In an exclusive interview with Akeem Alao, award-winning poet Olúwabùkọ́lá Àtàndá Habeebullahi, popularly known as Bukola Atanda, reflects on his recent win at the 2025 Àtẹ́lẹwọ́ Prize for Yorùbá Literature.
His manuscript, Oríloníṣe, a richly woven collection of Yorùbá poetry, clinched the coveted N1 million prize, shining a spotlight on the power and potential of indigenous-language literature.
Founded five years ago, the Àtẹ́lẹwọ́ Prize celebrates creativity in the Yorùbá language and has become a key platform for showcasing cultural and linguistic excellence.
In this engaging conversation, Atanda delves into his inspiration, challenges and his vision for Yorùbá literature’s future.
Congratulations on your victory at the 2025 Àtẹ́lẹwọ́ Prize! What inspired Oríloníṣe?
Thank you very much. Oríloníṣe is a collection of poems (ewì) inspired by real-life situations and daily encounters. Everything around me at the time shaped the themes I explored in the book—personal experiences, societal issues, and the complexities of human life.
What does winning this prize mean to you personally and professionally?
Honestly, it means a lot. I didn’t see it coming, but alhamdulillah, I’m deeply grateful to have emerged as the winner. It’s both a personal affirmation and a professional boost that encourages me to keep writing in my native language.
Yorùbá literature doesn’t always get the visibility it deserves. Why did you decide to submit a full-length manuscript in Yorùbá?
I’m primarily a Yorùbá poet. Though I also write in English, I find myself more at home with Ewì Àpìlẹ̀kọ—traditional Yorùbá poetry. So, writing in Yorùbá wasn’t unusual for me; it’s what I love and where I feel most expressive.
How does writing in Yorùbá shape your poetic voice and creativity?
The Yorùbá language is incredibly rich. Its proverbs, idioms, and rhythm make it easier and more expressive for me to convey emotions and ideas. It offers a poetic texture that’s difficult to replicate in other languages.
Many African writers struggle between using colonial languages and their mother tongues. How do you navigate that?
For me, there’s no struggle. My love for Yorùbá eliminates any tension. Writers like Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o inspire me—he champions writing in native languages, and I want to do the same to help preserve our culture.
What more do you think should be done to preserve indigenous languages like Yorùbá?
We need more educational and cultural initiatives. For instance, programs like Masoyibo—where people are tested on their Yorùbá knowledge—should be supported by the government. Expanding such platforms will go a long way in promoting our language and heritage.
Tell us about the major themes explored in Oríloníṣe.
The manuscript is meant to showcase the beauty of the Yorùbá language while also teaching life lessons. For example, the poem Oríloníṣe explores the spiritual and symbolic role of the human head. Another poem, Aràmbàdá, reflects on the reality that good plans often fail without financial means.
What challenges did you face while writing Oríloníṣe?
One major challenge was sourcing accurate cultural information. Some elders weren’t willing to share their knowledge, and I had to dig deep to ensure the authenticity of my content. But thank God, the effort paid off.
What’s next for you as a writer? Should we expect more Yorùbá works?
Absolutely. I plan to explore other genres too—like prose and drama—but my love for Yorùbá remains. I’ll keep writing and encourage others to do the same. The future is bright for indigenous-language writers.
Any final advice for young writers, especially those working in indigenous languages?
Keep going. Don’t give up on what you’re doing. The world may not see it now, but the future is waiting for you.
