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How did they die?

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How did our favourite men and women of letters die? What had they written or said about death? What words of wisdom did they leave behind when they were at death’s door?

In an essay published in 1971 in a book called A New Companion to Shakespeare Studies, scholar S. Schoenbaum indicates that the great English dramatist and poet, William Shakespeare, might have died due to excessive consumption of alcohol.

“On 23 April 1616 Shakespeare died,” Schoenbaum writes. “About his last illness we have no certain information, although half a century later the vicar of Holy Trinity, John Ward, noted in his diary a story that must then have had currency in Stratford: ‘Shakespeare, Drayton, and Ben Jonson had a merry meeting , and it seemed the drank too hard, for Shakespeare died of a fever there contracted.”

But a little later, Schoenbaum goes on to insist that there are chances that this may not be very accurate. “But the anecdote is no more than that; medically it seems dubious, and as a gossip, Ward is not entirely reliable.”

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It is said that Shakespeare died rather early at the age of 53. It is stated that through his will, Shakespeare left behind ten pounds to the poor of his home, Stratford. He also left some money to his friends, William Reynolds, Antony Nash and John Nash. His sole remaining sister, Mrs John Hart, was allowed to stay for the rest of her life in the Henley Street homestead. A daughter of the Halls received Shakespeare’s plate.

The bulk of Shakespeare’s estate went to his daughter, Susanna: After her death the entailed estate was to go to her eldest surviving son, and then to the late son’s male heirs…Susanna bore no sons and eventually the property was passed to strangers. Shakespeare left to his wife, Anne, “my linen, my second best bed” and other things.

Shakespeare was buried within the chancel of Holy Trinity in Stratford. More ordinary citizens, including his father and mother, were laid to rest in the churchyard. On the flagstone to his resting place there are written very interesting words, thought to have been written by him:

“Good friends, for Jesus’ sake forbear

To dig the dust enclosed here!

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Blessed be the man that spares these stones,

And cursed be he that moves my bones.

These words are scary. They are an injunction to the living not to tamper with Shakespeare’s grave. However, they appear not to be directed to casual visitors to the church but maybe to the sextons, who sometimes had to disturb the dead in order to make room for a new grave.

In one of his key tragedies, the play Macbeth, Shakespeare has this to say about life in relation to death, through Macbeth himself, in Act 5, scene 5: “Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

The quote is used near the end of the play and features Macbeth’s reaction to the news that his wife, Lady Macbeth, has committed suicide. He knows his own life is near its end, as the armies of his enemies approach, and through this quote and the longer soliloquy, he expresses his new, nihilistic approach to his life.

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Life comes across as a shadow or a poor actor who says a few things on the stage and disappears behind the scenes. Could it mean that life was so insignificant to Shakespeare and was he sometimes that pessimistic himself? Or, it could mean that sometimes he was given to dreary moods, like all of us?

In Julius Caesar (Act 2, Scene 2), Caesar says about death: “It seems to me most strange that men should fear (death); seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come.”

These lines may mean that of all the wonders in the world, it is strange that man fears death. Here Caesar is trying to say that death is the ultimate end and it will come without warning, it is a necessary end and will come when it has to. One should face it bravely and not be fearful of it.

Chinua Achebe, the great African author from Nigeria who died on 21 March 2013 in Boston, US, has a literary oeuvre that is well known throughout the world. I know people who can recite chunks and chunks of his pioneering novel, Things Fall Apart. That novel is also estimated to have sold millions of copies.

It is also not possible to agree or disagree with everything Achebe uttered or wrote. However, we all remember certain key passages from the Achebe literature and thought; passages that are worth underlining with a pen in order to be re-read on a better day.

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The late Chinua Achebe is often called “the father of African Literature.” Writing in The New Yorker once, Philip Gourevitch actually says “the fact that Achebe must be remembered as not only the father but the godfather of modern African literature, owed at least as much to the decades he spent as the editor of Heinemann’s African Writers Series.

In that capacity, Achebe served as the discoverer, mentor, patron, and presenter-to-the-world of so many of the now-classic African authors of the latter half of the twentieth century.

