Black African Literature

Pule Lechesa's "Essays on Free State Black Literature"

2012-01-28T01:40:00.000-08:00

Reviews and criticism of this new work are very much welcome

TEBOGO AND THE BACCHAE

2012-01-19T02:03:00.000-08:00

...Literary echoes in Bolaji’s Tebogo and the Bacchae

By Paul Lothane

In previous books published by Omoseye Bolaji, there are echoes of Shakespeare, Jules Verne (Around the world in 80 days), George Elliot (Mill on the floss), Chinua Achebe, Charles Dickens, and many others.

In this new work, Tebogo and the Bacchae, we are introduced to Biggie again (who featured in Tebogo and the epithalamion); the same Biggie “who studied literature”. Of course, previous works had shown Tebogo himself had more than a passing interest in Literature too, but Biggie is “In a different league”.

In Tebogo and the Bacchae Tebogo himself muses over the character of a woman who seemed to wreak havoc on men who loved her:

Tebogo found himself thinking of a book, The concubine (by Elechi Amadi). The female protagonist of the book, Ihuoma, seemed to bring great suffering to her suitors. But that was fiction of course!

At the park later on in the book, Biggie is prodded to deliver a short “lecture” on African literature:

“Tell me, Biggie,” (Tebogo) said, “is there anything like African Black Literature? Over the decades…”

Biggie pondered. “Of course,” he replied. “Tentatively, some pundits might ask: can we dub writings in foreign language like French, English, Spanish, Portuguese, African literature? Then we realize that if African writers decide to write in their mother tongues, the fact is we’ll be limiting and fragmentizing; balkanizing ourselves. The fact is Africa has thousands of indigenous languages. How do we read our best writers if they only wrote in their mother tongues? Imagine never being able to read Achebe’s fiction if they were published only in Igbo? Or if Eskia’s books were written in Tswana? How could he be read around the world? Ngugi from East Africa, famously, decided he would only be writing in his Kikuyu language. Then of course, he and an army of others would now translate these books into English and other western languages for the world to read!

“African Black literature? It is – simplistically – the type of writing we Africans can always identify with, despite essentially small differences in culture, mores, traditions. Our black writers come from dozens of African countries yet we feel like we understand virtually every society. The African village life, depicted by the likes of Achebe, Elechi Amadi (both Nigerians) Bessie Head (South Africa and Gabon) Kofi Awoonor (Ghana), Camara Laye (Guinea) Ngugi (Kenya) Dangarembga (Zimbabwe), Zakes Mda (RSA) etc…we understand it all. The influence – I almost said ravages – of western culture on African life. The white man’s school. The religion he brought. Modern amenities. The conflicts resulting from all this. The subtle, some will say, insidious inculcation of the white man’s culture. Internet. Facebook has changed the world. We see our youngsters now obsessed with it, always on facebook. Internationally in the conservative, Arab world facebook recently played a key role in fomenting revolutions in countries like Egypt, Tunisia, Libya…”

Biggie noticed that Tebogo’s attention seemed to be tailing off...

Of course in this new work, Biggie is also the one who draws parallels between the classical Bacchae, and what happens in Khayachow town: with two hapless protagonists ripped apart.

This work, like the last three adventures, was published by Eselby Jnr Publications. This is an impressive addition to the Tebogo Mokoena Mystery series, with an attractive lay-out by Godmore Jnr Mofokeng

A LESSON BY LIFE By Teboho Masakala

2012-01-17T22:39:00.000-08:00

A LESSON BY LIFE

By TEBOHO MASAKALA

HARRY was in hospital, he was coughing, he was crying and he was sick, very sick and not a second would pass without Harry not coughing or feeling pain, Harry cried every time he trenchantly thought of his family.

He remembered how blessed he was, he once had a wife, children, cars and a beautiful house he was proud of, he was even a church goer but all of that was gone and he had nothing and had lost everything he had; mostly he missed his wife who had left him years ago, Harry sat on the hospital bed and remembered the good life he once had, he remembered how it all started.

Harry was at home with his wife Mary and for a long time he looked for a job and could not find it and he was really worried because his wife and kids were struggling to make ends meet. This bothered him because he loved his family, "I don't know how I am going to get a job, I went to all these places and for years now I have been struggling, what am I going to do?" said Harry, "don't worry my husband because you will soon find a job and I promise you we will live happily together me, you and the children" His wife Mary said, trying to comfort him. "But when?" asked Harry "just don't worry because GOD will provide a way for us" Mary said "OK, let’s hope that will one day happen" said Harry, they sat down and the children came and they ate their food and went to sleep.

Harry woke up the following day, he bathed and went to look for a job , he looked all day round without any success and as the day was ending he went back home to his family, "How was today, did you find anything today" asked Mary "no I did not find anything and I am still looking and I am beginning to lose hope," said Harry "don't worry you will get a job "GOD will provide a way for us" said Mary trying to comfort Harry not to lose hope and again Harry had some hope because of Mary and he bathed and went to bed.

"Harry!!! Harry!!! Harry!!! Wake up, wake up I have good news for you" shouted Mary waking up Harry 'what is it?" said Harry "look here in the newspaper they want people to work in the mines of silver city" said Mary "What? Really; and are you serious?” said Harry in excitement and amazement "yes and look how much they are paying and with that kind of money we can buy a nice house with it" said Mary. Harry jumped in excitement and hugged his wife "tomorrow I am going to silver city to look for that job" said Harry and for the whole day they were happy that there was soon going to be light at the end of the tunnel.

The following day Harry woke up early, bathed and after eating he called his two kids and told them he was going to look for a job in Silver city and they cried but he told them that he will be back in a short time and there were smiles on their faces "please Harry behave yourself, please, you know how Silver city is and many men who went there never came alive and some forget their families and marry and at the end they end up having ALZIMA and you know how dangerous ALZIMA is" said Mary with tears "I promise my love I will behave and no need to worry, you know I am faithful" said Harry and he left them. ALZIMA was one of the dangerous diseases, and someone who had it will have only few years to live and would die, it was so dangerous that even people ran away from you and even the person who had it had all these sicknesses because their body became weak every now and then, and Silver city was the place where most people had it"

Harry arrived at Silver city and looked for the job he saw in the newspaper and he finally got it and he had a job in the mines of Silver city and every month he sent money home to his wife and children and called his wife now and then. Soon after some few months working the mine company closed down for the Easter holiday and every man went to his family and Harry also went to his family for the Easter holidays.

Harry arrived in the morning at home and his wife and kids were happy. "Daddy, daddy is home" said his two kids and they hugged their father "hello my little girls" said Harry and he hugged his children "welcome back sir" said Mary and he hugged Harry and the family were together. With the money that Harry had saved they bought a house and they were happy, after Easter holidays Harry went back to work at Silver city.

Harry was a hard worker and soon he had enough money to buy even a car and his life and his families, life was better and his wife Mary was also happy because their sufferings had ended and they lived in a nice house and had a nice car. But soon Harry met a guy named Patric and they soon became friends "Harry my man, today is Saturday let’s go to a night club" said Patric" "no I can’t, I promised my wife I will behave" said Harry "forget her you are in Silver city now my man and you need to be a man" Patric again said "but my wife trusts me" "yes she trusts you but you are far from her and she wont know or see you, come let’s go to the night club, there are girls you can meet" said Patric "No I wont I love my wife" Harry replied

"Ha, ha, ha guys this guy is afraid of his wife" said Patric and other men laughed and made fun of Harry "OK I will go but only for today" said Harry "that’s my man" said Patric and Harry went to the night club, at the club they sat. Patric drank a lot "here have a sip Harry" Patric said "No I don’t drink" replied Harry "be a man and have only one drink" said Patric. "No man I told you I don't....." Harry replied but Patric interrupted him "OK what can I say; you are not man enough to be a man indeed" replied Patric teasing Harry "I am man enough" said Harry "If you are, then drink this beer" said Patric "let me show you" replied Harry taking the beer he drank the beer and his intention was to take only one but ended up drinking too much… he lost count of the bottles and when they left the night club he was very very drunk and even Patric had to carry him home.

Harry started going to night clubs every Saturday and drank a lot, "today is Saturday and you know it’s happening my friend," Patric said with a smile "Yes we are going" said Harry and they went to the club, Patric changed Harry, he no longer sent money home and he drank it with his friends and no longer cared about his children and wife. Harry even had a girlfriend and fooled around with her a lot, the same Harry who had been very faithful and loved his children and wife was gone because of Patric!

Harry came to the house he stayed at after work, and as he was about to open the door he found a letter from his wife and began reading it. "hi Harry please know that our child Lucie is sick and she has been sick for two weeks now and I have used the money I had to take her to hospital and now I have no money, please send some money home, love your wife Mary" "What? that woman is sick, she is not getting any money from me, she will not get anything from me" said Harry angrily. "What is it Harry and why you angry?" asked Patric "That woman who calls herself my wife wants money from me and she won’t get any" said Harry "don't give her anything and forget about her she is useless and don't even consider her, don't give her anything, you are a man now and don't listen to a woman" said Patric "Yes, you are right and by the way let’s go and have two beers because that woman has made me sick" said Harry and they went to the night club and drank.

Days and years went by without Harry going home or sending money home and he received lots and lots of letters from his wife Mary but he burned them. One evening when he was about to eat there was a knock at the door and he thought that it was Patric but when he opened the door to his surprise it was his wife Mary. "Hi Harry" said Mary 'hello" Harry said but he was angry and did not want to look at Mary. "Are you not happy to see me and please look at me" said Mary with a smile "what do you want?" said Harry "Harry I have sent you many letters telling you that our child Lucie is very sick and please give me money to take her to hospital" said Mary with tears in her eyes "What, are you sick, you want money from me? you won’t get anything from me" said Harry "but Harry your own child is sick and you wont take her to hospital? "said Mary in shock

"Woman I am a man now, and won’t listen to you, go back to where you came from and leave me alone" said an angry Harry "Harry, Harry, are you telling me its better for our child to die?" said Mary, crying "Yes it’s better if she dies than for you to want money from me, now get out of my place now go!" said Harry "You are chasing me away? Me, the mother of your child? Me your wife you are chasing me away?" Mary cried "I don’t have a wife or any children, leave me alone and go!" shouted Harry, kicking and hitting Mary. Poor Mary went back home crying and could not believe the man she called her husband was no longer the man she knew and loved; but was now a monster … she went home with tears and could not believe what Harry said.

Patric came one Saturday night to Harry, "let’s go and have some few cold beers my friend" Patric said smiling "Ok” Harry agreed, "your girlfriend Mandy will be there and you know that she is hot" Patric added. "Mandy is my girl and today i am going to be a man" said Harry with a smile and they went to the night club and at the night club as they were sitting and drinking beer Harry's girlfriend Mandy came and joined them 'come and sit here with me my love" Harry called Mandy "I am coming" said Mandy, "you are the man Harry" Patric who was very drunk said and after a few drinks Patric left and Harry was left with Mandy alone. "Baby you never showed me how much you love me" Mandy said "what do you mean?" Harry asked "I mean be a man and show me" Mandy replied, "not now I want to sleep” "or are you weak and not man enough for me," Mandy teased Harry, "I am man enough and I will show you," Harry said, "come let’s go to your place and show me" Mandy replied holding Harry and after a few seconds, Harry and Mandy went to the house of Harry and ended up making love. Harry made love to Mandy and that night Harry lost himself, he didn't know what’s going on with him; but he didn't care.

Harry started coughing when he was busy working but ignored it. Alas, for many subsequent days and years he kept coughing and losing weight. Even Patric noticed this "Harry what’s happening and why are you coughing now and then; are you sick?" "No I am not sick just having flu only" Harry replied "you need to see a doctor" Patric recommended "No I don't need a doctor, I am ok" Harry said angrily, but he tried to hide that he was sick and did not want to admit he was sick even though he was vomiting and losing weight. After some few months still Harry kept on losing weight inexorably; and he admitted to himself that he needed a doctor. Ultimately he decided to see a doctor and after work he went to the hospital in Silver city and after waiting in line for the doctor he got his chance "Come in sir" the doctor said. "Thank you" said Harry and after the doctor checked him he waited for two minutes and the doctor came with the results.

'Mr Harry, you can sit down again" Harry sat down "I have the results here with me” the doctor said, and Harry began to shake, "can I tell you them?" the doctor asked. "Yes you can go on" Harry replied. "Mr Harry Waterfield I am very sorry to tell this" the doctor hesitated to speak "Go on doctor tell me…" Harry said, shaking nevertheless. “Mr Harry Waterfield, I am very sorry to tell this and I am sorry to tell that you have the ALZIMA the disease and the ALZIMA sickness has been in your body for two years, I am very sorry" the doctor said. "No doctor,tell me you are playing," Harry shouted. "I am sorry I am serious sir” the doctor said and Harry stormed out of the hospital. For the whole day he shut himself in the house and did not go to work the following day; he started to remember his wife Mary but it was too late.

After Harry found out he had the ALZIMA disease he started to become very weak and he could not do his work properly. In the end he was fired at work and was again unemployed; one day as he was sitting in his house in Silver city he got a letter from his wife Mary and read it: "Harry by the time you read this letter i will be gone, Harry, know that Lucie has died and because you did not want to help and send money to help her, she has been dead for a year now and know that her blood is in your hands; and by the way, the house and cars were taken because we had too many debts and I sold the other one. Right now I am left with only our one and only left child Mercy and I don't want to tell you where I am bye bye Harry. The letter ended and struck his heart because he missed his wife and could not believe that his other child had died and it was now too late, because Mandy had left him when she found out that he had ALZIMA.

Patric came to visit him. "Harry my man," said Patric "my man!" Harry said but he was coughing and very weak. “Harry tell me what’s wrong? you lost weight and don't want to tell me, what’s wrong with you, please tell me" Patric asked. 'My friend I have the ALZIMA disease" Harry said crying, and in pain; but when Patric heard that he had the ALZIMA disease he got out of the house and left him alone, Harry, disconsolate and bitter, now had no one to look after him - he had no food, he was weak and most of all, he missed his wife but it was too late because he was alone and suffering and every now and then he remembered the words of his wife, Mary.
But the worst was not over. After many months, Harry was evicted from the house he rented in Silver city and had nowhere to go. He was crawling in the streets and could not walk because he was very weak and very thin, he slept on the ground. For three to four harrowing years he lived in the streets and ate from the dust bins;, he could never walk and sat alongside the street sleeping in the cold with no blanket.

One day when he was sitting in the streets coughing and weak, Patric saw him and felt sorry for him because he could not even do anything for himself and lived in the streets; and with compassion Patric took Harry and put him in his car and took him to the hospital where he left him, knowing the end was inevitable…

STERLING POETS AND WRITERS ATTEND THE ANC CENTENARY CELEBRATION

2012-01-17T02:14:00.000-08:00

(PHOTOS) Wally Serote, and Don Mattera

By Flaxman Qoopane

A large number of comrades, including internationally renowned poets and writers attended the ANC centenary celebration in Bloemfontein Free State, South Africa early this year.

I had the opportunity to meet Professor Keorapetse Kgositsile at the ANC Regional Office- Kaizer Sebothelo building. It was an exciting moment for me to see “Bra Willie” again after a number of years; some five years ago he was inaugurated at the National Poet Laureate during the South African Literary Awards (SALA) ceremony held in Bloemfontein on 8 December 2006.

Professor Kgositsile, along with Paul Mashatile, Minister of Arts and Culture attended the ANC poetry session held at Thomas Maphikela Square at Batho location, Mangaung on 7 January. Paul Mashatile paid tribute to Pixley Ka Isaka Seme, Maphikela and veritable wordsmith Sol Plaatjie, and other leaders who formed the ANC

Professor Kgositsile, the National Poet Laureate 2006 read a poem he wrote many years ago while he was in exile. The poem is titled: South Africa Salute Uzbekistan. An extract from the poem reads thus: “We shall dream yes and when history absolves us we celebrants, here we are celebrants, of our future, here we witness the step towards the wholeness”.

Acclaimed poet, Don Mattera read his poem dedicated to the ANC Centenary Celebration, to appreciative poetry lovers. During the poetry sessions, Hector Kunene, a young poet from Bloemfontein read a poem Mirriam Makeba, from a collection of poetry: They passed this way and touched our lives by Don Mattera.

An extract from the poem reads thus:

“We salute you fairest Afrikan Queen you, who wept against the indifferent moon, traversing the shore of strange lands standing attention to foreign flags alienated, tolerated nomad of the struggle marching to the sound of distant drums sleeping in the dark fold of an exiled sunset waking in the glow of a challenging day you, Mirriam, broke bread with revolutionaries and was honoured by kings…”

The stage and television actress, Tina Mmumzana and also the Free State Centenary Ambassador read another poem: I hear Mandela singing from the same collection of poems by Don Mattera. An extract from the same:

“Besides me around and beneath me inside this burning self where impatient drums beat martial song I hear Mandela singing: this burden is heavy it needs people of courage.”

Three local poets: Nthabiseng “JahRose” Jafta, Serame “Icebound” Makhele, and Rita Chihawa thrilled the poetry lovers. Poet Batotile Dimane from Pinetown in Durban also had her voice heard at the poetry sermon.

The now world acclaimed Qoopane Literary Gallery had an opportunity to display an exhibition of 50 South African writers at the poetry session. Don Mattera gave a copy of They passed this way and touched our lives to Oscar Seleke (12). The latter also received R100 from the poet after “Bra Zinga” (Materra) asked him who the first president of the ANC was. Seleke’s answer was: President John Dube. He was excited and said he wanted to be a poet like Mattera and he was going to buy school uniform with his R100.

I had also another opportunity of meeting celebrated bard, Mongane Serote and the praise singer Zolani Mkiva at the Wesleyan Church in Waaihoek during the inter-faith night vigil service. Two prominent writers, Mandla Langa and Mbulelo Mzamane also attended the ANC Centenary celebrations.

OMOSEYE BOLAJI ET LE GENRE POLICIER EN AFRIQUE

2012-01-05T01:42:00.000-08:00

Omoseye Bolaji, le créateur de la série Mystery Tebogo, est souvent demandé comment il barattes hors les tours et détours dans les parcelles intriguant dans les aventures de Tebogo Mokoena, le protagoniste Sleuth de ses livres.

Mais le du Nigeria-né Omoseye met de côté cette question avec un sourire.

«Je ne sais vraiment pas!" at-il dit.

"Ou simpliste, disons simplement l'inspiration pour les livres simplement d'aller et venir par intermittence."

Une clé de la créativité Bolaji est peut-être le fait qu'il a commencé à lire des romans de mystère dans son enfance.

"Je suppose que c'était l'âge d'or de la lecture pour le plaisir de l'Afrique occidentale à l'époque. Dans la fin des années 70 et 80, j'ai aimé des auteurs comme Peter Cheyney, Agatha Christie, Ellery Queen, Dick Francis, et Sidney Sheldon "

En 2000 Omoseye Bolaji, alors basé à Free State en Afrique du Sud (sa base) a publié le premier de la série Mystery Tebogo droit Tebogo enquête, et a été surpris par le succès du livre.

"Le livre est au sujet du cas étrange d'un homme à l'aise les jeunes d'être tué dans sa propre maison pendant une partie, [mais], maintenant je pense que le livre est sordide et de loin assez bon ... mais curieusement, beaucoup de gens encore affirment qu'ils l'aime tellement ", a déclaré Bolaji

La seconde, Spot Tebogo de Bother (2001) est probablement la plus intéressante produite par l'auteur, avec son dénouement à double torsion.

«Il semble, j'ai réussi à arracher un final vraiment saisissant, mais je ne dirai pas que c'est le meilleur livre de la série, ou mon préféré."

En 2003, la troisième aventure du Tebogo Mokoena a été publié, Tebogo échoue déploie avec des notes de la romantique, même si, ironiquement, les détails des scènes assassiner dans ce thriller psychologique sont plutôt gore. La clémence de l'auteur pour le sort du méchant, même déconcerté et agacé les lecteurs, mais c'est Bolaji impénitents.

"Le tueur va scot-free, et c'est arrivé encore une fois dans Tebogo et le Haka", a déclaré Bolaji grimaçant.

Demandez Tebogo (2004) est généralement surnommé le plus faible des livres, mais sur le re-lire récemment, j'ai été surpris de voir qu'il est en réalité une histoire puissante, malgré le très controversé "essais" placé dans le texte. Le livre a certainement un bon nombre de rebondissements et on a l'impression que le protagoniste, mais dans une ambiance plus sobre, continue à profiter de l'ambiance de la pègre (une caractéristique de la série)

Bolaji ne ferai aucun commentaire sur Ask Tebogo, mais il admet que Tebogo et le Haka (2008) est son préféré dans la série.

"Oui j'aime le livre. En 2005, j'ai été très très malade et aurait dû mourir vraiment, [mais], petit à petit, je suis devenu meilleur, et un peu d'inspiration est revenue un peu après quelques années".

Tebogo et le Haka a été suivie par Tebogo et l'épithalame (2009) et Tebogo et le Pantophagist (2010). Les deux dernières aventures être unique dans le Genre dans le sens où personne n'est réellement tué.

En Tebogo et le épithalame une dame séduisante jeune disparaît et Tebogo parvient à la retrouver à la fin.

Pendant ce temps dans Tebogo et le Pantophagist, Tebogo rencontre une bizarre «scientifique» et l'intrigue se concentre sur un certain «formule» pour rendre les humains disparaissent!

De nombreux essais publiés sur les livres Mystère Tebogo, y compris une étude de longue durée par le critique de Petro Schonfeld, intitulé Tebogo sur le vagabondage (Première édition, 2006).

Dans son "Aperçu" de la série Tebogo Mystère, Petro identifie les éléments suivants, notamment: en contribuant à la réussite de ces livres: la friction et la suspicion entre les personnages, les détails en apparence insignifiants / faits; image [Bolaji a] de ses personnages, le style ( le narrateur l'utilisation du jargon familier); l'humour, et de l'imagerie.

Bolaji a suscité beaucoup de révérence et de la gloire à la suite du succès de la série, après tout le genre est excessivement rare dans le paysage de l'écriture négro-africaine. Parmi les nombreux honneurs qu'il a reçus, celui qui excite le plus, c'est quand il a été fait un chef de Ibadan, Nigeria son pays de naissance.

«Ce fut une merveilleuse occasion de son faste et l'apparat transcendantale qui sera toujours gravé dans ma mémoire. Mais je maintiens que la satisfaction d'un auteur réside principalement avec les lecteurs appréciant leur travail." Omoseye a également conféré la Médaille du chancelier par le Université de l'État libre en 2007.

Certes, de nombreux lecteurs continuent de profiter de la fiction égrenée par Omoseye Bolaji au fil des ans. Outre les sept livres de la série Mystery Tebogo, il a également publié trois autres romans: Impossible Love (2000), L'Adversaire fantomatique (2001) et Les gens des Cantons (2003). Et tous les trois œuvres ont une chose en commun terminaisons, inattendu et sensationnel.

Impossible Love est essentiellement une histoire d'amour: l'adversaire fantomatique est un thriller tendu; gens tout des Cantons a été décrit comme «à bout de souffle, picaresque, étonnamment drôle" par Aryan Kaganof, le Sud-Africain blanc producteur de cinéma et auteur prolifique.

Bolaji a également publié de nombreux autres livres comprenant différents genres, qui comprennent le théâtre, la poésie, la critique, et la biographie.

Lorsqu'on lui a demandé quand les lecteurs devraient un autre épisode des aventures de Tebogo Mokoena, Bolaji répond candidement:

"Pour le moment je n'ai aucune inspiration à tous. Permettez-moi simplement vous prélasser dans l'émergence d'une culture de nouveaux jeunes écrivains dans l'Etat libre, comme Hector Kunene, Jah Rose et Teboho Masakala!"

Par Raphael Mokoena

SOME FURORE OVER JOSEPH CONRAD

2011-12-18T22:33:00.000-08:00

“(He) is as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a feather hat, walking on his hind legs...(with his) shaved, patterned hair and ornamental scars”
Joseph Conrad in Heart of Darkness (a description of the ‘African fireman’)

Was Joseph Conrad, one of the all-time greats of English literature, a “racist”? Certainly, black Africa’s number one novelist, Chinua Achebe, felt that he (Conrad) was; judging from his writings. Sadly, the younger African literary generation might not know much about Conrad.

Happily enough, the year 2011 witnessed a lively debate – thanks to Deon Simphiwe Skade’s Cape Town blog – on Conrad. Here are some illuminating comments on the matter by four perceptive African writers/critics..

1. O Bolaji:

Quite refreshing essay here by the dexterous Deon, which juxtaposes two celebrated books written by two of the best writers in the world – Joseph Conrad “representing” Europe; and Zakes Mda, representing black Africa! The exhilarating factor here is that Joseph Conrad, dubbed a “thoroughgoing racist” by Chinua Achebe, could hardly have ever imagined that the very heart of black Africa (like west Africa) and South Africa (with its ravages of apartheid) could have produced novelists of great genius like Achebe and Zakes Mda. Conrad, in his Heart of Darkness was not even kind enough to give the black “natives” the simple gift of language or speech! As such natives could only speak in “babbles” and roll their eyes in frenzy! (Forget the facade of the narrator in Conrad’ book, since Marlow’s life very much mirrored the life of Conrad, and his life-attitude to “niggers”) The simple fact is that Zakes Mda comes across as the better writer (than Conrad, yes!); certainly Mda is cosmopolitan, broad-minded, fair and brilliantly witty. Mda is more than fair enough to his white creations in The Madonna of Excelsior; which we can for example juxtapose with the “dog in breeches” (black man!) in Conrad’s novel. We might as well admit that in view of the horrific insults and prejudices the white world (including its writers) have hurled at Africa over the centuries, the black man (its writers) can hardly be condemned for painting whites etc as very bad ...perhaps the most famous example is Ayi Kwei Armah’s very powerful Two thousand Seasons which condemns the white man in no uncertain terms - a novel that made virtually every white reader and critic cry out in protest when it came out decades ago. Yet it is still indicative of how fair distinguished black writers and critics can be, when Wole Soyinka remarked in an essay at the time (on 2000 Seasons) that “the humane sensibility tends to recoil” i.e Armah had overdone things in his novel! Anyway there can be no doubt that in Mda’s The Madonna of Excelsior the style of the writer, whether it be collective or singular, is breathtakingly brilliant, fair and sardonic. We can not accuse Conrad of this despite being one of the all time greats of European writers. For me the most resounding condemnation of Conrad is the fact that the “Heart of darkness continent” (black Africa)which for him teemed with “grunting savages” sans any culture could have produced world class, intellectual novelists like Mda, Achebe, Soyinka, Lewis Nkosi, Es’kia, Awoonor, Munonye, Armah, Ngugi etc eventually. Asseblief, excuse me while I laugh!

2. R Mokoena:

The Madonna of Excelsior – one of the best books ever written and published in the world. We are all proud of Zakes Mda for his accomplishment. The book might not have had the extraordinary success of Achebe’s first book; but in modern times The Madonna is as successful as any book can be; published in many different parts of the world with many translations. That in itself is proof that the book is excellently written with superb, realistic characterization. The western world feels bad when Conrad is referred to as a “racist”, a man who looked down on blacks etc but the evidence is overwhelming. Conrad was humane in his own way, pitying the plights of the natives in Heart of Darkness, but we all know that many people are humane towards their pets or animals but at the same time can never imagine any sort of equality with them. Other books written by Conrad – like the Nigger of Narcissus again show his attitude towards blacks; eg referring to the “repulsive Jimmy” in the book; never mind the “ugly” feelings that washed over him in the Congo area at the people who were “not inhuman” (ie the blacks). At best this is patronising and still insulting, even if the western world cannot see this. It has been said time and again by white literary experts that Heart of Darkness is one of the all-time masterpieces of fiction. And enough of this CORDON SANITAIRE nonsense that Conrad was not Marlow...whilst black African writers like Lewis Nkosi, Achebe, Zakes Mda created convincing, fair European characters, Conrad failed WOEFULLY in portraying his own black characters. Ka nete

3. Pule Lechesa:

Chinua Achebe also criticised other white writers who used to be celebrated overseas then for writing “great” books on black Africa. One of them was Joyce Cary, a brilliant novelist who wrote famous works like Mister Johnson and The African Witch – both based on colonial Africa. Achebe pointed out again that Cary had some disgust for many of his black characters too. I have read The African Witch and it is a fine work; but with the usual prejudices so many whites seem to have; including Conrad! For example the author Joyce comments: “A black man’s sleep is like death”. Pure nonsense – does this mean we do not dream? I think that is why Achebe’s Things fall apart made such an international impact – showing the world that black Africans are humans too, with their own culture, ways of life, superb conversations in their own language, etc. Zakes Mda is keeping up the very fine work of portraying black Africans as humans too, sometimes flawed, but still human – like whites!

4. Deon Simphiwe Skade (Acoustics Strings administrator):

It is precisely conversations like this one that I relish a lot about the literary world, as it depicts our reality with all its follies and victories.
All the gentlemen who commented above raise very crucial points, which are not confined to literature. They interrogate some sociocultural discrepancies, misconceptions and anything else that torments the mind with the need to understand why people act the way they do. Indeed! African writers have achieved an awe-inspiring victory by creating the legacy that continues to inspire the modern world. They established themselves as a force to be reckoned with, in spite of the harshness and disregard from the political climate of the time. The might of the colonial force and its remnants, could not deter them from telling their stories in the remarkable manner that they did, even though it was through the colonial language.
The bottom line is that they managed to tell these stories through their own voices, without the elaborate and often condescending attitude that African stories had been told through the colonial eye. Of course this mode of storytelling had always suggested and entrenched the belief that the colonialists were superior to black communities. Otherwise why would they always tell the African stories on behalf of Africans? As a result, crucial elements of the African life had suffered terrible distortions and created the enduring stereotype we continue to see in the 21 century; an era that best reflects the sophistication of the human mind. The colonialist’s sense of superiority, was easily concealed behind the likes of Marlow, the fictitious character (I will explain this below).

