Why I Wrote The Impossible President

Oct20

When I first wrote The Impossible President in 2002, I was not trying to predict the future, nor was I trying to write a lesson in politics. I was thinking about young women pressured into prostitution because of a lack of hope. I wrote The Impossible President to encourage them to believe they can be anything they set their minds to, to change their circumstances and strive for something better. I thought about the women I had met, the women I had admired, and the women whose stories rarely find their way into newspapers, history books, or public conversations.

The longer I live, the more convinced I become that some of the strongest people in the world are ordinary women whose names most of us will never know. They are the women who keep families together through difficult times. The women who postpone their own dreams to help others build theirs. The women who return to education later in life because circumstances prevented them from doing so earlier. The women who survive loss, disappointment and hardship and somehow find the strength to begin again. Their stories are our stories.

When I created Tinuke, I wanted to create a character who embodied that spirit. Her journey is dramatic. She survives political upheaval, imprisonment, betrayal and countless attempts to push her aside. Yet she refuses to surrender her belief in herself. Tinuke is not based on a single woman. She represents many women.

As I prepared this international edition, I found myself reflecting on women whose courage has shaped communities, countries and generations. Some are well known, while others are not.

We think of women such as Rosa Parks, whose courageous act of defiance became a turning point in the American civil rights movement. We think of Wangari Maathai, who transformed environmental activism in Africa. We think of Malala Yousafzai, who continued to speak out for girls’ education despite an attempt to silence her. We think of Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti, who challenged authority and fought for Nigerian women at a time when few expected women to have a public voice. But courage isn’t limited to famous names; millions of women support their families worldwide without receiving a plaque or recognition for their efforts. They just get on with it.

Recently, I was deeply moved by Yanuni, the documentary produced by Leonardo DiCaprio that follows Indigenous leader Juma Xipaia and her fight to protect her people and the Amazon rainforest despite threats, political opposition and personal risk. Her story takes place thousands of miles from Nigeria, yet the determination at its centre feels familiar. It is the determination of someone who refuses to be intimidated into silence.

That determination is everywhere. You find it among women across Africa, Europe, Asia, the Middle East, the Americas, and beyond. It is found among women who build businesses, teach children, care for families, lead communities, challenge injustice and create change in ways that are often overlooked.

This new edition is dedicated to my husband, John, whose encouragement inspired me to reconsider the women behind this story, those who make history and those who make life possible. The women who dared. The women who stayed. The women who never gave up.

Above all, this book is dedicated to women and girls everywhere. To the girl who wants to go to school. To the girl who dreams of becoming a doctor, teacher, writer, scientist, entrepreneur, or leader. To the woman rebuilding her life after violence or loss. To the woman determined to live free from fear. To the woman who has been told she cannot but chooses to try anyway.

The title is The Impossible President. But the book’s true message has never been about politics. It has always been about possibility. I hope that somewhere, a young reader will close this book and see her own future differently. I hope she will understand that other people’s expectations need not determine the course of her life.

And I hope she will remember that many of the achievements we now take for granted once seemed impossible.

To my friends and readers around the world, much love, always! 🙂

Four Days Until The Impossible President.

Oct16

Posing with The Impossible President today. I took the picture myself, so the title looks the way it does! 🙂

I haven’t posted here for a while, partly because life has been unusually busy. Between work, publishing, and my PhD research, the months seem to have folded into one another and disappeared before I had noticed. Oct 14th was also my birthday, which made me reflective, as birthdays tend to do.

The older I get, the less interested I am in chasing time and the more I value using it well. None of us knows how much time we have left. What matters, I think, is what we choose to do with it; the questions we consider worth asking, the work we commit to, and the things we leave behind when the projects are finished, and the noise has gone, replaced by a poignant silence.

That thought feels especially relevant this week, as Arrow Gate Publishing will release a new edition of The Impossible President on Tuesday 20 October. The novel was first published in Nigeria in 2002 and republished in Abuja in 2004. More than two decades later, it is finally being published for readers in the United Kingdom and internationally.

Yes, I’m writing it twice now. The Impossible President comes out on Tuesday, 20 October. I’m excited, and a little emotional, if I’m honest. Twenty-four years ago, I wrote this book in Nigeria. Next week it will be published in the country where I now live, love, teach and conduct my research. As someone whose life has been shaped by both Nigeria and Britain, I find myself thinking about that journey more than I expected.

Signing the early readers’ review today. Already posted!

I have lived with this book for a long time. It has a story behind it, and it’s linked to my PhD research. Perhaps that is why seeing it take on a new life feels different from publishing something entirely new. A new book arrives with possibility. An older book returns, carrying its history. It reminds you where you were when you wrote it, what concerned you then, and which questions seemed important enough to spend years on.

The question at the centre of The Impossible President was simple – what would it take for a woman to become president of Nigeria? And I’m not talking about it in theory, or symbolically, or because a speechwriter thought it would make a good campaign slogan.

What would it actually take?

Nigeria celebrated sixty-six years of independence on 1 October. Over those sixty-six years, no woman has served as president or vice president. That fact stayed with me when I first wrote the novel and still does today. I once asked my mum why, and she gave a short laugh and said, “Men are always afraid of a strong woman.” What she said was debatable, but it may have some truth.

