As the Akada Children’s Book Festival (ACBF) returns for its eighth edition, its mission has become increasingly urgent: to ensure that African children grow up reflecting in the stories they read. Founded by renowned children’s author and literacy advocate, OlubunmiAboderin Talabi, the festival has evolved into Nigeria and arguably Africa’s largest children’s literary gathering and a powerful cultural movement championing indigenous storytelling, literacy and identity formation.
In this interview, Talabi reflects on the psychology of representation, the launch of the new Akada Reading Ambassador Programme, the battle for children’s attention in a digital world, and why building a lasting reading culture must begin at home. Sunday Okobi brings the excerpt.
You’ve been a passionate advocate for creating books that let African children see themselves. Why is it so crucial for a child’s psychological and social development to read a story about a ‘Tobi’ or ‘Amaka’ in Lagos, rather than just stories about snow, castles, and foreign cities?
Culturally relevant stories are vital for self-esteem, self-awareness and self-identity. And this can begin as early as picture books and board books. You can start instilling a sense of cultural belonging from the very beginning.
If you grow up in Nigeria, for example, ‘A’ really should be “A is for Àmàlà” or “A is for Àgbálùmọ́”, something the child can easily relate to. “A is for Apple” is perfectly fine, but the child is far more likely to know what àmàlà is, if you catch my drift.
The same applies to names. We have our own names, Nkechi, Suleiman and Olubunmi. If the books our children read continually feature names exclusively from foreign cultures, they may begin to subconsciously internalise the idea that those cultures are superior to their own.
Publishing and buying culturally appropriate books are a vote for our heritage, our food, our music, and our names. Our stories carry just as much credibility and validity as those from any other nation. Other countries are exceptionally good at telling their own stories; we must become equally skilled at telling ours.
The Nigerian Communications Commission recently noted that some children clock up to 10 hours of screen time daily. Is reading truly a dying art, or is it just facing unfair competition from social media and video games?
Reading, as simple as it seems, is something that helps the brain grow. It’s like exercising the brain, installing software in the brain. That’s what you do when you read. So, I hope it’s not a dying art.
The people I meet, particularly the young people I meet because I’m a children’s author, are very interested in books. They keep asking me when my next book is coming out. I think people recognise that reading improves vocabulary, communication skills and self-confidence, and helps you become a more knowledgeable conversationalist. You read for all those reasons. You can read to relax. You read to keep your brain cells active.
So, from my perspective, reading is not a dying art, though yes, it is facing a lot of competition from social media and video games. Those things can also have benefits, even if that’s not always a popular stance. There are things you can learn from video games and similar forms of entertainment. However, I believe everything has a time and a place, and we have to be careful not to lose the practical benefits of skills like reading simply because they may not seem as flashy as video gaming or scrolling through social media for constant dopamine hits.
You recently launched the inaugural Akada Children’s NBook Festival Reading Ambassador Programme, inducting young “Reading Captains” to spark a reading revival in their schools. What was the strategic thinking behind this initiative?
The Reading Ambassador Programme was designed to shift reading from a solitary task into a community-led movement. We asked schools to nominate exceptional students who demonstrate a genuine passion for books and clear leadership potential. These ambassadors are sashed as “Reading Captains” to inspire their peers to embrace the joy of reading aloud together.
We launched this with a 3-Week Reading Marathon. Psychologists say if you do something consistently for 21 days, it becomes a habit. By tracking points for reading books by indigenous authors, writing summaries, and hosting peer reading circles, we are gamifying literacy.
Our goal is that long after the competitive element ends, the habit remains. The ambassador who tops the leaderboards will be crowned our “Verified Bookworm” on the ACBF Main Stage on May 23. Ultimately, we are empowering children to become the evangelists of their own literary revival. Peer influence is a powerful tool. When children see their classmates celebrating books, reading suddenly becomes the cool thing to do.
In many Nigerian households, reading is strictly associated with passing examinations. Children are often scolded with, “Drop that novel and go read your textbook.” How is this paradigm inadvertently killing the culture of reading for pleasure?
