http://blogs.wsj.com/washwire/2009/07/11/obamas-speech-in-ghana-on-african-development/
I am not sure how many people have had a chance to read Obama's speech, but I have and wow! I must admit I began reading it thinking, 'what new thing could he possibly say about Africa?' But as is now well-known, Obama has a natural talent when it comes to making beautiful coherent speeches. I cannot say it any other way.
What was most striking about his speech?
1) That he recognized that the future of Africa lay in the hands of Africans, particularly, and this is most important, on its young people. I particularly liked the line,
'Africa does not need strong men. It needs strong institutions'. Think I will adopt it in my emails and things. Mantra, like.
I so badly hope all these male egos are listening, instead of turning our countries into political hell-holes. I especially hope the message is sliding down to Kibaki, Odinga and all those 'strong' men who think we need them, and who caused the troubles we found ourselves in, in 2007 in Kenya. Especially now that everyone is trying to swindle their way out of prosecution by the International court at the Hague. I still cannot believe they can be so self-centered.
But back to the important speech. As I read, I felt hailed by Obama. He recognized that some of us were struggling against all odds, to contribute towards the building of firm structures that would see Africa soar one day, even though we no longer believed in our politicians and their two-pence politics. He acknowledged that some of us were still willing citizens of collapsed states. I believe that was a bid deal. In his words, freedom is my inheritance. I thought of all the damage already done by the big word tribalism in Kenya, for instance, as I read the speech. I thought of the suspicion that grew out of this word, and how I no longer felt free in my own skin. I also thought of how people killed and burnt in the name of tribe. where is our sense of dignity?
2) Another important issue that Obama raises is the idea of an African partnership. I mean, how cool is that, conceptually? A world where we will no longer be thought of as the unwanted distant poor relation, but as equals. Mmmm. what a beautiful world that would be.
Of course I have a bit of a problem figuring out how this second point would play itself out, especially in our very capitalist world. First, isn't the logic of capitalism built on the idea of hierarchy between the rich and the poor? If Africa joined the ranks of other superpowers one day, who would be the poor relation?
3) The point about the climate change was also especially important. Would have been awesome if he had mentioned Wangari Maadhai though, for everything she has fought for all these years. I mean, I remember planting a tree because of her when I was younger...but let's not digress. Sometimes I wonder how much of our current problems we would be able to solve if we took better care of our environment. All this madness about paving way for civilization has caused such havoc in Africa, once beautiful and green.
4) Obama also spoke of the health situation in Africa, prompting me to think about the state of Africa and its diseases. Statistically, we are lagging behind. Imagine a world where the structures worked so well, that all those malaria deaths would just be a thing of the past. yeah, if only leaders did not feel it was compulsory to slice 20% of moneys earned from the taxpayer etc.
5) Aid- I saw he also mentioned something crucial about our continued dependency taking us back to the point of a partnership with the west as an alternative. I thought about it some more. I think Africa has become comfortable in its status of beggerliness. I mean, leaders shamelessly beg for aid, so they can slice off 20%, and send their children off to some Western countries to 'get the best' of that world. That way, even if their countries are being called shameless, their own futures have been taken care of. Puts a bit of a question mark on what we call the African Middle class or is it 'upper' class, if such a thing even exists? Me thinks this is a roundabout form of money-laundering, this investment of people's (taxpayers' money) on one's children. Of course I am speaking of politicians and in many ways government officials.
Let me stop shooting my mouth like this. I might actually say things I really do not want to say just yet.
I hail Obama, and thank him for his wonderful speech. As always, I think it touches any right-thinking African. Now, if only we could implement his ideas.....
and please, oh please, stop fighting each other, and just damn grow up!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Special Time Magazine edition on Michael J. Jackson
Time Magazine has released a fascinating piece on MJ. Amid beautiful pictures from before I was born, there are interesting and disturbing pieces about the life and times of MJ (reminds me of JM Coetzee's Life and Times of Michael K). In the article by Richard Corliss, Tommy Mottola says, 'There's nobody before Michael Jackson, and there will never be anybody after Michael Jackson, that can do for video what he did. It put MTV culture into the forefront...he totally defined the video age' (TM 33). There is no other way to capture the kind of influence that MJ had on the cultural scene.
The Time Magazine articles are clearly marked, beginning with the article by John Cloud 'With a dramatic pause, the world mourned the death of a brilliant but troubling idol'. He goes on to capture the death of MJ using theatrical metaphors: the three acts. The shock, the confusion (of death) which he compares quite rightly with Elvis Prestley's death, the Celebrity Tragedy, and lastly the stage when we let the investigators do their job.
This article is however, quite ambivalent, capturing what MJ's death meant to a horde of us fans, but also quite regularly inserting the dissapointing years of MJ's life into the mix, thus making this a more dominant aspect of what the man was.