My one argument when we discussed the effect of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness in an English literature class, was that Marlow was in fact all the things that his peers and fellow colonialist were to Africans (I’m being very polite here by the way). He used a powerfully deceptive tool to try to portray himself as not having condescending opinions/mindset towards the natives of the Congo, by presenting the Europeans as ‘racists’ in his narration. He attempted to sit on the fence and present a narrative that would see him emerge as a hero, who denounced the horrendous acts of the colonial forces. However, this only culminated into a dismal failure of someone who was claiming innocence, in spite of the overwhelming evidence of his ‘guilt’. His continued use of derogatory terms throughout his narrative reflected the air of superiority that was embedded deeply in his psychology. Of course this is a world of fiction, which Joseph Conrad admirably constructed. I praise him greatly for such an astounding craftsmanship, and hail his book as one of the best I have ever read - my personal favourite

Touching base on another literary matter that I believe is of a similar vein in subject matter, even though more so for its ‘sexist’ of patriarchal’ theme, let me briefly talk about Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions. Some people call the narrator, Tambu, a feminist that only embraces this position much later in her life. Some say she supports the patriarchal culture and only presents Maiguru and Nyasha as rebels who cannot escape the reality of lives, thus mocking their efforts.
It’s amazing how people attach meaning to various phenomena, often distorting the intended purpose.

Now, back to the essence of my comment. Literary texts and anything ‘artistic’ should evoke a reaction from those who come across the work. This is part of the social dialogue that people should continue to have, in interrogating some of the ills we have and find remedies for them. It is also a way of celebrating our achievements. We ridicule ourselves through the arts and also reflect just about anything of the human experience. After all, we live in an imperfect world.

* The four comments here (above) are reproduced by kind permission of ‘acoustic strings’ blog.

WORD FEST IN BLOEMFONTEIN

2011-12-18T22:26:00.000-08:00

By DINEO MOKGOSI

(Above) Rita Chihawa

“A platform for poets to share their literary art with the rest of the public” This is how Rita Chihawa described the “Sound of poetry”, an event that took place on Thursday, December 15 at the Rose Hall in the Bram Fisher Building in Bloemfontein city.

Seasoned poets who performed at the event included Phillipa Yaa De Villiers, performer, teacher and writer for stage and television; who was supported by Free State greats such as Jah Rose, Hector Kunene and Dr Cool. Other aspiring poets who performed were Azanian Kid and Alme Swarts. There was also an open mike session where poets from the floor shared their poetry with the audience.

The event was the brainchild of Soweto-born poet, Rita Chihawa, 24, through a company called Arts Amuse founded in 2009 together with Khonzeka Tyindyi.
“This was the first time we would be hosting the ‘Sound of poetry’, and we are planning to make it an annual event that will be taken to major cities across the Free State” said Rita Chihawa, poet and organiser.

Chihawa is a rather seasoned poet herself despite her young age. She has been doing poetry since the age of 13. She has performed at the Grahamstown Arts Festival. “It has been a long and fulfilling journey in the arts industry,” she said.

Chihawa’s favourite poem is “They went home” by veteran author and poet, Maya Angelou; and another favourite written by her is a new poem called “Mother and sister”

“I look up to a lot of poets, depending on a variety of aspects such as writing and performing. On writing I like Ntate Don Mattera and Ntate Vonani Bila. On the performance side I look up to people like Masoja Msiza, Napo Masheane, Lebo Mashile and Mphutlane wa Bofelo,” said Chihawa.

Her love of poetry was stoked by reading other people’s material. “I love reading. I read a lot of poems by writers like Mattera, Professor Kgositsile, Jessica Mbangeni and Chris Mann,” she explained.

Chihawa said that the poetry industry in other parts of the country is well developed in comparison to the Free State, “as more needs to be done to promote literary arts to the public,”

“We need to educate our people about this type of events so that they can try them out and also create more platforms for poets and storytellers to showcase their crafts to the public,” Rita Chihawa vouchsafed.

NONPAREIL FESTIVE SEASON!

2011-12-16T02:00:00.000-08:00

By Hector “poet” Kunene

We do this yearly…
We sing, we dance, we write, we celebrate
We chant, we scream, we shout, like leaves we sprout
We shop till we drop, we mop wines and glasses we break
We dye our hairs and bless our special annual trees
We visit far places and drive better races

We raise our fists in the air and show peace signed fingers
We accommodate strangers and accumulate bankers
We walk, we run, we fly, we cry
We tie knots and ring bells and bless pastors in mission houses

We give, we strive for perfecting this day
We decorate and stipulate time for deliveries not to delay
We afford quite a lot for bonuses are quite a knot
We smile, we greet, and we feed in need
We play far away yet closer to be heard

We climb, we swing, we jump on skips
We roll on grass and make no fuss
We stamp on mud and back each other
We stroll on streets and show of our clothes

We hug, we kiss we hold each other dearly
We stare at each other’s faces sharing our ups and downs
We wipe our tears and crack in laughter’s
We tap on shoulders and encourage on failures
We tell each other to try again

We dine on figure glasses breaking champagnes
We open new boxes and scare away foxes
We pound on gifts and cleave on tips
We smile on snow and bow on the floor
We forgive this year to free our souls!

THE UNSUNG LITERARY CATALYSTS

2011-11-24T23:27:00.000-08:00

(Above) Alrina le Roux and Adri Smuts

By O BOLAJI

As literature, local, national, and African, grows by leaps and bounds perhaps it is apposite that some sort of tribute should be paid to the unsung heroes, the literary catalysts (who are also often accomplished writers) who have done so much to boost literature in Africa.

We are not referring to established, celebrated writers here; nay, such vibrant literary catalysts often lurk in the background, doing great, coruscating things but remain essentially unknown in the main. They are often exceedingly selfless men and women performing wonders in this niche.

Nor are they exclusively black. Two outstanding examples of whites who did wonders for African creative writing ware David Cook and Ulli Beier. Both of them were from European backgrounds but fell in love with Eastern and Western Africa respectively, providing a fillip for Black writing dating from the 60s! Prof Cook was a mentor for a number of now world class African writers who hailed from east Africa, including the illustrious Ngugi wa Thiong’o.

The exploits of Ulli Beier were even more astonishing. From his west African base decades ago he not only nurtured, encouraged and edited the works of many of Africa’s initial key black writers – he actually published their early works in book form. Unbelievably, authors he put on their feet (and published) included Nobel award winner (for literature) Wole Soyinka, J.P Clark (dramatist and poet), Kofi Awoonor (poet, essayist, and novelist). Beier also published books written by South African greats like Es’kia Mphahlele, Denis Brutus and Alex La Guma.

By the time Ben Mtobwa emerged from East Africa (Tanzania-born), African literature was already ensconced world-wide. Mtobwa was to bring literature even closer to the people in his region, publishing interesting books mainly in the indigenous languages there (especially Swahili), and encouraging others to relish the world of reading and writing. This he did as a director of an important Publishing House, and also via a popular peoples’-oriented newspaper.

His achievements have been mirrored in South Africa here by the indomitable Vonani Bila, who from his Limpopo base has pulled off a string of literary achievements. Apart from the books he has published over the years, he has orchestrated (through his Timbila project) incredibly prolific outlets for many Black poets and writers to get their works published in book form. Bila is a quintessential literary activist who continues to make his mark.

As Tiisetso Thiba, poet and literary commentator says: “We (Black South Africans) have been lucky that despite the fact that we had no guidance before as regards literature, this is no longer the case. For those of us who are poetry lovers in particular, we have witnessed a boon with so many multi-faceted talented poets from the grassroots level. Their works, and exploits, are celebrated via the internet, books, journals, and popular newspapers now,”

In the Free State here, whilst acknowledging impressive progress made in recent times, enough recognition has not been given to such “unsung” literary activists. In fact it is arguable that one or two of such protagonists have not been recognised at all. Happily enough, the literary fraternity already realised the wonderful job a lady like Jacomien Schimper (a Director at Provincial Library Services) has done over the years in putting Free State Black Writing on the map.

Additionally, it is gratifying that in recent times there has been a clarion call among writers, especially literary critics and reviewers, to specifically acknowledge the awesome impact another lady, Alrina Le Roux has had in the literary sphere whilst apparently lurking in the shadows. An experienced Principal librarian for the FS Provincial Library Service, this is a lady who is regarded as a proficient repository of international and African literature, a skilful sympathetic editor, who has always encouraged sundry wordsmiths.

The well known Free State literary critic and essayist, Raphael Mokoena says: “It is about time I acknowledged my great debt to this wonderful lady (Alrina Le Roux). Many years ago in the Free State, I got to know about her regular profiles of authentic African writers…I went into the major libraries, to the Reference section etc and read all the articles she had published over the decades! I made photocopies of them and learnt a lot in the process. Alrina is a prodigious reader and her many profiles (in Free State Libraries journal) of the likes of Dambudzo Marechera, JM Coetzee, Sol Plaatje, Es’kia Mphahlele, Achebe etc, have belonged to the top drawer,”

Paul Lothane, another literary critic, agrees: “Nothing pleases me more than going through, and learning from the top-notch superb literary profiles painstakingly written by Mme Alrina Le Roux. She seems to be a reading machine! Those who have met her in the flesh agree on the same thing: she’s a wonderful, broad minded, kindly woman. No words can express our gratitude for what the so-called ‘unknowns’, like Mme Alrina have done for our writing,”

Kudos to all such unsung literary catalysts!

* Published in PUBLIC EYE, November 25 2011 edition (Life and Style section)

SINGWIZI THE GOLDEN JOURNEY...

2011-11-14T22:57:00.000-08:00

By CHARLES MATORERA

It was in January of the year 1994. I had just completed the Ordinary Level the previous term. My parents were too poor to send me to the A Level so I had to stay at home and wait for something to come up. A job maybe or a recruitment into the government’s many institutions, police academy, military, teaching, agriculture etc. The government was the biggest employer.

I always thought that because most of the people were employed by the state this was why we had so much poor service delivery. Think of it, because most of them were not employed on their dream jobs what they all cared for was the salary. Remember, when we were in primary school a teacher used to ask “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The answers comprised, “A nurse to look after the sick people”, “A policeman to arrest law breakers”, "A pilot to fly an aeroplane”. Essentially, the answers were innumerable.

But this was the real life, where those who dreamt of becoming doctors ended up working for the municipality cleaning the streets. A job was just a job. Like a wild dog you have to take whatever comes your way, you did not have the luxury of choosing. Sometimes a bully at school who dreamt to be a soldier, who always fought others, kicking the young ones ended up being a nurse; maybe because that was where his mother’s friend’s uncle had a connection. Just imagine what kind of service one might get from such a nurse!

Anyway that is Africa for starters. I was waiting for anything to come, surely something would come up, I was in Wedza my mother’s rural home, waiting for my results and helping grandmother via farming.

A guy who was renting Muchagwa Store, the biggest shop at Chigondo Township ended up being a friend of mine. His name was Nyati. At this juncture maybe I should somewhat describe him. He was tall and in his early thirties, with a wife and two little daughters, he talked a lot about gold and faraway places like Rafingora, Mvurwi and Mutorashanga. These places are north of Harare whilst we were here 150 kilometers southeast of the capital. I regarded myself a born adventurer and I loved the atlas. I dreamt of travelling far to all those strangely named places to find out why they were given such fancy names.

Nyati, which meant buffalo, is a very big clan name in Zimbabwe. We live in a clan-oriented society so you end up being related to anyone. In this case I ended up calling him ‘uncle’ because my grandmother was from the Buffalo clan.

As our friendship grew, Nyati showed me some papers which were some sort of certificates. These certificates were given to him by the government. He told me that it was a licence to mine gold anywhere in Zimbabwe. According to him he was only an impressionable 16 years old when he dreamt of his late grandfather showing him a place not far away from his rural home near Mazoe where the old man took out some yellow glowing stones from the pristine earth and gave them to him. After a year and the dream repeating itself for the sixth time he told his father who took him to a great traditional healer. They were told that the ancestors had given them a great gift of wealth; they had to slaughter a cow and brew some millet beer at the place for there were precious stones to be dug out. His father was very strict - he hired an expert who confirmed that indeed the place was having a lot of alluvial gold. That is the type of gold you don’t have to dig deep to get. Sure enough they slaughtered a bull and had a traditional party to thank the ancestors.

Nyati was helped to register the place by his father; they acquired the government’s prospector’s license in his name. Nyati mined this place and got a lot of money, he bought lots of cattle, built a big house, drilled a deep borehole where even during the severest drought like two years ago, all the people from his area came and fetched water. So after ten years of a lot of gold panning and prosperity he felt suddenly very sick, at this time his father has passed on.

Nyati went to the hospital and after many tests the doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him, yet he was slowly dying! Then he went to a traditional healer who told him that some powerful witches from his village were jealous of his success and they wanted him to die so that they could take over the gold mine. The solution was to go far away and seek some help. He moved to Harare where he stayed with his brother who took him to an apostolic sect which used some powerful healing prayers, they revived him and told him not to go back home for a period of three years. That was why he was here in Hwedza with his wife and kids running a shop to survive. The shop building was owned by a member of their apostolic church who was living and running bigger businesses in Harare. They rented him, well cognizant of his situation.

According to him, the business was not going well, but he had no choice. He was waiting for the three years to pass so that they could go back to Raffingora and start again gold panning, the simplest way of making money. To me running a shop was the only way to easily get rich but Nyati made me to believe that gold panning was easier.

Our friendship grew steadily, one day he told me that he trusted me and I must get someone who had some gold panning experience that I should if everything was agreed upon go with to Raffingora and start working at his mine.

This was an opportunity! Something better than getting into a staid, boring government institute! I had to take this golden opportunity and probably get rich and end up owning my own mine and some grocery shops like Nyati’s!

I didn’t have to look far; in my mother’s extended family of the Mukanya clan I got an uncle who had came back from Mutoko’s Makaha mines the previous year. He was attacked by the deadly cerebral malaria which was rampant on those areas. His name was Peter, my mother’s cousin, I explained everything to him and he was very excited. I took him to Nyati and we had a meeting in a small storage room behind the shop. I watched with excitement as each sized the other up thorough question and answer, anyway both men were satisfied that each knew what they were talking about. Later Nyati showed Peter the certificates and my mother’s cousin Sekuru Peter was perplexed.

From that day it was agreed upon that some money had to be raised for the journey to Raffingora. Also a group of five strong guys would be enough to be part of the journey to work as the labourers. Uncle Peter was obviously the manager, I was appointed the secretary - someone who will write down all that will be happening.

After two weeks, my mother did send me some money to come to Harare as our school results were about to come out. I stalled because the Raffingora journey way gaining momentum. We had already found six guys from Gangare who were anxious to go.

I was putting everything on paper, their names, ID numbers, calculations of the money that was needed for the journey etc. indeed a lot of money was needed to get the eight of us to Raffingora. We were to be nine, with Nyati’s wife who was to show us the way. Then we needed enough food to keep us strong and working for at least about a month if the weather or other outside factors were to keep us before we were able to be productive.

A solution came unexpectedly, Nyati on his many trips to Harare had heard of a place not as far as Raffingora where there was a lot of gold. Somewhere to the South East of Wedza, Marange district in a valley between Mutanda Mountains. This was the same district where ten years later will be a beehive of activity because of some alluvial diamond discovery.

The Mutanda Mountain was closer, which meant we could go there and work for some few weeks to raise money for the Raffingora journey. We could operate both places if Marange proved to be worth it, but Nyati was convinced that there was no place that would be as productive as Raffingora.

We met and agreed that the two of us must go first and survey the place, identify a mine and peg a claim, Nyati's prospectors license was national it was valid with assiduity anywhere in Zimbabwe.

In three days’ time we were ready to go. I used the money that mother wanted me to come to Harare with. I was given a bucket of maize meal, about 40KGs by my grandmother, she was a good friend of Peter’s mother and they were all supportive.

In our luggage we had picks, shovels, hammers, long sharp iron roads, blue buckets, only yellow ones were not necessary, as yellow was the colour of gold. Practically, you will through away a lot if the bucket looked the same. We also had blankets and old jeans for scrawling in the tiny holes under earth.

We took a bus to Dorowa phosphate mine, we then took another one to Sabi Drift. The journey wasn’t eventful except for one incident when one guy wanted to go down with another woman’s bag. We nearly killed him with fright as we took out picks and hammers helping, bus personnel to scare him.

I remember passing by some white earth places which looked severely barren. Buhera was my birth place but it was hard to be proud of it mostly in Hwedza because most of the domestic workers were from these parts.

Then I remembered around sunset we stopped for a long time at a shopping centre called Bhidhiri. Relatively, it was very big with three grocery shops and a bottle store working. Some poor, impoverished kids without shoes or decent clothes selling baobabs and roasted marula nuts were conspicuous here. It touched me but I couldn’t help them; I had nothing on me, even money to spend on pleasures like fruits. I told myself that one day I will come back rich with gold and change the lives of these poor kids.

Later we left, and after many bumps and dangerous curves we come to Sabi Drift, the bus's final destination. We initially intended to sleep on the verandahs of any shop but on arrival we decided against it. It wasn’t as deserted as we wanted it to be, it was a big place with about three or more bottle stores still open at this ungodly hour of nine o’clock.

We discussed about it and decided that it would be better to sleep in the bushes somewhere along our way that here. Someone in the bus once uttered about “Mabhinya” people who kill for muthi, usually hired by local businessmen or witchdoctors. This scared us a lot.

We boarded down the bus and carried our heavy loads. I studied thoroughly the map which we had drawn before we left Hwedza. It was very simple because we just had to proceed with the direction of the bus to the big bridge; then on with that same road until we got to a certain cross with a sign post written Gondo, then follow it!

We went to the bridge, it was very long and scary. I heard some splashing in the water towards the other end, I thought it was a Njuzu “water maid” but later we were told that there were some hippopotamus in the river there. We walked, and walked it was pitch black, the heavy loads were cutting through our shoulders, but because of the splashing sound we had heard in the river I refused to camp for the night. So Sekuru Peter said: “I thought you were tired, if you think we can go, let’s go. I am not new to these sort of things." We walked seeing nothing for some time, then sometimes we could see some isolated fires far on our right hand side but we kept going.

Then the heavy drops of rains started falling. We had prepared for this, maybe only for our food. The maize meal inside our bags was wrapped in plastics which we intended to use to construct temporary shelters when we reached our destination. It was Uncle Peter's idea and it was proven to be brilliant by our present situation.

For nearly two hours the sky continued leaking, heavy drops of cold rain were hitting us. We decided against finding a place to lay down and proceeded. The only place you could choose to sleep was under a huge tree, but these torrential thunderstorms of Africa do not allow you to go near tall trees! The lightning will put a full stop to your life.
Then we came to a river with a broken bridge, actually the bridge was washed over by heavy rains. Now the rains had dropped to some steady showers, these gave us longer sight due to the fluorescence of lighting… you could see a dozen meters away through sheets of grey showers.

Now the luggage on our backs was cutting through our shoulders.
We did cut out some long sticks from the trees nearby, sunk them into the river. The current wasn't weak but with the weight of our baggage we realised that we could cross. We walked on, the rains were becoming less and less, but we could not stop, the whole ground other than the road was muddy.

We proceeded along the road. After another hour and a half we came to the crossroads, Gondo the road sign pointed to the right, so we turned and marched on. The sign gave us some courage. We were revived and temporarily exhilarated. We increased our pace with gusto. For nearly an hour we walked without seeing the shops, or a school according to the map. We decided to rest under a big tree, at least the lightning was no longer cracking and rippling the skies. We dropped our bags and fell asleep.

When I woke up, before I opened my eyes I heard people chattering, women’s voices speaking in a strange accent, first I thought witches ware having a meeting then I heard a cluttering bell used on some elusive oxen and I knew it was daylight. I woke up and found Uncle Peter sitting near the fire turning a maize cob. That’s when I realised how hungry I was.

“Tarasika Muzukuru but luckily we slept at a bus stop.” We are lost nephew, he said explaining that the actual place we were supposed to have stopped was at the broken bridge that was our destination.

“But at the map we were supposed to have come to Gondo shopping centre?” I asked “Mabviro rasike”, said the talkative woman with a baby on her back, “At the cross roads the shops and the school are at your left; it’s a mere fifty meters from the junction” Uncle Peter, knowing my next question said: “Maybe a naughty school kid turned the sign so we came the wrong way”.

The sky was now clearly blue; no sign at all that it rained the whole night except the screeching crickets and the muddy ground. When the maize cobs were properly roasted, Uncle Peter thanked the people whose number was growing every minute to ride the bus. We carried our heavy loads with the help of the men who were there, I felt numb in certain strategic anatomical areas, but I wasn’t going to make a nuisance of myself here, in front of all these people.

We were given proper shortcut directions and our geographical landmark were two big mountains in a distance - that was Mutanda 1, and the smaller one was Mutanda 2. It took us seven full hours to get back to the broken bridge, I could feel the weight of my luggage, maybe because the sun was very hot and I was perspiring. I knew Uncle Peter was feeling the same but the burden of him being the elder propelled him to push on.

Finally we crossed the river with the broken bridge and I was more than exhausted. I was pulling my legs like an injured spider. We took a cart road that went alongside the river up to the east between the two mountains. In the valley, there was a spectacular view of glittering stones. I dropped my luggage down and ran up the hill to a shinning stone with silvery and gold-like colors. Uncle Peter looked at me in awe “What are you doing?” he asked.

I was ecstatic in my temporary euphoria: “Surely these are gold Sekuru, gold! Gold! Gold!” I shouted back.

“I thought you were as tired as I am. Where did you get the energy to climb up there?” When I couldn’t detect some enthusiasm in his voice I realized that it could not be gold I was holding. I also realised that I was a dozen meters above him. “So you mean these are not gold?” I was demoralized, I climbed down slowly. Uncle Peter did put down his luggage down and sat on a rock.

“Look Sinyoro” he addressed me with my clan name which he rarely did. “These shiny stones prove that there is a lot of gold around here; do you remember an English saying “all that glitters is not gold?"

I said yes, and he proceeded: “I remember getting the directions from that old man at the bus stop, he said he used to work in a mine around here mining something called Turnlite; maybe it is the one that glitters in the stones… but most places where there is gold, you get these shiny stones, in Bindura, Mtoko everywhere. Now let’s get ourselves a camp and cook some food. We are tired”

I carried my glittering stone, even though we saw a lot more stones and transparent quartz I did not leave it. We did put up our camp near the river. While Uncle was putting up a plastic tent I started the fire and cooked. I discovered that besides mosquitoes there were tsetse flies in the long grass which bit hard. I was afraid, at school we had been taught that it causes sleeping sickness. Soon after eating, we slept like logs only to wake up the following day.

We took the pick and shovel and dug out some top soil. Under it we took some sand. We put the sand in a blue bucket, then went down to the river. Uncle Peter did the serving, taking a lot of water and snack it with the sand then throwing the muddied water out. After thirty minutes we could see little glittering powders in the bottom of the bucket - our first gold! I was excited but not Uncle Peter. I asked him about his lukewarm attitude, and he said it wasn’t enough to start an operation.

But we went ahead and pegged according to the government regulations. We had to put signs on every corner of our claim, this gave us the right to be where we were because some people might think we were stock thieves or some rogue bandits. We arranged to later go around and find the local authorities.

That afternoon we went up the river, and a few kilometers ahead we came to the homesteads. It was a temporary settlement which had been here for nearly ten years. I say temporary, because no one had a house, they lived in huts. Zimbabwe is no longer that poor to the extent of finding sixty families all living together, failing to build a brick house. The people who received us seemed to be used to welcoming people like us.

We approached the first hut. They told us that this was called Nyadzonya Village 13, and the chairman was a Mr. Shunguwasha. We were given an eleven year old boy to escort us to the chairman’s place. It wasn’t far, I didn’t like the way they settled, the homesteaders were clustered not far from each other, unlike the rural homes where I come from. Here it was easy for a neighbour to kill your chicken for supper without you noticing.

Mr. Shunguwasha was a tall, thin man in his mid fifties. We showed him our prospectors’ license and identity cards. When he saw that mine was issued in Buhera he asked my birth place and clan, we ended up being related by clan as my maternal grandmother was from the Shunguwasha clan.
He informed us that we were not the first people to come with prospector’s license here, but most of them ended up buying from local villagers as they were the people who knew the productive areas.

We later found out that MR. Shunguwasha was a pastor of an apostolic Church and he was very honest and God fearing; if it wasn’t for that, he could have been very rich. Many people in his position in other places demand a share from buyers to give them permission to do business in his area.

By the end of the week, we had found out that panning gold legally in these areas was impossible because the gold belt was too deep to reach with picks and shovel. The only thing we could do was to buy from the local villagers who panned illegally in the river. We wrote a letter to our benefactor and posted it by bus. Unfortunately we were too late, though our boss did send those five other guys to us; but they arrived the following day. Fortunately for them, they did not travel at night in the rain. Nyati had met someone who knew the place better. They had taken a direct bus from Chigondo to Nzvimbe School which was not very far from Mutanda Mountain. Actually that was where the kids of Village 13 went to school.

It took two weeks for Nyati to come; surely he had managed to raise some money - about ten thousand dollars, which was quite a lot in 1994 in Zimbabwe. When he arrived we had a meeting and it was agreed that the five guys would board a bus the following day, and the boss will come to Wedza to pay them. I and Uncle Peter were going to remain behind as we needed to buy some gold from the villagers. I gave my report as the secretary; we owed some villagers three buckets of sorghum, in these barren areas they do not harvest a good crop of maize so their staple was sorghum.

On Friday the five guys left; and the three of us went to the village. It was my duty to introduce Mr Nyati to the local people. The people brought their gold. I was writing down all the facts. Uncle Peter was testing with some chemicals and scaling. Nyati was paying out the cash. Gold is paid per point; it is rare for a single person to reach grams. It was a long time since a buyer came by the village, because of the heavy rains so people had a lot of gold with them.

We bought gold for nine thousand dollars. Some of the money was used as bus fees by the five guys, and the remainder was going to be used by Nyati for transport back to Harare. The boss asked me to talk to the villagers who still had gold that they could give it to us and say whatever they needed from Harare. Because I was very amiable and empathetic, the villagers now saw me as one of them; they believed me and brought their gold.

Uncle Peter received the gold, tested it and scaled it, I wrote down the amount and the items that the owner wanted. Others wanted blankets, women wanted pots and sets of plates from Cango Company, men wanted trousers, shoes, gumboots, another one wanted a bicycle…

Someone wanted to know how he would be able to carry all these things even by bus from Harare, I was the one to cut him short by saying “Mr Nyati has a shop in Hwedza, he brings all his groceries by bus. The worker in the Zonwe bus knows him like a brother so there is no problem as long as each of you is willing to fetch his/her own stuff at Nzvimbe." I talked like I was possessed, I saw Mhofu looking at me with a thankful eye and I went ahead writing.

Myself and Uncle Peter were to be the insurance. We managed to get some gold worth five thousand in credit. People in the village were jubilant, they asked us not to go and sleep in the tents that day. We slept in the hut, and the following day we took Nyati to the bus, some youths from the village went along with us, some wanted to change the sizes of the shoes they had written the previous day and other things like that. But I think others wanted to make sure that we were not also going.

It was agreed that on Wednesday we were to go and wait for Mhofu at the bus. He was to get to Harare the same day Sunday, on Monday he will sell the gold; Tuesday he will be shopping for the people’s orders; then Wednesday he was to be on his way back.

Uncle Peter and I were to get our salaries on Wednesday, I was excited, this was to be my first pay, and according to my culture as a Shona, I was to buy my mother a blanket. When we arrived in the village, we borrowed a chicken and another bucket of sorghum. We acted like we were celebrating, now what was left was for the money to come!

The following day we went up the river for fishing, we came across a place where some guys of my age were panning. I was infuriated. These guys where breaking the banks of the river and serving inside the river, surely they were killing the river; it left poignant pain on my heart. I discussed it with Uncle Peter who said “You can’t protest, you are waiting to get rich with these panners, so you can’t stop them, you are an accessory”.

I kept quiet. The days were dragging very slowly. On Wednesday we went with some villagers to Nzvimbe to wait for the bus. The bus came but Nyati wasn’t in it, the conductor and driver knew him very well but they didn’t see him at the Mbare Terminus in Harare.

One of the women said “Maybe he did not finish shopping, so he may come tomorrow" We all agreed and walked back the twelve kilometres back to the village.

The following day the same thing happened, and on Friday. What a surfeit of frustration and anxiety! On Saturday, there was no bus from Harare but on Sunday the driver told the same story, on Monday we avoided the village, went through the bushes but Nyati did not come. Tuesday, then Wednesday, again hoping that maybe we talked about the wrong week but the boss did not come. Our soghurm meal was running out, we got home and slept.

In the middle of the night Uncle Peter woke me up “What? What is it Sekuru?” I asked. "I had a nightmare, no, not a nightmare my dreams do not lie. My brother Jacob woke me up here telling us to run because the villagers are ganging up to kill us. It happened twice so we must leave this place now!" I tried to protest but Uncle Peter was already up and tightening his shoes. I woke up, put on my shoes and jacket. He said “No we are not going down to the river, let’s go up” as if speaking to an unseen person in the sky “Up where”? I asked confusedly. “Your voice is too loud, follow me,” he said. I tried to pick up the blankets but he jerked my hand and pulled me.

Mutanda was a big mountain, but not very hard to climb. There were no rocks and dangerous cliffs. After some time we heard some noise at our base, people shouting, “Vaenda, vaenda!” meaning 'They are gone, they are gone' Uncle Peter, looked at me, I couldn’t see his eye but I felt them.
Someone was shouting “Mbudzi yangu ndoda Mbudzi yangu chete!” My goat, I want only my goat. Then we saw a bright fire blazing up the sky. Someone had set alight our plastic tent. Now I was cooperating with Uncle Peter, I took the lead, we were actually going the opposite direction of Wedza, but we had no choice. To say we were broke is an understatement; we were penniless.

We went down the other side of the mountain, we could not just go east or west, the mountain on those sides was too steep. We then moved East around the mountain. It was daylight by the time we reached Singwizi River, more to the East than we had ever travelled. We avoided the villages and went directly north.

We left Nzvimve to our west when we crossed the road. and on we went.
We had no luggage so we moved like bush bucks. In Zimbabwe during this time of late March the crops are ripe in the fields. The vegetation was good for people on the run like us. When we were hungry we entered into the people’s fields, cutting fresh maize cobs and we ate them raw with creamy milk like juice spouting out. Water melons and some field sugar canes called ipwa we ate, as we moved. Then we came to the wires, they divided the villages with old scarcely populated African farms which were given to black soldiers who fought in the Second World War; they are called Zviyambe Farms. This told us that we were now entering Hwedza district.

Uncle Peter kneeled down, picked up some soft soil from the ground and threw it into his mouth and uttered, “Hwedza, the land of the Mbire clan, the land of my fathers, I am back. I am your son; thank you for saving my life from the mouth of a hyena, I am back, the son of a Baboon!" I was kneeling behind him, clapping along with him, I also took a pinch of soil and swallowed it.