Achebe’s agent in London is quoted in the media as having said that Achebe had died “after a brief illness.” It is further narrated, “Mr Achebe had used a wheelchair since a car accident in Nigeria in 1990 left him paralyzed from the waist down. The death was announced by Brown University in Providence, R.I., where Mr Achebe had been a professor of Africana studies since 2009. No cause was reported. Mr Achebe made his home in the United

States since 1990 following injuries from a car crash in Lagos that left him paralyzed from the waist down.”

It was widely reported that Achebe was buried on May 23 in his hometown in Ogidi, Anambra state. President Goodluck Jonathan attended in the company of Ghana’s President Mahama. After the church service, Mr Achebe was buried in a mausoleum on the family compound in a private ceremony. Mr Achebe’s body had arrived back in Nigeria from the US, where he died at the age of 82.

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Even though he was treated after the 1990 accident, Ike, Achebe’s son said that his father had internal injuries which kept bringing problems, coupled with the fact that he was paralyzed. This means that his family knew that since his injury, Achebe was of very delicate health.

The family, Ike said, was always with Achebe in his troubles. For many in the family, Achebe’s death was not a shock but it would be for those not close to his father, Ike pointed out. He said that one thing he admired about his father was his courage. The father, Ike said, did not allow his accident to affect his work.

However, one thing that was discussed by many after Achebe’s burial was the conspicuous absence of two of Nigeria’s literary giants, Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka and notable poet and playwright John Pepper Clark. They were his contemporaries and people expected them to attend. Were they jealousy towards Achebe? Were they bitter about something? Were they not invited? Speculations continue to this day.

One of the most touching moments in all Achebe literature is the death of one of his most affable characters, the boy Ikemefuna. In a settlement with a neighbouring tribe, Umuofia wins a virgin and a fifteen-year-old boy.

Okonkwo takes charge of the boy, Ikemefuna, and finds an ideal son in him. Nwoye likewise forms a strong attachment to the newcomer.

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Despite his fondness for Ikemefuna and despite the fact that the boy begins to call him “father,” Okonkwo does not let himself show any affection for him.

Ogbuefi Ezeudu, a respected village elder, informs Okonkwo in a private conversation that the Oracle has said that Ikemefuna must be killed. He tells Okonkwo that because Ikemefuna calls him “father,” Okonkwo should not take part in the boy’s death. Okonkwo lies to Ikemefuna, telling him that they must return him to his home village. Nwoye bursts into tears.

As he walks with the men of Umuofia, Ikemefuna thinks about seeing his mother. To calm himself, Ikemefuna resorts to a childhood game:

“He sang (a song) in his mind, and walked to its beat. If the song ended on his right foot, his mother was alive. If it ended on his left, she was dead. No, not dead, but ill. It ended on the right. She was alive and well. He sang the song again, and it ended on the left. But the second time did not count….”

After several hours of walking, some of Okonkwo’s clansmen attack the boy with machetes. Ikemefuna runs to Okonkwo for help. But Okonkwo, who doesn’t wish to look weak in front of his fellow tribesmen, cuts the boy down despite the Oracle’s admonishment. When Okonkwo returns home, his own son, Nwoye, deduces that his friend Ikemefuna is dead.

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Death in Achebe literature is definitive, a way of putting to rest the place and role of a character. You see it also in the dramatic death of Okonkwo through suicide.

Bessie Amelia Emery Head (6 July 1937 – 17 April 1986) was a South African writer who, though born in South Africa, is usually considered Botswana’s most influential writer. She wrote novels, short fiction and autobiographical works that are infused with spiritual questioning and reflection.

Head was born in 1937. Her mother was a member of a prominent family, suffered from mental illness, and was white, while her father was a black servant in her maternal family’s household. Their relationship was illegal in South Africa at the time of Head’s birth, and she was sent into foster care as a baby.

Head trained to become a teacher and taught for a few years, but her true passion was found in writing. Along with writing for various newspapers in Cape Town, Head developed an interest in South African politics, something that eventually led to her being arrested.

