Dry seasons in the Zimbabwean literary scene
Where are the young Zimbabwean writers? Now and then, one always seems to emerge from the Diaspora. In Zimbabwe itself, no more than two new writers are published in a year. If five serious books are published its a bounty. Our politics has created an artificial drought for everything. The massive brain drain has not just had economic and political consequences but has created a cultural deficit in the country.
The conversation about what needs to be done to improve Zimbabwe’s literary culture is happening, but privately. Those who care are talking about reforms they want to see. Unfortunately, for a country whose leaders pretend to despise anything white people represents, it’s just ironical how our whole system is still steeped in colonial structures.
More than three decades after independence, we still do not have an official language policy. Of course, the new constitution, proposes a dozen official languages. That will be a mere academic exercise with no practical effect. English is our lingua franca. Shona and Ndebele continue to dominate over other vernacular languages like chiNdau or chiTonga.
There is currently no infrastructure in our communities to promote a strong reading culture. What happened to Miriam Bamhare’s Zimbabwe Book Development Council? There is a yawning gap of relevant and cultural children’s books in Zimbabwe. But our problems are bigger and more than that.
As South African author Thando Mgqolazana recently said, “A decolonised system means that we do not just stuff books into libraries but we bring in literary activities around the year in the black communities, so that the book launches must not just take place in Sandton. They must be in Soweto. The readings, the performances, must be in Soweto. On our radio and TV shows there has to be a book show that is done in our mother tongue — this is very important. None of this will make any sense if it is not done in our mother tongue. So a Thando must be able to come to Dobsonville and talk to the people there about literature, about all the phenomena that he is writing about in his mother tongue in a language that will be understood there and be able to engage with those people without losing any depth or value.”
Zimbabwe is suffering from the same colonial legacy issues.
I have always wondered about the libraries in Harare. Sometimes I have walked in looking for old books by Stanlake Samkange, Ndabaningi Sithole, Lawrence Vambe only to be told ‘it does not exist’ or they have not had a copy in many many years. And the libraries that function are mostly funded by donors who at most ship in books about cats or cars and other novel subjects.
Our education system is based on rote learning, it is about memorising and not building and nurturing an enduring reading culture. Historically, black people were meant to know enough to be functional beings to service the colonial system. Our educational system remains a colonial construct and was not made with black people in mind. How do we create our own systems? How do we get books into schools and community libraries?
To be an author in Zimbabwe is frustrating. Indeed, prophets have no honour in their homelands. I remember Shimmer Chinodya telling me a story. He was invited to lead a writing workshop by the now defunct Budding Writers Association of Zimbabwe. He asked the workshop participants, “Among my books, which one is your favourite?” A few eager hands were raised. A voice at the back of the room shouted, “Waiting for the Rain.” Instead of rebuking, he just said “but that is Charles Mungoshi’s book.” And the classroom remained silent.
It is a generalisation but most young Zimbabweans do not even know their own writers. It makes me wonder what they are reading in school or university. They certainly know about Shakespeare or Dickens, not Brian Chikwava or NoViolet Bulawayo.
Perhaps a unique example is Novuyo Rosa Tshuma. She is a very gifted writer, but when her debut came out, it courted a lot of controversy. She titled the book Shadows, a title Chenjerai Hove had already used for one of his trailblazing novels of the 80s. The duplicity of titles is not necessarily a problem. The books are very different. But her defense was shocking for those who loved Hove. She said, ‘I didn't know there was another Zimbabwean novel with that title.’ How much aware do we need to be about our own literature?
It is time literary activities happen in the townships of Mbare or Highfields not in hotel conference rooms in Nyanga or Victoria Falls. The NGOisation of our culture is sickening and constricting. Our donors are happy to pay hefty hotel bills and not fuel to go to the townships.
And the Zimbabwe International Book Fair, once the holy grail for African literature, is now a sickly shadow of its former self. It is an event stuck in its past glory. When some writers called for the book fair to be reformed, the whiplash from the organisers was severe and personal. Its flagship event the Indaba is more of a closed door academic conference that is not open to the public. And because of record low attendances young school children in uniform are bused in. It’s not only politicians who want to give the impression all is well in Zimbabwe.
At the book fair in 2013, after presenting a paper on the state of Zimbabwean literature (which I playfully called A literary manifesto of a young Zimbabwean reader), I was verbally threatened by one of Robert Mugabe’s bodyguards. ‘That young man is dangerous’ he said before evoking his war veteran credentials. I didnt know who he was. A fellow panelist knudged me in the ribs, whispering ‘do you know who he is? the man who stands behind the president.’ The room was silent. Everyone turned to look at me to see if I was going to respond. I just laughed. In Zimbabwe, speaking truth to power has consequences. And to be young is an anathema. And yet most of these so-called comrades and revolutionaries were my age in 1980 when they were given the task to build a new nation. This rank hypocrisy is disgusting.
The Book fair indaba platform should create a space where ideas and ideologies can be contested. I think the problem is our inability to construct events that more accurately represent our country. There is very little new writing coming up, and the younger generation have no powerful voices speaking against the abuse of power and corruption in the same way the older generation was a voice against colonialism.
Not so long ago, there was a huge clamor to bring back the Literature Bureau, a colonial publishing platform for black writers in the 60s and 70s. Instead of thinking forward, those “who died for our literature” are still nostalgic of the past. It’s time we build new structures to support our literary culture.
