HUNDREDS were at London's Queen Elizabeth Hall (QEH) for the final event in the Africa 05 literature series, featuring Chinua Achebe. He was in conversation with novelist Caryl Phillips - considering the dialogue between writers in Africa and those in the African diaspora; moderating was Lyn Innes, a professor of literature. Born on the Caribbean island of St. Kitts, Caryl Phillips was brought to Leeds, England, at age four months. "He may well be known as Mr Diaspora himself," quipped Innes, who described Phillips as the ideal person for a discussion with Africa's foremost novelist.

Phillips spoke of the "vexed relationship" between the African writer and those in the African diaspora, recalling that two African students in 1930s Europe, Leopold Sedar Senghor and AimZ CZsaire, were concerned with the same. In a Paris cafZ, they mounted a "stern questioning of French colonial rule." According to Phillips, they "were concerned that their works only received validation when seen through European eyes; this may be fine for some writers, but not these two." Both returned to their respective countries - CZsaire to his native Martinique and Senghor to Senegal - but were in Paris in 1956 for the first Conference of Negro-African Writers and Artists.

The writer James Baldwin, on exile in Paris, reported on the conference for the magazine, The Encounter. He chronicled the debates on negritude and the unease between African Americans and other people of colour; the five-man delegate from Black America, including the writer Richard Wright, felt isolated - especially after WEB Dubois wrote to say he was denied a visa to attend the conference.

Caryl Phillips observed that, almost 50 years after that conference, migration continues apace - with the United States as the number one destination, largely due to the economic pull. "Negritude might have been replaced with what someone once called American Migritude." How then does one have a conversation between the African writer and those in the diaspora involving the African American? That done, "what should we talk about, beyond the banalities about colour?" Such a discussion requires one to look at the nature of America, Phillips indicated. "Then explain the presence of Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice in the Republican Government." Ultimately, what is needed, is a consensus on power. James Baldwin, ever forward thinking, had titled his essay: 'Princes and Powers'.

Achebe recalled a television discussion he had seen weeks before, between upper middle class white women - on Hurricane Katrina's devastation of Louisiana. One of them asked: "But why is it that whenever you look at the South of America, or Haiti, or Africa - poverty seems to attach itself to black people?" Someone quickly waved the question away, saying poverty is a question of class. "People don't like talking about race," observed Achebe. But he insisted that the lady's question is a real one - one that has tasked many including CLR James, Marcus Garvey and Dubois: "Why are we always at the end of queue?"

In Achebe's view, the problem with the lady's question is that it makes one look at the issue in a misleading way. "People say there are no wrong questions, only wrong answers; that is wrong." As for the question: "does it mean that black means poor?" People in Haiti, Louisiana and Africa - though black - have only one connection. "The only connection is slavery," Achebe declared, stressing that the continuing effects of slavery must be understood.

"I'll tell you a story," the storyteller offered, and we listened. In his novel, Arrow of God, "I put in a character - just for the fun of it." The character, a Director of Education, was from the Caribbean. He was based on a real person whose story the novelist heard from his people growing up; "the Igbo characters (in the novel) called him a black man who was greater than a white man." Two years after the book's publication, a headmaster wrote from the West Indies to say: "Thank you for what you wrote about my father." The correspondent's name was Chukwuemeka; he was born in Igboland. Achebe's aged mother remembered Chukwuemeka as a young boy. In fiction and in reality, the story commemorated the West Indians who served as missionaries and ran the colonial administration, because West Africa was inhospitable to Europeans. But with the advance of medical science, whites discovered that they would no longer die of malaria, and West Indians were sent back to the Caribbean.

Like Phillips, Achebe paid tribute to the "questioning" James Baldwin, who spoke about 'the African Conundrum', and never allowed himself to be fooled by anybody - even Africans. Reminiscing, Achebe told us: "In those days, if you wrote just one book, you became very famous." The publication of Things Fall Apart brought fame, and the opportunity to travel. In the US for the first time, he wanted to meet Baldwin, then on exile in Paris. He was available some years later, and the African Literature Organisation invited both writers to have a conversation.

