting through the foliage outside my window was a balm to the soul, a gentle nudge towards the blank page. The “big brown table” became my command centre, bathed in the focused glow of the overhead light. Though, I must confess, a desktop lamp to further dim the surroundings and sharpen the focus on my laptop keyboard would have been a welcome addition for a writer like me who thrives in the shadows. Even the absence of television, initially unnoticed, became a testament to the residency’s singular purpose: writing. It was a deliberate stripping away of distractions, a silent encouragement to lose oneself in the world of words. And thankfully, experiencing the tail end of the Perth summer, the air conditioning in the cabin proved a godsend.
But the magic of the KSP residency extended far beyond the cabin walls. It lay in the vibrant community of fellow writers, the shared passion for storytelling that crackled in the air during our gatherings. I had the privilege of connecting with several writers’ groups, each offering a unique lens through which to view my work.
First, there was “The Past Tense” group, a Saturday morning ritual of shared narratives. It was here that I tentatively offered an excerpt from “Agbekoya Uprising,” a chapter titled “A Sweet Deal: Swiss Politics and Cocoa Prices.” This section delves into the often-shadowed international machinations of commodity pricing, revealing how powerful cartels collude for their own selfish gain, with devastating consequences for cocoa-producing regions like Western Nigeria and Ghana. ultimately leading to loss of life and widespread disruption. The feedback was a rich tapestry of insights. One suggestion that particularly resonated was to verify the market debut date of the Palm Pilot, a seemingly small detail that could add a layer of temporal accuracy. Another prompted me to consider the role of Prime Minister Harold Wilson and his government’s stance on the independence movements of former British colonies – a potentially significant external influence on the Nigerian landscape.
Katherine Susan Pritchard preserved writing desk
The Thursday Night Group offered a different kind of stimulation, a plunge into the unpredictable waters of random prompts. The night I joined, the challenge was “I couldn’t possibly, Virginia’s is far too young to be left…” It was a fascinating glimpse into the diverse creative processes at play. To this group, I shared another chapter from “Agbekoya,” titled “The Bird on a Wire.” In this scene, the Nigerian Head of State finds himself hosted by the opulent shipping magnate, Olu Fajemirokun, where he is subtly briefed on the clandestine plans of foreign interests to manipulate cocoa prices downwards. The discussions that followed were lively, drawing connections and raising intriguing questions about power dynamics and national sovereignty.
Then there was the “Novel Writers Collective,” their Monday meetings a space for sharing nascent chapters and seeking constructive critique. Presenting excerpts from “Agbekoya” to this group of fellow long-form storytellers provided invaluable perspectives on pacing, character development, and overall narrative flow. It reminded me that the journey of writing is rarely solitary, and the eyes of others can illuminate paths one might have missed.
As my two weeks drew to a close, I compiled my reflections into an Artistic Report for the KSP Writers’ Centre, titled “This Hallowed Ground.” The title itself hints at another, more personal narrative that unfolded during my stay – my distinct feeling of an encounter with the very spirit of Katherine Susan Pritchard, a presence that seems to linger within the residence. This experience, still taking shape in my mind and on the page, became another layer of my time there.
Looking back, the KSP Writers’ Residency was more than just a dedicated writing period. It was an immersion into a supportive literary community, a chance to test my work on a new and insightful audience – my first non-African readers for “Agbekoya Uprising.” Their feedback proved invaluable in considering the book’s broader appeal. I also gained practical knowledge about the often-murky waters of publishing and editing, adding valuable tools to my writer’s toolkit.
Of course, no experience is without its nuances. The persistent drone of trucks battling the incline of Greenmount Hill on the Great Eastern Highway did occasionally puncture the serenity, a modern intrusion into a landscape that once knew only the sounds of nature. While perhaps beyond KSP’s control, it’s a sonic backdrop that future residents might also note.
As I departed the Phillips Cabin, leaving behind the rustling leaves and the echoes of literary conversations, I carried with me not just progress on my manuscript, but a renewed sense of connection and purpose. The Katherine Susan Pritchard Writers’ Residency, discovered through the invaluable Writing WA newsletter (thanks to the tireless work of Will Yeoman and his team in fostering the WA writing sector), has indeed been a significant milestone in my writing journey, one that will be cherished and remembered. Perhaps, moving forward, the KSPWC might consider increasing the stipend to encourage even wider participation and perhaps establishing a voluntary networking group for past residents to continue our shared journeys. A curated exploration of the beautiful Perth Hills, the zigzag drive and the Greenmount lookout could further enrich the experience of future writers-in-residence, connecting them even more deeply with the land that inspired KSP herself.
“This Hallowed Ground” – the title resonates not just with my spectral encounter but with the profound sense of place and literary heritage I experienced. The KSP Writers’ Residency is truly a space where the artistic spirit can breathe, connect, and flourish, a vital sanctuary for those of us striving to give voice to the stories that demand to be told.
Caruso Writers Podcast Episodes | ksp-writers-centre: Lost in the Whispers of Greenmount: My Fortnight Immersed in the Spirit of KSPListen to my interview with Writing WA about the Residency