Around midday, we came to Mutiweshiri Mission School which is along the Dorowa Mine and Nyazura Road. Some metres down the road, we came to the Hwedza Road and took it.

We walked and walked until we passed Mukamba Shopping Centre. At Negombwe turn-off, we took the Chigondo Road. I can tell you that you will never get tired until you get to your destination. The sun set when we were passing Ruswa Secondary School. From here, we knew the short-cuts, but as we were tired, it took us over two hours to get home.

My grandmother's home is the first when you enter Jena village from the east. I knocked at the door and no one answered. "Grandma, grandma it’s me Zenzo, I am back!" Then the door squeaked, my little sister Eunicah came out running: "Mukoma, mukoma! We didn’t know it was you. We are alone, grandmother went to Uncle Peter's place; there is a funeral. His brother Jacob died early in the morning."

Talk of portents! Uncle Peter started crying and moving on, I told Eunica to lock the door, and I followed him weeping.

Epilogue: Fifteen Months later…

I was sitting with my grandfather and he said: “You see, my grandson, there is no shortcut to wealth,” I must confess that I was a bit exasperated and angry when I heard this – but later on, I pondered over what he said. Could this be true? Was I to blame for our harrowing ordeal? But I still believe that Nyati should not go unpunished. I would be on the look-out for any trace of him….

Charles Matorera is a Zimbabwean writer, and activist

THABA NCHU: SLOWLY MAKING ITS MARK!

2011-11-07T04:09:00.000-08:00

By TEBOHO MASAKALA (Novelist and short story writer)

Due to my work as a journalist for Mangaung Issue I interview a lot of people, from national celebrities to ordinary local people. In one of my interviews I remember during the Macufe auditions on 16 September 2011 at Mmabana cultural centre in Thaba Nchu, I came across the acclaimed actor Mr. Babes Mphatseng who is renowned for his character as Phineus in the Sabc 2 comedy drama Moferefere Lenyalong (trouble at a wedding).

While I was interviewing him I asked him what he thought about arts in Thaba Nchu, his answer was obvious like the rest: “dead!!” He told me that Thaba Nchu is dry while they have a centre that could help develop young artists. I looked at him and I agreed it is “dry while it is paradoxically filled with talent" it could use to develop it (even though it has more than 130 years in existence). I realise the poetry and writing talent we have in Thaba Nchu is enormous.

We have so many poets, both in English and Sesotho but most of them do it for enjoyment, some want to publish books but when I intermittently ask them how far are they with them, they tell me they are still writing but had to stop as they are still busy with this and that - and at the ultimate end they join a number of people who say Thaba Nchu is dry and talentless and literature is dead. Many say writers are there, but what is the use of being a writer in Thaba Nchu?

I disagree most of the time as many great people who have gone down in history come from poor places, the likes of Jacob Zuma, Nelson Mandela and other great names who became icons and heroes despite coming from poor places. I am proud to say that this year alone, three writers penned books in Thaba Nchu; we have Sechaba Marumo with his beautiful debut book “Be the best you can be” and Michael Seisho who is a teacher also published his debut book called “They call themselves bo tau bo bla wee (township slang) and yours truly Teboho Masakala with my second book titled ‘Through it all” which is now available at Motheo FET College Library.

The bible tells us about the place Jesus was born Bethlehem in Judea. The place was undermined, looked down upon and seen as a place where nothing good came from, but the birth of Jesus changed it all as a Messiah was born in the very same backwater, hated and undermined place.

With the exciting establishment of these three authors mentioned above, this shows that Thaba Nchu has come out tops this year as far as publishing books is concerned. We are finding our feet in the literary world although it is not easy being an author in Thaba Nchu as the support is somehow limited good compared to the entertainment that is madly loved. But we must note that one cannot force a person to read, write and buy books, it has to be one’s decision.

We are starting to make our mark in the writing world, Sechaba Marumo is one of the best.; he loves Thaba Nchu so much that he even included it in his book in the introductory part. He loves the place where his identity was forged; where he got his education and writing foundation. Need we say more about Teboho Masakala’s love for Thaba Nchu also? (laugh)

Enthusiasm, zeal and love help develop writing at grass roots level and inspire the young ones who want to be great writers. I love and respect the progress of Bloemfontein and I call it Free State’s heart (hub) of literature with lots of writing clubs and poetry sessions.

We have powerful female poets like Charmaine Mrwebi who continues to motivate writers in general. Charmaine is from Thaba Nchu but based in the city of Roses. I look at Bloemfontein for inspiration and use that inspiration to turn my home town (Thaba Nchu) like it.

I agree we still have a lot to learn, and it’s going to be a long journey but we will not despair, we will not give up, we shall take our stand in the literature world, we shall fight for the land of Thaba Nchu to be heard, counted, not to be underestimated but to be recognised. We shall take the weapon of expression which is the pen and fight to give our place a name amongst the great!

- Teboho Masakala, ”proudly Thaba Nchu” has already published two books, and is working on other manuscripts. Email comments to tebohomasakala@yahoo.com or facebook: Teboho Masakala

A Sublime and Unforgettable Macufe Wordfest!

2011-10-10T07:33:00.000-07:00

By Flaxman Qoopane (above)

About hundred and fifty Free State writers attended the second annual Macufe Wordfest at the Braam Fischer Building in Bloemfontein on 6-7 October this year.

Vincent Khetha, Director: Heritage, Museum and Language services said ‘The Free State government and the Department of Sports, Arts, Culture and Recreation support our novelist, playwrights , scriptwriters, short writers, poets and perform in the Free State...

In 2008 Macufe Wordfest was launched, In 2009 and 2010 we did not have Macufe Wordfest, from 2011 we will make sure that Macufe Wordfest is celebrated annually where we promote literature in our province, we hope the Macufe Wordfest 2011 will be a success.”

Advocate Tsoarelo Malakoane, HOD of the Department of Sport, Arts Culture and Recreation said: “Macufe won’t be complete without Macufe Wordfest. We need to develop our Free State writers. We need to create spaces throughout the year. We need to create our own K.P.D Maphallas,”

Skills Development Workshops were conducted by Thapelo Moraka (scriptwriter), Tsietsi Mohapi (writer) Mathene Mahanke (novelist), Mamolupe Dladla (lecturer) and Letshase Nakedi (writer).

Thapelo Moraka the writer dealt with the format of writing theatrical plays. Tsietsi Mohapi guided the writers on how to write a drama and a play. Mathene Mahanke dealt with the format of how to write short stories. Mamolupe Dladla presented a lecture on how to write a novel, encouraging burgeoning writers to be creative.

Manana Monareng-Stone, Programme Manager for Research, Training and Development from the Media Development and Diversity Agency (MDDA) presented a topic on the Agency. Kundayi Masanzu from Academic, Non-Fiction, Authors Association of South Africa (ANFASA) addressed the audience about copyright.

The Macufe Wordfest was attended by well known writer, Siphiwo Mahala, Deputy-Director: Books and Publishing from the National Department of Arts and Culture in Pretoria. He was accompanied by another novelist, Thando Mgqolozana who wrote the novel, A man who is not a man.

A SERIES OF UNDESIRABLE EVENTS

2011-10-02T03:19:00.000-07:00

Book: A series of Undesirable Events
Author: Deon-Simphiwe Skade
Publisher: National Library of South Africa
Reviewer: Omoseye Bolaji

“This is a series of linked short stories with interesting characters and which deal with topics such as AIDS and infidelity. This author shows exceptional talent... “

So writes a perceptive reader from the Centre of the Book in Cape Town whilst warmly recommending the publication of this book by the sponsors. Those familiar with the lambent talent of the author, Deon-Simphiwe Skade would not be surprised in anyway.

This is the first published book of Deon-Simphiwe Skade, prolific and proficient blogger, reviewer, poet, philosopher, and intellectual. Here he not only confirms his awesome potential, but also whets the literary appetite of voracious readers.

This book is a collection of well-written short stories jostling alongside complementary poems. Titles are: An old flame that went out, My Epidemic, your Epidemic, Last Night, It’s a Secret, Class Act, Her Attitude, His Face.

Others are - A Broken Man, Matters of the Heart, In Need, Yesterday, Suspension, Time Keeps Its Own Time, It never rains but Pours, and Our Today, The Future.

The disparate stories here are essentially told in the first person, with the author showing astonishing skill and empathy with his characters, male and female. Arguably this reaches a peak in the story, Class Act.

The author is famed for his propensity to call himself a “dreamer” in real life, and dreams certainly loom large in this work. The pertinent question is: are they successfully integrated into the warp and weft of the stories?

Here, one might well be subjective, adumbrating the furore over the late Lenrie Peters work, The second round with its profusion of dream-like sequences...and of course Ayi Kwei Armah s early classic, The Beautyful ones are not yet born. Then there is the hilarious, finely written story, Last Night. It is also tinged with irony, and redolent with sexual undercurrents. And how’s this for a touch of the great D.H Lawrence:

“The moon watched us caress. It lit over the perfect world of perfect persons, a man and a beautiful woman under its unwinking stare and the stars who winked as if celebrating our glorious kiss. Table Mountain could have peeked over the balcony to witness us under the conspiratorial luminescence of the moon.”

(Page 28, A Series of undesirable events)

As one would expect from a grammarian like the author, and a fastidious craftsman to boot, the book is well edited and immensely readable, with fine descriptions. How about “the ping ping against the porcelain.” “the gulp I took snailed down my throat as if it was a hard bubble constrained by meagre space preventing it to move downwards,”…

For those who think this review is more like a panegyric, let me end by stating what I do NOT like about this book - its title. I really don’t know, but the title, though apt, just does not do it for me. So now you know!

J.J MOILOA's TSIETSI E LATELLA TSHOTLEHO

2011-09-21T05:12:00.001-07:00

Tsietsi e latella tshotleho. By J.J MOILOA
Book: Tsietsi e latella tshotleho
Author: J.J Moiloa
Review by Rebaone Motsalane

What I love to hate about experienced and gifted writers is their ability to grab my attention until the end of the book, though sometimes it requires a lot of patience to do so.

I had to read until page 53 to get to the essence of the story and only then the plot of the story was revealed. I was half-way through and about to finish and still not sure about the storyline.

The story picks up very slowly and the only thing that kept my attention is the background of the writer as he is highly esteemed and respected.

At the end, my curiosity paid off and over-powered the frustration of trying to figure the storyline out. It was beautifully written and revealed.

The book is about a man who clearly is not in his right mind and highly agitated. However at the beginning the story is not clear about the cause and his motives. He has a plan which the reader is not clear about, whether it is to rob a mine or something else. At the beginning I thought he was there to enrich himself, only to find out that he was there to avenge his wife’s rape which resulted in a son that he hated so much.

He lays a trap to stage an incident and blow up the culprit and to finally put matters to rest and go back home. True, the accident happened where not only his enemy got injured, but two other innocent men who knew nothing about the hatred between the two.

When they all thought that they will never be rescued, he confessed to his friend how he stole explosives to cause the accident and apologises to his friend. He takes the blame and at the same time relives his pain and suffering that got him there; he unloads his frustrations.

However, a sting remains in the tail…

AWOONOR'S "COMES THE VOYAGER AT LAST"

2011-09-17T04:18:00.000-07:00

The author, Kofi Awoonor, educated in Ghana, London, and New York, is a well known long-established African writer. This, his second novel, is an interesting travel narrative that combines African and African American history (the forced removal of West Africans to the New World) with myth. The story unfolds in the mind of its central character, an African American who can trace his ancestry to slavery and the Civil War, as he returns to West Africa for a spiritual reunion with the people. This main narrative is juxtaposed with an italicized account of West Africans being led to a slave ship more than 300 years earlier. This book reads as one Ghanaian's version of Alex Haley's African American family saga Roots…

MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS - a review

2011-08-13T02:32:00.000-07:00

MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS
By Omoseye Bolaji

Review by Public Eye

Omoseye Bolaji’s latest book: Miscellaneous Writings, is one that encapsulates many of his shorter writings over the last two years or so. Many of the articles
had been published in diverse international journals and magazines.
Now they comprehensively appear in book form for the first time.

The book is touted by many literary pundits as the 30th published work
of the author (Bolaji) who is a novelist, short story writer,
playwright, literary critic, poet, journalist, and editor.

The essays in this work straddle many topics and individuals. The
author touches on the world of literature; sundry writers and their
works, sports, social affairs, modern technology, arts and culture
generally, music, among others.

As a literary critic himself, it is not surprising that Bolaji has a
number of chapters devoted to writers. He includes chapters on writers
as varied as DH Lawrence, NMM Duman, Lewis Nkosi, Teboho Masakala,
Sheila Khala, Ola Rotimi, Camara Laye etc

For me, his articles on the distinguished Zimbabwean writer, Dambudzo
Marechera; and on the late Lewis Nkosi stand out . His approach to
Nkosi is a bit different from the conventional one – he focuses on his
undercutting “humour”, and the effect of this is that many would feel
like grabbing a copy of the man’s works!

Bolaji ruminates on a number of issues in this work. He states that
modern world for example takes technology for granted, and can not
appreciate the marvels of the world we live in. We tend to forget (the
young do not even know) that things like cell phones and internet are
hardly up to 20 years old in the entire human existence! But Bolaji
philosophises on such matters, and puts things into perspective.

It is for this reason that some literary commentators, including the
current writer, believe that Bolaji shares a lot in common with
writers like the Bronte sisters who lived almost two hundred years
ago; these were nigh mystical people who seemed to have one foot in
this world and one elsewhere; realising the futility and vulnerability
of human existence.

Some of the chapters here adumbrate Bolaji’s fiction, moving us
intensely, despite their brevity. Read the “essay” titled “Stumped”
for example, and we see Bolaji in microcosm: the pacy writing, twists
and turns, and startling conclusion. Elsewhere, Bolaji brings in the
artist/painter Stephen Achugwo in classical fashion too, with quick
strokes that fascinate us.

To mention but a few of the chapters in this new work: The wretched of
the earth, The allure of the festive season, Wordsmiths to the fore,
Bastions of defence, The radiance of the king, A tale of two crooks,
The pulsating vanguard of change, The distinguished bards, Guitarists
with brio, Murder in the temple, The burgeoning wordsmith

Omoseye Bolaji’s other books include They Never Say When, Snippets,
Impossible Love, Fillets of Plaice, The ghostly Adversary, The
Guillotine, Tebogo’s spot of bother, Molebogeng Alitta Mokhuoa, My
Opinion, The subtle transgressor, Reverie, My life and literature,
Poems from Mauritius, Tebogo and the Haka, Tebogo and the
epithalamion, and Tebogo and the pantophagist

* This review was first published in PUBLIC EYE, Friday August 12 edition

OMOSEYE BOLAJI’s MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS (2011)

2011-07-05T00:02:00.000-07:00

Book: Miscellaneous Writings
Author: Omoseye Bolaji
Publisher: New Voices Publishing (Cape Town)
Published: June, 2011

Omoseye Bolaji is the recipient of a Lifetime Achievement Award, the Chancellor’s Medal from the University of the Free State, and was also conferred with a Chieftaincy title by the King of Ibadanland in West Africa. Bolaji is a well known African writer who has published lots of fiction, poetry, literary criticism, biographies, and drama.

This is his latest book, containing a selection of his recent, diverse, shorter writings for magazines, journals, anthologies etc. Topics, or/and protagonists covered in this sparkling work include:

DH Lawrence
Lewis Nkosi
The allure of Father Xmas!
The National English Literary Museum (Grahamstown)
Steve Biko
Nigerian, and South African Writers
Camara Laye
Dambudzo Marechera
NMM Duman
Gabriel Okara
Facebook
Ola Rotimi
The tormentone
Gordon Banks
Horrific Murder/Rape
Segun Odegbami
The Illustrators
Teboho Masakala
Musical Maestros
Sheila Khala
Relativity of poverty

There are also recent essays on Bolaji's literary work written by Raphael Mokoena, Deon Simphiwe-Skade, and M Mohlakela.

The Introduction to this illuminating book is written by the well known African critic and poet, Pule Lechesa.

To get a copy of this book, contact Barbara at barbara@newvoices.co.za

JAMES MATTHEWS AT 82!!!

2011-05-27T06:43:00.001-07:00

By Deon Simphiwe Skade

South African-born author, James Matthews, has turned 82. This milestone was celebrated by The Centre for the Book, part of the National Library, by inviting fellow writers and readers to observe this special day. Even though Matthews' birthday was on the 22nd of May, the centre hosted the event celebrating his life and achievements on the 23rd.

Matthews is a crucial part of world's writers. Here one refers particularly to those writers who through their writing and speech, not only denounced any form of oppression against anyone, but were as brave as willing to face any consequences that emerged. Dennis Brutus’ name springs up from many names of such heroes. Some of Matthews’s fellow writers spoke of his illustrious writing career, but highlighted his ability to remain honest in any subject he engaged in. Often referred to as one of District Six's prominent writers along the likes of Alex La Guma, Matthews is a sage that we should celebrate as such. Young or old writers should drink from his well of wisdom. When I asked him for an advice that he may give to a young writer like me, he said: ''Be honest in your writing and don't pay too much attention to the critics. Believe in what you do and be true to that.''

Matthews' confidence at 82 may unsettle many young folk. The honesty that he referred to, which was also a piece of advice he gave to another young journalist writer a few years ago, characterizes his speech too. In his opening remarks as the guest of honour, he shared an anecdote about a bathing experience he recently had, in which he fell as he tried to stand up. He did not use any euphemistic words in relating this unfortunate incident. As a result, the audience were in stitches over his sharp and unrestrained wit. One admired Matthews even more.

Happy belated birthday James Matthews. May you see many more years to come. The young need your wisdom and guidance.

SOME OF JAMES MATTHEWS' BOOKS:

Black voices shout
Cry rage!
The park and other stories
No time for dreams
Poems from a prison cell
The party is over

SELLO DUIKER: A LITERARY GENIUS

2011-05-14T06:49:00.000-07:00

By Siphiwo Mahala

Kabelo Sello Duiker would have turned 37 on April 13 this year (2011)had he not extinguished his own flame on January 19 2005.

At the time of his death Duiker had already published two acclaimed novels: He won the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best First Book: Africa Region for his debut novel, Thirteen Cents (David Philip, 2000), and the Herman Charles Bosman Prize for The Quiet Violence of Dreams (Kwela, 2001). His third novel, The Hidden Star (Umuzi, 2005) was published posthumously.

If there is anything we can learn from Duiker, it is that the literary landscape is a universal landscape and should not be defined along racial lines. Duiker was not a good black writer; he was just a great writer. His peers, literary giants and critics all acknowledged his contribution to our literature.

Duiker is to literature what Steve Biko is to politics, both having died at the tender age of 30 but leaving indelible footprints in our collective memory. Duiker’s writing distinguished itself with its courageous interrogation of issues relating to sexuality, identity, mental illness and Hiv and Aids. Thirteen Cents is a moving account of a 13-year old homeless boy, who in his struggle to survive on the streets of Cape Town, finds himself being sexually abused by adults. The Quiet Violence, on the other hand, centres on the tumultuous life of Tshepo, a Rhodes University student who is confined to a mental asylum in Cape Town.

Indeed a close reading of Duiker’s works reveals that the thread that runs through his writing is identity in its diverse forms. Azure, the teenage protagonist in Thirteen Cents loses his identity and becomes Blue; and Tshepo becomes Angelo-Tshepo in The Quiet Violence. The circumstances surrounding this change of identity have largely to do with the effects of racism that permeate the lives of these characters.

Six years after his demise, Duiker remains one of the best writers ever to come out of South Africa and arguably the best to have emerged since the turn of the century. It was surely because of these extraordinary achievements that the South African Literary Awards (Sala) saw fit to name an award after him.

Naming an award after Duiker is the greatest accolade bestowed on his memory, but more needs to be done to preserve and celebrate his legacy. Duiker should be a figure that aspirant writers strive to emulate.

* This is a very condensed version of the author’s article, published in The Mail and Guardian April 8 – 14 2010 edition

MEET GHANA'S GREAT PLAYWRIGHT

2011-05-09T04:49:00.000-07:00

Book Review by Judith Greenwood.

The Legacy of Efua Sutherland:
Pan-African Cultural Activism,
Anne V. Adams and Esi Sutherland-Addy.

All nations as they brave the tides of history need good navigators if they are not to founder, and Ghana was fortunate to have such a pilot in the theatre practitioner Efua Sutherland, who helped to steer its course culturally, socially and politically after it achieved independence in 1957. This collection of essays, timed to coincide with the fiftieth anniversary of that event, has been brought together to demonstrate and celebrate the fact that the irresistible force which was Dr. Efua Theodora Sutherland seems never to have encountered an immovable object.

Efua Sutherland was born in Cape Coast, Ghana in 1924 and died in Accra in 1996. Educated in Ghana by Yorkshire nuns, who introduced her to literature and the performing arts, she went on to study at Homerton College Cambridge and the School of Oriental and African Studies in London before returning to the newly independent Ghana in 1957, where she set up the Ghana Writers Society “all of a sudden because I felt that a newly independent country needed a force of creative writers.” [Sutherland p. 160]

It is evidence of her passion and energy that the word ‘sudden’ occurs so frequently in Sutherland’s interviews:

“Suddenly in 1951 I started…creative writing seriously”, [Sutherland p. 161]

“I suddenly saw …[w]e needed a programme to develop playwriting and…that led to… the Ghana Experimental Theatre” [Sutherland p. 161]

“The Drama Studio came as a sudden answer to a problem I had been having, starting the theatre programme.” [Sutherland p. 162]

This was the Ghana Drama Studio, which she established first in an aluminium shed on the beach in Accra in 1958 until it moved to new premises in 1960 and celebrated with a production of Everyman attended by Kwame Nkrumah.

The social health of a nation can be measured by the value it places upon artistic energy and culture, in the widest sense of those words, and Kwame Nkrumah’s Convention People’s Party, with its drive for reform from the very grass roots of society, was never going to restrict the country’s artists to the role of dissidents. But with Ghana’s freedom came the responsibility to answer the universal and eternal questions which must be addressed by every independent society: how should we educate our children, how can we build the future on the best of the past, and how do we live fulfilled lives in our communities?

Efua’s answers were characteristically pragmatic. She set up the Children’s Drama Development Project and she became “the first Ghanaian writer to take a serious interest in writing for children … (and) who attempted to produce a book with an indigenous background for children in Ghana.” [Komasi p. 69]; she encouraged the government to set up the Ghanaian National Commission on Children and chaired it. She built stages, established acting companies and wrote plays to express by modern theatre means her “vision of the socially regenerative power of the traditional rituals” [Adams p. 112] which she shared with other African writers; she insisted that everyone’s talent should be exercised for the good of the whole of society, because “[w]hat we cannot buy is the spirit of originality and endeavour which makes a people dynamic and creative.” [Sutherland p. 77]. She shared Nkrumah’s belief in and vision for the integration of different ethnic groups on the continent, stating in her play Foriwa (1967) through the character Labaran, “Who is a stranger anywhere in these times in whose veins the blood of this land flows?”

The book is divided into three sections under the titles Efua Sutherland’s Artistic Space (13 essays) Efua Sutherland and Cultural Activism (4 essays and 2 personal interviews with Sutherland by Robert July and Ola Rotimi), Reminiscences and Tributes (9 essays), and the student’s essential toolkit of a Chronology, a Bibliography and a Biographical Sketch. With contributions from theatre practitioners, playwrights, actors, musicians, writers, teachers, academics, architects and Sutherland’s family, the essays cover in fascinating, thorough and diverse detail the astonishing range of her artistic and political activities. Her plays, her writing for children and her storytelling initiatives are reviewed and analysed; her role in the creation of many of Ghana’s arts institutions is examined and then brought to life through interviews with Sutherland herself; essays by her contemporaries demonstrate how far-ranging was her influence in modern African theatre – Biodun Jeyifo states that “[t]he programme of experimental theatre which Efua Sutherland began in Accra between 1958 and 1961, and the Ghana Drama Studio which she built to house her experimental work are two of the most important ‘happenings’ in the creation of modern drama, not only in West Africa but in the entirety of the African continent” [p. 36], whilst Anne V. Adams asserts that “her work forms part of the foundation on which the contemporary production of written literature by Africans rests.” [p.105].

Her leadership and activism, the social application of her drama work and her influence on the Diaspora are all discussed in analytical and descriptive essays, whilst memoirs and reminiscences bear testimony to her extraordinary generosity and skill in mentoring and nurturing talent. As the eponymous heroine says in Foriwa, “I want to be able to look up as I walk and see dignity in the place of my birth. All of us should want that.”

ULLI BEIER DIES

2011-05-02T03:44:00.000-07:00

Many followers of African literature have been saddened at the demise of Ulli Beier, who did so much for the continent's literature around fifty years ago. He was able to publish the initial works of some of the continent's all-time great writers, like Wole Soyinka, Kofi Awoonor, J.P Clark, Alex la Guma, and Dennis Brutus.

The following pertinent profile of Beier is from Wikipedia:

Horst Ulrich (Ulli) Beier (30 July 1922 – 3 April 2011) was a German editor, writer and scholar, who had a pioneering role in developing literature, drama and poetry in Nigeria, as well as literature, drama and poetry in Papua New Guinea. His wife Georgina Beier had an instrumental role in simultaneously stimulating the visual arts in both Nigeria and Papua New Guinea.

Beier was born in Glowitz, Germany, in July 1922. His father was a medical doctor and an appreciator of art and raised his son to embrace the arts. After the Nazi party' rise to power, the Beiers, who are non-practicing Jews, left for Palestine. In Palestine, while his family were briefly detained as enemy aliens by the British authorities, Ulli Beier was able to earn a BA as an external student from the University of London. However, he later moved to London to earn a degree in Phonetics. A few years later, after his first marriage to the Austrian artist Susanne Wenger, he was given a faculty position at the University of Ibadan to teach Phonetics.

While at the University, Beier transferred from the Phonetics department to the Mural Studies department. It was at the Mural Studies department he became interested in Yoruba culture and arts. Though, he was a teacher at Ibadan, he ventured outside the city and lived in nearby cities, of Ede, Ilobu and Osogbo, this gave him an avenue to see the spatial environment of different Yoruba communities. In 1956, after visiting the First Congress of Negro Artists and Writers organized by Presence Africaine at the Sorbonne, in Paris, France Ulli Beier returned to Ibadan and founded the magazine Black Orpheus, the name was inspired by Jean Paul Sartre's essay "Orphée Noir". The journal quickly became the leading space for Nigerian authors to write and publish their work. The journal became known for its innovative works and literary excellence and was widely acclaimed. Later in 1961, Beier, co-founded the Mbari Artists and Writers Club, Ibadan, a place for new writers, dramatist and artists, to meet and perform their work. In 1962, he co-founded (with the dramatist Duro Ladipo) Mbari-Mbayo, Osogbo. In the early 1980s he founded and directed the Iwalewa Haus, an art centre at the University of Bayreuth in Germany.

Ulli Beier was known for his efforts in translating African literary works. He emerged as one of the scholars who introduced African writers to a large international audience for his works in translating plays of dramatists such as Duro Ladipo and publishing Modern Poetry (1963) an anthology of African poems. After Beier left Nigeria in 1968, he worked in Papua New Guinea and intermittently returned to Nigeria for brief periods

THROUGH IT ALL, by Teboho Masakala

2011-03-16T23:48:00.000-07:00

Book: Through it all
Author: Teboho Masakala
Publisher: Tam Books (Selosesha, Thaba Nchu)
ISBN: 978-0-620-49987-3

He is only 23 but Teboho Masakala is already the author of two books. Last year he published a book of short stories, and this week his first novel (actually technically a novella) came out, titled THROUGH IT ALL.

Masakala is now fulfilling the promise and potential the literary pundits saw in him a few years ago. The young man is very proud of his roots from Thaba ‘Nchu and in his own way he is putting the town on the map.

“I am what I am because of Thaba Nchu,” he told Free State News this week. “I am so pleased and proud that my first novel is out! I have always loved writing fiction. I now know that it is not something that anyone, not even all writers, can just do. It requires talent, discipline, imagination. A writer must have moral compass”

Teboho’s debut novel, Through it all focuses on a certain young woman and her vicissitudes. The protagonist is Monica Classen who is dragged through the mill! After the death of her parents, she is unfortunately raped by her own uncle, an exceedingly harrowing experience for her.

She decides to flee Thaba Nchu and start a new life in Bloemfontein, but her ordeal is not over; not by a long shot. More painful episodes await her till in the end, like a deus ex machina all is well with her, and her sorrows are behind her. Read this moving work and bask!

Excerpt from the book (exemplifying the sad metamorphosis of Monica): “Monica (who had been) fragile, kind-hearted, was now this weak, controlled drugs loving, money hungry Monica…the city of Bloemfontein had swallowed her and was not prepared to throw her up anytime soon as there was no way out…”

- O Bolaji

PEOPLE OF THE TOWNSHIPS

2011-03-10T03:16:00.000-08:00

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.

LITERARY LEGACY OF MAGEMA FUZE

2011-02-28T22:53:00.000-08:00

BOOK REVIEW
Book: Magema Fuze
Author: Hlonipha Mokoena
Publisher: University of KwaZulu Natal Press
Reviewer: Mpikeleni Duma

Who was Magema Fuze? This book provides the answer in fulsome, scholarly fashion. Fuze was in fact the first Zulu (black) author to write a book in Zulu. He was an early top-notch intellectual and this book sheds light on his scope and achievement.

In 1922 Magema Fuze published Abantu Abamnyama Lapa Bavela Ngakona. He was subsequently categorised as a first generation kholwa intellectual, a precarious genre in those days. Fuze wrote as an aspirant historian, and certainly did not – or could not - fulfil his potential in that era.

Interestingly, the author also shows us how the printing press defined the course of Fuze’s life as both a technician and a devotee (Fuze in sum during his lifetime was a printer, Scribe and popular historian)

In this book we see how important the newspaper, Ipepa Lo Hlanga was in the old days. From its early days in the 1880’s this press was a platform and expression of the intellectual, cultural and social aspirations of the (Zulu) public. Fuze’s contributions to the newspaper broadened his horizons, his range and breadth, culminating in his producing his book.

This book comprises living history, tracing vicissitudes of the Zulu kings and kingdom over the years. In this respect Fuze’s works remind us of the great visionary Zulu poet, Mazisi Kunene; though of course Fuze lived many decades before Kunene, and as a journalist he lived and wrote through a very important period.

Arguably, this also means that Magema Fuze’s account and writings are necessarily much more convincing (not fictional). The passion and ardour in Fuze’s book (and writings) shine through, despite his background as a mission educated African.