David Von Drehle's article 'A Little Boy with Outsize Gifts takes charge of His family's band, then leaves it far behind', is the article some of us die-hard fans want to see and read. It is a pithy recount of MJ's early life as a musician, his ambition, as well as his loneliness. It is no woner later in life, he'd find himself fraternizing with little boys, in the hope that he would be able to get what he had lost as a little child. Unfortunately, the social structures do not allow for adults to 'go back'. Once you have crossed over, that's it. MJ was caught between audlthood and childhood.
MJ is quoted as having said, 'There was a park across the street from the Motown studio, and I can remember looking at those kids playing games...i'd just stare at them in wonder-i couldn't imagine such freedom, such a carefree life-and i wish more than anything I had that kind of freedom, that i could just walk away and be just like them'. To have been a child star, stringing out songs such as 'ABC' and not have been affected by it... And to think of how hard their father drove them, is unimaginable. How those boys did it, is something to wonder and marvel at.
But just a side thought: if anyone watched 'Dream Girls', they would know just how manipulative the music industry is. The fact that Jermaine for instance, was dropped out of the band, and later that he performed duets with Whitney, is interesting. Just like the character of Jeniffer Hudson is thrown off the wargon to accommodate the non-talent of the Beyonce character, seems to me in parallel with the Jackson 5 story. Only, in this case, everyone of those boys was talented. I mean, I listen to MJ, true, he is electirfying (i will always admit this), but so were the other boys. I hate that they fell off, just because of some greedy producer's....
Anyway, I was trying to review the Time Magazine special Edition....
I think Richard Lacayo's Piece, 'Deformed by surgery. Warped by Fame. The Sad end of an American Icon.' captures the real effects of what Michael had been and what he died as. It highlights the massive debt he incured throughout his trials, his determination to be a 'neutral' colour (neither black or white: a brother from another planet), and his woes as a possible child molester. Those were the sad years of Mj's life, consisting of betrayals, broken dreams and possible feelings of failure. It's a pity he died feeling the hatred emanating from those who did not believe in his innocence.
There are those of us who believe in second chances, and who know that the world is not always a good place. I still believe quite strongly, that MJ's was a tragic case, because the world did not understand him, and had no place for his eccentricities. It cost him his life.
And so, while he might be in a better place, he is definitely wondering what went wrong. I am too.
The Time Magazine articles are clearly marked, beginning with the article by John Cloud 'With a dramatic pause, the world mourned the death of a brilliant but troubling idol'. He goes on to capture the death of MJ using theatrical metaphors: the three acts. The shock, the confusion (of death) which he compares quite rightly with Elvis Prestley's death, the Celebrity Tragedy, and lastly the stage when we let the investigators do their job.
This article is however, quite ambivalent, capturing what MJ's death meant to a horde of us fans, but also quite regularly inserting the dissapointing years of MJ's life into the mix, thus making this a more dominant aspect of what the man was.
David Von Drehle's article 'A Little Boy with Outsize Gifts takes charge of His family's band, then leaves it far behind', is the article some of us die-hard fans want to see and read. It is a pithy recount of MJ's early life as a musician, his ambition, as well as his loneliness. It is no woner later in life, he'd find himself fraternizing with little boys, in the hope that he would be able to get what he had lost as a little child. Unfortunately, the social structures do not allow for adults to 'go back'. Once you have crossed over, that's it. MJ was caught between audlthood and childhood.
MJ is quoted as having said, 'There was a park across the street from the Motown studio, and I can remember looking at those kids playing games...i'd just stare at them in wonder-i couldn't imagine such freedom, such a carefree life-and i wish more than anything I had that kind of freedom, that i could just walk away and be just like them'. To have been a child star, stringing out songs such as 'ABC' and not have been affected by it... And to think of how hard their father drove them, is unimaginable. How those boys did it, is something to wonder and marvel at.
But just a side thought: if anyone watched 'Dream Girls', they would know just how manipulative the music industry is. The fact that Jermaine for instance, was dropped out of the band, and later that he performed duets with Whitney, is interesting. Just like the character of Jeniffer Hudson is thrown off the wargon to accommodate the non-talent of the Beyonce character, seems to me in parallel with the Jackson 5 story. Only, in this case, everyone of those boys was talented. I mean, I listen to MJ, true, he is electirfying (i will always admit this), but so were the other boys. I hate that they fell off, just because of some greedy producer's....
Anyway, I was trying to review the Time Magazine special Edition....
I think Richard Lacayo's Piece, 'Deformed by surgery. Warped by Fame. The Sad end of an American Icon.' captures the real effects of what Michael had been and what he died as. It highlights the massive debt he incured throughout his trials, his determination to be a 'neutral' colour (neither black or white: a brother from another planet), and his woes as a possible child molester. Those were the sad years of Mj's life, consisting of betrayals, broken dreams and possible feelings of failure. It's a pity he died feeling the hatred emanating from those who did not believe in his innocence.