Head’s life was constantly in a state of flux. She suffered from a depressive personality, and she often experienced financial problems. Head married her husband Harold Head in 1961, and they had a son, also named Harold, in 1962. Soon after, her marriage was on the rocks, and when she and her son were given visas for neighbouring Botswana, Head left her marriage and South Africa for good to teach in Serowe.

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There, Head taught and worked on a farm, gathering information for her books. She gained citizenship 15 years after moving to Botswana, and was considered a refugee until that point. Towards the end of her life, she began to exhibit signs of mental illness. She died in 1986 at the age of 48 as a result of hepatitis.

Biographer Gillian Eilersen describes Bessie Head’s last couple of years in a moving way. It is said that Bessie started to work on her biography. She said she needed a year to work on it. Meanwhile she would walk down to the Off Sales store on the main road and buy six cans of beer.

Then she would walk up the hill to her home. By the time she arrived, she would have drank four of them. Although she was no serious drinker her liver was seriously affected. Brandy and gin began to gain control over her.

By March 1986 she was drinking about a bottle a day. Her skin became yellowish. At the hospital the doctors diagnosed hepatitis and wished to admit her but Bessie refused. She got medication and strict orders not to touch alcohol.

On the 16th of April 1986 she became very weak and collapsed. An ambulance was called. In hospital, she went into a coma. Her liver was not functioning. There were suggestions to fly her to a Harare hospital but she died soon afterwards.

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Bessie Head was buried at the Botolaote cemetery as she had requested. It is a sandy and dusty place overlooking the Serowe plain with a broad, sweeping vision. “I wonder what profound statement I’d make to God the day I die.

I mean that last despairing statement about waiting and waiting to simplify one’s life and all the time it was a tangle of evil,” Bessie Head once said.

Many of Bessie Head’s works are set in Serowe, such as the novels When Rain Clouds Gather (1968), Maru (1971), and A Question of Power (1973). The three are also autobiographical; When Rain Clouds Gather is based on her experience living on a development farm, Maru incorporates her experience of being considered racially inferior, and A Question of Power draws on her understanding of what it was like to experience acute psychological distress.

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Down in the Dump: Conclusion

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I closed last week by recording the dreadful news that trashy Trump had been elected called to mind WB Yeats’s poem “The Second Coming.” This is the poem whose opening lines gave Chinua Achebe the phrase “things fall apart.”

Yeats observes “Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

It was written in 1919 and controversially uses Christian imagery relating to the Apocalypse and the Second Coming to reflect on the atmosphere in Europe following the slaughter of the First World War and the devastating flu epidemic that followed this.

It also reflects on the Irish War of Independence against British rule.

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In lines that I can now read as if applying to the recent American election, Yeats mourns: “The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity.”

And then I can visualise Trump in the poem’s closing lines: “What rough beast is this, its hour come round at last, / Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born?”

Trump is certainly a rough beast and isn’t the choice of verb, slouching, just perfect? For a non-allegorical account of the threat posed by the Dump, I can’t do better than to quote (as I often do) that fine South African political journalist, Will Shoki. In his words: “Trump’s administration simply won’t care about Palestinians, about the DRC, about the Sudanese.

It will be indifferent to the plight of the downtrodden and the oppressed, who will be portrayed as weak and pathetic. And it will give carte blanche [that is, free rein] to despotism and tyranny everywhere.

Not even social media, that once revered third-space we associated with subversion and revolution in the first quarter of the 21st century can save us because Silicon Valley is in Trump’s back pocket.”

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So what follows the triumph of the Dump? We can’t just sit down and moan and bemoan. In a more recent piece of hers than the one I quoted last week, Rebecca Solnit has observed: “Authoritarians like Trump love fear, defeatism, surrender. Do not give them what they want . . . We must lay up supplies of love, care, trust, community and resolve — so we may resist the storm.”

Katt Lissard tells me that on November 7th following the confirmation of the election result, in the daytime and well into the evening in Manhattan, New York, there was a large demonstration in support of the immigrants Trump despises.

And a recent piece by Natasha Lennard gives us courage in its title “The Answer to Trump’s Victory is Radical Action.”

So, my Basotho readers, how about the peaceful bearing of some placards in front of the US Embassy in Maseru? Because the Dump doesn’t like you guys and gals one little bit.