This book is the latest addition to laudable biographies which have been written and published on early South African great black writers – eg Brian Willan’s biography of Sol Plaatje; Catherine Higgs’ biography of D.D.T Jabavu; and Tim Couzens’ biography of H.I.E Dhlomo.

The author has painstakingly put together a work that celebrates the whole essence of the life and literary achievements of Magema Fuze – from his childhood, his education, literary influences and his own extensive corpus of work; including his ground-making book, Abantu Abamnyama (1922).

This is a breath-taking, scholarly work produced by the author (Hlonipha Mokoena), who is assistant professor of anthropology at Columbia University in the City of New York. An invaluable book for scholarly and record purposes.

THE GHOSTLY ADVERSARY

2011-01-27T04:36:00.000-08:00

Book: The Ghostly Adversary
Author: Omoseye Bolaji
Publisher: Drufoma (South Africa)
Pages: 116
Reviewer: Rebaone Motsalane

Sometimes, I hate a well written book. Maybe “hate” is rather a strong word, but I fail to find a proper alternative.

A good book lingers in your mind longer and it takes another book to cool you down. I have read so many books by Thomas Hardy and they always lingered in my mind and some have made a permanent space there.

The Book, The Ghostly Adversary (by Omoseye Bolaji)reminded me of Thomas Hardy though it is not really as melancholic as his stuff. Still, it really got on my nerves and now I am faced with the need to wipe my mind clear again.

Omoseye Bolaji has a love for the detective story, brilliantly written and I have enjoyed most of them. But this one hit a nerve as a woman, reading about the devastating effects rape can have on women.

Light hearted at first, I did not even guess that he was addressing rape and its impact and how brutal rapists really are. Though he tried his best to paint an un-frightening rape scenario, any rape story is a trauma to any woman.

It is only in the end that the mystery behind the attacks orchestrated on this woman raped twenty years ago is revealed.

She was raped in her teens and will never be the same again and dedicating her life to educate and teach others about rape.

One would think that after revenge she would be able to move on with her life, but the scars of rape were too deep and she ended up having to fight each and every man that wronged her in the end.

It is indeed a good book, but it will take a while before I gather my strength to read another detective book!

The book is for every one, tainted or not tainted by the crime of rape. It is a good detective story and available in local libraries.

P.S: If you know a less melancholic Thomas Hardy book, let me know…or then again, maybe not!

* This review was originally published in Mangaung issue (Jan 26, 2011)

CELEBRATING LEWIS NKOSI AND HIS SUBLIME HUMOUR

2011-01-20T22:32:00.000-08:00

By O BOLAJI

When an illustrious African writer like Lewis Nkosi departs this world, the sorrow is profound for lovers of literature. Our consolation however is that we can always read and re-read the excellent literary works they leave behind.

In the case of Lewis Nkosi, the success of his novel, Mating Birds was quite staggering and the literary acclaim he garnered – and continues to garner – awesome. Yet for me, it is the humour in the work that always sticks in my mind. Although I say “humour” it is actually biting irony; as the perceptive reader, regardless of colour, realises how inhumane and horrific the erstwhile apartheid system was in South Africa.

Mating Birds on the surface is a simplistic work, brilliantly narrated in the first person by a young black man who had committed a terrible “crime” during the apartheid era – he had “raped” a white woman! In those days sexual relations between the different colours was strictly forbidden, hence the protagonist was facing the death sentence – which was duly passed on him (death by hanging)

But the primary irony is that Sibiya, the protagonist of the work had not actually raped the white woman; we can see clearly throughout the work that the lady liked him, and was even sexually attracted to him. She keeps on encouraging his interest in her which includes his coming to watch her at the beach, following her around, her not minding him hanging around just outside her home; and ultimately the prelude to his “rape” was when she took all her clothes off and despite seeing him just outside her home, she still does not close her door!

Nevertheless according to the laws of the time, the protagonist had committed a terrible crime, and had to die for it. The author, Lewis Nkosi subtly and intelligently shows the world that neither the white woman (Veronica) nor Sibiya were really guilty (the white lady had to lie in court that she was raped by a black man anyway; how could she ever admit that she welcomed his attentions?) – the real culprit was the apartheid system that completely disallowed any sort of intercourse between people from different races, with romance and its ilk a taboo!

As I have said, it is the “humour” or ironical devices that give this novel its haunting, lambent, unforgettable impact. Here I shall reproduce a few examples in celebration of the literary genius of the author, Lewis Nkosi. Whilst in the University, a key lecturer white explains to students like Sibiya that “whether we like it or not, African history commences with the arrival on African soil of the first white man. The history of Africa is the history not of black Africans but of white men in a foreign environment...”

The Court case of Sibiya for the rape of the white woman is a cause celebre with the young black man portrayed as a devil incarnate who had violated a hapless, white woman. After her testimony in court about her “rape”, the whites are outraged and incandescent with rage: Our narrator says: “(Hers) was a magnificent performance. A number of white men rose as if preparing to leap over the public galleries in order to get at my black carcass...others were crying ‘Lynch the (baboon)!”

Even the prosecuting lawyer has no time for Sibiya’s protests of defence that the white woman had encouraged him amorously; the prosecutor shouts at Sibiya in court: “You think a white madam can feel flattered by being gazed at by a baboon like you!” This from a learned lawyer!

Another white man in court bursts out: “Why not cut off his filthy black dingus, the rotten swine!”

That Sibiya is sexually drawn to Veronica, the white girl is never in doubt. The narrative reaches a crescendo as he finally realises his dream and takes her rather wildly inside her own room. She is clearly a willing participant in what is going on, but Sibiya realises only too well that he is throwing his whole life away by having sex with her. Death by hanging loomed! Yet the protagonist has reached a point of no-return; a situation reiterated by a brilliantly terse, grim, oxymoronic line which is also arguably a double entendre as he makes love with Veronica: “but come what may, I was determined to reach my climax,”

As he ultimately waits to be hanged in gaol, Sibiya reflects on everything and “bonds” with an eminent criminologist in the process, Dr Dufre (the Doctor is preparing an exhaustive study on the “criminal” Sibiya). Near the end, we are blithely told by our protagonist: “Upon the publication of his study, Dr Dufre will (receive) accolades for having conducted an illuminating study of the tormented mind of an African criminal (Sibiya). At least one person, I am glad to say, will benefit from (this tragedy)”

It is by the use of such profound, yet haunting irony (or as I dub it “humour”) that the author complements one of the greatest works ever churned out in African literature.

* O Bolaji is the author of imaginative books like Impossible Love (2000) The ghostly adversary (2001) People of the Townships (2003) Tebogo and the Haka (2008)Tebogo and the epithalamion (2009) and Tebogo and the pantophagist (2010)

MBALI XULU MAKES HER MARK!

2011-01-16T02:47:00.000-08:00

When Ghana’s Ama Ata Aidoo published her wonderful work, Our Sister Kill Joy decades ago, the world warmed to the work, and still continues to praise it. Although more of a novel it was the powerful, lyrical lines of poetry in the book that grabbed most of the critical attention and praise. This shows that Africa’s women writers have always been able to churn out memorable poetry.

South African women have also been holding their heads high in the genre of poetry. The men of course seem to be streets ahead in this wise, but it is certain that more and more women are making their mark as poets. For many years Karen Press has been a formidable figure in poetry in the country; in recent times the likes of Lebo Mashile, Napo Masheane, Ntsiki Mazwai, Nthabiseng (Jah-Rose) Jafta have taken their rightful places as laudable female bards too, displaying “tongue-twisting immaculate diction”

Now Mbalenhle (Mbali) Xulu has published her debut collection of poetry titled “THE UNDYING SPIRIT OF A WOMAN”. The book is published by New Voices Publishing in Cape Town. The new author is understandably proud to have joined the vibrant ranks of female writers in the country

In an interview with fellow poet, author and columnist, “handsome” H Kunene, Xulu said, inter alia:

“I guess writing has always been part of me, but it’s just that maybe I didn’t realise then that it was a talent. As child I was very reserved and was the kind of child that wasn’t able to stand up for myself and was also very, very shy. That is when the writing had a role, whether I was sad or feeling left out (you know how cruel kids can be in their own way), or my mom had just given me a smack or I was cross for whatever reason, I’d resort to jotting down what I thought of the situation or how I was going to go about dealing with the situation at hand. That time it wasn’t mostly poetry, but it would just be a one line phrase trying to console myself or even a paragraph with positive thoughts…In 2008 we had an Aids Day function at work and there wasn’t much on the program, and it surely looked like it was going to be boring, so I decided to write something. That’s when I did my first complete poem called; I REFUSE TO GIVE UP, which is in my book, The Undying Spirit of a Woman. (This book) is my first book to be published, and at the moment I’m working on the second one for married couples called, Marriage that Actually Works…”

A warm welcome from the literary fraternity to Mme Xulu!

- Malome Eric

SPEAKING FOR THE GENERATIONS

2010-12-12T22:45:00.000-08:00

SPEAKING FOR THE GENERATIONS

Review by Raselebeli Khotseng

Book: SPEAKING FOR THE GENERATIONS (2010)
Editor: Dike Okoro
Publisher: Africa World Press, Inc
Number of pages: 218
Reviewer: Raselebeli Khotseng

Anthologies of “contemporary African short stories” have been churned out over the decades. In the early period of African writing, illustrious names like Chinua Achebe,Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Dambudzo Marechera,Okot p’bitek etc were also renowned for their short stories (as distinct from their novels)

Indeed Chinua Achebe was the protagonist of at least two excellent such anthologies himself over the years. No matter what some cynics/detractors might claim, short story writing will always be dynamic and bubbling, straddling the whole African continent.

Talented short story writers will always emerge on a regular basis. For example in Lesotho, there is a remarkable short story writer called Leseli Mokhele. In the nearby Free State (South Africa) the very young Teboho Masakala is already making a name for himself in this genre.

This particular anthology titled “Speaking for the Generations” has been put together by Dike Okoro, with some 48 contributors. Okoro is a well known poet, short story writer, editor, essayist and critic. He is Assistant Professor of English and World Literature at Olive-Harvey College, Chicago (USA)

Contributors to this book include Benjamin Kwakye, Freddy Macha, Tijan M Sallah, Jackee Batanda, Aryan Kaganof, Mohammed Said Raihani, Tanure Ojaide, Lola Shoneyin, Kondwani Kamiyala, Dan Wanyama Innocent, Noun Gana, Omar A Alkakli, Emmanuel Sigauke, Prince Mensah, Ayobami Adebayo, Joyce Ashuntantang, Sitawa Namwalie, Eresina Hwede, Kobus Moolman.

Other contributors are Temitayo Olofinlua, Dipita Kwa, Akoli Penoukou, Moustapha Laghiri, Ilonga Ngale, A Igoni Barret, Ozioma Izuora, Yangange Wose, Niran Okewole, Tembo Magarimbo, Yewande Omotoso, Becky Apteker, Folake Idowu, Adekunle Afolabi, Beatrice Lamwaka, Mohammed Ferri, Emmanuel Iduma, Arja Salanfranca, Hicham Harrak, Ken Efeh, Said Ahoubate, Dipo Kalejaiye, Roland Marke, Zehra Ramij, F Odun Balogun, Onyi Udegbe, Khadija El Younoussi, Joseph Obi, and Habib D Rabbi.

The editor (Dike Okoro) writes in his Introduction to the book, inter alia: “This book represents fresh insights by some of the very best established and emerging voices of contemporary African fiction...many of these writers grapple with themes that are diverse and universal...(e.g) Aryan Kaganof’s story tackles contemporary South African reality using the politics of living in the post-apartheid era as a yardstick for understanding some of the struggles that a citizen (in South Africa) experiences...stylistically, the stories featured in this book are strong indicators of the oral tradition...it is my hope that readers will be able to identify with the Africa reflected here...”

From a personal point of view, I fairly enjoyed reading most of the short stories in this anthology. I will not say I found the stories particularly earth-shattering, but the thing about short stories is that one can read them individually at one’s pace; and even the most tedious of them come to an end soon! I commend the editor of this work for going out of his way to include writers from virtually every nook and cranny of the continent.

HOLD BACK YOUR TEARS

2010-12-09T06:26:00.000-08:00

Book: Hold back your tears
Author: Raselebeli Khotseng
Introduction by Pule Lechesa

From the Introduction of the book...

The publication of this book comes at a very important, exhilarating period in Free State Black literature. Many literary pundits have pointed out that, stripped of exceeding literary criticism, this year (2010) has been a remarkable year for writing – with the emergence of writers like NMM Duman, Hector Kunene, Jah Rose (Nthabiseng Jafta), Teboho Masakala.

Not all of them are poets; in fact Kunene and Jah Rose are the recognised poets. They are young, promising and confident. It is part of the irony of the literary pantheon that they actually published their books of poetry before a veritable doyen of poetry in the Free State, Raselebeli “Magic” Khotseng.

What is the quintessence of poetry? Amidst the cymbals of the distinction between real poetry and prose, we can at least say that we expect poetry to comprise heightened, elevated language; with moving imagery thrown in for good measure. In this wise nobody can deny that “Magic” is a good poet!

Nobody deserves a book of poetry more than Mr Raselebeli Khotseng. His dedication and sacrifices for poetry are legendary and date back to some two decades ago! Yet this remarkable individual has never published a book before, though of course his poems have been published liberally in a wide variety of publications over the years.

As for the quality and maturity of Khotseng’s poetry, his talent has always belonged to the top drawer. He is easily one of the best in the country. On a personal level, I might criticise this great poet for the rarity of humour in his poetry – but this Introduction does not intend to critique “Magic’s” poetry – rather to celebrate his life work...

PULE LECHESA (November, 2010)

SHADES OF HUBRIS IN JAH-ROSE'S WORK

2010-11-27T01:01:00.001-08:00

SHADES OF HUBRIS IN JAH-ROSE’S WORK

By Pule Lechesa

Book: Rooted from the Heart
Author: Nthabiseng Rose Jafta (Jah Rose)
Pages: 83
Reviewer: Pule Lechesa

The old Greeks had a word for it: hubris. This means pride. Unbearable, overweening, even irritating pride!

We might as well note that Hubris was considered a crime in classical Athens. It was also considered the greatest crime of the ancient Greek world; "outrageous treatment" in sum. It often resulted in fatal retribution or Nemesis, the protagonist’s downfall in general.

Yes, hubris! This is the distinct impression one gets whilst reading this work. This might as well be the work of a deluded potentate when we read early poems here with lines like:

“The crown I am wearing
The queen ship I feel…
(pg 1)

“Beautiful girl born…
A real beauty from the inside out
Gone and going to surprise the world”
(pg 3)

Admittedly, one must commend the author/poet f or ensuring that she produces a beautiful looking book, the fascinating cover, the litany of fine photographs o herself etc. the problem is that this is the only aspect beautiful about this work. This is a book that looks beautiful on our shelves – but sadly that’s where the beauty ends.

One’s mind goes to the magnificent English writer and playwright, Oscar Wilde who used to insist that works of art are not capable of being moral or immoral but only well or poorly made, and that only "brutes and illiterates," whose views on art "are incalculably stupid" would make such judgements about art. Aesthete though he was, many would disagree with this.

The insights provided by the poet, in the book Rooted from the Heart, if any, are negligible – even in the nigh average poems. Consider the poem “1652” for example...(pg 41)

“The abuse of power is what we see
All they do is blare instead of act
They are wrapped up with greed and selfishness
They earn millions yet they still scheme fraud
He he he...”

Alas, there is nothing poetic about these lines, no imagery, no puns, no exhilaration. We might as well be reading ordinary prose – like virtually all the poems in this book – instead of deceiving ourselves that this is poetry

In the “poem” MISSING YOU (Page 64) one definitely comes across a bad piece of composition. The faults of style and misplaced emotions aside, there is a jarring vulgarity that finds expression in lines like this:

“The feeling from your touch
The feeling from your lips kissing mine from the neck
To only you and I know to where
The feeling from when you thrust
That snake growing under your tummy in me
And it makes me wanna go oooohhh!...”

No lines could be more banal, and irritating (not to talk of bordering on indecency for sensitive readers). There is nothing poetic here. We have seen distinguished African writers like Njabulo Ndebele, Soyinka and Laye writing about sex and incorporating superb imagery. Here we are confronted with pure unimaginative trash.

The same is true for “MONARENG” (Page 68)

“He became mine and I became his
I watched him sit on that toilet seat and
Chat with him like we were in a decent place
He lets me in...”

It is unlikely that even DH Lawrence at his most vulgar went this far, but at least he had luxuriant imagery to push his ideas further

But enough of the despair – let us end this review on a positive note. The poet writes late in the book about how therapeutic she finds her poetry:

“I have been going through my poems
It’s amazing how the stuff one writes
Seems to heal...”
(page 80 )

It is as well that she feels like she has been healed by her poetry. Pity she’s the only one; as readers are unlikely to feel such healing after going through this book.

HAPPY 80th BIRTHDAY CHINUA ACHEBE

2010-11-15T22:33:00.000-08:00

Today the great African writer, Chinua Achebe, clocks 80! We are all delighted about this - what better tribute to him than to re-publish an article published about Achebe on this blog many months ago?

There can be no doubt about it: the celebrations will cascade on, the drums will roll, as Africa and the world celebrate the 80th birthday of Chinua Achebe today, who many consider as the greatest novelist black Africa has ever produced. Achebe wrote Africa’s all time most famous novel, Things fall apart (1958)

It is a novel that has delighted and moved the world for decades. But the author (Chinua Achebe) published other excellent novels – like No longer at Ease, (1960), Arrow of God, (1964) A man of the people (1966), and Anthills of the Savannah (1987). Of course there was a 20 year gap between A man of the People, and Anthills of the Savannah, which has been attributed to Achebe being “traumatised” by the Nigerian civil war (in the late sixties).

Achebe is an Ibo (or Igbo) from the eastern part of Nigeria. The Ibos were mainly the disenchanted people of eastern Nigeria who tried to form their own country or republic: “Biafra” precipitating the Nigerian civil war which ended in 1970. From his writings it is clear enough that Achebe was very much a Nigerian in spirit before the war (this is not to suggest that he is no less a Nigerian thereafter, as can be ascertained from his honest, earnest book of essays The Trouble with Nigeria)

In his novel, No longer at ease, for example, young well educated Obi regards himself as both an Ibo man, and a Nigerian. There is nothing wrong in being proud of one’s tribal origins or Mother tongue (Ghana’s Kofi Awoonor has demonstrated this in his works too). In Achebe’s A man of the people, national (Nigerian) politics loom large too, whilst still paying tribute to ethnic origins. Like Wole Soyinka (a Yoruba and a proud Nigerian too) Achebe’s works often assume a national and international dimension.

Things fall apart has been acclaimed as a classic as the author (Achebe) re-creates a pre-colonial, proud society with elaborate, intriguing customs complemented by a fluent, expressive language. If we contrast this work with Camara Laye’s superb work The African Child, the dispassionate approach by Achebe to his own first novel puts him in a special class. When an author tries to be “neutral” a work is often more powerful, and many critics, eg, hated the tone of Ayi Kwei Armah for example in Two thousand Seasons. Achebe’s work shows a highly intelligent, dispassionate author at work.

Achebe’s language in his fictional work shows that he is very much at ease with his mother tongue. Whilst writing in English he goes out of his way to convey the particular authentic atmosphere of the (often) people at grassroots level he is writing about; even as regards “Pidgin English” he gets the inflections and jokes right. Hence, his global acclamation as a great writer

There is the tendency to harp on Things fall apart as the author’s greatest work, and it must be said that many of such observers have probably not read all of Achebe’s works of fiction. It is a matter of taste, but I personally believe that novels like Arrow of God and No longer at ease (both also written by Achebe) are perhaps better than the original classic (Things fall apart) Certainly Achebe’s re-creation of the past and the sweep (even co-incidence?) of pivotal events in the society is more powerful in Arrow of God. Many critics frowned at A Man of the people, but it’s a brilliant work too, castigating political corruption, and also a satire – before Armah’s The beautyful Ones are not yet born.

But all this show how great a writer Chinua Achebe is. His books are read all over the world. Like in his works, Achebe in real life condemns negative things, including bad leadership, but at the same time he has a gentle, sagacious sense of humour. No praise can be too much for this wonderful son of Africa! We wish him all the best as he clocks 80 today…

CRIPPLING SHORTCOMINGS IN HECTOR KUNENE's THROUGH THE TUNNEL

2010-10-16T03:23:00.000-07:00

By Pule Lechesa

Hector Kunene has rightly been praised by many for his promising work, Through the Tunnel. However I am yet to read even one critical piece or essay on the book, which is a great disservice to the author. As a new author he deserves his work to be evaluated in a critical manner, not just praised in ignorant fashion.

We have always pointed out that no writer, no matter how good, is immune from criticism. Thomas Hardy for example is one of the greatest writers the world has ever seen with his world class novels; yet even when he was at the height of his powers and he published Jude the Obscure the critics in his enlightened society tore the work apart – it was a real ‘onslaught of vituperative criticism’ as Hardy himself described it whilst alive

It is tragic indeed that basically so many people at grassroots level hardly read in our (black African) society, no matter how educated they are; hence we have situations where works full of many mistakes are praised, whilst more sophisticated readers, and especially the scholars and critics, can identify these mistakes very easily. Through the Tunnel is full of such mistakes

Take page 38 for example (containing the poem ‘I will portray’). The mistakes on this page are quite horrific; or how else do we describe a situation where almost TEN spelling mistakes appear on just one page? Of course the most painful error here is the misspelling of ‘portray’ many times on this page; but there are others, like ‘highlights’ instead of ‘highlight’

In case some readers out there start thinking that this is a random mistake, the unfortunate fact is that the legions of mistakes in the book start even before the book formally begins! It is irritating enough that the poet engages in extreme self-praise even on the blurb and the error-strewn ‘Hector Kunene biography’. Indeed the page (page 3) is very embarrassing with so many illogical and syntactical mistakes.

Sentences such as ‘The poem Bloody corpuscles is about alarming the use of the specific words when talking especially to the young ones’ and ‘His poems are mainly in English but he throws in Zulu poems...which are normally shared at occasionally’ are meaningless and will make the purists of the English language flinch with shock.

With logic also often thin on the ground, the perceptive reader is left perplexed on a regular basis as he or she reads this book. A poem like ‘Cheating Standard’ might well have a message, but one suspects that only the poet knows what it is. At the very end of the poem the poet tries to explain what it is all about, but we are still none the wiser, as we are confronted with another confusing, quite meaningless sentence – ‘This friend ended up having a baby with this guy whilst married to his wife few months after this poem was inspired’ (page 23)

What the hell is this? we wonder. Is ‘this friend’ male or female? Surely a male can not have a baby, so we assume it is a woman; but can a woman be married ‘to his wife’ as the rest of the sentence ‘explains’? And how can all this (the betrayal) have happened months AFTER the poem was inspired? Doesn’t the poet mean that his poem was inspired after this betrayal? No matter how you look at it, there is no coherence here.

Indeed it is a common mistake with people who use languages like English formally whilst writing, to want to flaunt their knowledge, and hence they often go off in a tangent, and end up in a confused muddle. Additionally there are problems with similar sounding words which often lead some writers to add to their mistakes.

Alas, such is the case in Through the Tunnel too. There is no point in pointing out dozens of such mistakes in this book, but two shall suffice here. On page 17 the poet wants to write ‘at first sight it was’ but ends up writing ‘site’; again on page 37,(line 6) he confuses ‘live’ with ‘leave’ and ends up writing ‘you live me in a state...’

The desire for the poet to display his ‘flair for words’ often ends in confusion and embarrassment, as we have pointed out. The ‘big words’ hardly go hand in hand with common sense or real poetry. In the poem ‘Paradigm in paradise’ we can only assume that the poet, whilst showing the world that he knows such a ‘big’ word, is amusing himself, but not the intelligent reader. Lines such as ‘perpetual lifestyle sarcastic to the ancestors who fought’ are in no way poetry.

That the poet is confident, very confident, is clear enough from the book; but the problem is when this confidence strays into the arena of arrogance which should not be tolerated. Indeed in more enlightened societies a poem like ‘Gays and games’ (page 32) would land the poet in serious trouble from countless quarters!

One can only shake one's head sadly at this juncture, realising that the hoary statement ‘if you want to hide something from a black man put it in a book’ might well be true. Or how do we explain a poem like ‘Gays and games’ in this modern world? The disdain and arrogance of the poet shines through in lines like ’Gays and games or lesbians and less beings’? Again the poet makes a mistake here, as he clearly wants to write ‘lesser beings’ – but the effect is still the same; a very dangerous, insensitive poem.

Time and again, it has been shown that the best poets, whilst writing in English as a mother tongue, or as a ‘foreign language’ focus on a coherent message, with brilliant imagery, at least. Good poetry is not about big words or trying to sound clever – that is why even in the Free State the likes of Lebohang Thaisi will continue to be respected for their brilliant simplicity and lyricism in their published poetry. One can only hope that Mr Hector Kunene will try to focus less on ‘sounding bombastic and clever’, and more on writing moving poetry that will linger in the mind.

* Pule Lechesa, often referred to as the foremost literary critic in the Free State, is the author of critical books like Four Free State Authors, and The evolution of Free State Black Literature

'ROOTED FROM THE HEART' LAUNCHED WITH GUSTO!

2010-10-08T03:45:00.000-07:00

JAH-ROSE's Rooted from The Heart!

By Flaxman Qoopane

An anthology of poetry “Rooted from The Heart” by poet Nthabiseng (Jah-Rose) Jafta, has been launched at a glittering gala dinner at the Café Society, Waterfront in Bloemfontein, South Africa.

The Master of ceremonies was Itumeleng Modise who is a well known comedian. Speaking at the launch of the book of her daughter, Matselane Jafta, from Phelindaba Location in Mangaung said: “As the family of Jafta, we are happy to be invited to be part of the launch of the book of my child”

Goitsemang Pholo, from the Department of Sport, Arts, Culture and Recreation in the Free State rendered inspirational words. He said he felt it was important for him to be part of the launching of the book of Jah Rose. “The achievement of the poet will motivate many young women in the Province to follow the footsteps of Jah Rose.”

Flaxman Qoopane, veteran poet, journalist and author presented a speech and connected Nthabiseng Jafta with quotations of other female poets.

The book reviewer and the seller was Hector Kunene, the well known poet and columnist. The highlight of the occasion included the performances by the female guitarist and singer Belinda Van Zweindrech, actor Alcapone Pieterson, Dela-Zee, Peace Jafta a popular soloist and poet Lebogang Motloung.

Jah Rose entertained, educated and inspired the audience with her performance of some of her poetry. In conclusion, Jah Rose thanked the management of the Café Society and the staff for giving her the venue for the book launch. She also thanked everybody who contributed to the success of the launch of her anthology “Rooted from the Heart”

MINE BOY - By Peter Abrahams

2010-09-15T06:08:00.000-07:00

Review by Neo Mvubu

As a very young South African lady, Mine Boy touches the heart in such a way that it moves every inch of your body. This book – published over fifty years ago - has touched a part of me that I didn’t know existed. It explores the life of Xuma, a man born in the rural areas to seek wealth in the big city Johannesburg.

We walk with Xuma in his love life, in his path to find success as a miner and we realise the inequalities that the apartheid government imposed on him. As the story progresses we find him falling in love with Eliza, a woman who dreams of living the life of a white man, she loves him too but is pulled away by the luxuries, the material and the life that the white man lives. She then realises that that she cannot live with Xuma, at the same time, Xuma cannot satisfy her material needs.

We also experience the life of a miner and the conditions these people had to endure, the illnesses and the hunger and we see an old man who is on the verge of death but doesn’t disclose his disease, just to see his family pay off the debt!

The book is so visual that it pulls you into the lives of these people, you can see the people dancing in the street, drinking alcohol and you can see them blissful in their lives, even for that brief moment. The imagery is powerful, Peter Abrahams is able to create a picture that remains in your mind for years, and this is what one calls an unforgettable read.

As a young person in South Africa, we tend to take for granted the strides our people had to go through to ensure a great future for us and we don’t really understand what was going during the apartheid era, for me, it feels like it never happened, it’s like people never fought but when you read this book, you truly become part of your history. You tap into the daily lives of these people and experience every single emotion, the happiness, the heartache, the love and the music. You can feel yourself being part of the history and it just takes you back.

We see a man called Johannes in the book, this man was introduced into the life of alcoholism and never had anyone seen him sober. They say in the book, that white people introduced alcohol and then tried to take it away from black people, they introduced something that would take away the dignity of a black man and for Johannes, and it took away his essence. It took away the thing that made him who he was.

We also see a black doctor experiencing the same amount of racism and he doesn’t understand why he is treated like this. He is a doctor, tried to get the very education that would make him equal to a white man but it doesn’t and we get the impression that whatever you do, the whites would never see blacks as their equal.

Mine Boy was written many decades ago but we still see the racism taking place today, and this makes us realise that achieving a non-sexist, non-discriminatory democracy will take many more years; it is a journey rather than a destination.

Peter Abrahams addresses the plight of the black man in apartheid South Africa and makes us re-live the history in a visual way. This book is for people who appreciate black history, people who are eager to learn about themselves and where they come from.

LEWIS NKOSI: Literary icon breathes his last

2010-09-07T23:56:00.000-07:00

Writer, composer and journalist Lewis Nkosi has died at the age of 73, the communications company, wRite Associates has announced. It said he died on Sunday after a long illness.

Starting his career as a journalist at the Zulu-language newspaper Ilanga lase Natal, Nkosi joined Drum magazine in the early 1950s.

When he received a Nieman Fellowship to study at Harvard University in 1960, he was forced to leave South Africa on a one-way exit permit, exiling him from his country of birth for the next 31 years.

He held teaching posts at several universities including Zambia, Warsaw, Wyoming, London and Brandeis.

Among his works are the novels Mating Birds, Underground People and Mandela's Ego. plus several volumes of essays. His plays include The Black Psychiatrist, We Can't All Be Martin Luther King, and The Rhythm of Violence.

Project director of the South African Literary Awards Raks Seakhoa said on Tuesday(Sep 7 2010) that Nkosi was "part of those talented few who took South Africa's literary heritage to greater heights. He was among the pioneers of South African writing during his stint at the Drum magazine,"

A memorial service would be held on September 8 at the Museum Africa, Newtown Cultural Precinct, in Johannesburg at 5.30pm. The funeral would be in Durban on September 10.