There are those of us who believe in second chances, and who know that the world is not always a good place. I still believe quite strongly, that MJ's was a tragic case, because the world did not understand him, and had no place for his eccentricities. It cost him his life.
And so, while he might be in a better place, he is definitely wondering what went wrong. I am too.
Friday, July 3, 2009
TRIBUTE TO A LEGEND: KING OF POP
Who is it...
Death is a difficult thing to deal with. A dear dear person told me that if you are the one that dies, its easy. It only takes a few minutes and you are gone. Its harder on the ones who are left behind. We don't want to die because we don't want those left behind to struggle with loss. They miss us, they want us to come back.
MJ's death has had an impact on those of us who grew up listening to his music, and even if sometimes we pretended he did not exist, even if we looked away during his difficult times, we do acknowledge his death.
His death means something to us. It means that something significant has been taken away from us, and we are no longer able to say sorry, neither can we make up for lost time. His death forces us to re-analyze our positions, question our own high moral standards and say, what went wrong, why did he become someone no one recognized? What happened?
Who was he?
Who was he?
Will you be there....
A few years ago, when I was still a naive high school girl, a classmate, quite musical, convinced the whole class to sing to MJ's 'Will you be there'. We hummed and she sang in her clear voice. I remember, our physics teacher walked in mid-song, but we all went on singing, rebellious, as if he wasn't there. I suppose he must have figured that we were just a bunch of hyper-active girls, because he let us be, and we never punished for this transgression. Thinking back, I think this was a moment in time, when I realised that if you really wanted to, you could transcend anything that stood in your way. But I digress. What was MJ's message?
A few days ago, a friend and I wondered about the arm band MJ wore on his hand all the time. A few internet searches led us to an answer: he wore an armband everyday to send a message, each band represented every child who died of hunger. MJ was an activist.
Black or White
How many people do you know who advocate for a non-racial world? We are all either for white, black or up for co-existence. But we all embrace our differences as if failure to do so would be to lose our very lives/identities. I watched the 'Black or White' video the other day. Granted, I immediately went on the defensive, why must Africans always be Masaais or whatever brand of Africans normally used to represent the continent?
But I also thought, wow, he really was making an effort. In his own way, he was trying to use his celebrity status to make a difference! While I might be over-stating it, one cannot escape the fact that when he started writing his own songs, he became so much more conscious of what was going on in the world.
We are the world...
There is a time, when we should hear a certain call, cause it seems its written in these lines. Cause its a chance we are taking, in leading our own lives, It seems we need nothing at all, I used to feel....
We are the world, we are the children, we are the ones to make a brighter day, so let's start giving...
I am Bad
However bad you are, I think we all should always know we can have a second chance. I did not know MJ personally. Never would have. But I think he made a change in my life. He was someone who tried, in his own stange way, to make a difference. I suppose sometimes that's all we need in life. Biblically, we cannot afford to throw stones, because inside, we all all bad.
I remember once, Oprah publicly denounced MJ for comparing himself with Nelson Mandela. I remember at the time thinking how the world made us who we are. The moral lense through which we are judged in this world, especially under the glare of this world, makes its near impossible to make a meaningful contribution in this world.
For the next few days, I will listen (some more) to his music and try and figure out what made him so great. He was a genius, and its a shame he passed on.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Focus on Zimbabwe: Nervous Conditions (2)
Tambudzai:
While this is the central character of the book, I held on to her until this point because she puzzled, excited and reminded me of me so many times I felt dodgy and guilty. Tambu has (had) so much spirit and ambition, and did not mind her brother dying for her to achieve her dreams (not the part that reminds me of me). But Tambu’s sense of rebellion is mapped around a concept of progress that has been handed to her by circumstances. First, she sees the poverty in which her family exists, and is given ample opportunity to discover the other side of the coin through her observation of her uncle’s family. She is constantly comparing herself with those who are celebrated as being worthy, and questions why she herself has not been found so.
One has got to admire her determination when she makes that trip to the town centre to sell maize that she has painstakingly planted, even against Nhamo’s evil attempt to destroy what she had worked so had for. One has also got to admire how much she wants to get into school, for she is able to see that it is because of education that Babamukuru has been able to achieve all that she has. Of all the characters in the book, she is surprisingly the one who most resembles Babamukuru. She is a real rags-to-riches case, but has a whole lot of determination that drives her towards her goal. The author of The Secret and any Obamaniac would be proud of Tambu!!!!!!!!!!!
