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Literature and social crisis

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My simple take is that sometimes literature shows us the real life behaviour of characters that are living in communities going through high social crisis. History gives the record but literature is capable of bringing real life drama to historical events.

History intends to record events as accurately as possible, while literature interprets historical or everyday events in an imaginative way. By using the example of World War II, a novel such as Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five presents a more personal perspective of the cannibalistic horrors of war. The novel depicts the state of mind of a soldier fighting to survive in a prisoner of war camp during the firebombing of Dresden, Germany. In writing the satirical novel, Vonnegut drew on his own experience as a prisoner of war in Dresden.

We go to history books for the concrete events in Russia towards the end of Tsarism but we may go to Maxim Gorky’s novel, Mother, to get what it felt to be in the Russia of the early 1900’s. Gorky’s Mother presents a panoramic gallery of female characters such as Nilovna, Sophia, Natasha, Sasha and Ludmilla. Mother depicts and dramatises the emerging class-conscious revolutionary proletariat class in Russia.

The Caribbean islands were faced with very unique challenges after slavery and colonialism. Each island tended to be too small to stand alone. The islands are numerous but small in size and they speak different languages; English, French, Spanish and others. A sense of oneness is difficult to achieve in such a set up. They looked to America for leadership while sometimes looking to Africa for identity.

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There is always a feeling of being marooned in the vast sea. There is a subsequent feeling of entrapment and attrition. You find this brought to life in the works of VS Naipaul, particularly in his short story book of 1959, called Miguel Street. It is set in Trinidad where the author grew up.

Although each story in Miguel Street is individualised, the setting is Port of Spain. Characterisation is one of the more effective ways to understand this collection of stories. The characters tend to be tragicomic, striving to attain some goals which are too high to be attained by them. They end up in trouble or are thoroughly disappointed. They want to escape from themselves or the island.

Bogart appears in most of these short stories. His real name remains unknown. He is Bogart, a name of an American film called Casablanca. Sometimes he is called Patience, the name of the game that he plays. Bogart dramatizes the feeling of instability and insignificants of the Caribbean people who are found aping foreign people and foreign heroes.

One day he tells his playmates that he is going to the toilet and is coming back soon, but he actually disappears for months! The boredom in Bogart’s life reflects a deep lack of purpose. The ennui around him is palpable as shown here:

“What happening there, man?” he would ask quietly, and then he would say nothing for ten or fifteen minutes. And somehow you felt you couldn’t really talk to Bogart, he looked so bored and superior. His eyes were small and sleepy. His face was fat and his hair was gleaming black. He was the most bored man I ever knew…

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His “acting big” at least shows a certain yearning for real achievements which people in these post slavery societies cannot sustain. Asked by a friend why he commits bigamy, Bogart answers, “To be man, among we men.”

In the short story called “The Thing Without a Name,” Popo does not make a thing even when he is called a painter. Hidden in this situation is Popo’s desire to be creative and useful. He wants to be big, affluent and eccentric, without the means and without having to work. It is his wife who has to work for the family. Popo is eventually arrested for remodeling and selling stolen property.

Man-man is probably the most remarkable character in this collection of short stories. He wants to be eccentric, stylish and popular, but he does not measure up. Like Bogart, Man-man comes closest to his ideals through some form of drama. He can pretend that he is an English man through his accent. He can pretend to have the guts by running in an election. He can finally pretend he is Christ by asking people to nail him on the cross. When he cannot go on with the crucifixion, he comically calls to the people from the cross, “Cut this stupidness out!” You can see that this is a community with a shortage of solid heroes.

B. Wordsworth is a story that explores the idea of surpassing one’s real life in pursuit of another which is more powerful. The fake poet in that story declares that he is the iconic English poet, Wordsworth. The fake poet wants to write what he calls “the greatest poem in the world,” which he hopes would “sing to all humanity.” It would be written over a period of 22 years. He struts all over the place playing the poet. He is the Caribbean’s version of Wordsworth. Sadly, this Caribbean Wordsworth writes only one little line which goes: “the past is deep.” He is a far cry from the real Wordsworth who left behind a rich collection of poems.

There are several other artistic figures who go nowhere in this collection. There is Morgan in “The Pyrotechnist” whose fireworks do not bring success but disaster as they burn down the house. There is also Backu in “The Mechanical Genius.” He is a fake mechanic who is putting engines apart, further damaging them. There is Edward in “Until the Soldiers came” who surrenders his artistic pursuits, ending up pretending to be an American.

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In the final story called “How I left Miguel Street,” the narrator finally leaves because his mother realizes that there is little to achieve on the island and he is getting too wild. Once he stays drunk for two consecutive days! At the airport during his departure, the narrator’s shadow is described as “a dancing dwarf on the tarmac.” He does not look back as he goes to the plane. He can be compared to Trumper in George Lamming’s novel, In The Castle Of My Skin, who leaves the islands in a similar fashion.