This is a very interesting question. Yes, in our culture, reading is strongly associated with passing examinations, academic textbooks and the like. We honestly need to do more to appreciate reading for pleasure as a concept in its own right.
I was recently reading about a policy in Norway. There is actually a national policy focused on enhancing reading enjoyment. They want people to genuinely enjoy reading, and they are treating it as a policy matter. It makes you wonder, why would a country do that? It’s because they understand the benefits of having a population that is well-read, active and consistent in its reading habits. It began as a programme for children but has since been extended to adults because the benefits are clear for everyone.
So yes, reading is far more than reading to pass exams. In our culture, we promote and insist on academically rigorous reading, but we also need to make room for things like bedtime stories. Some may say bedtime stories have nothing to do with our culture, but I beg to differ. We used to have griots, oral storytellers, and the “tales by moonlight” tradition, where stories were shared before people went to sleep. That was our own version of bedtime stories.
Bedtime stories are not only good for parent-child bonding, they also help young children develop vocabulary, improve communication and create opportunities for children to share what they’re thinking and experiencing. They are wonderful conversation starters.
And for adults, reading is a genuine tool for relaxation. Reading for pleasure is a habit that needs to be instilled from childhood so that as the child grows, reading continues naturally as part of who they are.
You founded the Akada Children’s Book Festival, which is heading into its 8th edition this May. When you bring thousands of children, parents and indigenous authors into one space, what shift do you observe in how these children interact with books?
We founded the Akada Children’s Book Festival in 2019 to solve two major problems: to give families access to incredible stories featuring protagonists who look, sound, eat, and live like them; and to give indigenous children’s book authors-many of whom are self-published-a direct distribution channel to their target audience.
As for the shift I’ve observed, I think the most remarkable change is in both the volume and quality of children’s books being published. In our first year, we had just eleven authors doing book readings. This year, more than 87 authors submitted their work for consideration, and we selected about 30 to be featured. Children’s publishing has grown in leaps and bounds.
Children are also becoming more discerning. They understand what quality looks like, and they are placing greater demands on authors to produce better work. There is now much more variety in terms of homegrown content, stories, illustrations and publishing created by indigenous storytellers.
Access has also improved tangibly. When we started, we had just one pop-up library. Now we have both a pop-up library and a quiet reading corner, essentially a library that appears for the day. It follows what I’d call a “live-in library” concept, adapting spaces and occasions into moments for reading. That culture, that habit, is being slowly but meaningfully developed.
What practical, everyday lifestyle changes can busy parents adopt to naturally integrate reading back into their family’s daily routine?
There are quite a few practical changes busy parents can make. For me, these would be the key ones:
Let your children see you read. Children model what they observe.
Be deliberate about having reading time. Schedule it if you have to.
Allow them to read even at the dinner table. Reading doesn’t always need to be confined to a desk. Read from a physical, printed book, not from a screen.
Create reading corners in your home. A bookshelf, a comfortable chair and good lighting can go a long way, even if you cannot dedicate an entire room to it.
Take them to a public library as a family outing. Let them select their own books, teach them how libraries work and show them how to find what they’re looking for. You can even make it fun with a “treasure hunt” where they get a small reward for finding certain things.
Celebrate books and authors. Have a book-character dress-up day, mark World Book Day or hold your own family “Author of the Month” celebration. There are many creative ways to weave books into daily life.
Incorporate reading into everyday tasks. Ask them to read the shopping list, the ingredients on a box or the instructions when assembling a toy. Every moment of reading counts.
And finally, don’t automatically dismiss comic books or graphic novels. Many classic stories have been adapted into graphic novels, and the illustrations can actually help a child enter and understand a complex narrative more easily. Books tied to films or shows they already love can also be a wonderful entry point. The key is to discuss the book with your child. Read the same book they’re reading and use it as a starting point for conversation. That shared experience is often where the real love of reading begins.
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