But Tambu, like Maiguru is a tragic figure. In all her determination, and in all her willingness to obey Baba, she is under-appreciated by him. He refuses to see her potential beyond the fact that she will get a good husband and be in a position to help the rest of her family. Also, and this is the part of her that most reminds me of me, she is quite uncritical of what is going on, and when she knows she should be critical, she struggles to push these thoughts to the back of her head. I say it reminds me of me because often, I found that fighting the system was so much harder, such hard work. It was often easier just sitting back and accepting what was going on.
No, I am not proud of this, but that is the truth. Often, you want to get there so badly, you are willing to ‘suffer’, punish yourself to reach there. Always, an invisible hand is swinging opportunities in front of you, and you have to humiliate yourself to get there. Sounds pathetic but that’s exactly what Tambudzai and to a large extent most of us have had to go through to get to where we are. But I do not necessarily blame myself for it, just like I do not blame Tambu. What were her options? Defying Babamukuru like Nyasha did is a luxury of course she could never have afforded! Only Nyasha, whose blood ties disabled Babamukuru’s powers had the audacity to challenge that blanket god-like power when no one else could.
Perhaps also, Tambu’s being a child also worked against her. Look at Lucia who countered Babamukuru all the way but still got what she wanted out of him.
I suppose the weakness of Tambudzai is even more tragic because she was helpless in her limited knowledge of what she could or could not do. Like an overwhelming power against her, she had to suffer an intense patriarchy to get to what she wanted.
Eventually, Tambudzai just suffers from the fate of ending up in a catholic boarding school. I remember going to a catholic boarding school, and some of those things that Tambudzai heard about these places are actually true. There were often young girls who were marked for entry into the convent. Their school fees were paid by the church and when they were ‘ready’ they would discreetly be recruited into the schools. It was always funny when some of them actually fell pregnant because that always meant the end of their careers in the nunnery and of course a huge disappointment on the part of the nuns. But maybe we are yet to uncover new forms of resistance!
One last focus on Tambudzai: her relationship with Babamukuru. Particularly that fateful day when she dared to say she did not want to be part of the wedding procession!!! Babamukuru’s generosity is finally and completely put to the test at that point: he begins by torturing Tambudzai with ways in which he had been generous to her, and Tambu can only stammer in reply. That GUILT that she feels at that point would be a source of interesting reflection. It is a guilt filled with fear, the fear of that invisible hand taking away everything you had ever dreamed of….
But in the end, just like in the case of all the other women, Babamukuru decides not to push it too far, because he knows deep down, Tambudzai is so much more than he had expected. However, he punishes her, because she dared to defy him, a god! The character of Tambudzai is therefore one of guilt, fear and most of all extreme punishment and humiliation that she has to endure just to get to where she wants to go! Mppph!
Nyasha:
I had to leave her for last. There is a book I read in my high school, it was a set book, chosen for purposes of being examined on it at the end of the year. I think it was called Mashetani, ‘The Devils’. The details of it are hazy now, but I remember someone who suffers from a nervous breakdown because he or was it a she could not understand why everyone was so readily accepting socialism when he could see through the evil behind the architecture. I think it was that. The book was written by a famous Tanzanian writer whose name I forget now, but it was a stunning book, the kind we should be reading more and more rather than watching sex and the city:-)
Anyway, what I got from that book reminded me of Nyasha, or is it that Nyasha reminded me of that book? Either way, it is with great sadness that I regard such characters, the geniuses who think ahead of their times, the intellectual who suffers because she can see beyond what is blanketing the truth. While the theme of the alienated intellectual is pretty common in African writing, it is still normal one of the most tragic characters.
Mohammed Said Abdallah. That is the name of the author of Mashetani. (Sorry, had to put that in).
Anyway, Nyasha is a beautiful creation. She says and identifies those aspects that are wrong with the system, the colonial and patriarchal systems. Unlike Tambu, she has the language and tenacity to identify these things and naturally falls out of favour with her father. However, the author refrains from using her forcefully as the voice of reason but uses her to explore the dilemma of the intellectual born way ahead of her time. In a tightly and unapologetically patriarchal society such as hers, clearly there’s no winning the war with Babamukuru and the rest of the men (and women, think of Tete), but she goes ahead and says what she thinks is right.
Unfortunately she has a nervous breakdown, and during her moments, it’s clear she takes issue with the system and how people are accepting what in her mind is poison to their society. That she is Babamukuru’s biggest critic should not go unnoticed. She criticizes the power of capitalism, male power, presence of white people, the way in which the system is all for consuming the minds of the natives. Perhaps the whole book is about her, and Tambu and their inner turmoil’s, as they are the two characters most explored in this regard.
I think I need to re-read the Wretched of the Earth before I undertake the arduous task of reading the sequel to this book, The Book of Not. Eish!
