PEOPLE OF THE TOWNSHIPS

Review by Deon-Simphiwe Skade



In the first read, O Bolaji's People of the Townships may trigger a sense of gloom and pessimism, despite the ‘witty’ and ‘cynical’ narration that carries the story. It may also lead one to severely vilify John Lefuo, the protagonist in this swift-moving ‘novella’ for being rather too harsh in his observations of the world he lives in. However, such a take on the events of this book may not be a wise move as many questions subsequently arise to caution against the folly of such conclusions.

I mention this having been cautioned by these troubling questions which set off feelings of empathy towards John for resorting to violence after having spoken about ‘morals’ and ‘values’ so comprehensively. This empathy is not to condone his actions but to sympathise with the irony of his life that he may have constructed with an aid of his fellow community members.

The contents of this book may also urge one to look at the real life situations, perhaps in an attempt to draw parallels against Bolaji’s plot. The result of indulging this urge may cause panic and alarm, simply due to certain behavioural similarities between the characters in this book and the people we are or may know of in various kinds. The ground thus becomes shaky because the lines between fiction and reality become more blurred. As a result, the notion from the cynics of literature that fictional worlds are inaccurate and exaggerated falls by the wayside for those still undecided about the role of literary works. Like music, this fictional work seems to reflect part of our reality, the real world of people of flesh and blood with their ‘morals’ or ‘lack of’. The issue of ‘morals’ then become an even more delicate subject because different worlds exist.

In John’s world, ‘anarchy’ seems to be brewing steadily, fermenting with each encounter he has with his fellow community members as he relates his story. He seems to be upholding ‘morals’ and ‘values’. Even though he doesn’t enforce them, he advocates for them strongly through his narratives. It’s a pity that he ends up committing murder. Some readers may want to chastise him for this action, but this may not help much. In fact, John’s action may call for a much broader and deeper look into understanding what may have led him to the fateful action.

For the fear of turning out to be like John, who may have thought of himself as a citizen of ‘high moral standing’, allow me to henceforth use my words cautiously in examining the subject matter of this book. In fact, allow me to use questions and hypotheses in looking at the many unfolding tragedies in this work. It may be obvious for those who have read the book that John saw himself in a certain light, perhaps as a ‘model citizen’, while others were not of ‘good conduct’. I think I need to tread carefully myself, lest I pass these hypotheses as factual findings.

This of course, is to say that I may also have played a part in creating another John somewhere in my own community through my conduct. Perhaps readers of this book should attempt to assume a role of an anthropologist in order to fully address the extent of socio-cultural phenomena existent in the plot, by being participant observers in producing text for analysis. Therefore, my focus will not be on language and related structural matters, but the lament in this book that resonates with some of the places I’ve been to. I believe this type of approach may help us in fully comprehending the success and power that Bolaji presented this work with.

John is a man whose fellow community members may never understand. What he thought of them and of himself (self concept) may have very well been the root of his and others’ ‘problems’. This is a man who appeared to have made efforts of note in creating the self concept that he thought was ideal for him to exist in the midst of such ‘trying’ circumstances.

In spite of the challenges he faced, he managed to elevate himself to a position he found comfortable enough not to be swallowed by the darkness of his community. His eloquence and philosophy seem to have helped him have a sense of who he was, and may have whisked him away from the ills of his community into a world of his own. And because this happened, he may have subsequently been isolated into malicious thoughts. This man never saw himself as part of the soil which holds all the stories that he related and analysed with much detail. Perhaps this is what lead him to the atrocious act of murder in the first place, having boxed his fellow township dwellers into cartons of ‘drunkards’, ‘prostitutes’, ‘philanderers’ and ‘gossip mongers’ among others.

Perhaps there’s a subtle and simplistic literary vice that Bolaji uses to fix messages in his book into a position that would challenge our views of our very world. Indeed! This may also call for a probe into the benchmark that John used as a compass for his ‘moral conduct’. Perhaps this may be one of the keys we may unlock the innuendos behind John's tragedy, which may have started when he saw himself in the light that led him to carry on the way he did.

“I do not give a fig leaf about all the criticism, the snide comments, and the vilifications. I am not a criminal. I have not killed anybody, nor robbed anybody,” John says in the prologue of the book, seemingly pleased with the way he had turned out to be.

What seems to perpetuate this concept of the self is also how others react to him:
“Being more or less illiterate, it irritates my sisters so much to see me reading regularly and trying to broaden my mind. ‘He should be out and earning his keep,’ they say disingenuously. Actually I know that their main grouse against me, the fact that I am painfully poor, not able to give them money,” he says of his sisters’ impressions of him. This in itself begs for a critical look into the concept of identity, which together with other aspects of this ‘troubled’ life seem to have bred a conflict of such a high order in John, may help us understand the full extent of the social conditions of the characters in the People of the Townships.

Perhaps then, we may cease to look at John as an isolated ‘maniac’ of some form. Perhaps this may also help us come to terms with the many worlds we live in, particularly the one for the youth who are tasked with a big responsibility of steering the future of our world into a wiser and safer environment in the midst of many prevailing problems they face.

The late Nat Nakasa articulated this responsibility carried by young people quite clearly in his 1964 article; ‘Afrikaaner youth get a raw deal’, even though the circumstances that necessitated his thoughts were relevant to the socio-political state of South Africa then:

“Nobody, it seems, believes that the country can stay as it is. In the circumstances, one would expect the younger people of South Africa to be in the intellectual ferment. One would expect the students of Pretoria and Wits, of Fort Hare, Stellenbosch and the University of Cape Town to be asking bold and vital questions (as indeed many of them were until recently). But now there is little of this. We can hardly speak of South African youth, for there is nothing to distinguish young South Africa from the mass of the republic’s population, There are no trends which can be said to represent an advance on the thinking of our older generations,” Nat wrote thoughtfully, addressing the problem of his time.

The statement above could not have been more appropriate to the current conditions despite being expressed many years ago. But again, these are hypotheses and presumptions brought by the many messages hidden between the pages of People of the Townships.

Before we start condemning John for his supposed ‘insanity’ and sense of ‘despair’, perhaps we should ponder about the responsibilities we all carry in our own many worlds. Hypotheses or not, John’s ‘condition’ may call for a collective culpability.