Although humour is agreed to be a universal phenomenon, it is also culture-specific, and hence cannot be neatly packaged into any one definition. People from different cultures may understand what humour is but have different perspectives that affect the way they view humour and what they find funny or amusing.
Because of this reality, the definition of humour has been a conundrum for many scholars but for the sake of this post, and because this is not exactly an in-depth analysis of humour, just a curious girl’s opinions and findings, we will define humour as simply as we can with the help of The Cambridge dictionary.
Humour is defined as ‘the ability to find things funny, the way in which people see that some things are funny, or the quality of being funny’.
Why Does Contemporary African Fiction Employ the Use of Humour?
You may have heard the saying by Jane Yolen ‘If we do not laugh, we will cry’ or some variation of it. I like to put it thus: We laugh because if we do not, we would cry. Or, my favourite, and a part of a piece I wrote some years back ‘Here, we paint sorrow the colour of laughter, so we do not run mad’.
African fiction (written) has a history of protest. With Chinua Achebe and his ilk pioneering the space, most contemporary African fictional work screams against subjugation, bad governance, and poor realities. Our experiences seep into our writing. But despite this bleak horizon of our fiction, humour is never far within the pages of an African novel. Does this seem strange? That we weave humour into our novels even when writing on topics that normally have no humorous inclination.
This could be because we’ve come to realise that crying rarely solves problems. Complaining and crying about problems may give you momentarily relief, because venting is quite relieving, but it doesn’t make things better in the long run. So, we use humour to cope with reality. Somehow, when things are spiralling out of control and you’re just hanging by a thread, humour can make you feel like you are in control of the situation.
Africans, and specifically, Nigerians, are probably among the funniest people you would ever meet. You know it. The ‘What Did You Say ‘Bout My Brother’ afrobeat rendition, the downright hilarious stitches of normal videos, the Nigerian X space rife with rib breaking tweets and responses (most of which admittedly veer towards ‘toxic’), and the popularity of skits.
Decades ago, having books that were outrightly funny would’ve been strange, and these humorous books might have been looked down at as being unserious. But today, more and more books are employing the use of obvious humour (the kind you don’t have to dig too deep to find) and more people are picking up African fiction for the fun of it. Which is the way it should be.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying Chinua Achebe’s works were devoid of humour—you’ve probably chuckled one or twice reading his work—I’m saying contemporary fiction has taken to using humour that is obvious. Today’s writers do not shy away from writing fiction with the intent of causing laughter. Note that most of these books do not have specific funny ‘scenes’ that you can cut and paste like party one-liners. The humour is usually woven into the characters’ quirks, the plot itself and sometimes the narrator’s voice.
I’ve also noticed that most of these authors tend to use wry and sardonic humour, deliciously slipping into dark humour every now and then. This may have to do with the reason I gave about finding something funny in whatever situation, no matter how dire.
For lovers of theories, you may agree that this is consistent with the Relief Theory of humour that says we laugh to vent stress and pent-up anger.
Here’s a few of these humorous books to add to your list:
- Nearly All The Men in Lagos Are Mad by Damilare Kuku
- Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow by Damilare Kuku (The lady has has humour on point)
- The Hairdresser of Harare by Tendai Huchu
- Our Sister Killjoy by Ama Ata Aidoo
- African Psycho by Alain Mabanckou
- Tomorrow I’ll Be Twenty by Alain Mabanckou
- Yinka, Where Is Your Huzband? by Lizzie Damilola Blackburn
Finally, there may be a plethora of reasons African authors use humour in their writing, but humour as a consequence of the author’s coping mechanism (no matter how unconscious) is my best bet.
Life is hard and sometimes unfair to us, and most of the times we can do nothing about it. We know this, and it is for this reason we employ humour in our writing.
I mean, if we can do nothing about it, we may as well be less miserable. And what better way to do this than to laugh?