While this is the central character of the book, I held on to her until this point because she puzzled, excited and reminded me of me so many times I felt dodgy and guilty. Tambu has (had) so much spirit and ambition, and did not mind her brother dying for her to achieve her dreams (not the part that reminds me of me). But Tambu’s sense of rebellion is mapped around a concept of progress that has been handed to her by circumstances. First, she sees the poverty in which her family exists, and is given ample opportunity to discover the other side of the coin through her observation of her uncle’s family. She is constantly comparing herself with those who are celebrated as being worthy, and questions why she herself has not been found so.
One has got to admire her determination when she makes that trip to the town centre to sell maize that she has painstakingly planted, even against Nhamo’s evil attempt to destroy what she had worked so had for. One has also got to admire how much she wants to get into school, for she is able to see that it is because of education that Babamukuru has been able to achieve all that she has. Of all the characters in the book, she is surprisingly the one who most resembles Babamukuru. She is a real rags-to-riches case, but has a whole lot of determination that drives her towards her goal. The author of The Secret and any Obamaniac would be proud of Tambu!!!!!!!!!!!
But Tambu, like Maiguru is a tragic figure. In all her determination, and in all her willingness to obey Baba, she is under-appreciated by him. He refuses to see her potential beyond the fact that she will get a good husband and be in a position to help the rest of her family. Also, and this is the part of her that most reminds me of me, she is quite uncritical of what is going on, and when she knows she should be critical, she struggles to push these thoughts to the back of her head. I say it reminds me of me because often, I found that fighting the system was so much harder, such hard work. It was often easier just sitting back and accepting what was going on.
No, I am not proud of this, but that is the truth. Often, you want to get there so badly, you are willing to ‘suffer’, punish yourself to reach there. Always, an invisible hand is swinging opportunities in front of you, and you have to humiliate yourself to get there. Sounds pathetic but that’s exactly what Tambudzai and to a large extent most of us have had to go through to get to where we are. But I do not necessarily blame myself for it, just like I do not blame Tambu. What were her options? Defying Babamukuru like Nyasha did is a luxury of course she could never have afforded! Only Nyasha, whose blood ties disabled Babamukuru’s powers had the audacity to challenge that blanket god-like power when no one else could.
Perhaps also, Tambu’s being a child also worked against her. Look at Lucia who countered Babamukuru all the way but still got what she wanted out of him.
I suppose the weakness of Tambudzai is even more tragic because she was helpless in her limited knowledge of what she could or could not do. Like an overwhelming power against her, she had to suffer an intense patriarchy to get to what she wanted.
Eventually, Tambudzai just suffers from the fate of ending up in a catholic boarding school. I remember going to a catholic boarding school, and some of those things that Tambudzai heard about these places are actually true. There were often young girls who were marked for entry into the convent. Their school fees were paid by the church and when they were ‘ready’ they would discreetly be recruited into the schools. It was always funny when some of them actually fell pregnant because that always meant the end of their careers in the nunnery and of course a huge disappointment on the part of the nuns. But maybe we are yet to uncover new forms of resistance!
One last focus on Tambudzai: her relationship with Babamukuru. Particularly that fateful day when she dared to say she did not want to be part of the wedding procession!!! Babamukuru’s generosity is finally and completely put to the test at that point: he begins by torturing Tambudzai with ways in which he had been generous to her, and Tambu can only stammer in reply. That GUILT that she feels at that point would be a source of interesting reflection. It is a guilt filled with fear, the fear of that invisible hand taking away everything you had ever dreamed of….
But in the end, just like in the case of all the other women, Babamukuru decides not to push it too far, because he knows deep down, Tambudzai is so much more than he had expected. However, he punishes her, because she dared to defy him, a god! The character of Tambudzai is therefore one of guilt, fear and most of all extreme punishment and humiliation that she has to endure just to get to where she wants to go! Mppph!
Nyasha:
I had to leave her for last. There is a book I read in my high school, it was a set book, chosen for purposes of being examined on it at the end of the year. I think it was called Mashetani, ‘The Devils’. The details of it are hazy now, but I remember someone who suffers from a nervous breakdown because he or was it a she could not understand why everyone was so readily accepting socialism when he could see through the evil behind the architecture. I think it was that. The book was written by a famous Tanzanian writer whose name I forget now, but it was a stunning book, the kind we should be reading more and more rather than watching sex and the city:-)
Anyway, what I got from that book reminded me of Nyasha, or is it that Nyasha reminded me of that book? Either way, it is with great sadness that I regard such characters, the geniuses who think ahead of their times, the intellectual who suffers because she can see beyond what is blanketing the truth. While the theme of the alienated intellectual is pretty common in African writing, it is still normal one of the most tragic characters.
Mohammed Said Abdallah. That is the name of the author of Mashetani. (Sorry, had to put that in).