NERVOUS CONDITIONS (A Review)

2010-08-13T04:46:00.000-07:00

NERVOUS CONDITIONS BY TSITSI DANGAREMBGA

By Neo Mvubu

Many have spoken volumes of an incredible woman of Africa. They have beaten their drums and ululated for a Zimbabwean queen who possesses a mighty sword; the sword of putting words onto paper. Tsitsi Dangarembga, the author of Nervous Conditions, could not have placed it any better.

The book reflects on the daily lives of the people during and after the colonial rule in Zimbabwe. The voices of her character have more depth and every one of those characters has a voice, a strong voice that cannot be ignored. Tambu the main character in the book sees her loved ones change after getting exposed to the Western culture. She sees herself also going through it when she enrolled at a mission school.

We walk a path of life with Tambu as she grows from humble beginnings to becoming an educated woman in her community. We see the pride in her mother’s eyes and also her fears after losing a son to these Western values. Her mother mentions ‘the Englishes” saying that English took her son away and that is also taking her daughter away too.

We see Babamakuru who has a burden of looking after his entire family from his earnings as a teacher, we see the pain he goes through and this is reflected in his wife, who cannot bear to see his husband go through this pain. Many at home appreciate what he does for the family but they do not understand the work that goes into providing for all those goods.

Nyasha on the other hand is Babamakuru’s child who grew up in England and spent most of her childhood at the mission school. She speaks this English that Tambu’s mother talks about vividly in the book and she forgets, she forgets her home language and forgets her childhood friend Tambu. Nyasha smokes, drinks alcohol, and does all those things that are foreign to a traditional home in Africa. She is then isolated from her larger family because she does not fit in anywhere.

We are given different perspectives in the book and Tsitsi Dangarembga, the author blends all these characters beautifully. She creatively infuses their spirits in one book and carries their souls with wisdom.

The book reminded me of when I went to a model C school, I had a coloured, Indian, white and black friends and we would all speak English. For me, there was no racism; it was just me and my friends playing. After a few years I could hardly speak Setswana fluently that was difficult for me to socialise with my own people. I was like an outcast and for many years I didn’t know why until someone said it. Throughout my high school years, I was called a snob by the same people I went to primary school with. I was in a way mocked for not knowing my home language, for being lost in transformation, in the rainbow nation.

My parents were happy I was getting a good education, they were proud that I could speak English, like there was a colonial mindset behind them that said knowing the language meant you were intelligent. I never meant to forget where I come from, I didn’t plan going to a model C school but I have a choice now and I speak Setswana and I feel that I am coming back to my roots.

Working as a journalist gave me a wake up call, I had to speak Setswana, I had or how else could I speak to a person who does not know English. I had to re-learn my home language at 19 years old, it was embarrassing at times but I did learn. Now I fit in everywhere, and I am proud to be a black woman who grew to know herself, where she comes from and what makes her who she is.

Nyasha in the book couldn’t have put my experience any clearer, she forgot where she came from. What western cultures do is belittle your own language of which language is the backbone of every culture, without it you lose your values, your ancestors, your roots and most of all you lose yourself.

I recommend every person, young or old, to read this book. It is a book that makes you remember why being rooted is so important to a human being, an African.

BOLAJI'S SHORT STORIES

2010-08-07T06:19:00.001-07:00

Book: The Guillotine (2001)
Author: O Bolaji
Reviewer: Pule Lebuso

The Guillotine is the title of the 2001 collection of short stories written by Bolaji. There are ten stories in all in the book, and they are all short stories, ranging from 4 to ten pages. These stories were written between 1996 and 2000, and at least half of them had been published in various newspapers and magazines.

The Drunkard, one of the short stories, is a powerful, didactic, piece of fiction; it contains the usual humour and interesting 'scenes" one has come to expect from Bolaji. The character of Malome in particular, a famous charlatan is brilliantly done. Here is the voluble township wiseacre, full of himself "I'm a psychologist, psychiatrist, psychoanalyst “ he says absurdly, with self-importance.

After reading this story, we are left in no doubt that excessive drinking is not only irresponsible, but dangerous. We are filled with disgust when we read: "The next thing he (Elias) remembered was waking up somewhere in the township, far from his own place, and feeling extraordinarily uncomfortable - in the discarded chassis of a car. He hated himself, seeing some blood stains on his clothes and body, feeling a horrible wound on his face, drenched in his own urine and vomit; hating his own goddamn awful body smell"

(The Guillotine, page 39)

Love Hurts, one of Bolaji's most popular writings (originally published in Drum magazine over a decade ago) is also reproduced in this collection, in book form. A new generation of readers can enjoy this short story that enhances Bolaji's reputation as "African master of the unexpected"

Although interesting enough, The shocker is rather mediocre but deals with the well-worn theme of disappointment in love. The Blabbermouth is a simple enough story too. The language seems quite harsh in the opening paragraphs with the author obviously angry and disgusted with exceeding dishonesty. The conclusion of the story is full of bathos, though.

Two short stories in this collection deal with the supernatural: The Dream, and The Ghost. Both have the usual Bolaji "twist"; The Dream is an interesting story weaved around the Italian phrase "delle bestie con le belle voci". In The Ghost we are introduced to a delightful lady who is too good to be true:

"He felt that there was something 'different' about her, the unearthly glow of her skin...the ethereal whiteness of her teeth: even her voice was so melodious that it defied description...like sweet, congenial rhythmic bells ringing harmoniously"

(Page 44)

Many men young and old, have commented that they found the story The Narrow Escape the most interesting and the funniest. It certainly is an enjoyable story as a young man who cannot stop himself from "seducing" a sexy young lady apparently finds himself in serious trouble

Another Little Drink has a twist of its own too, and one cannot but wonder at the folly of the young man involved here. We are also reminded of the Sarafina 2 play.

The Blackmailer, another popular story of the author's is reproduced in this book too; and in this version some other paragraphs have been added. This is Bolaji doing what he does best: quickly building up a tale, which ends in a completely unexpected manner. It turns out that nobody in this story is what he/she first appears to be.

Now for the very short story, The Guillotine. It is food for some thought. It can be viewed as pathos, bathos, or even idiosyncracy of the highest order. I have heard some readers even claiming that it "symbolises" the sacrificial nature of the author himself, with the protagonist being something of a martyr. This impression is accentuated because the author writes the story in the first person.

In The Guillotine the patent unfairness of the fate and plight of the narrator has to be viewed against the backdrop of his obvious emotional "immaturity" and idealism as he willingly opts for death:

I said: "Sir I want to die too". I moved into the tumbril and a great gasp and shout went through the town. The man in charge said: "Why do you want to die?" I explained that my heart had been broken by a lady. And I heard a horrible peal of laughter, a gargantuan tidal wave of derisive laughter...And the crowd began to chant: "He must die! He must die! the naive man must die...the sentimental guy must die first!!!"

(Page 29)

We should however note that The Guillotine is pure fiction and we do not need to read much into it. The protagonist passionately demonstrates the type of suspect, ultra idealistic love exemplified by Doctor Kawa in Lenrie Peter's novel, The Second Round. It is also interesting that at least once (in a personal poem) Bolaji confesses that he himself "has always been a stickler for romantic love" The short stories in the book, The Guillotine are indeed "mouth watering"

FASCINATING LITERARY GALLERY ATTRACTS TOURISTS

2010-07-21T05:20:00.001-07:00

FASCINATING LITERARY GALLERY ATTRACTS TOURISTS

By Flaxman Qoopane

Tourists attended in large numbers the Qoopane Literary Gallery exhibited at Tsa Setso Arts and Craft 2010 Soccer World Cup South Africa, held at the Mangaung Information Centre in Bloemfontein from 10 June- 11 July 2010

Tsa Setso Arts and Craft 2010 soccer World Cup South Africa was presented by the Department of Sports, Arts and Culture and Recreation in the Free State province and is supported by the Department of Arts and Culture Republic of South Africa

Flaxman Qoopane is the curator of the Qoopane Literary Gallery who exhibited one hundred photos of South African, Nigerian, Zimbabwean, and Malawian writers and their profiles. He has also added new exciting writers like Hector Kunene and Skietreker Seape to the Gallery.

James Agori, journalist of This day Nigeria, together with Jones Bamidele from News Agency of Nigeria (NAN) and John Ebhota from The Nation newspaper in Nigeria visited the exhibition. “It is one of the best sources of literature in Africa that researchers can benefit a lot from it” said James Agori

Kgomotso Sekhabi, from the Department of Arts and Culture in Pretoria said: “A wonderful initiative that will really need to be supported as it promotes South African writers that have made a tremendous contribution to the literature of South Africa. Keep up the wonderful work, Mr Qoopane”

Jorge Arellana Lavanderos from Chile said: “This is a good development in preserving literature. It will be good for Chilean writers. South African writers can exchange experiences and do cultural exchanges in their works,”

Ing Milin Kamuscak from Bratislava, said: “This is the greatest collection of African writers I’m seeing for the first time in my life, I learnt a lot about literature in Mandela’s country birth”

“I am very excited that the Department of Sports, Arts and Culture and Recreation has given me an opportunity to showcase my gallery during the 2010 soccer World Cup. So far, my exhibition attracted tourists from Chile, Italy, Korea, Nigeria etc and we exchanged contact. I urge other tourists to visit Mangaung information centre” said Qoopane

Mangaung – Bloemfontein
South Africa
Cell: 073 565 7783
Email: qoopaneliterary@yahoo.com

BREAKDOWN OF 70 OF THE WRITERS FEATURED IN QOOPANE’S AWESOME GALLERY

1. WOLE SOYINKA
2. FLAXMAN QOOPANE
3. PULE LECHESA
4. KDP MAPHALLA
5. LETSHASE NAKELI
6. JIM MOKOENA
7. ANDRE BRINK
8. PROF LEWIS NKOSI
9. NADINE GORDIMER
10. PETER ABRAHAMS
11. LAURETTA NGCOBO
12. PROF PITIKA NTULI
13. DR. GOMOLEMO MOKAE
14. SABATA MPHO MOKAE
15. ERIC MIYENI
16. K.SELLO DUIKER
17. FRED KHUMALO
18. KAREL SCHOEMAN
19. PROF KEORAPETSE KGOSITSILE
20. LEBOGANG MASHILE
21. NAPO MASHEANE
22. NTSIKI MAZWAI
23. MPUTLANE OA BOFELO
24. NAPE’A MOTANA
25. LETLAPA MPHAHLELE
26. PROF MBULELO MZAMANE
27. DON MATTERA
28. KGAFELA OA MAGOGODI
29. FRED BILA
30. LESEGO RAMPOLOKENG
31. GCINA MHLOPHE
32. CHINUA ACHEBE
33. DAMBUDZO MARECHERA
34. SIPHO SIPAMLA
35. CHRIS VAN WYK
36. JESSICA MBANGENI
37. K.E. SELEBANO
38. DBZ NTULI
39. SUZAN SEFATSA
40. WINSTON MOHAPI
41. INGOAPELE MADINGOANE
42. MATSEMELA MANAKE
43. LEFIFI TLADI
44. SANDILE DIKENI
45. SINDIWE MAGONA
46. OMOSEYE BOLAJI
47. PROF ESKIA MPHAHLELE
48. BESSIE HEAD
49. JAMES MATTHEWS
50. MIRRIAM TLADI
51. MONGANE SEROTE
52. DR. ZAKES MDA
53. ANTJIE KROG
54. JACK MAPANJE
55. KEN SARO WIWA
56. ELLEN KHUZWAYO
57. PHASWANE MPE
58. TOEK BLIGNANT
59. JOHN MATSHIKIZA
60. TODD MATSHIKIZA
61. CAN THEMBA
62. NAT NAKASA
63. MYESHA JENKINS
64. MAKAAMOLE MANAKA
65. KOLE OMOTOSO
66. CREDO MUTWA
67. ZOLANI MKIVA
68. MATHEWS PHOSA
69. DR. J.J. MOILOA
70. MARIETA VAN ASWEGEN

YOUNG BLOOD

2010-07-16T00:38:00.000-07:00

Book review: Young Blood
July 15, 2010

By Tshepo Tshabalala

Young Blood

By Sifiso Mzobe (Kwela Books, R175)

Mazobe's work is inspirational. He is prone to a few jagged transitions, but the story is something the South African movie industry should take thorough note of.

It tells the story of Sipho, 17, who lives in Umlazi, Durban. After doing dismally at school, he drops out to help his father fix cars at home.

Soon his shrewd friend Musa returns from Joburg after applying his intelligence to shoplifting, which progressed to carjacking, eventually earning him a stint in jail. When local carjackers learn of Sipho's skill behind the wheel and under the bonnet, they want to recruit his services. Musa decides against the idea of Sipho running around with untrustworthy cliques, and hooks him up with a few projects he is overseeing.

Sipho tastes the life of quick money and soon grows a hunger for it. He joins in the 'jacking and dissembling of cars, making easy money. But the game becomes more dangerous, leading to drugs, problems with the cops and a trail of death.

The novel explores the materialism around relationships that pressurises especially the male youth into finding means of making cash to avoid segregation. It is about the sacrifices one is willing to make to fit in, and the conflict of working towards a better life, even in a manner that is destructive. It takes you into the underground world of hijackers, money-lovers and misers. It is a breath of fresh air.

The writing is rough, but clever. The story pulsates with energy that makes it intense and very real. It is a voice that tells about crime and how it speaks to the youth through poverty. The read is a thrilling, action-packed diamond in the rough. -- Tshepo Tshabalala

* Courtesy of TONIGHT

DEEPEST SPRINGS - utterly satisfying

2010-07-01T04:58:00.000-07:00

(Above) NMM Duman

By OMOSEYE BOLAJI

Reading NMM Duman’s Deepest Springs is a veritable excitement, a highlight in the life of an authentic black African who cherishes and relishes good writing, poignant plots and descriptions; brilliant writing in general. In sum, I have no doubt in my mind that this work is one of the most breath-taking and satisfying in the pantheon of African literature.

Indeed, the danger in a case like this is that the reviewer or critic of a superb, imaginative work like Deepest Springs can go overboard with superlatives, praising a work to high heavens. Yet the “critic” must do his/her job in a conscionable manner. Though in the case of Deepest Springs, it is obvious that Duman is a tough critic herself (self-critical) who has taken time to ensure that the final product, her book, is outstanding. As all time great TS Eliot tells us:

“The larger part of the labour of an author in composing his work is critical labour; the labour of sifting, combining, constructing, expunging, correcting, testing: this frightful toil is as much critical as creative”

Yes Deepest Springs bears comparison to the best of African writing – whether it be the novels of Buchi Emecheta or Flora Nwapa or Miriam Tlali or Tsitsi Dangaremgba (the all time greats of female African writing). But it goes beyond this – I have no hesitation whatsoever in comparing this work to English classics like those written and still revered, by the Bronte sisters for example (Charlotte and Emily Bronte)

Indeed the "sexual passion" that runs through Duman’s work echoes and adumbrates the best of English works like Jane Eyre (by Charlotte Bronte) and Wuthering Heights (by Emily Bronte). The fact that, effortlessly author Duman gives her own great story an African background, with excellent Sesotho (African) references; not to talk of Afrikaans is a thing of unbridled joy. And celebration.

Of course in those days – over 200 years ago or so- the Bronte sisters could not write specifically about sex despite the smouldering, powerful emotions in their work. The world has moved on, hence in Deepest Springs there are references to sex, decently couched – whether it be the deflowering of our protagonist Dikeledi; or making love in the bathroom (whilst washing) or in the bush/forest.

African literature has thrown up memorable female characters, including a gallery of women of ill-repute. For example this classical extract from Wole Soyinka’s Season of Anomy:

“We must acknowledge the fact that (women) are the familiar vanguard of the army of change. When the moment arrives a woman like Iriyise becomes for the people a Chantal, a Deborah, torch and standard-bearer, super mistress of universal insurgence. To abandon such a potential weapon in any struggle is to admit to a lack of foresight. Or imagination”

Dikeledi is a fine young lady compounded of the variegated emotions of our world, and who is very much in love with her man, despite vicissitudes. She can also be self-sacrificing and stoical as in the case where she remains philosophical and reticent about the abuse (beating) she had earlier received.

The hypocrisy of certain traditional beliefs is also evident in this work and it is also a mark of an excellent writer (Duman) that she does not take sides (as a woman)directly. A good example is when they refer to Dikeledi as a “slut” just because she allows her aroused lover to sleep with her before the formal wedding. She was a virgin even then, so why should she be condemned?

That Duman is a polished, creative writer can also be seen from the many occasions when she enters “the mind” of male characters with great conviction (although of course the author is a woman). Like in the case when Dikeledi’s lover after making love muses over why he was behaving like a naïve, uncircumcised nerd! Such strokes clearly show that the author is a master of her craft!

I can go on and on, but a reviewer (or a critic) is supposed to open doors as it were, give glimpses into a pertinent work which would encourage others to read such a work and bask in its excellence. I am very happy to recommend this outstanding work to all readers from around the world…

(Omoseye Bolaji is the author of over 20 books. His awards for writing include a Lifetime Achievement Award, the Chancellor’s Medal from the University of the Free State, and an African Chieftaincy title)

DEEPEST SPRINGS - a masterpiece by NMM Duman

2010-06-29T05:14:00.000-07:00

What a literary tour de force by the author, NMM Duman!!!

This is a story of love during the apartheid years. Follow the riveting story of the protagonist, Dikeledi...

395 pages!!!

Publisher: Ad Print (2010)

ISBN 978 - 0 - 620 - 46876 - 3

A majestic work by a superb, imaginative African (black) writer. Fluent, incisive, brilliant prose. A pearl of a work showcasing the best in authentic African literature.

Read NMM Duman's Deepest Springs now!!!

MORE ON NMM DUMAN

By writer Flaxman Qoopane

NMM Duman is the Whole School Evaluation Supervisor, at the Quality Assurance Directorate in the Free State Department of Education in Bloemfontein (South Africa).

She started to write her novel in September 1996. It took her thirteen years to finish the novel in September 2009. She says: “The book originally had 800 pages. When I wanted to publish it, I was told that it was too thick and we decided to publish it to 395 pages.”

The initial South African edition of the novel was launched at the Bloemfontein Public Library in Bloemfontein on 18 June 2010. The cover was designed by Mmamuso Manyo. Duman is the mother of three daughters: Loondo, Xoliswa, and Baraka.

She says her love for creative writing showed itself from a tender age. “I was fortunate to be introduced to reading early in my life. At that time I was 9 years old at Roma in Lesotho. I was attending a class, we had no grades. Every morning we had English workbook. Later we did some kind of literary exercises. I started writing my own stories including the Golden Idol, a story about Tyrannasaurus Rex, invading our school. I made a booklet with pictures.”

She continued: “When I was 12 years old, I wrote more stories; adventure stories, about espionage and love stories. I went to the National University of Lesotho to Study B.Sc, and I studied Masters in Science Education at the University of Southampton in Britain. I stopped writing because I was busy with my studies,” she vouchsafes.

Her parents are retired Professor Mbuyiselo Edward, and Tlhaku Victoria Makhanya. They live at Yellow-wood in Durban. Her father was a Professor in Geography and he lectured at several Universities including Fort Hare, University of Botswana, Lesotho and Swaziland in Manzini, Swaziland and at the National University of Lesotho. Duman’s mother trained as a professional nurse and also as a social worker.

In 1997 Duman joined the Free State Department of Education. “I was employed as the Education Specialist in ABET until 2001. I got promotion to Deputy – Chief Education Specialist until 2009.” Thereafter, she got a transfer to the Quality Assurance Directorate in Department of Education in the Free State, where she is employed as the Whole School Evaluation Supervisor until to date.

Duman was born at Phola Park Benoni, East Rand on 08 December 1965. She is the eldest child; in a family of four children, her sister Mathabo Makhanya – Angura is a medical doctor, and she lives in Roodeport. Her other sister Thembi Makhanya, who was also a Medical Doctor, died in November 2008 in Johannesburg. Her brother, Tshepo Makhanya is an IT Specialist in Durban.

AFRICAN WRITERS

2010-06-20T03:01:00.000-07:00

(Above) The USA published book, "African Writers"

Lovers of African literature will always appreciate general books on African writing, documenting our continent's creativity over the years.

Celebrated books along the line include Jane Wilkinson's Talking with African writers; and Indaba with African Writers (by Stephen Gray)

It is thus exciting to learn about a new book on African writing (2010) just released into the international market. I am particularly enthused that a fellow Algerian, Tahar Lamri, is included/profiled in this new book.

But there are other well known, or fairly well known African writers also profiled in this new book (even on the cover) - like Wilbur Smith, Ayi Kwei Armah, O Bolaji, Bloemhof...

Those interested in ordering this new international book can check out the links below:

LINKS

http://isbn.nu/1156385040

http://www.amazon.com/African-Writers-Fran%C3%A7ois-Bloemhof-Gronniosaw/dp/1156385040

http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/SearchResults?isbn=1156385040&cm_ven=PFX&cm_cat=affiliates&cm_pla=links&cm_ite=k120442&afn_sr=gan&pfxid=a_411389498

- B Madjer

MAXWELL PERKINS KANEMANYANGA'S SECOND BOOK

2010-06-02T02:01:00.000-07:00

Book: How do I talk about my Ordeal?
Author: Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga
Publisher: Eselby Jnr Publications

Review by Paul Lothane

This work, How Do I talk about my Ordeal? follows on the heels of the author’s first book, Enemy of the State (2009). This new book reinforces the literary fecundity of the author, Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga.

Kanemanyanga has the penchant to produce works that are somewhat didactic, with moralistic undertones. It is no surprise that this continues in this new work, starting with the Introduction. This gratuitous, sometimes irritating approach can be seen from when Gogo spouts the following to a nurse in the very first story:

“But gogo tell me, what is wrong with our society today?” nurse Sibanda asked gogo maMoyo as they were waiting for the results.

“Uh, it’s not easy. You children of today don’t listen to your elders anymore. You say you went to school and us we know nothing. But look at me; I have seen my grandchildren, something that you are failing to do. You are dying young. Go to the cemeteries you will see what I am talking about. Born 1980, died 2000, born 1981 died 2009, born 1985 died 2010. During our time we learnt how to cook like our mothers but now you, learn to drink like your fathers. The young men are like bulls. They leave babies all over they go. The first born is in Bloemfontein, second born in Eastern Cape, the third born in Polokwane all with different mothers. How do you survive this disease? Your children grow up without guidance, because they don’t know their fathers. Every day they are introduced to a different man saying he is your father. A child needs a moral compass. That means instilling a sense of right and wrong. The moral compass for children is their parent’s behaviour. Unfortunately for you children of today, family is no longer important and that is very bad. By the time you will you realize this most of you will be dead.”

An ominous forecast. Yet despite her horrifying ordeal, Maze the young lady violated in the opening story manages to go on with life. As the aphorism points out “As they say the axe that cuts quickly forgets but the tree that was cut will never forget.”

Yet this initial story, like others, goes on and on to the point of becoming tedious. One gets the impression that perhaps this story should have been further developed into something like a novella.

Once again, fine expressions intermittently come to the fore and are lavished on us; the display of eclectic knowledge and references still predominate; eg “She remembered one of the best statements from William Shakespeare’s books and tears began to flow on her pretty face. “The liquid drops of tears that you have shed shall come again, transformed to orient pearl advantaging their loan with interest of ten times double again of happiness.” And the likes of Martin Luther King Jnr are quoted with relish too.

We have what comes close to true pathos in the story “Beautiful Ghost” as a woman is abused and humiliated by her husband. “One night she heard her husband arguing with another woman in the next room. What else could she do anymore? Was it because she was dying? But she had always been there for him. In the dawn of that same night Janet passed away in the arms of her mother whilst, her husband was sleeping in the arms of another woman. She died with a heavy painful heart.” This is heart-rending.

Yet the story is a disjointed one that can easily confuse, with the didactic fulminations once again overdone, and the authorial intrusions sometimes jarring. The author wants to make a point here, and certainly does so.

The story, “Baby from the plastic” might have been a success, but once again it is marred by the author’s penchant to go on and on -even including a long discourse on football, Arsene Wenger and his regime at Arsenal. It is clear the author loves football. But here in this context it comes across as gratuitous, over-stretched and even boring.

But by and large, this is an impressive work by Maxwell Kanemanyanga; his commitment to his art, his principles (even if overdone to the extent of marring his artistic level), and his love for general knowledge have to be commended.

Kanemanyanga has started his literary career by publishing two books of short stories. Many in the literary fraternity will now reckon that his next step should be a novel or at least a novella. In these days where when imaginative writing is thin on the ground at grassroots level, one can not but wish Mr. Kanemanyanga all the best.

Zulu Author dies

2010-05-24T08:06:00.000-07:00

Muntu Xulu part of warp and weft of Zulu Literature

Muntu Jeremiah Xulu, novelist, playwright, former teacher, journalist and editor died after a long illness at his home in Vukazenzele, Mangaung in Bloemfontein on the 05th May 2010.

Bekumthetho S.Nkosi from Bhekuzulu in Kwa-Zulu Natal told Free State News “Muntu was my relative, he was an outstanding novelist, playwright and comedian. He published many novels, plays and a book of jokes in his own Zulu Language which was widely read at schools and universities in the country. Xulu had the gift of the pen.”

Jeremiah published the following novels in Zulu, Kunje Ke! published by Shutter and Shutter Publishers in 1987, Amalutha Emalutheni published by Educum Publishers in 2000, Amathe Nolimi published by Shutter and Shutter in 1997, Uthando Lunjeke published by N.G Kerk Printing Press in 1978, Nondela Mtanami Nondela published by Longman Publishers in 1988 and Mahlayana Mahlayana published by Shutter and Shutter publishers in 1981. As a result of his contribution to the Zulu literature, the national Museum in Bloemfontein honoured him as part of their literary exhibition.

Nhlanhlanhle L.Xulu from New Castle in Kwa-Zulu Natal said “My father studies journalism at Kitwe School of Journalism in Zambia in 1957 – 1958. He did another journalism course with the International correspondence School of Journalism in London, Britain in 1964 – 1969,”

He was born on 28 November 1930 in Johannesburg. He grew up in Kwa-Zulu Natal. In 1950 he completed his Teachers Training diploma at Umphumulo Institution.

He was buried at the South Park Cemetery in Mangaung on 15 May 2010.

- F Qoopane

Kopano Matlwa holds head high

2010-05-09T04:20:00.000-07:00

By Aderinsola Ajao

The third edition of the biennial Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa took place on Friday, April 30 at The Civic Centre in Lagos, Nigeria.

Of over 300 entries, a panel of judges selected from across the continent had the task of pruning the list down to a longlist if 11 and eventually to a shortlist of three. The final three up for the grand prize of $20,000 were South African writer Kopano Matlwa (Coconut), Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani (I Do Not Come To You By Chance) and Wale Okediran (Tenants of The House).

Before the winner was declared, The Crown Troupe of Africa led by Segun Adefila held the curious audience's attention with a series of performances.

The three finalists also received tokens from the organisers to make up for any one of them eventually losing out. Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka, who was also at the event, had pointed out that hopefully, this year the winner will not be a Nigerian woman as had been the case with the two previous editions. Okediran was the single male and second Nigerian writer on this edition's shortlist and Soyinka had hoped he would not win.

At the end of the evening, one winner was declared plus one more. Possibly to break from Soyinka's observation, Matlwa of South Africa and Okediran, former president of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) were declared joint winners of the third Wole Soyinka Prize for literature.

This came as a surprise to many in the hall, who already thought there would be one clear winner.Previous winners include female Nigerian writers Sefi Atta (Everything Good Will Come) and Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu (Zahrah the Windseeker).

Organised by The Lumina Foundation, the award was established in 2006 to "encourage people to read, to think and to write," said its chairperson, Francesca Emanuel. Since its inception, known and unknown writers from across the continent have vied for the top prize of $20,000. For the first edition, 87 entries were received from four African countries; by the next edition 126 works were submitted from 6 African countries. This year's edition received 330 entries from 11 participating countries.

DENIS BRUTUS IS NO MORE...

2010-04-16T07:05:00.000-07:00

Demise of a great wordsmith

It was with great sadness that I personally learnt about the death of Prof Dennis Vincent Brutus, an academic, political activist and world class poet.

In 1988 when I was in exile at the ANC School, the Solomon Mahlangu Freedom College (SOMAFCO) in Morogoro Tanzania, I established the poetry link with Prof Brutus who then lectured in the Department of Black community, Education, Research and Development at the University of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the USA.

He personally sent me a number of interesting poetry magazines (The Gar) relevant to his poetry and the struggle to South Africa, which together with the SOMAFCO poets we used (the material) during our poetry workshop.

Prof Dennis Brutus also sent some us some of his anthologies of poems including Letters to Martha and other poems from a South African prison, A simple lust and Censure published in Enugu, Nigeria.

I recall that on behalf of the Somafco Poets I sent our poems to Prof Brutus and he edited and published them in magazines (CALLALO) and newspapers including the People (UWAP) at the University of Pittsburgh.

In 1989 a Senegalese lecturer Pierrette Herzberger- Fofana from the University of Erlangen in West Germany requested me to make a contribution to a book Critical Perspectives on African Literature in honour of Dennis Brutus’s 65th birthday in 1989.

Poets and writers across the board are deeply saddened by his death. Brutus left a polished mark in the national and international poetry.
- F Qoopane

SUGAR MAN AND DELIGHTS OF WHITE WOMEN

2010-04-11T04:52:00.000-07:00

(above) Oyono's Houseboy

It must be confessed that it was something of a relief to learn that Aryan Kaganof, Supremo of the movie, Sugar Man had a symbolic message whilst depicting black men as "impotent" whilst faced with the powerful attractions of white prostitutes in his movie.

Indeed the erotic scenes dished out by the white ladies in this movie are very mouth-watering. The women go out of their way to try to galvanise the black clients into action, but they largely fail. This aspect will certainly not go down well with most black viewers, unaware of the "message" from Kaganof, who depicts them in this wise.

The history of African Black writing for decades has shown the black African's fascination with white women. Many memorable works of fiction published by African authors have emphasized this over the years. Ayi Kwei Armah's Fragments is just one of such works (Aimee is the white lady in the book). In Kole Omotosho's The Edifice, a white English lady, Daisy, is the object of interest.

