How The Best Stories Use Conflict
We should all have enemies: Ideas on antagonists and conflict in art.
I wasn't watching Big Brother Naija when Tacha and Mercy had a physical fight. I remember reading about it on Twitter as fans took up arms, even several months after the show ended. It was fascinating to see people run wild over the housemate they stanned.
The 6th edition of the show is currently airing, and I’m half-watching it. This is the first Big Brother I’ve paid attention to since 2010 when I watched Big Brother Africa season three with my family (we stopped watching abruptly, possibly after one of my parents had an epiphany that it was ungodly.)
A few weeks before Big Brother Naija started, I watched a conversation with Peace Itimi where Fu'ad said, ‘You know where Nigerians see their authentic selves? Big Brother.’ It’s true; we see the characters as friends; we know them intimately and live vicariously through them. We pick characters who closely reflect our beliefs or an ideal version of ourselves and stan them.
The most successful stories follow this pattern. Because we can see the characters’ thoughts, dreams, and desires, we conveniently wear their shoes. These stories show us humanity in rawness (without filter and gloss).
At the beginning of this year’s Big Brother Naija, Biggie announced two wildcards in the house. The housemates were supposed to guess the wildcards correctly. After Arin, one of the housemates — with certainty — told everyone her guesses and got it wrong, she ‘bullied’ for lack of a softer word, Beatrice, another housemate who had been pretending to be the wildcard. It was disturbing, not just because Beatrice did not deserve it, but because I’d been both Arin and Beatrice in different lifetimes and understood the feelings. I haven’t, however, been able to ‘cancel’ Arin, the way I might have another housemate who I absolutely cannot stand.
I’ve keenly followed comments on the show on social media, randomly typing a housemate's name or searching a hashtag, especially curious about stan culture and how viewers observe the housemates. A few things piqued my interest: viewers excuse the behavior of housemates they adore (see anecdote above). They also claim that the show was boring until a significant fight (replace with conflict) occurred in the house.
Conflict across storytelling occurs when the protagonist battles with external or internal forces, not necessarily a physical fight. In Pemi Aguda's ‘Manifest,’ a young woman might be possessed by her grandmother's spirit or is becoming her grandmother. Any of these could be true. Her mother suspects it. I like to say that I believe in reincarnation and have written several short stories across Yoruba beliefs on it. In ‘Manifest,’ the protagonist acts out the things she thinks; she strangles her friend's dog, stuffs tissue paper in a water closet and flushes it, and in an ultimate act, runs over a man close to Fela’s shrine.
‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?’
Jeremiah 17:9
It’s convenient to say that her evil grandmother had possessed her, but what if we look at this slightly differently: she dares to do things we think about but cannot do. Have you ever had thought (even for a second): ‘What if I just did this annoying, horrible or wicked thing and ran away?’ Maybe, maybe not. The protagonist in Pemi’s story could not help herself. She wanted to be fixed. And yet, she couldn’t overcome it. You might call it ‘self-sabotage.’
Stories are made of different kinds of antagonists. In Ayinla, the movie about the Apala musician, Ayinla Omowura, Ayinla appears before the king with his rival, a fellow musician, to settle a musical feud causing havoc in town. I’d at first thought the movie’s conflict would revolve around this rivalry. It was probable: during his lifetime, Ayinla had several spats with Haruna Ishola, Ayinde Barrister, Fatai Olowonyo, Yesufu Olatunji, and Dauda Epo Akara. As the plot grew, it seemed less likely.
Having a rival is common for most creatives. In pop culture, they're called the bad guy or ‘hater.’ Roxane Gay writes of her nemesis on her social media. There’s Osupa and Pasuma, Tyra Banks and Naomi Campbell, etc. History is littered with famous rivalries like these. The rival is the enemy in the religious fanatic’s prayer: ‘every enemy of my soul, die by fire.’ And if you’re in a polygamous relationship, your nemesis is the second wife. In literature classes, they’re called antagonists.