Anyway, Nyasha is a beautiful creation. She says and identifies those aspects that are wrong with the system, the colonial and patriarchal systems. Unlike Tambu, she has the language and tenacity to identify these things and naturally falls out of favour with her father. However, the author refrains from using her forcefully as the voice of reason but uses her to explore the dilemma of the intellectual born way ahead of her time. In a tightly and unapologetically patriarchal society such as hers, clearly there’s no winning the war with Babamukuru and the rest of the men (and women, think of Tete), but she goes ahead and says what she thinks is right.
Unfortunately she has a nervous breakdown, and during her moments, it’s clear she takes issue with the system and how people are accepting what in her mind is poison to their society. That she is Babamukuru’s biggest critic should not go unnoticed. She criticizes the power of capitalism, male power, presence of white people, the way in which the system is all for consuming the minds of the natives. Perhaps the whole book is about her, and Tambu and their inner turmoil’s, as they are the two characters most explored in this regard.
I think I need to re-read the Wretched of the Earth before I undertake the arduous task of reading the sequel to this book, The Book of Not. Eish!
Focus on Zimbabwe: Nervous Conditions (1)
A lot has obviously been said about Tsitsi Dangarembga’s Nervous Conditions (1988), with the immediate relationship to Franz Fanon’s Wretched of the Earth (1963) possibly being the obvious beginning point. But given that I have promised to record my thoughts on every book I read this year (and enjoy), I will add to a large existing body of literature on the book.
My first reaction to Nervous Conditions was one of disappointment, not because it was a bad read, but because so much had been said about it, yet, I missed the immediate sense of greatness of the book. I had thought it told a melodramatic tale of suffering that would send me to uncontrollable levels of sadness – my immediate reaction? Nervous Conditions was actually a very ordinary book.
Ordinary in the sense that it told a story most of us African girls/ladies grew up with and still have to contend with. Ordinary in its pickiness of daily life. Ordinary as well, in its constant reference to pain and sadness we have felt and suffered. We who have grown up against the grain. Yes, ordinary.
Yet in its ordinariness, it was a great novel, full of things we all feel we should have said, captured out of our zigzagged histories. Yes, ordinary. So that in its great engagement with the afflictions of colonialism and patriarchy, it really was saying a story that is ours.
This review will be based on the characters of the novel, those who touched me, and realities I live and have to contend with.
Babamukuru:
My first choice, because I think beyond the patriarchal power he exercises that minimizes every other person, he was in fact a great man. Babamukuru represents to me, those Africans who followed the preaching of the White missionaries, “read hard and you will reap the rewards, you will get out of your abject poverty, and you will prosper. But in your prosperity, remember to use your education, to break the African yoke, the circular yoke of poverty. Use your education to save your family, and raise them above the conditions of their current living.”
Sounds familiar?
For most of us who have had the benefit of a good education, the reality is we do not always come from good economically stable families. We come from families full of loved ones who in spite of every effort, continue to remain where our parents were, never moving out of those cycles. Like Jeremiah, Babamukuru’s brother, there are those members of the family who do not even want to try and are content with grovelling for the money at every opportunity. Then there are those who have given up like Tambudzai’s mother. Then once in a while if you are lucky, there are the Lucias who do everything to get out, break free from the yoke. It is often an amazing moment for everyone, and especially for the one who wanted this to happen so badly, the one who resembles Baba. So in spite of his God like status, which goes against the grain of any decent feminist critic, one has to look at what Baba is after. One has to sympathize with what his family has to put up with, in order that Babamukuru’s family rises out of the Yoke. Take for instance, Maiguru.
Maiguru:
Maiguru is everything some of us would never want to be: the perfect wife. She obeys a stubborn egoistic man at her peril, to the point that when she eventually decides to run away, Nyasha, her extremely brilliant daughter celebrates.
I think Maiguru is a tragic figure. It is the 50s, she has a Master’s degree (some of us still feel very great in this day and age just having a basic degree!) and she has all manner of opportunities open to her. But clearly, she is the product of an evil patriarchal system that is hell-bent on keeping women somewhere just below a one week old baby boy (remember when Babamukuru tells Tambudzai that he feels the need to start saving money for Dambudzo, Tambu’s one week (month) old baby brother. His vision is that Tambu should finish school fast get a job and a good husband. Babamukuru’s focus thus turns supremely towards a baby boy whose potential is yet to be measured, and is willing to sacrifice Tambu’s education at the Catholic school for him. Convoluted I know but this is the system from which Maiguru emerges. So when she packs her bags and leaves Babamukuru, we are all relieved. Like Tambu and Nyasha, we hope she will never return to Baba, we hope and pray that she will escape from the utter selfishness displayed by him.
But she comes back.