Perhaps the most powrful, tentative description in this wise occurs in Ferdinand Oyono's Houseboy where the young protagonist almost goes crazy after a mere handshake with a white woman:

"I have held the hand of my queen. I felt that I was really alive. From now on my hand is sacred...my hand belongs to my queen whose hair is the colour of ebony...whose skin is pink and white as ivory. A shudder ran through my body at the touch of her tiny moist hand...my life was mingling with hers at the touch of her hand. Her smile is as refreshing as a spring of water. Her look is as warm as a ray from the setting sun"
(from Oyono's Houseboy)

Apparently, virility is taken for granted by black African writers and there is hardly any hint of impotence in the continent's literary works, save occasionally where the man in question is elderly. (In Sugar Man the 'disabled' blacks are young hunks!). The only African work that comes to mind as regards impotence is Sembene Ousmane's Xala, though of course both the man and the young lady in question are blacks.

Here's a thought: What if Aryan Kaganof (considers) turning the movie Sugar Man into a novel? This would better explain (if possible) the motivations and plight of the characters in the movie; though I still believe the author would be hard-pressed to explain the shortcomings of the black characters, no matter how peripheral they might be in the movie. Meanwhile Black African literature blog salutes the earth-shattering performances of Leigh Graves, Deja Bernhardt and Co!!!
- R Khotseng

Odia garners Fonlon-Nichols Award

2010-04-04T04:46:00.000-07:00

Nigerian poet, essayist, journalist, and social critic, Odia Ofeimun emerged the 2010 winner of the Fonlon-Nichols Award. The award, administered by the African Literature Association, ALA, is given to an African writer every year for excellence in creative writing and for contributions to the struggle for human rights and freedom of expression, according to Dr. Oty Agbajoh-Laoye, chair of the ALA awards committee.

Mr. Ofeimun is the author of eight collections of poems and numerous essays on political analysis and cultural criticism. His most recent volumes include Go Tell the Generals, A Boiling Caracas and Other Poems, and I Will Ask Questions With Stones If They Take My Voice, and Lagos of the Poets, a poetry anthology. In 2008, Los Ninõs del Estero, a selection of his poems, was published in a Spanish translation in Mexico.

Ofeimun was born on March 16, 1950. He published his first book of poems, the critically acclaimed The Poet Lied, at the age of 25. His career began as a journalist and literary correspondent with The Midwest Echo, a newspaper based in Benin, capital of present-day Edo State, in Nigeria. He has also had experiences as a factory worker, civil servant, and union organizer. After a stint as a graduate student of Political Science at the University of Ibadan, he was appointed as the private secretary to Nigeria's leading political figure and former presidential candidate, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, in 1978. Following the fall of the Second Republic, Ofeimun published A Handle for the Flutist, his second poetry collection. He also became a member of the editorial board of The Guardian (Lagos).

From 1989, he was a British Council fellow at Oxford University in England; he lived in London and worked with Nigerian expatriates in the pro-democratic New Nigeria Forum until 1993 when he returned to Nigeria in the wake of the controversial June 12 presidential elections of that year. From this point, Ofeimun's political and literary engagements followed two distinct but interconnected paths: he became the president of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA), and the lead columnist for the hitherto-clandestine TheNEWS/TEMPO publications. His tenure as president of the writers' body (of which he had been publicity secretary and general secretary between 1982 and 1988) coincided with the political crisis of the 1990s, and it has to be borne in mind that his immediate predecessor was the late writer and environmental activist, Ken Saro-Wiwa.

The annulment of the presidential elections precipitated the "stepping-aside" of General Ibrahim Babangida, Nigeria military president (1985-1993), and the rise to power of General Sani Abacha, under whose tenure the country experienced untold political and economic repressions. Progressive political opposition to the military dictatorship coalesced around the groups National Democratic Coalition (NADECO), the Campaign for Democracy (CD), and the Democratic Alternative (DA). Although his political connections were strongest with the first, Ofeimun dedicated his weekly columns in TheNEWS to championing and appraising the activities of all the three groups. Those classic pieces, including such titles as "The June Twelvers' Dilemma", "The Ngbati Press", "On Whose Side are the Orisa?", are remarkable for their robust illumination of modern Nigerian (and indeed, African) political and cultural history, and for their thoughtful eloquence as a most accomplished example of the concern of African writers for the lives of the majority in their societies. Ofeimun's tenure as ANA president ended in 1997, but his relationship with TheNEWS/TEMPO continued for a little longer, peaking with the organization's second period of "guerrilla journalism" (1995-1998).

In April 1995, while attempting to travel to England for a conference sponsored by the New Nigeria Forum, Odia Ofeimun was stopped by security agents at the airport in Lagos. Although they never succeeded in jailing him, the agents questioned him on his political and other activities, and his travel documents were confiscated. For the next three years he was unable to travel outside of Nigeria, and would not regain his passport until the period of "liberalization" which followed the death of General Abacha in June 1998.

In spite of these involvements, Ofeimun found time for creative writing. His career as a poet suffered undeniably from the crisis in the publishing industry, like that of many African-based writers in the 1980s and 1990s. In 2000, he published three volumes of poems: A Feast of Return Under African Skies, Dreams at Work and Other Poems, and London Letter and Other Poems. Ofeimun's poems have been widely anthologized. His works-in-progress include the poetry anthology "Twentieth Century Nigerian Poetry", the essay collections "Africa's Many Mansions" and "In Search of Ogun", and a long-awaited political biography of Obafemi Awolowo. Since Nigeria's return to civil rule, Ofeimun has become a highly-respected and much-sought-after opinion leader and public speaker, giving speeches to NGOs and other civil society outfits. He is a leading champion of human rights and anti-corruption crusades in Nigeria, and he remains steadfastly independent of political organizations in the country.

The Fonlon-Nichols award was established in 1992 to honor Bernard Fonlon and Lee Nichols for their own contributions to both African literature and freedom of expression. Past winners include Rene Philombe, Werewere Liking, Ken Saro-Wiwa, Nuruddin Farah, Nawal el Saadawi, Niyi Osundare, Assia Djebar, Abdullatif Laabi, Wole Soyinka, Pius Nganda Nkashama, and Tess Onwueme. This year the award was publicly presented at the 36th annual conference of the African Literature Association March 10 - 14, 2010 held in the University of Arizona, Tucson.

D.H LAWRENCE: A SUBLIME WRITER

2010-03-01T22:16:00.000-08:00

(Above) D.H Lawrence

Eighty years ago (March 2, 1930) the great English writer D H (David Herbert) Lawrence breathed his last after a 20 year writing career that had produced excellent (if controversial) novels, plays, poems and essays. Lawrence is now considered one of the all-time greats of English literature.

Hey! Many of you might be wondering out there. What’s all this about? Is this not supposed to be a blog for black African literature? Why the tribute to Lawrence? The answer is simple. African literature has been influenced from inception by the English classics; authors like Shakespeare, Smollet, Charles Dickens, George Eliot, Emily Bronte, and DH Lawrence. Hence we can not say African writing has existed in a vacuum.

Prominent African writers like Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Njabulo Ndebele, Mirriam Tlali, Tsitsi Dangarembga etc have always confessed how much English works shaped, or influenced their work. As regards DH Lawrence in particular he has had a major influence on Ngugi wa Thiong’o (on the latter’s admission) with Ngugi producing African classics of his like A grain of wheat, and Petals of blood. Ngugi always said he loved how Lawrence “entered into the spirit of things”

Additionally, DH Lawrence always identified with the “masses” so to speak. Throughout his writing career he was targeted, with some of his works banned, seized by authorities. Lawrence came from what many black Africans cynically refer to as “the lowly classes”; but more accurately he was from the working class. He enjoyed travelling, and mixing with “underdogs” ,people who he believed had not been corrupted by industrialization or materialism.

As Africans, we know only too well how many of our distinguished wordsmiths have suffered inexorably at the hands of the powers that be. For many, they have had to endure stints in jail - I have in mind great writers like Ngugi himself, Kofi Awoonor, Jack Mapanje and the indomitable Wole Soyinka. Lawrence, whilst alive was many times moved to despair.

It is not the scope of this very very brief article to discuss Lawrence’s literary works. Suffice it to say that his style was original, instinctive, fluent and powerful. His famous description of the “rainbow” is an example:

“And then in the blowing clouds, she saw a band of faint iridescence colouring in faint colours a portion of the hill (the) colour gathered, mysteriously, from nowhere, it took presence upon itself, there was a faint, vast rainbow. The arc bended and strengthened itself till it arched indomitable, making great architecture of light and colour and the space in heaven, its pedestals luminous in the corruption of new houses on the low hill, its arch the top of heaven.”
(from The Rainbow)

DH Lawrence published novels like Aaron’s Rod, Kangaroo, Lady Chatterley’s lover, The Plumed Serpent, The Rainbow, Sons and Lovers, Women in Love. He published some ten volumes of poetry including Birds, Beasts and Flowers, Last Poems, and Pansies.. Among his non-fiction or essays were Studies in Classic American Literature and A study of Thomas Hardy
- O Bolaji

* Bolaji is a black African writer who has published imaginative works like Impossible Love (2000), The Ghostly Adversary (2001), People of the Townships (2003), The subtle transgressor (2006), Tebogo and the Haka (2009), Tebogo and the epithalamion (2009) and Tebogo and the pantophagist (2010)

BLOODY CORPUSCLES

2010-02-22T05:25:00.000-08:00

Bloody Corpuscles

A poem by Hector S Kunene

I relate to the story is so hard to be told
Victims mould their minds to be bold
Behold now penises and vaginas
It’s no more tomatoes and bananas
A spade is a spade
How dare you live so reckless!
How dare you lions die like fools?
How dare you let the man in white estimate your last seconds of breathing
Failing to be a boy yet claiming to be man
Or Failing to be a girl yet claiming to be a woman
Just because your mindset is stimulated by a three letter word-sex
More often confused by a four letter word-love
Failing to scrutinize the true meaning of words
Psychological dryness influencing the guilt consciousness of bodily acts
It’s too much acceleration that leads to a preventable trauma
We are in a comma yet disguised by the cloud of ignorance
Let us rain those tears that we hold back
Let us die bold when the time comes
Let the upcoming generations find the clean path to march on
Let them respects us for our deeds instead of verbal diarrhea
Let them know the truth that will set their minds free
Let us shape the new privileged world for the unborn
We can A spade is a spade
Bloody corpuscles

* A poem from the riveting collection: Through the tunnel to be published soon by H.S Kunene

MEET A NEW MANGAUNG AUTHOR

2010-02-18T07:27:00.000-08:00

Lewang Mogale, a store clerk at Pelonomi hospital in Mangaung has published his first book, titled, Where to? The book was published by New Voices Publishing in Cape Town.

The book attempts to address teenagers about intriguing topics their parents are uneasy about discussing with them; like sex, adolescence, peer pressure, relationships, love etc.

Mogale said: “When my book was published I felt like I had won the lottery. I was happy the knowledge I have will be shared among the youth of the country as my book is read at libraries, book stores, book clubs and the like,”

The author explained that it took him more than five years to complete the book. “In the early stages of writing, I did not plan to publish,” he vouchsafed. “By early 2009 some of my friends read my manuscript and praised it to high heavens, urging me to publish. Such friends include Mpumi Mthombeni from Witbank; Thabo Setone; Martin Tshimola, and Israel Monaisa from Rustenburg. I’m grateful to them for spurring me on,”

Yet Mogale dithered, despite all this advice from friends. “I did not listen to them (initially); then I read a Bible scripture, Ezekiel 3: 16-21. It was like God was saying ‘if you don’t share what I told you, you will be accountable for the mistakes of others. Then I decided to publish my book!”

His creative talent was unearthed while he was at Lethabong location in Rustenburg. “At that time I was the director of the Katlego Amateur Theatre Group”

Mogale resides in Phase Two In Mangaung where he lives with his wife Mafako and their two sons, Tumiso, and Bonolo. The book Where to? makes sterling contributions to the genre of Motivation. “It seeks to elevate the lives of all to greater heights,” the proud author states.

- F Qoopane
* Qoopane is author of books like A Poet abroad, Memoirs of a Cultural Activist, Reneiloe-Mpho’s story, and City of Roses and Literary icons

CHINUA ACHEBE AT 80!

2010-01-22T03:31:00.000-08:00

Chinua Achebe at 80

By Joseph Lefuo

There can be no doubt about it: the celebrations will cascade on, the drums will roll, as Africa celebrates the 80th birthday of Chinua Achebe, who many consider as the greatest novelist black Africa has ever produced. Achebe, who will be 80 later this year, wrote Africa’s all time most famous novel, Things fall apart (1958)

It is a novel that has delighted and moved the world for decades. But the author (Chinua Achebe) published other excellent novels – like No longer at Ease, (1960), Arrow of God, (1964) A man of the people (1966), and Anthills of the Savannah (1987). Of course there was a 20 year gap between A man of the People, and Anthills of the Savannah, which has been attributed to Achebe being “traumatised” by the Nigerian civil war (in the late sixties).

Achebe is an Ibo (or Igbo) from the eastern part of Nigeria. The Ibos were mainly the disenchanted people of eastern Nigeria who tried to form their own country or republic: “Biafra” precipitating the Nigerian civil war which ended in 1970. From his writings it is clear enough that Achebe was very much a Nigerian in spirit before the war (this is not to suggest that he is no less a Nigerian thereafter, as can be ascertained from his honest, earnest book of essays The Trouble with Nigeria)

In his novel, No longer at ease, for example, young well educated Obi regards himself as both an Ibo man, and a Nigerian. There is nothing wrong in being proud of one’s tribal origins or Mother tongue (Ghana’s Kofi Awoonor has demonstrated this in his works too). In Achebe’s A man of the people, national (Nigerian) politics loom large too, whilst still paying tribute to ethnic origins. Like Wole Soyinka (a Yoruba and a proud Nigerian too) Achebe’s works often assume a national and international dimension.

Things fall apart has been acclaimed as a classic as the author (Achebe) re-creates a pre-colonial, proud society with elaborate, intriguing customs complemented by a fluent, expressive language. If we contrast this work with Camara Laye’s superb work The African Child, the dispassionate approach by Achebe to his own first novel puts him in a special class. When an author tries to be “neutral” a work is often more powerful, and many critics, eg, hated the tone of Ayi Kwei Armah for example in Two thousand Seasons. Achebe’s work shows a highly intelligent, dispassionate author at work.

Achebe’s language in his fictional work shows that he is very much at ease with his mother tongue. Whilst writing in English he goes out of his way to convey the particular authentic atmosphere of the (often) people at grassroots level he is writing about; even as regards “Pidgin English” he gets the inflections and jokes right. Hence, his global acclamation as a great writer

There is the tendency to harp on Things fall apart as the author’s greatest work, and it must be said that many of such observers have probably not read all of Achebe’s works of fiction. It is a matter of taste, but I personally believe that novels like Arrow of God and No longer at ease (both also written by Achebe) are perhaps better than the original classic (Things fall apart) Certainly Achebe’s re-creation of the past and the sweep (even co-incidence?) of pivotal events in the society is more powerful in Arrow of God. Many critics frowned at A Man of the people, but it’s a brilliant work too, castigating political corruption, and also a satire – before Armah’s The beautyful Ones are not yet born.

But all this show how great a writer Chinua Achebe is. His books are read all over the world. Like in his works, Achebe in real life condemns negative things, including bad leadership, but at the same time he has a gentle, sagacious sense of humour. No praise can be too much for this wonderful son of Africa! We wish him all the best as he clocks 80…

TEBOGO AND THE PANTOPHAGIST...whites still on fringes

2009-12-18T01:33:00.001-08:00

TEBOGO AND THE PANTOPHAGIST
…whites still on the fringes

By Peter Moroe

Tebogo and the pantophagist is the seventh book featuring the adventures of Tebogo Mokoena, the Free State based sleuth created by Omoseye Bolaji. And this new addition is also quite readable.

Bolaji has been criticised for hardly including any white characters in his works of fiction. The trend largely continues here, although there is a peripheral account of Tebogo, Mr. Shasha, and the intriguing lady, Debbie, visiting a white couple in this latest work:

“The entrance to the house which was in the 'suburbs' consisted of high iron gates which soon opened after we arrived. Two dogs gambolled around us as we got out of the car, but with the white lady hostess (their owner) there, they were scarcely in a malevolent mood. The lady, called Tracy, led us to the sitting room.

It was rather untidy with some four cats having a field day there. There was a fine library and a very big TV. A laptop was on the table to the left. Tracy smiled and joked a lot, and was soon joined by her husband, Ryan, a handsome strapping white gentleman. They were a very handsome couple and obviously felt free with Shasha. Drinks were served with refreshments.

Debbie seemed uncharacteristically silent most of the time, but perhaps not in a hostile manner…

Ryan said to me after a while: ‘Let me show you our garden’. We went outside to a lovely garden and Ryan I soon noticed was VERY proud of the garden. He went into extensive details involving technical “jargon” of gardens, seeds, colours, weeds and the like. His face shone with great pleasure as he talked and I was surprised having a fairly good garden was such an expensive business. My ignorance in this wise did not seem to discourage him as he went on and on, smoking something that looked like ‘the weed’ in the process…”

It is not only the narrator’s stark ignorance of the intricacies of gardening that is obvious here. “Ryan was VERY proud of his garden” is an inadequate summary of the thrilling paraphernalia and undulating possibilities of gardening. Like many black people at grassroots level, a garden is something almost remote, or even a nuisance to Tebogo, though he does not exactly say so. But for Ryan it is an extension of his very being.

Then there is Debbie’s attitude after they leave the couple:

“After we left the house Shasha said in the darkness. ‘Very nice couple. The type of people who make the idea of a rainbow nation realisable…’

Debbie said curtly: “Did you see the way those cats were so free with Tracy, running all over her, playing with her, jumping all over her. It irritated me. You can see she loves those cats with all her heart. They made her all dirty. Did you see her fingernails?”

I did not like this, and nor did Shasha, I’m sure. “Come on! Many whites love cats. There’s no crime in that,” Shasha said. “It’s nothing. She can do anything for her cats. She normally plays with them even more than you saw today,”

'Let’s change the topic, it’s making me feel sick,' Debbie said…"

Debbie’s attitude here reflects how many black women who grew up in the townships would feel in a situation like this, with the condescending approach to animals. But note that both Tebogo, and Shasha (who is besotted with Debbie) condemn her attitude; this type of approach is typical of Bolaji’s fiction which tends to be conciliatory and broad-minded.

TEBOGO AND THE PANTOPHAGIST

2009-12-18T01:33:00.000-08:00

TEBOGO AND THE PANTOPHAGIST
…whites still on the fringes

By Peter Moroe

Tebogo and the pantophagist is the seventh book featuring the adventures of Tebogo Mokoena, the Free State based sleuth created by Omoseye Bolaji. And this new addition is also quite readable.

Bolaji has been criticised for hardly including any white characters in his works of fiction. The trend largely continues here, although there is a peripheral account of Tebogo, Mr. Shasha, and the intriguing lady, Debbie, visiting a white couple in this latest work:

“The entrance to the house which was in the “suburbs” consisted of high iron gates which soon opened after we arrived. Two dogs gambolled around us as we got out of the car, but with the white lady hostess (their owner) there they were scarcely in a malevolent mood. The lady, called Tracy, led us to the sitting room.

It was rather untidy with some four cats having a field day there. There was a fine library and a very big TV. A laptop was on the table to the left. Tracy smiled and joked a lot, and was soon joined by her husband, Ryan, a handsome strapping white gentleman. They were a very handsome couple and obviously felt free with Shasha. Drinks were served with refreshments.

Debbie seemed uncharacteristically silent most of the time, but perhaps not in a hostile manner…

Ryan said to me after a while: ‘Let me show you our garden’. We went outside to a lovely garden and Ryan I soon noticed was VERY proud of the garden. He went into extensive details involving technical “jargon” of gardens, seeds, colours, weeds and the like. His face shone with great pleasure as he talked and I was surprised having a fairly good garden was such an expensive business. My ignorance in this wise did not seem to discourage him as he went on and on, smoking something that looked like ‘the weed’ in the process…”

It is not only the narrator’s stark ignorance of the intricacies of gardening that is obvious here. “Ryan was VERY proud of his garden” is an inadequate summary of the thrilling paraphernalia and undulating possibilities of gardening. Like many black people at grassroots level, a garden is something almost remote or even a nuisance to Tebogo, though he does not say so. But for Ryan it is an extension of his very being.

Then there is Debbie’s attitude after they leave the couple:

“After we left the house Shasha said in the darkness. ‘Very nice couple. The type of people who make the idea of a rainbow nation realisable…’

Debbie said curtly: “Did you see the way those cats were so free with Tracy, running all over her, playing with her, jumping all over her. It irritated me. You can see she loves those cats with all her heart. They made her all dirty. Did you see her fingernails?”

I did not like this, and nor did Shasha, I’m sure. “Come on! Many whites love cats. There’s no crime in that,” Shasha said. “It’s nothing. She can do anything for her cats. She normally plays with them even more than you saw today,”

“Let’s change the topic, it’s making me feel sick,” Debbie said…

Debbie’s attitude here reflects how many black women who grew up in the townships would feel in a situation like this, with the condescending approach to animals. But note that both Tebogo, and Shasha (who is besotted with Debbie) condemn her attitude; this type of approach is typical of Bolaji’s fiction which tends to be conciliatory and broad-minded.

See also:

http://kaganof.com/kagablog/2010/01/02/review-of-tebogo-and-the-pantophagist/

Remembering Ben Mtobwa

2009-11-08T22:06:00.000-08:00

Remembering Ben Mtobwa

Ben Mtobwa, who published several exciting works in Swahili popular literature, died exactly one year ago (9 November, 2008) at the age of fifty. Mtobwa was a Tanzanian, and like the late Cyprian Ekwensi, he was fascinated with the allure of the city (mainly Dar es Salaam)

Ben Mtobwa was quite popular among readers in east Africa (where Swahili is a lingua franca) To put it in continental context, Mtobwa was a writer who appealed to many readers at grassroots level: like David Maillu (of Kenya), the late D.O Fagunwa (and later Kalu Okpi) in Nigeria; Osare Konadu initially, and now Ike Tandor (both of Ghana); and perhaps Gomolemo Mokae of South Africa.

By writing in Swahili, Mtobwa commanded a vast readership in his native Tanzania and in east Africa in general. Quite a number of his works have been translated into English, which further enhanced the popularity of this author.

Ben Mtobwa was bitten by the writing bug since he was a youngster and was already writing extensively whilst in school. His shorter fiction was published in many publications locally, which served as a spur for him to continue to write, experiment with forms, and later become socially conscious through literature. He also wrote non-fiction, and children’s books. His many books ranged from Lazima ufe Joram (1983) to Mtambo wa Mauti (2004)

Mtobwa, as a key Director of Heko Publishers in Tanzania used this opportunity to develop and encourage other writers, publish a newspaper and promote pertinent documentaries. His death shocked his many readers and the literary world in general, but his works (books) remain a monument to his memory.

Remembering Ben Mtobwa at the weekend, Ladybrand literary activist George Rampai said: “Ben Mtobwa was a remarkable, prolific writer; no doubt a born writer. He died young, but the likes of Emily Bronte and D.H Lawrence died even much younger. I think of a popular black African writer like the late Mtobwa, and my mind e.g goes to Leseli Mokhele of Lesotho, who also writes exciting fiction, is an expert with the short story, publishes a popular newspaper, and has had works broadcast on air…Africa must encourage her exciting writers and keep their legacy alive…hence we celebrate Ben Mtobwa’s great legacy”
- Courtesy Eclectic Writers’ Club, Mangaung

"TO DUDU"

2009-10-24T03:37:00.000-07:00

“TO DUDU”

A poem by Tiisetso M Thiba

How will I start to say this DUDU?
By the vision eye I could peer through your fissure heart
Even though you didn’t tell my ears about your anguished feelings
When I juggle around the pain of sorrowfulness
And you hoping for a jolly good time
But you encountered some 'wonderings'
My beautiful DUDU I wish I could answer your wonderings
But I’m also wondering like you
I know I’ve shattered your heart
But you kept standing tall above them all
To swear it wasn’t the component of my ideals
When I did not have vigour to kick high like sansei

I know we don’t have abundant era together
We didn’t go far yet we are just beginning
We had a few months together now
Not a year but running close…
But so far you’re an angel sent by God
A flower that keeps blooming every second
You are my light when I wander in the scaring night hopelessly
The moonlight that keeps flashing all the time
We are all fallible humans, not perfectionists
We have our own weaknesses and strong points
But there are other weaknesses uninvited, and will never be
Satisfaction of precarious is not one I intended to tender
Satisfaction of proactive is the one in my mind
But you promised to be my armour when I’m down
And I do believe you will keep your pledge
That’s why I’m saying this: “I LOVE YOU TO DEATH”

When I cascade a tear and make the pillow sludge
You felt hurt and I know you don’t want to see me mar
And also mine I don’t want to see you crying ‘cos it hurts me a lot
In life sometimes other pains are unbearable
And you keep strengthen and revive me all the times
I need to be strong for the future outcome
I’m yearning you only the sunshine on your destiny
I hope you will always wipe tears on my cheeks when I couldn’t
I wish your big heart well-being and cheerfulness
You will always roam in my mind
You are someone who owns my heart, and brought joy to my heart
I will always remember you wherever I head to; remember me too!
The lessons you taught me I will learn them by hear
I will adore you until the end of time “DUDU”!!!

World Class African Author wins prestigious award

2009-10-06T23:20:00.000-07:00

Mandla Langa, one of South Africa, and Africa’s most powerful imaginative writers, has been hailed for winning the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize. Langa won the Best Book award (African Region) for his novel, The lost colours of the chameleon

The lost colours of the chameleon (2008) is essentially about the vagaries of political power. The author formidably creates an island (Bangula) in the Indian Ocean where plenty of strife and bloodshed take place. As most African countries are well used to over the decades, it is the ordinary man who suffers most during this anomy.

Elinor Sisulu, who chaired the Judging panel for the Africa Region enthused about the novel: “(It) combines allegory and realism. Langa deconstructs the inner workings of a mythical African state laying bare the frailties of leaders too blinded by power to effectively confront the major challenges of their times”

The lost colours of the chameleon came out tops from a very impressive short list of books produced by excellent writers. These included Zoe Wicomb’s The one that got away, and Sindiwe Magona’s Beauty’s gift ( a moving work that confronts the ravages of aids)

Peter Moroe, literary critic, says that Mandla Langa has always led the way with quality works. “Langa is quite simply a world class writer, polished and elevated. He’s one of South Africa’s all time great black writers – like Es’kia Mphahlele, Lewis Nkosi, Njabulo Ndebele or Zakes Mda. Mandla Langa’s writing career, his pedigree, shows he’s always been sublime,”

In 1987 Mandla Langa published the brilliant work, Tenderness of blood. Then followed A rainbow on the paper sky (1989), The naked song and other stories (1996), The memory of stones (2000); and now the acclaimed, award winning The lost colours of the chameleon.

The Best First Book Award (Africa Region) went to Nigeria’s Uwem Akpan for his collection of short stories, titled Say you’re one of them.
- Paul Lothane

KPD Maphalla - a superb Sesotho Writer

2009-09-06T23:17:00.000-07:00

KPD Maphalla – a superb Sesotho writer

KPD is one of the all-time greats of Sesotho literature. Still only in his mid 50’s he has already published well over 40 books! The University of the Free State honoured him with an Honorary Doctorate in 2007 thanks to his excellence in writing in his Mother tongue.

For many years (apart from those who knew the man personally) rumours circulated that the author (Maphalla) was a “syndicate”; that there was no way any writer, especially a black African one, could be so prolific. (Perhaps there are parallels here with the English writer Enid Blyton who in her lifetime wrote and published so many books that many wondered whether this was humanly possible). But Dr. Maphalla has been seen physically at literary gatherings, especially whilst being honoured more than a few times. He is certainly not a myth!

Maphalla's works of fiction in the Sesotho language are liberally read and studied in many schools in South Africa. Studies on the man’s works have also been published by scholars. The distinguished writer has not enjoyed the best of health in recent times, but this does not mean he is no longer writing.

Indeed in recent times he published another excellent book in Sesotho, titled Ha Maru A Rwalellana. It is quite a thick book that shows Maphalla is not resting on his laurels. He is already a legend, following in the footsteps of the likes of Thomas Mofolo and JJ Moiloa, distinguished Sesotho writers (now deceased)

Despite the despair of commentators on the general dearth of quality writing in the Sesotho language, in recent times younger writers in the genre – especially Thabo Mafike – have been showing great promise. But of course they have a very long way to go before they can even be mentioned in the same breath as the illustrious Maphalla.

Pule Lechesa, literary critic, who has also published a couple of works in Sesotho (both translation) says: “As a Mosotho I am very happy to see good works published over the years by Sesotho writers. It is sad that recently some sub-standard writers in the language have emerged – lacking the length, breadth, characterization etc needed to produce quality works in the (Sesotho) language. But at least people like Maphalla will always be icons,”

Other works written by KPD Maphalla – who started writing as a young man from his QwqQwa base – include Mohlahlobi, and Ha Ditswere Di Tsanyaola.

KPD Maphalla is also the brainchild behind MoabaSesotho, a national association of Sesotho writers.

Enemy of the State by Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga

2009-08-18T23:33:00.000-07:00

Book: ENEMY OF THE STATE
Author: Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga
Publisher: Eselby Jnr Publications

Review by Pule Lechesa

The book, “Enemy of the State” which comprises ten short stories penned by Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga, is a welcome addition to short stories written and published by African authors over the years. As the blurb of the book reminds us:

“Fiction of the shorter variety have been spun out over the decades by distinguished African wordsmiths like Chinua Achebe, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Ama Ata Aidoo, Dambudzo Marechera, Es’kia Mphahlele, David Maillu, Gomolemo Mokae, Omosei Bolaji, Leboela Motopi, et al.”

The author can not be faulted for his love of books, and acquisition of general knowledge, which can be seen from the short stories. For example he tells us about the life/books of “Mandela, Fredrick Douglas, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr, Mahatma Gandhi and many others. But the people who really left a big impression in his life were Dr King JR, Mandela and Gandhi. Like these three great men he believed in the philosophy of non-violence”

But as all-time British literary icon Joseph Conrad is often criticised for heightened language and ultra adjectival descriptions, Maxwell ‘s love for words and “grandiose” ideas often go too far. He, many times gets “carried away by the exuberance of his own verbosity”

Examples abound from this collection; including phrases like: “and transform this pending cosmic elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. And let’s all pray…” We shall look at some of his supposed grand concepts and ideas-debating in some of the short stories soon.

Another issue is the unsatisfactory ending of many of these stories (including the Title story, The Enemy of the State). Apart from the impressive adjectival speech of the Colonel, we are never told what happens in the end. Is he killed too, or does he come into power to help his country and people?