One last morsel. I had intended to end this piece with the above call to action, but can’t resist quoting the following comment from the New York Times of November 13th on Trump’s plans to appoint his ministers.

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I’m not sure a satirical gibe was intended (the clue is in the repeated use of the word “defence”), but it made me guffaw nonetheless. “Trump will nominate Pete Hegseth, a Fox News host with no government experience, as his defence secretary. Hegseth has often defended Trump on TV.” You see, it’s all about the Dump.

  • Chris Dunton is a former Professor of English and Dean of Humanities at the National University of Lesotho.

 

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A question of personal gain

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Recently, an audio recording featuring the distressed MP for Thaba-Bosiu Constituency, Joseph Malebaleba, circulated on social media. The MP appears to have spent a sleepless night, struggling with the situation in which he and his associates from the Revolution for Prosperity (RFP) party were denied a school feeding tender valued at M250 million per annum.

In 2022, Lesotho’s political landscape underwent a significant shift with the emergence of the RFP led by some of the country’s wealthiest individuals. Among them was Samuel Ntsokoane Matekane, arguably one of the richest people in Lesotho, who took the helm as the party’s leader and ultimately, the Prime Minister of Lesotho.

The RFP’s victory in the general election raised eyebrows, and their subsequent actions have sparked concerns about the motivations behind their involvement in politics.

In an interview with an American broadcasting network just after he won the elections, Matekane made a striking statement, proclaiming that he would run Lesotho exactly as he runs his business.

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At first glance, many thought he was joking, but as time has shown, his words were far from an idle threat. In the business world, the primary goal is to maximize profits, and it appears that the RFP is adopting a similar approach to governance.

Behind the scenes, alarming developments have been unfolding. A communication from an RFP WhatsApp group revealed a disturbing request from the Minister of Communications, Nthati Moorosi, who asked if anyone in the group had a construction business and could inbox her.

This raises questions about the RFP’s focus on using government resources to benefit their own business interests.

The government has been embroiled in a series of scandals that have raised serious concerns about the ethical conduct of its officials. Recent reports have revealed shocking incidents of misuse of public funds and conflicts of interest among key government figures.

Over the past two years, the RFP has been accused of awarding government contracts to companies affiliated with their members, further solidifying concerns about their self-serving agenda. For instance, vehicles purchased for the police were allegedly sourced from suppliers connected to a Minister’s son and MP.

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The MP for Peka, Mohopoli Monokoane, was found to have hijacked fertiliser intended to support impoverished farmers, diverting crucial resources away from those in need for personal gain.

Such actions not only betray the trust of the public but also have a direct impact on the livelihoods of vulnerable communities. Monokoane appeared before the courts of law this week.

While farmers voice their concerns regarding fertiliser shortages, it seems that Bishop Teboho Ramela of St. Paul African Apostolic Church, who is also a businessman, is allegedly involved in a corrupt deal concerning a M10 million fertilizer allocation, benefiting from connections with wealthy individuals in government.

The procurement of fertiliser appears to be mired in controversy; recall that the Minister of Agriculture, Food Security and Nutrition, Thabo Mofosi, was also implicated in the M43 million tender.

The renovation of government buildings with elaborate lighting systems was contracted to a company owned by the son of an MP. The RFP’s enthusiasm for infrastructure development, specifically road construction and maintenance, is also tainted by self-interest, as they have companies capable of performing these tasks and supplying the necessary materials, such as asphalt.

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Minister Moteane finds himself in a compromising situation regarding a lucrative M100 million airport tender that was awarded to his former company. Ministers have even gone so far as to award themselves ownership of diamond mines.

Meanwhile, the nation struggles with national identification and passport shortages, which according to my analysis the RFP seems hesitant to address until they can find a way to partner with an international company that will benefit their own interests.

The people of Lesotho are left wondering if their leaders are truly committed to serving the nation or simply lining their own pockets. As the RFP’s grip on power tightens, the consequences for Lesotho’s democracy and economy hang precariously in the balance.