And even though she begins demanding more of him, and asserting herself a lot more firmly, we are disappointed that she still treats him and spoils him with praises and that no one appreciates just how hard it is to be part of such a man’s life. We are told when she leaves that Babamukuru continued existing as if Maiguru never left. Of course he would exist, what with all the women (Anna, Tambu and Nyasha) standing to be held accountable if none of his meals were made, or if his shirts were not clean. The machinery that keeps him going is the same one he humiliates.
Chido:
I particularly love the character of Chido, mainly because he is the ‘absent’ man in the novel. You see, in a novel where Jeremiah the lazy drunk and Takesure have bigger rights than brilliant women such as Mama Tambu, Lucia, Nyasha and Tambu, you have got to celebrate the power of the absent one. He is not absent in the way that Achebe’s Nwoye or even Okonkwo’s fathers are, he is absent in a good way, a healthy way, a way feminists would appreciate (radical?). So while I may not want to say much more for fear of spoiling it, I think Chido represents the salvation of the novel. If more of those characters were as absent, I suspect the four women would be a lot happier.
I think both Tambudzai and Nyasha need a lot more reflection before I write what I thought of them, but you get the general drift.
My first reaction to Nervous Conditions was one of disappointment, not because it was a bad read, but because so much had been said about it, yet, I missed the immediate sense of greatness of the book. I had thought it told a melodramatic tale of suffering that would send me to uncontrollable levels of sadness – my immediate reaction? Nervous Conditions was actually a very ordinary book.
Ordinary in the sense that it told a story most of us African girls/ladies grew up with and still have to contend with. Ordinary in its pickiness of daily life. Ordinary as well, in its constant reference to pain and sadness we have felt and suffered. We who have grown up against the grain. Yes, ordinary.
Yet in its ordinariness, it was a great novel, full of things we all feel we should have said, captured out of our zigzagged histories. Yes, ordinary. So that in its great engagement with the afflictions of colonialism and patriarchy, it really was saying a story that is ours.
This review will be based on the characters of the novel, those who touched me, and realities I live and have to contend with.
Babamukuru:
My first choice, because I think beyond the patriarchal power he exercises that minimizes every other person, he was in fact a great man. Babamukuru represents to me, those Africans who followed the preaching of the White missionaries, “read hard and you will reap the rewards, you will get out of your abject poverty, and you will prosper. But in your prosperity, remember to use your education, to break the African yoke, the circular yoke of poverty. Use your education to save your family, and raise them above the conditions of their current living.”
Sounds familiar?
For most of us who have had the benefit of a good education, the reality is we do not always come from good economically stable families. We come from families full of loved ones who in spite of every effort, continue to remain where our parents were, never moving out of those cycles. Like Jeremiah, Babamukuru’s brother, there are those members of the family who do not even want to try and are content with grovelling for the money at every opportunity. Then there are those who have given up like Tambudzai’s mother. Then once in a while if you are lucky, there are the Lucias who do everything to get out, break free from the yoke. It is often an amazing moment for everyone, and especially for the one who wanted this to happen so badly, the one who resembles Baba. So in spite of his God like status, which goes against the grain of any decent feminist critic, one has to look at what Baba is after. One has to sympathize with what his family has to put up with, in order that Babamukuru’s family rises out of the Yoke. Take for instance, Maiguru.
Maiguru:
Maiguru is everything some of us would never want to be: the perfect wife. She obeys a stubborn egoistic man at her peril, to the point that when she eventually decides to run away, Nyasha, her extremely brilliant daughter celebrates.
I think Maiguru is a tragic figure. It is the 50s, she has a Master’s degree (some of us still feel very great in this day and age just having a basic degree!) and she has all manner of opportunities open to her. But clearly, she is the product of an evil patriarchal system that is hell-bent on keeping women somewhere just below a one week old baby boy (remember when Babamukuru tells Tambudzai that he feels the need to start saving money for Dambudzo, Tambu’s one week (month) old baby brother. His vision is that Tambu should finish school fast get a job and a good husband. Babamukuru’s focus thus turns supremely towards a baby boy whose potential is yet to be measured, and is willing to sacrifice Tambu’s education at the Catholic school for him. Convoluted I know but this is the system from which Maiguru emerges. So when she packs her bags and leaves Babamukuru, we are all relieved. Like Tambu and Nyasha, we hope she will never return to Baba, we hope and pray that she will escape from the utter selfishness displayed by him.
But she comes back.
And even though she begins demanding more of him, and asserting herself a lot more firmly, we are disappointed that she still treats him and spoils him with praises and that no one appreciates just how hard it is to be part of such a man’s life. We are told when she leaves that Babamukuru continued existing as if Maiguru never left. Of course he would exist, what with all the women (Anna, Tambu and Nyasha) standing to be held accountable if none of his meals were made, or if his shirts were not clean. The machinery that keeps him going is the same one he humiliates.