This brings me to this year’s Black History Month theme in the United Kingdom: Honouring Our Communities. I have repeatedly returned to the relationship between history and visibility. Communities are not built by famous people alone. They are sustained by countless others whose names seldom appear in public records. Teachers, campaigners, carers, organisers, checkout operators, and community leaders often leave behind profound legacies while receiving very little recognition beyond the circles directly affected by their work.

My doctoral research at London Metropolitan University focuses on women of the ancient Benin Kingdom. I have immersed myself in the stories of women whose economic and cultural influence was significant, and whose presence in historical records is often fragmented or incomplete. The evidence is there, but their stories are frequently overshadowed by the men who occupy centre stage. Research changes how you see things; perspectives are fluid and constantly evolving, and I now see things differently. Once you begin noticing who has been omitted from historical narratives, you begin to notice absences elsewhere too.

Many years ago, I became increasingly aware of accounts of young women from Edo State (Nigeria) being trafficked through routes that led to Italy. At the same time, Chief Mrs Amina Titi Atiku Abubakar and her organisation, WOTCLEF, helped force the issue into Nigeria’s national consciousness. Their work helped create NAPTIP in 2003, giving Nigeria a federal agency dedicated to combating human trafficking. I dedicated The Impossible President to her because I believed then, and still believe now, that some of the most important changes in society happen because individuals decide that something unacceptable can no longer be ignored.

Tinuke, the novel’s protagonist, is not a real person, but she did not emerge from nowhere. She was shaped by the many women whose stories I encountered, by women whose achievements have been documented and by women whose contributions survive only in memory. Like all fictional characters, she is an invention. Unlike many fictional characters, however, she was built from realities that already existed.

What continues to interest me is that the question posed by the novel is not uniquely Nigerian. According to figures published by UN Women and the Inter-Parliamentary Union, only 28 countries in the world are currently led by a woman head of state or government, while more than one hundred have never had one. In Africa, only two countries currently have a woman president. Nigeria is not unusual in waiting for that milestone. It is simply one of many nations still waiting. The United States has never had a woman president either.

For that reason, the novel feels no less relevant now than it did when it first appeared.

Readers approaching The Impossible President as a thriller will find political manoeuvring, betrayals, corruption, violence, ambition and people willing to sacrifice almost anything to retain power. Those elements are certainly there. What interested me most as a writer, however, was the question underneath the plot: who is considered fit to lead, who gets shut out, and what happens when someone refuses to accept those limitations?

Sam Martin described the novel as “fierce, authentic, unforgettable”. Abbie Headon called it “a powerful and action-packed story of love, courage, and endurance”. I am grateful to both of them for reading the book so generously.

I am equally grateful to all of you who have continued to read this blog over the years. Some of you have been here since the early days; I started blogging in 2012, and I have made thousands of friends all around the world. While others arrived more recently. Either way, thank you for staying with me. I’ll visit and read more of your articles whenever I can.

The Impossible President is published on Tuesday, 20 October, by Arrow Gate Publishing. If the questions raised here interest you, I hope you will read it and tell me what you think. If you’re interested in a PDF, a proof copy, or the paperback, please let me know. If you do read it, please leave a review when you can.

You can preorder here: Arrow Gate Stores, Amazon UK, Waterstones, Bookshop.org and wherever books are sold.

Stay safe wherever you are in the world, and much love, always! 🙂

Travel Diary: From Nigeria with Love

Jun13

Recently, I went to Nigeria for a much-needed break, and I am not really an adventurer; I am a reluctant traveller. I find excuses not to travel, and one of the major reasons is that I have lived in a sterile, clean environment for years. Mainly because of several health issues I’ve had in the past. I pick up infections easily, so I am very careful where I sleep. Last year summer, my family and I went to Scotland, and we had a blast, and I was keen to replicate that experience.

However, the trip to Nigeria was a solo one, and the luxury and opulence of the hotel I stayed in blew me away. I stayed in Abuja, at the No. 1 Hotel Abuja. Abuja is the federal capital of Nigeria. The address is Plot 499-500, Gaborone Street, Wuse Zone 2, FCT, Abuja, Nigeria. You can phone these lines at +234 903 504 4444, +234 905 880 0700 or email info@no1hotel.com.ng if you want to book directly.

The staff were professional, well-trained and courteous. The room I stayed in was the Royal Luxury Suite. The hotel was draped in luxury. From the bed to the curtains and the furnishings, it is indeed a luxurious boutique hotel. Also, I’m not too fond of hot weather. My room was 16 degrees, and I loved it!

If you’re ever in Nigeria, and need a cool, luxurious place to stay, don’t hesitate to visit No. 1 Hotel Abuja. There’s also a shuttle service from the airport to the hotel, just ask before you book and it would be taken care of. The front desk is open 24 hours, and you can book directly on their website, booking.com etc. Below are some of the images culled from their website.

This was the Royal Luxury Suite with a king-size bed, 65-inch TV, and air conditioning with separate dining and sitting areas.

The staff are lovely and nice, I took this picture myself! 🙂

A view of the reception area.

I enjoyed my three-day stay at No 1 Hotel Abuja and would definitely be staying there next time I’m in Nigeria. Travelling isn’t so bad, and I think I’ll be doing this more often now. My stay in the Royal Luxury Suite, with its luxurious amenities and attention to detail, was a comforting and enjoyable experience I won’t forget in a hurry.