In his better known novel, A House for Mr Biswas, Naipaul explores the idea that the Caribbean is desperate for an identity and also for a roof above his head. Nevertheless, Naipaul won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2001.

At some point in his life, Naipaul declares that, “Nothing has ever been made in the Caribbean.” He is pessimistic. He invites us to laugh at the pitfalls of a people who, having slave ancestry, cannot be inspired by their past and therefore cannot inspire anyone in return. For most of these characters, exile seems to be the only salvation. The text is well known for its characters and background that breathe the life of Trinidad and Tobago in a way that no historian could have possibly captured.

Nadine Gordimer’s novel of 1981, July’s People, is a futurist novel inspired by the guerilla-Marxist-Leninist kind of Independence in neighbouring Zimbabwe in 1980. Gordimer imagines a sudden South African future of more active urban black uprising that sees the whites flee in all directions. The novel is set during a fictional civil war in which black South Africans have violently overturned the system of apartheid.

In its painstaking tone, the novel exudes a strong sense of place. Apartheid is turned on its head. The blacks are suddenly on top where the whites used to be. Apartheid is now on trial and you hear it squeak in this novel. The author goes on ahead of history and creates exciting psychological images. The whites have an opportunity to taste the kind of humiliation that black South Africans have endured under white domination.

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Bam Smales, a successful white Johannesburg architect, his wife Maureen and their three children, are rescued by their servant of fifteen years, a black man called July who takes them to his rural home 600 km away in their small car.

In this novel, there is an outstanding relationship between Maureen the white madam and her black houseboy, July. One way or the other, we are tempted to look at this story in view of Lessing’s The Grass is Singing, where Mary Turner has a curious affair with her houseboy, Moses  and  Oyono’s Houseboy where the houseboy, Toundi, comes very dangerously close to the Commandant’s wife.

Taking the colonials from the infrastructural and racial comfort of urban to a distant African village, Gordimer must be playing on an experimental theory which needs investigating as it is based on clear cut and well known black white relations on the frontier.

To a great extent, Gordimer attempts to experiment with a new form of defamiliarisation. In the literature of the African frontier, the meeting place between black and white has always been the exclusively white territory, like the farm, the mine and the industrial working place, far away from the blackman’s traditional base in the villages.

Here is a reverse case where the Smales actually find themselves in unfamiliar territory.

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There is a way in which the major supposition is that July and the Smales switch positions and that the Smales are at the mercy of both July and July’s village.

The village and the hut where the Smales are accommodated transform and challenge them physically and spiritually. Maureen fails to read the novel she has brought with her because she is already in a novel environment. Within weeks of settling in the African village, Maureen’s naked body becomes, “ungroomed and ungroomable” that her husband cries, Oh my God!” when he looks at it during their now fast dwindling intimacy. Without a regular bath, the privacy of the urban bedroom and the toiletry of civilization, Bam, Maureen’s husband actually looks like a “primate.” The whites are now at an equal level with the usually haggard African villagers.

With the help of the moment, July gradually stands up to his former employers. This involves July ceasing to be a houseboy. He now asks his own wife to wash the clothes for the whites instead of washing them himself as he used to do back in Johannesburg.

July can also be seen taking over the white people’s car without their permission. July can now disposes Bam of his gun and helping Daniel the Sowetan to rev it and drive it around the village. July also pleads for mercy with the Chief on behalf of Bam. He is now able to stand up to Maureen until she becomes his potential sex partner.

In such unfamiliar territory and circumstances filled with distress, Maureen is preoccupied with July’s presence. She sometimes wonders about July’s town women whom they have left behind. She wonders whether July craves her too in the manner of a jealousy lover! Maureen and July do not share a sexual experience but their private interactions are laced with conscious eroticism.

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As Maureen stands nude in the rain one night, she falls into a state of transfiguration and sees and hears July. Later, when they meet to discuss who should keep the car keys, they share a certain hazy shame associated with illicit sex partners and the narrative states that they are both glad that Bam is not near them.

Removed from the public sphere of the racial city, Maureen imagines that she is in a love triangle involving Bam and July, whom she silently calls her “frog Prince and savior.”

In their third meeting, Maureen feels that it is natural that she is meeting July out in the bush. They talk about ordinary matters of the past and as July brings his right fist onto his chest, the thud sounds as realistic as the fear in her chest. This is the first time Maureen ever feels the aura of a natural man. Her husband, the text claims, is only “a presence in circumstances outside those the marriage was contracted for.”

It is interesting to note that the equality between Maureen and July only happens in phantasmagoria in territory hidden beyond Johannesburg where issues really matter. July’s wife and mother and Chief still view the Smales as the others. The story is futurist and has the tendency of fables and has an inconclusive ending too.

In this novel, the mistrust and misunderstanding between black and white South Africans are so palpable that no historian could enact them in equal measure.

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Indeed, history intends to record events as accurately as possible, while literature interprets historical or everyday events in an imaginative way.

Memory Chirere

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Insight

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.

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.”

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.

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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Insight

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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Insight

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).

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?

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.

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.”

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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