Alas, the grandiose speeches often become ends in themselves without substantial logic and conclusions; apart from the debacle of the Colonel in the title story, there is the “The Prof of Universal knowledge (the title itself is pomposity personified!). He goes on and on examining the ills of society bringing in even old Athens and its philosophy. This might be construed as “overkill” by many readers – the author wanting to show off his knowledge which becomes tedious in the end.

Yet there are germs of truth in the exegesis; eg decrying immorality. “you see five children with the same mother and different fathers”. But there is nothing to show that the protagonists here have done anything to ameliorate such societal ills; in fact by placing so much emphasis on their drinking sprees they seem part of the problem.

Sometimes there is the inadequacy of information in Maxwell’s fiction. In one of the stories, a mother is praised thus: “She did this and that to make sure her children got food and education.” What exactly did she do? What extremes did she go too? Were these legitimate or otherwise?

A story like “The man who rose from the dead” in this collection beggars belief. What is it all about? We know it is about a strange man, Chitakatira but there is limited substance or rhyme or reason in the story. What is the intention of the author in showing us such a man? He is not exactly a bad man, but his demise is clearly unsatisfactory. What is the lesson to be learnt from his life?

There is also the bizarre confession from a guy in one of the stories (The hustler). He says directly: “Anyway, there are two things that I want you to do for me at my funeral. You must buy a bottle of Hansa and a new pant for ladies and put them in my grave, on the other side where there would be my head”. Fiction might mirror life or reality, but this type of colourless, rather shameless character is not to be advocated.

The lure of greener pastures is a very sad story. It is unfortunate enough that Daudi, the man is placed in a position where he has to travel elsewhere for survival…after some travails he seems to have learnt his lessons, is coming back home wiser and ready to be of use to his family. His wife has betrayed him, and as if this were not enough he dies a painful, unnecessary death. The landscape is generally grim with most of these stories.

In Unbridled erotic adventure turns sour! – one at least comes across a very amusing tale. Just desserts for illicit lovers might well be our simplistic verdict. But we might wonder what happens next to the lovers locked together. It’s better not to imagine the fate of the lovers!

* The book, "Enemy of the State", has won the “Mangaung Up and Coming Author of the Year” Award.

Meet a top notch author

2009-08-13T23:48:00.000-07:00

Meet a top-notch author

By S Botsime

The awards are rolling in for excellent writer, Malope Mathete. This gentleman who has written and published most of his books in Northern Sotho has raked in many awards, including the prestigious M-Net Best Writer award (2009)

Speaking to Malope Mathethe one would realise the passion that runs in his blood about literature. Asking the gentleman how it all started, he elaborated that he started to be bitten by the bug when he was in grade ten.His first book was published in 2000 (Seradikane), and he never looked back since then. He still has a nine-to- five job with the Police force in the forensic department. Some of his books are Seradikane, Maaka ga se Makhura, Bophelo ba Lehono, Tlaisego, A family of Orphans, Babusi ba Lehono, Ho Fetogile just to mention a few.

Giving us more information about the award winning “Babusi ba Lehono” he pointed out that it’s all about corruption, backstabbing, patronage and conspiracy. Many of his books are being prescribed for schools by the Department of Education which gives him great pleasure. “I am inspired by great African writers like Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Chinua Achebe, etc” he said.

He added: “I am doing research about albinos and hoping to pen my next masterpiece by the end of this year. My message to young writers is that they must never be discouraged and people must be proud of their home language. I owe it all to Mrs Romoba my life science teacher,”
Those interested in contacting him can do so at this number@083 744 8499.

INDABA WITH FREE STATE WRITERS

2009-06-12T07:25:00.000-07:00

Book: Indaba with Free State Writers
Editor: St George Vis
Reviewer: Peter Moroe

Indaba with FS Writers is a very welcome book – and credit must go to the Editor of the work, George Vis for his initiative and hard work. It is another boost to black writing in the Province.

The quality of the interviews is generally quite high, with Kgosietsile Dinthloane showing that he is world class with his brilliant comments on poetry in particular. Anybody who reads what he has to say in this wise would be much richer for it. Charmaine Kolwane also weighs in with some very fine comments too. It is good to see women showing their zeal when it comes to writing.

That is why it is particular disappointing and shocking to read part of what Neo Mvubu has to say. One would have expected that such a young writer who has been fast tracked – she is already published in anthologies, Internet etc – would be positive and grateful. But she whines and complains about not getting enough “support” from so-called established, older writers. Does she even think about someone like Ntate Kgang Motheane who only got published at over 60 years of age? Does Neo realize how privileged and lucky she is? Does she even appreciate being included in this new book whilst someone like Flaxman Qoopane is not there?

In contrast to Neo’s attitude are the very fine comments of both Skietreker (Seape) and Teboho Masakala, both also very young writers who are evidently delighted to be already in the limelight so early. Their interviews show their positive nature and gratitude for already making their way in the literary genre. In fact “Skietreker” is even confident enough to self-publish – showing he does not believe in being spoon-fed all the way. A writer should essentially be used to privacy and should not expect others to do more than encourage them, or perhaps make publishing a bit easier for them. History has thrown up very good writers who had to wait for endless years before breaking into publication.

It would come as a great shock to critics and scholars – and the international world of literature – that O Bolaji is not featured in this book. After all, his name is synonymous with Free State black literature worldwide. But not much should be read into this, as there are many tributes to Bolaji in this new book; also, there are more than enough full-length books and international articles published on Bolaji’s literary works anyway.

Others would also express surprise that writers like Qoopane and Job Mzamo are not interviewed. The simple truth is that in a work like this, not everybody can be included for various reasons. Jane Wilkinson’s classic, Talking with African writers will always be celebrated – yet many great African writers (like Ama Ata Aidoo, Ola Rotimi, John Ruganda and Es’kia Mphahlele) were not included in the book.

Writers focused on in the book are: Thabo Mafike, Neo Mvubu, Kgang Motheane, Mosidi Mohlakela, Kgosietsile Dinthloane, Seleke Botsime, Charmaine Kolwane, Teboho Masakala, “Skietreker (Richard Seape) and Pule Lechesa. The first edition of the book I saw had some mistakes but I understand they have now been corrected.

On the whole, this new book, Indaba with Free State Writers is a fine work that celebrates Free State black Writing and shows why writing from this area is admired by many. More importantly, with so many young writers featured it is clear that the literary future of the Province is in good hands

Fateful Journey (Fiction)

2009-04-21T08:04:00.000-07:00

FICTION

FATEFUL JOURNEY

By Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga

“Mwanangu wofamba zvakanaka asi hona imi amai wako ndangomirira rangu zuva . Kuti unodzoka ndichimupenyu hamheno mwari wacho. Asi ziva kuti ava vana varipano ndiwe baba uye mai wavo , ini hapana chandichagonawo. {“My sons, have a nice journey; as for me your mother I am just waiting for my day. I am not sure you will come and see me alive here, but remember you are the father and mother of these children here”) So the matriarch said stolidly. Tendai the son had no courage to say anything to his mother. He just stood there open-mouthed, and the dimples that used to charm ladies became perfect streams for his tears.

Tendai Dombo was born in a family of three, one girl and two boys. His father was a teacher based in the city of Bulawayo. Mr Dombo was a caring, loving father and husband till the day he met Dorothy the woman who hypnotized him and made him forget his family. His family was still in High fields, the oldest location in Harare. Whereas he used to send $500 to his family every month, now he was just sending $150 or nothing at all. This was really a shock to amai Dombo. She was married to her husband for nearly twenty years now but she had never experienced this heartbreaking scenario.

One day she visited her husband in Bulawayo without informing him like always. This was the day it came to her comprehension that she had lost her husband for good. She was forced to sleep on the floor while her husband slept on the bed with his Dorothy. The following morning she took the first bus back to Harare. She had heard stories of husbands who abandoned their families for mistresses but now it was not a story anymore but harsh, ruthless reality. Mai Dombo was a hard working woman. Now she had no choice but to work harder and support her family alone. She borrowed money from her friends, bought vegetables, tomatoes and onions from the market which she sold to earn a living. With this money she managed to send all her kids to school.

Presently, Simbarashe the first born passed his Ordinary level but there was no money to send him further. Mai Dombo gave him money to go to a driving school and he later got a license. Simbarashe got a job to drive taxes from Mbare to the city centre. He was a careless boy and his mother was worried about him. He could not take his eyes away from dresses. As a driver he had money always and spent dollops on women, one lady in particular. Fortunately for the lady he agreed to marry her. However even though he was a ladies’ man he never forgot his mother, brother and sister. He helped his mother with the money for food and school fees.

Mr. Dombo never felt sympathy for his wife. His dear Dorothy was always there to give him solace. He gave her money to get emergency passport and more cash to cross the border to South Africa and Botswana to buy goods which she sold in Bulawayo. Dorothy was a clever woman with a very cold heart. However this was one aspect that Mr. Dombo never realized. For him Dorothy was pretty, caring and sexy as compared to his aging and no longer attractive mother of three. Across the border Dorothy was selling her body to truck drivers. She always traveled free. On the other hand poor Dombo never suspected anything.

But he began to panic when he developed pimples all over the face and his private parts. He had been drinking and smoking since his teen ages but he never coughed like he was doing now. His friends advised him to go to Mpilo hospital to be tested for T.B. He did as his friends said and what he heard there was really bad news, he was HIV positive. This was really a bitter pill to swallow.

As if this was not enough Dorothy his sweet darling deserted him in his hour of need. This is how she repaid all what he did to her. Poor Dombo thought of his wife since the day he abandoned her and the children. He felt shame for what he did. He imagined how his kids looked now and tears started to flow down his weary face. Even though he ill treated his family he could not bear the thought of dying far away from them. So with the help of his friend he took the long, painful and shameful journey of his life. Mai Dombo was angry with her husband for all these years but she could not help it but only feel pity for the lifeless body of the man who fathered her beautiful kids. Dombo spent only two days at his home and he was gone for good.

It was never raining but pouring for amai Dombo. Whilst she was still licking the wounds of losing her husband she also lost her first born Simbarashe again to the same disease. Her only daughter dropped out from school. Her only hope now was the last born Tendai. Tendai was obedient and hard working just like his mother. He passed his Ordinary levels and went on to study for a diploma in accounting. Unfortunately for the poor boy, his country was hard hit by credit crunch, there were no job opportunities. Unemployment rate was at a high 80% and they had the highest inflation in the world. The poor boy decided to cross Limpopo in search of greener pastures. He took a haulage truck that dropped him at Beitbridge Border Post. With no money to bribe the officers, his only option was to cross illegally. On the way he saw other guys going the same direction and he accompanied them. His wish was to go Johannesburg but he had no money hence he looked for a job in Mesina. He worked there to make bricks till he raised money that could take him to Johannesburg.

He arrived in Johannesburg but he had nowhere to go. He phoned his friend whom he was communicating with since he was in Mesina but on this day the number was not available. Luckily he heard some guys speaking his language and introduced himself to them. Tendai explained his story and the guys assured him that was the usual story in the city. Fortunately the guys agreed to go with him. The young man was expecting to see a well furnished house but what he saw was a room in a basement at a service station. Each person paid R5 to go inside. Inside the room there was a pile of blankets and card board boxes. One of the guys joked that they were sleeping on the floor, but at least they can eat a full chicken - something they could not afford in their own country.

Tendai realized that the grass was only greener on the other side till you get there. Early in the morning the guard woke them up, they went into the toilet to wash their faces because there was nowhere to bath. It was very early in the morning but there was nowhere to go on this chilly and breezy day. The guard was leaving hence he wanted them out because his authorities could see them. The rest of the guys went to their usual chores of selling juice in the streets and dodging the police.

Tendai went to the city to look for a job. He met a Chinese guy who offered him a job for only R130 a week because he knew Tendai had no papers. Every day was a rendezvous with the police. Sometimes he was lucky, sometimes he was not. He was not used to living without washing his body, so the day he got his first pay he went to Alexandria to look for a place. H e got the place and stayed peacefully. After two months he heard rumors that foreigners were no longer welcome. The poor boy was determined to work hard for his mother and children left by his brother, so he dismissed these rumors.

One day he was coming from work when he saw a group of people singing with big pangas as if they were going to hunt for elephants. It was too late when he realized that he was the elephant! A horrific, painful end awaited him. He could not believe human beings could be so cruel. All he could say was “oh my brother my enemy” and he was gone.
Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga is a Zimbabwean journalist based in South Africa. He is a 2006 and 2007 nominee of the Lorenzo Natalie Prize.
mkanemanyanga@yahoo.com

TEBOGO AND THE EPITHALAMION

2009-03-06T06:51:00.000-08:00

TEBOGO AND THE EPITHALAMION

Book: Tebogo and the epithalamion
Author: Omoseye Bolaji
Publisher: Eselby Jnr Publications
Reviewer: Peter Moroe

Tebogo and the epithalamion (2009), the latest in the “Tebogo Mokoena mystery series" has just been published. Here, sleuth Tebogo Mokoena tackles the case of a bride to be, who suddenly vanishes from her own house. Here I shall just briefly touch on one or two aspects that strike me as regards this new book.

The issue of “morality” seems to interest Bolaji in his writings.Critic Petro Schonfeld writes almost sarcastically in this wise in her book, Tebogo on the prowl (pg 38): “The virtues of Dave are legion. He did not flirt with women…he liked a simple life…he was popular and generous…he liked reading…he was a writer…almost a saint…His character overshadows Tebogo (whose) characteristics are few compared to the praises Dave receives”

Also note that Aryan Kaganof in his review of Bolaji's book, People of the Townships writes: “I would suggest that Mr. Bolaji has created a morally ambiguous protagonist in order to test our own opinions and ethics. The truth is that judgements on the moral plane (sic, plain) are extremely hard to make, both in life and, as John Lefuo amply demonstrates, in fiction”

In Tebogo and the epithalamion there is this type of tantalising ambiguity on issues of “morality” again. For example when Tebogo and Seleke the ‘rich man’ discuss:

But whether Neo “had played her cards right” or not, was hardly the issue here. I stared at Ntate Seleke and said: “But is it true – that there is another woman in this town who has a baby for you?”

Mike flinched as Seleke’s face changed into a ruthless mask. Indeed he (Mike) looked away uneasily, perhaps cursing me inwardly for raising this matter which I had heard about. But I tried to look unperturbed.

Seleke said at last: “Are you questioning my moral ethics?”

Yet the irony is that Mr. Seleke is probably morally flawed as it emerges that he has fathered a child quite carelessly whilst drunk and has little or no respect for the mother of his young child.

Mike Lechesa is one of the pivotal figures in the book, and his portrayal in the book is almost flawless: we can see that he is sensitive, quiet, courteous, has been very sick, etc. We can also see that on the whole, he has no sense of humour; hence a second reading of the book reveals a jarring note when Tebogo first meets him (Mike):

“Mike!” I said hugging him.

“Be careful, Ntate” Gloria (who worked at the B and B) said. “Mr. Mike was very sick and is just getting better,” So she knew him well too.

“So I’m a sissy eh?” Mike joked.

It is quite clear here that the narrator (or rather the author) has temporarily super-imposed what would have been his own comment – putting such words into Mike’s mouth as it were. There is nothing in this work to indicate Mike was capable of “cracking such a joke”

Although probably the worst book in the series, this is another very readable edition of the adventures of Tebogo Mokoena the Private investigator. Regular readers of the series would be thrilled.

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Tebogo Investigates
Tebogo’s spot of bother
Tebogo Fails
Ask Tebogo
Tebogo and the Haka

If Only I listened (Short story)

2009-02-24T06:25:00.000-08:00

IF ONLY I LISTENED

A short story by Teboho Masakala

It was a cold night in June, with the onset of withering winter and everybody dressed warmly and all in their homes safe and warm. Right there in the town of Roadridge there was a family which was sitting around the fire, with the father perched on the chair holding his daughter on his lap and telling her stories while the mother was busy washing the dishes.

“Now the story comes to an end,” said the father”

“But Dad I want to hear more stories,” said the young girl.

“No Lucia! It’s time to go to sleep “said the father.

“But dad” the girl started again.

“Okay Lucia it’s bedtime, but before that you should first take a bath” said the mother, Elizabeth, firmly. Thereafter Lucia went to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. “OK Christopher, there was no need to be so ‘impolite’ with the child” said Elizabeth with a smile.

“But honey I wasn’t so bad,” Christopher retorted with a smile too.

After some minutes Lucia had done with her bath and was on her way to bed. ,” DAD! I’m done” said Lucia. “Okay honey I’m coming,” replied the father.

Moments later Christopher put Lucia to bed and sung her a lullaby like he always did. Moments after singing, he said to her “My dear child, will you promise me something?’ “What dad? What can I promise?” said Lucia.

“Promise me that you will always listen to your mother, respect her, always do what she says,” said Christopher.” I promise I will dad and I swear I will” said Lucia,” Good girl, and here is a little teddy-bear doll as a gift to you my child” said Christopher smiling, “Thanks dad, I love you” said Lucia. He kissed his daughter on the forehead and went to bed.

One Sunday morning Christopher became sick and was coughing and Elizabeth helped him to bed. “My dear Chris what’s wrong?” said Elizabeth. “I am sick the doctor said that I have a lung problem”said Christopher and he was coughing. Elizabeth and Lucia who loved him so much began to cry, but Christopher told them to stop crying. Lucia went to her room and began crying. The days went by and Christopher was close to dying. Ultimately he called Lucia and Elizabeth; and he said to Elizabeth: “My dear love, you know that I love you right?”
“Yes I know” the distraught lady replied.

“Please take care of Lucia,”

“I will” promised Elizabeth. Then Christopher said to Lucia “Remember what you promised me,” “I do remember dad” said Lucia.

“I can now rest in peace,” said Christopher. He looked at them and died. Elizabeth and Lucia cried all day long.

The funeral passed and Elizabeth and Lucia were all alone in the house, they looked at Christopher’s pictures crying disconsolately.

Time passed, and presently Elizabeth said to Lucia “My child, tomorrow you are starting high school, please make sure you make your dad proud because he is watching over you and know that he is with you in spirit “.

“I will mom and I promise you” said Lucia and she kissed her mum on her cheeks and went to her room.

Monday was the first day of the school and Lucia was already dressed up for school, agog with excitement. “Today is your big day,” said Elizabeth, “Thanks mum” said Lucia. Lucia told her mother to take her to school and she did so. As Elizabeth was about to return home from the school premises, Lucia said to her, “Mom I love you”. “Me too” said Elizabeth and she went home.

Lucia was on her way to class and she saw two girls looking at her. They came to her and one of them said “Hello, my name is Sharon and this is Emily…welcome to SYDNEY TL High School” “Thanks” said Lucia shyly; then the three of them went to class and they were introduced to their attractive teacher, MR MARVELLOUS CRAIG.

Lucia’s first day at school went well and she told her mother all about it and her mother said to her: “Lucia, please behave yourself at school, be aware of bad friends and always pray,” said Elizabeth.

“I will mum. I promise,” and Lucia went to sleep in her room and was excited about her day at school.

The following day at school, Sharon and Emily, now close to Lucia went to her with Emily saying: “I have a party tomorrow, it will be fun!”

“But I can’t go, my mum will kill me,” said Lucia.

“Don’t be a chicken, you are in high school now” said Sharon, “or you can sneak out during the night,” Then they went to the class and as MR MARVELLOUS CRAIG was busy teaching, he looked at Lucia and smiled at her. Lucia smiled back shyly and Emily and Sharon noticed everything. They said to Lucia “MR MARVELLOUS is a fine guy, a nice guy, if he comes and proposes to you, just say yes…”

Lucia winced. “But I am too young to be in love” said Lucia.

“Don’t worry Lucia. MR MARVELLOUS is very rich and will take care of you” said Emily. The school was out, and Lucia was back at home and her mother Elizabeth, as if sensing something, said to her:

“Lucia, you are my only child. Please beware of bad friends, please”

“I will” said Lucia. The next day at school Lucia was with Emily because Sharon was not at school; she said to Lucia “Come to a house party at Monica’s place tomorrow”

“NO!!” said Lucia.

“Oh you are afraid of Mummy” said Emily and she laughed. She teased the young lady in front of her now blossoming into a very attractive female.

“I will come’ said Lucia in the end.

And after school MR MARVELLOUS went to Lucia and proposed her and she found herself agreeing. Sadly she had forgotten what her mother said. Lucia started going to parties, sneaking out at night and lying to her mother. Lucia would tell her mother that she was going to study but she would wait for her mother to sleep and then go out through the window and come back later at night.

At school “Marvelous” came to Lucia and he said to her “Come to the party and I will be there”

“I will my love” she said, now having a crush on him. She kissed MR MARVELLOUS on the lips. Sharon and Emily knew that Lucia and Marvelous were now close. “I love him because he gives me money” Lucia told them, “you know my father is dead”

“Just accept the money, my friend” Sharon said and they told Lucia to come to the party and because Marvelous will be there. Lucia now met with Marvelous after school.

Elizabeth called Lucia one Saturday morning and said to her. “My child, many girls are pregnant and some are dead, please promise me that you that you won’t be one of them and that you will take care of yourself and love yourself”

“I will mum,” said Lucia guiltily, knowing that she was no longer a model daughter. Yet her mother now kissed her on the cheeks and forehead.

The grand party arrived and Lucia told her mother that she was going to read, but she wanted her mother to go to sleep so that she could go to the party. Elizabeth went to the study room and saw Lucia apparently reading - not knowing that she was pretending and she went to sleep. When Lucia saw that her mother was sleeping, she got out of the window and went to the party.

At the party Lucia met Emily and Sharon and Mr. Marvelous was there and he saw Lucia looking at him and called her. Lucia was tentatively shy, but Sharon said: “Your man is calling you, go now,

“OK my sugar daddy needs me! See you girls,” Lucia quipped.

When they were together Marvelous said to Lucia “Come with me and I will show you something” Marvelous took Lucia to the backroom and made love to her. Lucia was in a whirl as she went back to the party. She confessed to Emily and Sharon that she had slept with Marvelous.

As time went on, Lucia started feeling unusual but thought it would go away, but it didn’t. Elizabeth noticed something wrong about her but she thought her daughter was just gaining weight and she carried on with her life.

After two months Lucia found out that she was pregnant and that Mr. Marvellous was the father of her un-born child, and told her friends about her status. Emily and Sharon said brusquely: “It’s your fault that you slept with him and it’s up to you to see what you do with the baby”

“I thought you guys were my friends!?” sighed Lucia in despair. They laughed all together and said “You are on your own, we are not friends with pregnant people”. They left her alone and told the whole school about her pregnancy and that Mr. Marvellous was the father.

Lucia’s world came crashing down on her and she felt all alone. She told Mr. Marvellous that she was pregnant and that he was the father of her un-born child. “What?!” exclaimed Mr. Marvellous. “I have kids and a wife, now you are telling me that I’m the father of your baby? You want to destroy me!” With his rage he slapped Lucia in the face and by so doing he left for his car leaving her standing on her own.

The next day Lucia did not go to school. She did not know how to tell her mother that she was pregnant but instead she locked her self up in her room crying and crying. She knew what her mom’s reaction to the news would be. At a distance, Elizabeth heard Lucia weeping and came rushing to her room which was unfortunately was locked. “Lucia, Lucia open the door honey” “No, I don’t want to” “Honey but why not?” “Just go away, I have disgraced you Mama”

“Open the door for me, PLEASE!!!” “I won’t”. And Lucia cried even more loudly. Elizabeth had heard enough. With all her might she slammed her rotund body on the door until it opened and she gained entry into her daughter’s room. “Lucia, what did you do, tell mommy what’s wrong” “Mom, I did not honor my promise to you and dad” “how my child, tell me what’s wrong, maybe I can be of aid”.

With her imagination going wild it was hard for Lucia to murmur the words, but she finally said “Mom I’m…..I’m pregnant”

“You…..you….Lucia you are what?!!!”

“I’m pregnant and the father is none other than my school teacher. And he’s very angry with me too”.

With the thoughts of how her daughter disgraced her, Elizabeth started to cry. “I told you to behave and you went out and slept with your teacher, why? Why did you do this? And Elizabeth looked at Lucia and cried.

Lucia went to the kitchen and took out a knife. “Put that knife down” said Elizabeth. “No mother, I am killing myself” said Lucia with determination. “No, don’t” said Elizabeth

“Bye mom” said Lucia pointing the knife on herself, “No we can talk about this, you are my only child Lucia, please don’t kill yourself” said Elizabeth.

“Bye Mom” reiterated Lucia, a glint in her eyes. She stabbed herself on the stomach and blood came out, and she fell, face down on the floor. Elizabeth, screaming shrilly, looked at her muttering “IF ONLY YOU LISTENED”

Lucia cried, “I am sorry mother”. She closed her eyes and died, blood dripping from her lifeless body, Elizabeth cried a lot because her only child was dead. She stood there looking Lucia, tears coming out of her eyes, “If only you had listened, my child” said Elizabeth, and she continued crying because she knew that her only child will never come back to her. She tore her dress and covered the face of Lucia and continued crying. The horror, pain and distress, was too much for her. A few minutes later, she had a heart attack and also died.
Copyright Teboho Masakala

Introducing Toni Morrison

2009-02-16T02:22:00.000-08:00

(Above) Toni Morrison

Introducing Toni Morrison

By Marika du Plessis

Recently I read a magnificent novel, titled Beloved. I found out that I just could not put it down! Only a very talented female author could produce such a book, I strongly felt. The author of the book, Tony Morrison, I soon learnt, was actually the first black woman to be awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.

On the evidence of Beloved, Morrison certainly deserves great awards. I found myself doing more research on this lady and the following background information would be useful to those being introduced to her: (I’m indebted mainly to Wikipedia for the information)

Toni Morrison is one of the greatest black writers the world has ever seen. An American by birth, she was born in Lorain, Ohio, the second of four children in a working-class family. As a child, Morrison read constantly; among her favorite authors were Jane Austen and Leo Tolstoy. Morrison's father, George Wofford, a welder by trade, told her numerous folktales of the black community (a method of storytelling that would later work its way into Morrison's writings).

In 1949 Morrison entered Howard University to study English. While there she began going by the nickname of "Toni," which derives from her middle name, Anthony. She received a B.A. in English from Howard in 1953, then earned a Master of Arts degree, also in English, from Cornell University in 1955, for which she wrote a thesis on suicide in the works of William Faulkner and Virginia Woolf.

After graduation, Morrison became an English instructor at Texas Southern University in Houston, Texas (from 1955-57) then returned to Howard to teach English. She became a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc.

Morrison began writing fiction as part of an informal group of poets and writers at Howard University who met to discuss their work. She went to one meeting with a short story about a black girl who longed to have blue eyes. The story later evolved into her first novel, The Bluest Eye (1970), which she wrote while raising two children and teaching at Howard. In 1973 her novel Sula was nominated for the National Book Award. Song of Solomon (1977) brought her national attention. The book was a main selection of the Book-of-the-Month Club, the first novel by a black writer.

In 1988 Morrison's novel Beloved became a critical success. It won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Beloved was adapted into a film. The New York Times Book Review named Beloved the best American novel published in the previous twenty five years. In 1993 Morrison was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, the first black woman to win it.

I also learnt that Toni Morrison’s works have impressed and influenced a number of South African black female writers, and even the very young ones like Neo Mvubu. It was also interesting to read the part in one of Pule Lechesa’s books where he writes that when Toni Morrison was announced as winner of the Nobel award for literature, another fellow American asked: “Who is he anyway?” The ‘joke’ being that Morrison was actually a woman and the man was genuinely ignorant about her! I urge South African ladies to try to get hold and read any books written by the eminent Ms Morrison.

SELEKE BOTSIME is Free State Columnist of the Year (2008)

2009-01-13T07:11:00.001-08:00

How SELEKE BOTSIME was named “Free State Columnist of the Year (2008)”

The formal Citation on the Winner:

“We are very proud to present the inaugural edition of the ‘Free State columnist of the year’ Award. Let it be stated from the outset that we shall be having only one winner every year – the reasons for this are obvious; but suffice it to say that if we are having 2nd and 3rd prizes etc yearly, the columnists would be exhausted very soon!

Yes, this country (South Africa) is blessed with many marvelous columnists. We confess unashamedly that our emphasis are the black African columnists as a lot still has to be done to boost the morale of such columnists who we know are always assailed with multi-faceted doubts. Who is reading me? Do I have readers? Do I write and publish “nonsense”? Why don’t I get more feedback from readers? These are a few of the questions that often assail our columnists.

In the Free State here, we have admitted that we are particularly impressed with Mangaung Issue columnists; they have the grassroots touch with an ear to the ground as it were. But it has to be noted that regularity and longevity are important components of writing a column; there is a dearth of this with most black columnists.

Also, it must be admitted that we are still way, way behind the situation overseas, where many columnists are read by hundreds of thousands of people! In England for example, Julie Burchill has hundreds of thousands of readers writing in a popular newspaper, Sun. Burchill is famed for the wide reaching topics she dwells on and her intellectualism; yet she still has a powerful personal touch.

For 2008, our panelists have been very impressed with columnists who strengthen the moral fibre of the country; such columnists hardly revel in sensationalism or frivolities; they are more or less spiritual upholders and teachers. Hence Rolang Motlanke of THE WAY and Seleke Botsime of Free State news figured very high in the ratings.

Mr. Motlanke is a brilliant writer and columnist; quite international class, in the way he brings sundry ideas together, with adroit allusions and deductions. He has influenced the lives of many positively and hopefully his impact would continue to grow. The only drawback is that his magazine- and columns- come out only intermittently, not on a very regular basis.

Now we come to the Silhouettes column written by Mr. Seleke (SLK) Botsime. Virtually throughout 2008 the column came out on a weekly basis, celebrating the virtues of spirituality, intrinsic knowledge, and wisdom from the Bible, and intellectual spouting that we can enjoy on a regular basis.

The profundity of the column has to be specially commended. These are not just articles we can just pick up and read quickly. We have to savour slowly the special language and intellectualism that bedecks them; we ponder over the same, re-read and appreciate. Old fashioned values are celebrated – with society at large exhorted to be morally strong.

The Dec 12 (2008) edition of “Silhouettes” column serves as an example of a very outstanding, lustrous write-up. Virtually all the lines and sentences are polished, full of wisdom and philosophy, meant to enlighten and move us forward. Obviously this is a man who takes especial care in his writings, with unbelievable inspiration and intellect.