It is imperative that citizens remain vigilant and demand transparency and accountability from their leaders, lest the nation slide further into an era of self-serving governance.

In conclusion, the RFP’s dominance has raised serious concerns about the motives behind their involvement in politics. The apparent prioritisation of personal profit over public welfare has sparked widespread disillusionment and mistrust among the population.

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As Lesotho navigates this critical juncture, it is essential that its leaders are held accountable for their actions and that the nation’s best interests are placed above those of individuals.

Only through collective effort and a strong commitment to transparency and accountability can Lesotho ensure a brighter future for all its citizens.

Ramahooana Matlosa

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Down in the Dump: Part One

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Attentive readers will recall that some weeks ago, I scribbled a series of pieces on elections due to be held in the UK, France, South Africa, and the USA. These elections were unusually critical for the well-being of their countries and even that of the world.

The results of the last of these elections are now with us and we are faced with the devastating news that Donald Trump is heading back to the White House.

I can hardly think of worse news to swallow or to equip the world to survive the years ahead.

The Dump, as I call him, is one of the most odious, dangerous, untrustworthy individuals currently inhabiting planet Earth. To cite a few of his demerits: he is a convicted felon; he believes climate change is a hoax; he is a sexist and a racist (one of his former military advisers has gone so far as to describe him as a fascist).

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He is a snuggle buddy of the Russian dictator Vladimir Putin and will probably discontinue aid to Ukraine as it resists invasion by Russia. Western European allies such as France, Germany and the UK are dismayed at his victory, as he holds the principles of democracy and constitutionalism in contempt.

As for Africa, well, he once described it as a “shit country,” so don’t look forward to much support from him.

Readers who spent time at the NUL will remember my dear colleague Katt Lissard who is now back home in New York. She spent some years with us as a Professor specialising in Theatre studies and was the Artistic Director of our international Winter / Summer Institute for Theatre for Development.

Many activists in the USA like Katt, who don’t see themselves as part of the political mainstream, chose to campaign for the Democrats and Kamala Harris in the hope of keeping Trump and the far right out of power. Confronted with the news of Trump’s victory, she sent an email to friends noting this was “just a brief check-in from the incomprehensible USA.”

She then explained: “We’re in shock and the early days of processing, but white supremacy, misogyny and anti-immigrant bias are alive and well and driving the boat here.” So, how do Katt and millions of decent, like-minded Americans plan to weather the storm?

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Katt explained: “We were deeply depressed and deeply furious as it became clear that one of the worst human beings on the planet was going back to the White House, but we are still breathing and know that we will in the days ahead begin to formulate plans and strategies—and not just for heading north across the Canadian border.”

Picking up on that last point, it may well be that many decent Americans might just up and off across the border; Canada had better prepare for an avalanche of applications for residence permits.

And not just from Americans; in, for example, the American university system alone there are many many Africans employed in high positions (Professors and such-like), who must now face the fact they are living in a country whose leader despises them and who may opt to get out.

In her email written to her friends, once the news from hell had been confirmed, Katt quoted a piece by Rebecca Solnit, one of the most exciting writers at work in the USA today (readers may remember that I have previously reviewed two of her books for this newspaper, Whose Story is This? and Recollections of My Non-Existence).

Now Solnit is a feminist and at the heart of her work is a dissection of the way women have been marginalised in the USA (let’s remember that Kamala Harris, the Presidential candidate who lost to Trump, did so partly because so many American males could not bring themselves to vote for a woman.

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I am thinking of the kind of male who invaded the White House when it was announced Trump had lost the 2020 election, bare-chested and wearing cow-horn helmets on their numbskull heads).

Solnit has this to say on our response to the Trump victory: “They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them.

You are not giving up and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving.

You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in.

Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is.” And then: “A lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary.”

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What is so morale-boosting about Solnit’s piece is not just her vision but also her command of language.
Her writing is so crisp and elegant. Language comes at us at its best, of course, in literature, and when I heard that the Dump was on the move back to the White House, I immediately recalled one of the most startling poems in the English language, “The Second Coming” by the Irish poet WB Yeats.

I’ll kick off with that next week.

To be concluded

Chris Dunton

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