I did not know much about Ayinla Omowura before seeing the film, but I knew that he died and that his death affected so many people. So as I watched, I waited for his antagonist to show up, for some sort of conflict to arise and stop him from going to London for this concert they’d been planning — the part of his life on which the film is hinged.
Every story has a typical framework: the character wants something (desire) or is faced with a new challenge. His challenges typically come with having a nemesis (antagonist). The antagonist doesn't necessarily have to be evil or be human. In fact, in a good romantic story, long distance can be an antagonist. It was while watching Ayinla, it clicked that the protagonist can be the antagonist.
When I ask Fu'ad, ‘What do you know about Ayinla?’ he says he was an alagidi. Most adults around when he was alive and familiar with his music also speak of his temper.
There are several theories about the circumstances of his death. It’s primarily agreed that his manager killed him (smashed a bottle on his head). In one version of the event, Ayinla disagreed with his manager. Afterward, Ayinla wanted to retrieve a motorcycle he’d given him. He traced him to a bar where they argued, and the manager smashed a beet glass on his head.
In a second version, Ayinla had found out that his manager was stealing from him. He summoned him before the court, but he didn’t come. He later accidentally stumbled into him at a bar and immediately asked someone to call a police officer. The bar became tense, and although the manager pleaded with Ayinla, he still wanted to escape. In trying to escape, they had a physical fight. Ayinla died.
In yet a third story, there’s a charm ‘ring’ involved.
Whether their fight was over a woman or a motorcycle or fraud is unclear. The film, however, goes the woman route. Ayinla goes after a woman that his manager was dating. There are more theories that Ayinla predicted his death to his band in the same way that Jesus Christ said one of his disciples would betray him. Cue in the famous TikTok sound, ‘Is it me, Jesus?’
Ayinla’s stubbornness and temper is the common theme in these stories.
‘Critics also locate the incident of his death in his perceived over-indulgence with violence and belief in the rescue potential of the talisman.’
Adedayo, PhD
It’s what makes him covet his brother’s wife or start a brawl at the bar. It’s one reason the storyline is successful. The creators were deliberate about showing his temper, revealing the way his temper takes over his existing artistic feuds, building it up to set the pace for his ultimate death.
Like Big Brother Naija housemates — and other celebrities — Ayinla had a solid fan base (a cult following!) who were heartbroken by his death, often claiming that he’d come back to life, and were happy to see his manager punished.
A good story, I’ve said several times (a fact I only learned in the past year), is one that allows you to ask and respond to the question: what happens next? After watching the movie, I was heartbroken as though I’d known him and severely introspective: If Ayinla was alive, would apala music be a lot more popular? And other questions. It’s been almost a month since I watched it, yet I randomly think of him, of his impactful short life and ordinary death.
Good antagonists fuel your story as much as a good protagonist will. When your story heavily relies on reality, i.e., it’s not speculative, it’s always good to go all-in by creating authentic characters that mirror ordinary people. Ayinla could have been all temper and no kindness or enjoyment, but that would’ve made him an unlikeable protagonist-antagonist. Similarly, in ‘Manifest,’ Pemi could have created a character who reeled in her evil with no inclination to discover what had taken over her. Generally, humans are not completely good or bad. The same way an unscripted show like Big Brother can’t be set up for fights and no peace. Ultimately.
As readers and viewers, we live for the balance, for reminders that we’re neither completely bad nor good, or that we’re not faulty or perfect, and that there are many others like us.
Side note: Even with our love for authenticity in art, ‘unrealistic’ stories play a role, whether it’s in romcoms or superhero films, and I’ll be writing about this soon.
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That's all, friend. I wrote this newsletter on a bus from Bournemouth to Norwich (although I started a few days ago). I’m glad I can do anything I can to be consistent — barring all the errors here and there! Please share, like, comment! Thank you and see you next week.