It must also be pointed out that Seleke Botsime, also known to many as a cerebral musician, already has a national and international profile of his own. On the world online encyclopedia, Wikipedia he is included amongst South Africa’s noteworthy jazz musicians. But our concern here is mainly his column.

In sum, we at Phoenix Press and Club are proud to announce that the winner of the inaugural ‘Free State Columnist of the year’ (2008) is Mr. Seleke Botsime, the man behind Silhouettes column in the Free State news. Congratulations!”
Courtesy of Phoenix Literary Press and Club

ES'KIA MPHAHLELE DIES

2008-10-29T03:21:00.000-07:00

ES’KIA MPHAHLELE DIES

By Peter Moroe

The literary community in South Africa and the world in general is reeling after the demise of Es’kia (Ezekiel) Mphahlele, one of the all-time greats of African literature. Cliches and superlatives are often carelessly used to describe certain people, but Ntate Mphahlele was a veritable giant in the world of literature and letters. His prolific publications included books and essays (including critical articles). In fact the National English Literary Museum in Grahamstown has hundreds of articles written on the works of this great man.

The achievements of Es’kia Mphahlele were such that by the late 60s he was already regarded as one of the greats of African writing! We recall that the late Richard Rive (in an interview) described Es’kia decades ago as “the grand old man of African literature”. By this time Es’kia had already published excellent works, including the classic, Down Second Avenue.

Just as Chinua Achebe (for example) will always be remembered for publishing Things fall apart, so would many continue to remember Es’kia for the work, Down Second Avenue. In the book, we follow the progress of the young literary prodigy from infancy, with his love for words and his burgeoning proficiency in the English and Afrikaans languages. We realize the great importance and selflessness of “African mothers” in general; and how people could survive despite daunting odds.

We also appreciate the author’s controlled humour. For example when at the end of his tether with an arrogant white lady always referring to him as “boy” (although he was very much a grown man then) Es’kia retorts: “What makes you think I am a boy, and not a girl?” This type of humour - in tow with his always impeccable (literary) style- is a characteristic of virtually all his works.

In the field of fiction, Es’kia contributed to African fiction with excellent works like The Wanderers, and Chirundu. The Wanderers focuses on a peripatetic émigré (rather like the author) who lived in different continents and countries. The work won important awards and still makes interesting reading.

Back to autobiography, (like his Down Second Avenue) Es’kia published a sequel to his first classic, titled, Africa my Music. This book is a must for all lovers of African literature in general, especially the key writers over the decades. Es’kia was personal friends with most of them and it is fascinating reading about when these writers were all quite young – and Es’kia’s astute comments on them. These writers include Wole Soyinka, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Chinua Achebe, Efua T Sutherland, and Ama Ata Aidoo.

For many years (before he began to write novels) Es’kia was known as a powerful short story writer. Early in life against all odds he published his first collection of short stories, Man must live (in the 40s) The book was fairly successful – and he went on to write many more including acclaimed novellas like Ms Plum. Other collections included In Corner B. And need we mention Es’kia’s successful stint at Drum magazine decades ago when he contributed many excellent short stories?

As for Eskia’s contributions to the genre of literary criticism and scholarship – one is not qualified to go into this. Suffice it to say that he was revered worldwide for his erudition and proficiency. The “ES’KIA” books (containing most of his critical essays) will remain an indelible tribute to him.

Rest in peace, Es’kia Mphahlele.

Stephen Gray vs Zakes Mda

2008-10-09T03:21:00.000-07:00

Tiff between revered literary critics

By Raphael Mokoena

8/10/08

The literary scene in South Africa this week has been largely dominated by the literary “brickbats” between two of the country’s greatest academics and writers, Stephen Gray and Zakes Mda. Mr. Gray published a piece in a national newspaper (Mail and Guardian) where he criticised a number of aspects of Mr. Mda’s writing. The latter responded vigorously – both of them rather strongly picking on each other with more than a hint of personal attacks.

The furore awakened what many black African people in the literary business have known for years. The genre of literary criticism does not sit too well with most of our writers, and in the end it becomes difficult to separate authentic literary criticism from personal attacks. Over the decades as African literature grew by leaps and bounds, friendships between writers had been ruptured, with resentment in the air all because of “literary criticism”

Writer and cultural activist, Aryan Kaganof has referred to “mean spiritedness” (accusing Stephen Gray of this). But the history of literary criticism over the years and centuries shows that in so many cases critics can easily be accused of this, even if this might not be their intention. Often literary criticism goes too far and it does seem as if the pertinent critic has something against the writer being “attacked”.

A case in point was the way James Joyce’s immortal masterpiece, Ulysses, was greeted by some top critics after the book was first published. The great Virginia Woolf remarked on it thus: “Ulysses is the work of a queasy undergraduate scratching his pimples”; DH Lawrence, top writer commented: “The last part of Ulysses is the most indecent, dirtiest, most obscene thing ever written. It is filthy”; literary critic, Edmund Goose said: “The author (of Ulysses) is a charlatan…the book is an anarchical production, infamous in taste, in style, everything”

As regards the “tiff” between Stephen Gray and Zakes Mda, both of them remain formidable literary activists and writers. I can not agree with the suggestion that a literary figure can only be judged on their prolificacy and having books on the shelf almost on a yearly basis. Whether Chinua Achebe published any more novels after his classic Things fall apart came out fifty years ago, he would always be revered for his pioneering masterpiece (indeed, Achebe has not published any new novel for over 20 years). Stephen Gray is ensconced as a very important critic and imaginative writer whose works have been published world-wide, with many different editions.

On his own part, despite the fact that Zakes Mda began publishing novels less than fifteen years ago, he has already proved that he’s at the top of his craft, and he has quickly joined the elite of the all time great novelists in the continent. Works of his like Heart of Redness, Madonna of Excelsior, Ways of Dying belong to the top drawer. Of course he is also a veritable academic too. He and Stephen Gray know only too well that the genre of literary criticism is often an acerbic one. But one always regrets seeing personal attacks between illustrious people (in this case, wordsmiths.)
Mr. Mokoena, a literary activist, lives in Qwaqwa.

Gcina Mhlophe struts her stuff in Bloemfontein!

2008-09-17T08:25:00.000-07:00

Gcina Mhlophe struts her stuff in Bloem!

By Flaxman Qoopane

Dr. Gcina Mhlophe, an award winning storyteller, poet, director, playwright and performer wowed the Free State with her considerable talents in September (2008). She was invited to do storytelling at Botlehadi Primary School in Mangaung townships.

Molaodi Matobako, co-ordinator East Region from the Mangaung Library Services had said: “In celebration of Literacy Week, the Mangaung Local Municipality jointly with the Mangaung Library Services invited the renowned storyteller Gcina Mhlophe to Bloemfontein to raise public awareness of literacy among our children by telling some of her wonderful African tales at Botshabelo Library, Wilgehof Primary School, Fitchard Park library and at Botlehadi Primary School”.

The staff and learners at Botlehadi Primary School, officials from the Free State Department of Education, the South African Police Services and the representatives from the following sponsors: Shoprite/Checkers, Vodacom, Netcare, Pelonomi Private Hospital, Maskew Miller Longman Free State could not hide their excitement at seeing Mhlope live, taking the stage! Indeed she was warmly welcomed by the audience.

She thanked the Mangaung Library Services for inviting her to the Free State to showcase her skills as a storyteller. She emphasized the importance of Literacy Week. “Ideally, it is about reading and writing in all our languages” she pointed out. She shared some of her stories with the audience.

During the occasion, Kananelo Rabele, a Grade One learner at the school read from a book Ntja ya ka (“My dog”) to her school mates in celebration of Literacy Week.

During the programme, the school choir led by teacher Ruta Moses, rendered several songs. A group of Mohobelo Cultural Group entertained the crowd with Sesotho dances. Another cultural group that took part at the event was Tshwaraganang Cultural Group. Invited guests ate and drank traditional food and African beer.

Donald Bojang, Regional Manager of the Maskew Miller Longman in the Free State said: “On behalf of Maskew Miller Longman Publishers, I have brought a box of reading books for Botlehadi Primary School,” The books were handed over to Lucas Mlamleli, the School Principal, by Gcina Mhlophe – the lady of the moment!

THE SUBTLE TRANSGRESSOR

2008-09-11T04:40:00.000-07:00

A trenchant play

Review by Peter Moroe

Play: The Subtle transgressor
Author: Omoseye Bolaji
Publisher: Eselby Junior Publications (South African edition)

The Subtle transgressor is a powerful drama, shocking in some respects and with convincing (grassroots) dialogue the author is noted for. The play addresses a number of social issues in this our increasingly sophisticated world. Alas as society advances it appears the moral fibre continues to be undermined. It is a reality we have to face.

The pressures assailing the young can be clearly seen in this play – especially young ladies. They become aware of their sensuality and attractiveness to members of the opposite sex; they have their own desires and foibles; for those from rather poor backgrounds (as the protagonist Kate is) the pressures multiply even further. There are many men and “boys” out there ready to take advantage of them, realizing their vulnerability.

Needless to say a young woman (note that the play focuses not only on Kate but her two close female friends too) must “take care of herself” – she needs the basics, including toiletries; nowadays many of them hanker for “airtime” “credit” for their mobile phones. The “sugar daddies” swoop in also. It goes on and on.

In this play Kate’s father Job initially comes across as a man battling against odds to “discipline” his daughter, maybe teach her some values in life. That he goes as far as stabbing her (!) smacks of some sort of desperation. In the modern world with so many rights, this could have led to punitive measures for him if Kate had for example reported the matter to the Police. But she does not.
Hence we realize that there is some sort of intriguing relationship between Kate and her father Job. Other characters like the loquacious “Uncle” contribute to the particular ambience of the play. Kate certainly seems to understand her father well – a man who frowns upon his daughter’s closeness not only to “boys” but also to her best female friends. There can be no possibility that Kate would desert her friends. Or vice versa.

As characteristic of Omoseye Bolaji’s fiction it is only at the end of the play that we realize that Job has been abusing his own daughter sexually since she was a kid! This extraordinary revelation is presented quite convincingly with Job being utterly humiliated, but hardly punished for his deeds. We now realize that he is doubly guilty of abuse – not only has he stabbed her with a knife, but had abused her sexually throughout her young life.

Job is the ultimate hypocrite: his trenchant outbursts - claiming he is “principled” and only out to foment discipline in his daughter assumes a very hollow ring. He is a villain: an authentic subtle transgressor. And what about his poor abused daughter? Is it not likely that she would always feel inadequate, somewhat depressed and traumatized? Under the circumstances we can only but admire her feisty attitude and character.

We live in an age where the young ones (particularly females) are subjected to terrible things. We are not only thinking of rape or domestic abuse at home, but with increased reports of “date rapes” – e.g the male “spiking” the drinks of a female to render her unconscious and then going on to rape her; sometimes with a gang rape of the hapless female taking place… it seems as society becomes more advanced women become even more vulnerable.

The subtle transgressor tries to address some of these societal problems from what one might call the “tap root” – incest perpetrated by a father on his own daughter. In other words a dysfunctional background for a young female – what prize that this traumatic experience would not follow her around even as she grows up?

Gomolemo Mokae: Medical Doctor cum accomplished writer

2008-09-01T03:57:00.000-07:00

Medical Doctor cum accomplished writer

By F. Qoopane

Dr. Gomolemo Mokae is well known for his writings, both in English and his mother tongue, Setswana. Recently this writer caught up with him and briefly probed him on his contributions to arts and culture.

Mokae has published the following novels Masego and Kaine le Abel, in Setswana. The novel, Masego, won the 1994 African Heritage Literary Award, and became runner-up in the 1994 M-net Book Prize. His other novel Kaine le Abel won the 1995 African Heritage Literary Award. His most famous English novel is The secret in my bosom.

In August 1995, Dr Mokae became a joint winner of the Betrams VO Literature of Africa Award, together with Lazarus Miti – an African languages lecturer at the Swaziland University. They shared the R15 000 prize.

As a short story writer, Dr. Mokae has published short stories in numerous local and overseas magazines. His short story, The Good Women do won a prize in a competition run by the National Arts Coalition in 1994. He has published a collection of his short stories – Short not tall stories; and also Nnete ke Serunya, a Setswana short story anthology.

Dr. Mokae has also written many plays; his stage play, The way the cookie crumbles reached the finals of the 1993 Amstel Playwright of the Year contest. His other dramas, Gaabo Motho and Lisenetheni were screened for TV drama on SABC 2.

Top poet releases new book

2008-08-07T04:58:00.000-07:00

Top female bard releases new book

Lebo Mashile, probably South Africa’s most outstanding black female poet, has published her latest book, ‘Flying Above The Sky’. It is her second published collection of poems.

Going through Lebo Mashile’s new work, she continues to confirm her promise. Already she is an icon of modern South African poetry – and her second collection of poetry lives up to what one would expect from this talented and magnetic individual.

The new volume is titled ‘Flying Above The Sky’ and it follows her acclaimed 2005 collection ‘In A Ribbon of Rhythm’ which earned Mashile the prestigious NOMA Award for Publishing in Africa for 2006, a fantastic achievement.

And if her first collection established Mashile as a formidable voice, ‘Flying Above The Sky’, some pundits have suggested, takes things further and showcases her range and talent, adumbrating on the variables of the society that moves her.

Lebo Mashile, a talented writer and visual verbalist, is already a role model for many as regards South African poetry. In addition to these, Lebo Mashile has been forging her own creative identity over the years. It was almost ten years ago that the eclectic lady emerged on the Johannesburg arts scene. Infused with a great deal of energy and dynamism, she is now a multi talented artist: a published author, executive producer, actress, poet, independent record producer, corporate and independent event MC, life skills facilitator/speaker and television series presenter. She is something of a triton among the minnows.

For example some five years ago, Mashile co-founded the Feela Sistah Spoken Word Collective alongside Napo Masheane, Ntsiki Mazwai and Myesha Jenkins – all great names in arts and culture. Indeed the four of them have been making great waves, taking poetry many steps forward.

As regards her literary output so far, Mashile says: “This is a far more personal collection than the first,” She continues: “For me, ‘In A Ribbon Of Rhythm’ was very much the start of putting my poems into the larger public realm, but there were many that I left out. To be honest, I was too afraid to let them move away from my own personal space, but over the past three years things have changed. I’ve journeyed in a way that has really made me more confident about my work and sure of myself and I feel the time is right to give more of my work to my readers.”

The result of this is ‘Flying Above The Sky’ (2008) which is as bold, defiant and candid as ever. Themes include feminism, what it means to be a woman in the modern age, issues of identity and spirituality. But there are other spheres and vistas in her new work.

Unequivocally, one of these new areas for Mashile is the idea of “travel”. She explains: “I am very interested in how movement shapes our identity as individuals. It fascinates me that when we leave home, we take pieces of it with us on our journey and when we return, we bring new things from where we have been that then find a place in our homes.”

Strangely enough – in view of the recent spate of extraordinary xenophobic attacks in the country, Mashile briefly dwells on this phenomenon in one of her poems, titled: “‘Kwere-Kwere”. “You can see that here I make the point that all of us are essentially travelers” she says.

She also takes sides firmly with the ordinary man in her latest riveting verses. She does not use a mallet to grind the masses into the ground! On the contrary she empathizes with them. In one of the poems titled: ‘What Tomorrow Looks Like’ we have lines like:
“Mr. President tell us what tomorrow looks like
Can you see it in the darkness of prisons
Is it in the look in the eye of a peaceful man
Who is killed in front of his two children
Is it somewhere beyond our own plane and time
Is it inside the walls that we live in/Is it the property of the privileged few
Or is it understanding that humanity is privileged

In poems like this, and many others in the collection, Mashile shows her introspective nature, and leadership qualities, becoming more or less a voice of the nation.

Mashile also includes some deeply personal poems in her new work – among them, ‘I Want To Be Touched’ which many would regard as sensual. Also the revealing ‘A Hole Called Depression’. Poems like these expose the intrinsic human side – even vulnerability of the poet, despite all her achievements. She herself confesses that as human beings we all have a “common humanity”. As she puts it: “It’s been said so many times before but what binds us together is our common humanity and my deepest wish is that when people read the collection (her latest book), it will strike a chord within them that then joins us together in an instant.”

It is likely that the poet would get her wish. Earlier, in 2005, Mashile published with Struik and Mutloatse Arts Trust, her first collection of poetry In A Ribbon of Rhythm, which won her the prestigious NOMA Award for Publishing in Africa for 2006. Her new collection Flying above the sky will be distributed via African Perspectives Publishing.
* Information, courtesy of the Eclectic Writers’ Club (Bloemfontein)

Two great Zimbabwean female writers

2008-08-04T02:31:00.000-07:00

(Above) Yvonne Vera

Two great Zimbabwean female writers

By Peter Moroe

The article on African female writers (elsewhere on this blog) I found fascinating. I found myself focusing on the two great Zimbabwean female writers and wishing to write something about them. So let us focus a bit more on Tsitsi Dangarembga and Yvonne Vera (who sadly died at a young age) who are renowned for their literary works.

Dangarembga was born in 1959 then spent part of her childhood in England. She went on to study psychology at the University of Zimbabwe and began to write and get involved in drama. She went on to publish a play called She Does Not Weep. It was however her superb novel, Nervous Conditions that made her world famous; winning her the African section of the Commonwealth Writers Prize in 1989. The book was the first (English novel) ever written by a black Zimbabwean woman.

After many years Tsitsi wrote a sequel to Nervous conditions, titled The book of Not (2006). Her career in movie making meanwhile blossomed internationally. Her other books include The Letter(1985) and She no longer weeps (1987).

Yvonne Vera was born in 1964 (and died in 2005). She was a powerful novelist who depicted women skillfully in her works; her range included topics like rape, and gender relationships. She won a number of important awards for her writing. In Zimbabwe she taught English literature at a high school then travelled to Canada where she educated herself further, and got married.

She published Why Don't You Carve Other Animals (short stories) in 1992. Then came the powerful novels: Nehanda (1993);Without a Name (1994), which won the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Africa; Under the Tongue (1997) ; Butterfly Burning (2000), which won the German Literature Prize 2002 – it was also chosen as one of Africa's 100 Best Books of the 20th Century in 2002. In 2002 she also published The Stone Virgins (2002).

It is thus no surprise that Vera’s works continue to be studied and celebrated in literary circles world wide. It is generally agreed that she never shied away from writing about so-called “taboo” subjects. She had a strict writing regimen which she adhered to, and in all senses of the word she could be called a “professional writer”. Zimbabwe has done well to produce two such world class female writers.
Peter Moroe is a literary critic who has published several articles – and books – on black African literature.

City of Roses and Literary icons

2008-07-24T08:25:00.000-07:00

CITY OF ROSES AND LITERARY ICONS

Author: Flaxman Qoopane

Flaxman Qoopane, a journalist, poet and author, has published his latest book titled City of Roses and Literary icons.

He said: “In this new book, I debunk the general belief in many quarters that the Free State, Bloemfontein, in particular, is something of an outpost as regards major, pivotal trends in literature.

“I demonstrably show in the book that Bloemfontein, over the years has hosted a conglomeration of distinguished wordsmiths, and even taken the lead in orchestrating cardinal literary meets,”

According to the author, in the book, we get to learn the details of such literary occasions that got off the ground in the “City of Roses” (Bloemfontein); the galaxy of such literary icons who have graced its shores – including Kgotso Maphalla, Don Mattera, Lauretta Ngcobo, Jim Mokoena, Prof Lewis Nkosi, Prof Keorapetse Kgositsile, Don Matterra, among many others.

“The new book also proudly details the goings-on at the 2006 South African literary Awards which were held in Bloemfontein,” Qoopane said. “At this occasion very important literary awards were given to many of the all-time greats of South African literature. It was also at the gala that Prof Kgositsile was named the current National Poet Laureate.”

This is a book to be read by all lovers of literature and the arts and culture in general. The Free State Provincial libraries immediately ordered some one hundred copies of the book.

“Qoopane indeed shows his effulgent love for writing and writers in general. He puts together many unforgettable occasions of literary orientation hosted in Bloemfontein; this book gives the lie to the belief of so many that the Free State is something of a literary backwater,” Omoseye Bolaji, distinguished author, said.
Review courtesy of Phoneix Literary club, Ladybrand

The "underworld" in Omoseye Bolaji's Tebogo and the Haka

2008-07-24T07:59:00.000-07:00

The “underworld” in Omoseye Bolaji’s Tebogo and the Haka

By Raselebeli Khotseng

To many people, the world of pubs, women of easy virtue, alcohol is that of the “underworld”. A common comment about many of Omoseye Bolaji’s works of fiction is that a lot of the action is often centred in taverns or shebeens! This is particularly true as regards the Tebogo Mystery series. There is plenty of action in shebeens in Tebogo Fails and Ask Tebogo as usual.

Hence it is no surprise that in his latest work, Tebogo and the Haka (2008) a lot of the action takes place at the Club or shebeen, strangely called The Haka itself. We see Tebogo Mokoena the investigator visiting the place every time during his stay in Ladybrand, and he certainly enjoys himself, relaxing, quaffing, drinking, meeting all sorts of people.

Really many might wonder: how important are shebeens- for black people? The answer is obvious enough: apart from so many taverns and shebeens in towns and cities targeting the black people, it is fascinating that in the townships, virtually every street has at least one or two shebeens frequented by so many.

So what are the attractions of shebeens? Obviously the first is the alcohol itself, biri . In the shebeens the alcohol always flows and the sellers often make sure it is ice cold– you can buy at almost anytime of the day, especially during the weekends. Many people go into debt heavily not minding, so long as they can pay their debts at the end of the month or when convenient. I have seen cases of some people owing as much as a thousand rand monthly to settle debts for alcohol.

At shebeens there is always this ambience of excitement and fizz, people throng the places, talk, exchange quips and even share bottles together. During big matches,– especially soccer,– many people gather to support their local team or the national team,– at the 2007 Rugby World Cup many people enjoyed the games at the shebeens.

Then there is the music – at such places assorted music is played often till late in the night during weekends. The atmosphere is informal and people can also bring their own beloved brands of music. It is an excuse for music unlimited, with loudspeakers blaring forth very loud music with the patrons enjoying; all the while the drinks are flowing.

Needless to say at the shebeens and taverns there are many women who come and add spice to the whole atmosphere. Whilst it is not true that most of the ladies who frequent shebeens are cheap or waiting to be picked up, a fair number of them are. At worst they believe they can get men to buy drinks for them at such places, and if anything happens afterwards? Ladies, after some drinks, become liberated and become the heart and soul of such assemblages.

Omoseye Bolaji, time and again uses riveting scenes from the shebeens to make his fiction more exciting. In Tebogo and the Haka, with Tebogo’s wife Khanyi thousands of kilometres away overseas, the protagonist can enjoy the company of ladies at the shebeen or Club, the likes of Brenda, Maki and Charlotte. Of course he still succeeds in solving the mysteries as usual talk of mixing business with pleasure!

Africa's female black writers

2008-07-24T04:13:00.000-07:00

(Above) Sindiwe Magona

By Marika du Plessis

At a literary workshop in South Africa recently, young black ladies who love reading imaginative books hardly knew anything about outstanding black female authors over the years in the African continent. But we had some experts who helped us out; and at the end of the day everybody’s knowledge was enhanced.

In South Africa the leading lights among the female writers include Miriam Tlali, Sindiwe Magona, Lauretta Ngcobo and Ellen Kuzwayo. The late Kuzwayo’s literary reputation rests mainly on the publication of her major work, Call me woman. Tlali was the first black woman to publish a major novel, Mirriam at Metropolitan. It was moving learning about Sindiwe Magona who had three kids by the age of 23, seemingly destined for a very hard life, but she went on to educate herself, work overseas and publish a number of excellent books, including To my children’s children and Mother to mother.

But not only South African women have been making waves in writing. Indeed black female writers from West Africa in particular started the trend. Ghana produced the late Efua Sutherland who was a fine dramatist; and also Ama Atta Aidoo, novelist, short story writer and dramatist. Nigeria produced Flora Nwapa and the outstanding Buchi Emecheta of whom I enjoyed reading her book, Head above water, so much

Also from western Africa was the great Senegalese female writer Mariama Ba who published So long a letter. The book was originally written in French but has now been translated into other major languages world-wide. The book focuses on the travails of women in a particular society and an attempt to handle such problems with some dignity.

From eastern Africa (mainly Kenya) African women like Grace Ogot, Barbara Kimenye, Rebeka Njau have been writing quality books for decades. Njau’s Ripples in the pond would appeal to most ladies, a very fine piece of work (as Mr. Lebohang Thaisi the writer would say)

Apart from South Africa, neighbouring Zimbabwe has also churned out outstanding black female writers. Most people would immediately think about Tsitsi Dangarembga whose novel, Nervous conditions still remains a classic some twenty years after publication. But also, Yvonne Vera with her powerful novels was world class too (pity she left this world prematurely)

Nelson Mandela at 90!

2008-07-23T08:18:00.000-07:00

Mandela at 90!

By Raselebeli “Magic” Khotseng

For many decades he felt the weight of prison cell
Surrounded by sharks
Demarcated by Ocean and Cape Colony
Today the nation and world
Sing his fulsome songs of praise
Happy Birthday Madiba
A happy birthday?
Or 90 years of resistance?

It was nearly three decades of breaking stones on the island
Demanding freedom like a child demand’s his mother’s breast
But now it’s a moment of singing a different tune
As the world brings a cornucopia of gifts
Your sterling courage led to victory

Being a freedom fighter for human rights
Being hunted and banished for years
He returned, wearing a new mask of peace and reconciliation
Uttering a world reconciliation to forgive his persecutors
Global enchantment hovers on your birthday
But this is not an ordinary birthday Tata
But 90 years of resistance
That saw the birth of a rainbow nation

Milestones for Achebe, Ngugi, and Ayi kwei Armah

2008-07-21T02:15:00.000-07:00

Milestones for Achebe, Ngugi, and Ayi Kwei Armah

By Pule Lechesa

African black literature has been celebrated for decades now. Our best writers can easily hold their own in the international arena. Authors like Wole Soyinka, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Chinua Achebe, Ben Okri, Ayi kwei Armah, Dambudzo Marechera, Bessie Head are all highly regarded world-wide. Hence milestones as regards their literary work or lives continue to be celebrated.

This year (2008) we have had quite a number of milestones, with a trio of them (the writers) probably outstanding. For many, even after so many decades since publication, Chinua Achebe’s Things fall apart remains the all-time best of African creative writing. This year marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of the ground-breaking work.

As for Ngugi wa Thiong’o, the world celebrated as he marked 70 years of age early this year. The man is famous for his brilliant fiction and his polemical, illuminating essays. We mention Ngugi and our mind goes to works like Weep not child, A grain of wheat, Petals of blood, Matigari, Wizard of the crow etc.

Another African great, Ayi kwei Armah celebrates the 40th anniversary of the publication of his unforgettable work of fiction, The beautyful ones are not yet born. Remember that when the book first came out it was acclaimed as being among “in the first rank of novels published anywhere.” Observers further point out that what looked like Armah’s pessimism as regards Africa forty years ago, has come true anyway!

Next year, (2009) promises to be another year where African literary milestones would be celebrated. To give just one example – in 2009, Es’kia (Ezekiel) Mphahlele would turn 90. This is one of the all-time greats of African literature. Also in 2009 the world will celebrate the 50th anniversary of the publication of Down Second Avenue, Mphahlele’s timeless classic.
(Pule Lechesa, poet and essayist, is the author of books like Four Free State Authors, The Evolution of FS Black Literature, and Omoseye Bolaji…on awards, authors, literature)

Black African Literature (Poems by two young African lady poets)

2008-07-20T07:49:00.000-07:00

THE SUNSHINE
By Julia Lithebe

The sun rises and shines
Incorporating the happiness of the day
Happiness reflecting in everything
It’s shining in my eyes
It’s shining refulgent every single day

The sun rises gloriously like it’s the first time
Reminiscent of a new baby
Look outside; hark, it’s shining!
Happiness radiates throughout the world
Basking in the glow of the sun

The sun shines all over
Incandescent the world over
Even a candle brings light
Meagre compared with magnificence of the sun
Radiating all over the nation

People are looking for the brightness
The radiance of the comely sun
Appreciate the beauty of the flowers
Indeed without the Sun’s glow
There is no life and future

The heat of the sun brings warmth
We living things bask in the light
Cavorting and gay under the light
Things are made Technicolor by the sun
Herein is the beauty of the sunshine!

MIGHTY EYES

By Neo Mvubu

Mighty eyes that see the troubles we live in
Mighty eyes that puff away their lives with miniature noses
Mighty eyes that drink away their futures
One two three glasses
And BAM
They destroy their potential

Mighty eyes with dreamless lives
Only knives cutting away prison walls
With hopes of freedom

Mighty eyes with grandmothers
In bedrooms
And babies in bushes

Mighty eyes steal lives
They kill
And worst of all
We ignore
And we find comfort in brutality

Black African Literature (Chieftaincy for Writer)

2008-07-20T07:40:00.000-07:00

Omoseye Bolaji, a well known black writer based in South Africa will be conferred with a prestigious traditional Chieftaincy title by the Olubadan (King) of Ibadan city in Nigeria (West Africa) next month.

Omoseye has over the years managed to build up a very impressive literary body of work, and is being honoured mainly for his contributions to black African writing. Ibadan for decades was the most populous black city south of the Sahara, boasting the first Television Station in Africa, the Cocoa House skyscraper, the Liberty stadium etc.

Omoseye Bolaji has contributed in awesome fashion to African black writing, publishing well over 20 books, with his literary works discussed, evaluated in many articles, books and on the Internet. Some of his works include The Termagant, Impossible Love, The ghostly adversary, The guillotine, People of the Townships, Poems from Mauritius, and the Subtle transgressor

South African writer, Flaxman Qoopane, a close friend of Omoseye was elated to hear about the chieftaincy. "It's rare indeed for a writer to be given a traditional chieftaincy title just on the strength of his writings. I am so happy for Omoseye. He could have had an easy, comfortable life but he largely sacrificed everything all for his love of literacy and literature"

Omoseye Bolaji, who lives in the Free State, has garnered a string of awards over the years, thanks to his writing prowess. Last year alone (2007) he was given a Lifetime Achievement award by the Free State government; and the University of the Free State conferred the Chancellor's Medal on him. His father the late Chief SL Bolaji was a proud Ibadanman who was also an acclaimed writer. Omoseye will be conferred with the “Onigegewura” (Golden Pen) of Ibadan on August 18, 2008

Raselebeli Khotseng (PRO, Phoenix Literary Club, South Africa)