Looking around the QEH, Achebe recalled that the venue of his meeting with Baldwin was "packed, like this one." He told his African American counterpart, that he had wanted to greet him with the words: "Mr Baldwin, I presume?" Baldwin laughed. "The laughter", we were told, was another special thing about Baldwin, who then said: "This is a brother I have not seen in 400 years." According to Achebe, the audience exploded, then - glancing at us (QEH audience), he added - "as you very nearly did." We laughed, and 'exploded' a little. We, and that audience of long ago, very nearly missed what Baldwin said next: "It was never intended that we should meet."

Baldwin's statement "was like pouring cold water" on the proceedings, and in Achebe's words, reinforces the fact that: "We need to remember that we are one." Whether in Louisiana, Haiti or Africa, blacks are fighting the same battle - against inequality. Therefore, "black people need to be aware of power. We need to talk together in order to form a powerful base." For Achebe and Caryl Phillips, it is a question of power.

Commenting on negritude, and whether CZsaire's position was more flexible than Senghor's, Achebe felt that, in later years, the latter had begun to move away from the rigid stance. "I'll tell you another story" - and we listened. He once went to Senghor "for something far removed from literature," bearing a letter from the Biafran Government on the looming Nigerian Civil War. The war errand done, they spent two hours talking about literature. The Senegalese President informed that his education minister had tabled a proposal to stop the teaching of French texts in schools, to which Achebe replied: "That would be too much negritude!"

For Achebe himself, negritude is a historical event that is good for discussion. "I'm far more pragmatic than many of my friends," he said. "I say: at a time, it allowed people to talk." Caryl Phillips added that negritude produced great literature, reminding that it made possible the questioning of CZsaire, and others including Fanon.

So what was so special about Baldwin? Achebe met Ralph Ellison on his first visit to the United States. The author of Invisible Man invited the Nigerian writer to his "pokey little office" in what is now Rutgers University, but was very guarded. "He had this look like I wanted to kidnap him," Achebe recalled, "he told me: 'I'm as much a jazz man as a symphony man'." Ellison kept repeating that though a part of him was African, he was also American, something which Achebe readily accepted - especially in the US where people are allowed to choose what percentage of black or white blood flows in their veins. As for the meeting, "Nothing happened, let's just put it that way. There was no reason to want to meet (Ellison) again." James Baldwin however, was "different."

Baldwin was the first writer Caryl Phillips ever met. In addition to the laughter, Baldwin had "a unique combination of generosity of spirit and fearlessness. As a young writer in the 80s, I wanted to slipstream some of that fearlessness." Pan Africanism in the context of the African Diaspora, also came up for discussion. Achebe acknowledged that the impetus for the ideology that inspired the likes of Nkrumah and Nyerere, firing the liberation struggles - came from the Diaspora. In turn, independent Africa was supposed to inspire the struggle of the blacks in America. "Unfortunately, the Cold War was not fought in Europe or America; it was fought in Africa, and that killed off the movement," Achebe said.

Questions were taken from the audience. Asked why the Americans voted George W Bush back into the White House, Phillips could not say for sure. But he is aware of a movement in the Democratic Party to pair Hillary Clinton with Barack Obama for the next Presidential elections; something that "will raise interesting questions about gender and race."

Someone asked about Achebe's collection of poetry; can he achieve something in poetry that is not possible in fiction? "Yes, that's why I did it," came the answer. He explained that the bulk of the poetry - "and when I say 'bulk', you mustn't think it was huge" - came out of his experience of the Biafran War. "My literary life has been devoted to the notion of dialogue between languages and genres." Therefore, poetry fulfils a certain need and he follows that feeling, hoping he's right.

We last glimpsed Chinua Achebe on the stage. Helen Oyeyemi, Abdulrazak Gurnah, Caine winner Brian Chikwava, and Ken Wiwa Jnr - were some of the writers mingling in the QEH foyer crowd afterwards. Linton Kwesi Johnson dashed to the bar to get a drink for Caryl Phillips who was being congratulated all round. 2005 Caine Winner, Segun Afolabi, could be seen making a quiet exit. Tonight, all were lesser stars in the shadow of Achebe - and they were happy being so.

Laralara8@hotmail.com; Sundayreports@yahoo.com