Chido:
I particularly love the character of Chido, mainly because he is the ‘absent’ man in the novel. You see, in a novel where Jeremiah the lazy drunk and Takesure have bigger rights than brilliant women such as Mama Tambu, Lucia, Nyasha and Tambu, you have got to celebrate the power of the absent one. He is not absent in the way that Achebe’s Nwoye or even Okonkwo’s fathers are, he is absent in a good way, a healthy way, a way feminists would appreciate (radical?). So while I may not want to say much more for fear of spoiling it, I think Chido represents the salvation of the novel. If more of those characters were as absent, I suspect the four women would be a lot happier.
I think both Tambudzai and Nyasha need a lot more reflection before I write what I thought of them, but you get the general drift.
Friday, February 6, 2009
I won! I know I did!
Once in your life, the thought of winning a million shillings or rand, or dollars (varied value notwithstanding) fills your head with dreams and tantalizing thoughts and possibilities! You think of how you will build a biig house with lots of space in it, and design it with ultra-modern lines and squares just like you always wanted. Then you'd have your loveliest colours sprinkling the otherwise serenely white room! Ohhhh!
But the reality is that you have got to work for your money, Like a donkey, and so that beautiful house will come, but through sweat. But still we dream.
Well, a few days ago, I filled in a 'raffle' ticket at one of the big stores, and wonder wonder, I got a call yesterday. This was basically how the conversation went:
Caller: Hallo, is this Ms D. L
Me: Yes?
C: How are you?
Me: Ok?
C: That's good. Ms L, I am just calling to let you know that your raffle ticket was selected and you are a guaranteed winner-
Me: Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
C: Listen, you will need-
Me: Oh my God! I won Something! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! God, is this being recorded?
C: No its not being recorded, I am just calling to let you know that you were among the lucky ones.
Me: what did I win?
C: There is a range of things you stand a chance of winning. You could win R 50,000; a Mecer laptop, a getaway at a Resort of your choice; or a (sth) inch plasma TV!
M: I won sth! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
C: Maam, you will have to come to our offices tomorrow at 18:00 to claim your prize. There will be a draw and you will have to pick one of the items I have listed for you. Now, for marketing purposes-
Me: OMG!
C: For marketing purposes, we have to get your details, like do have a credit or cheque account, where we can deposit the money?
M: Not yet! I mean, I have a savings account.
c: Oh, Savings. That's okay. And do you have a job?
M: Yeah?
C: what is it?
M: Currently am doing a contract job at X.
C: What is your salary package?
M: Sorry? Sorry, I didnt get your name please
C: XXX
M: Ok. I am still not quite employed so I don't have a package yet, but will soon enough.
C: okay, I hope you know this is just for marketing purposes and nothing sinister. Now we will want you to come in tomorrow and sit through a presentation and then we will have the draw and you will win your package.
M: Presentation? will it be on national TV?
C: No no, its just us, we need to tell you a little bit about our company.
M: Oh, okay then. good. Just send me you address and I will be there.
Now, I know what you'all thinking. How can i be so daft? Thing is, this was the first time I was hearing of something like that. I hang up, and was soon day-dreaming about a holiday resort, consoling myself with a plasma TV, toying with the idea of a new laptop, but mostly, just eyeing the R50,000! Wow! I would shop till I dropped.
Then I began sharing my excitement! Those who did not know, like me, we as excited as me. But those who knew, just said...you go check it out, but don't sign anything.
That got me....'guaranteed winner? presentation? what the-' Okay, I became bold and asked. Four different people later, i am glad I asked.
Turns out the company that called me is part of a bigger marketting gig carried out by small companies that use these 'winning' moments as opportunities to sell timeshares. For the uneducated like me, "A timeshare is a form of ownership or right to the use of a property, or the term used to describe such properties. Timeshare properties are typically resort condominium units, in which multiple parties hold rights to use the property, and each sharer is allotted a period of time (typically one week) in which they may use the property" (Source: Wikipedia).
Now in a rich society, maybe these things really work, but imagine money being deducted from my 'inyana' salary every month towards a timeshare for a holiday resort somewhere, maybe for a week! Why should I pay for somethig I have not even planned for? Why! why did my one moment of glory turn so sour so suddenly? I am renewing my bid to read more, learn more and discover more this year. this will go down as my one near gloriuos moment of fame!
Ok. my presentation is at 18:00 today, only I will not show. I will sit at home and catch up on the sleep I never had!!!
If you knew about this kind of thing, take note and learn some more, if you didn't don't fall for anything. I am lucky its only my pride that got bruised!
But the reality is that you have got to work for your money, Like a donkey, and so that beautiful house will come, but through sweat. But still we dream.
Well, a few days ago, I filled in a 'raffle' ticket at one of the big stores, and wonder wonder, I got a call yesterday. This was basically how the conversation went:
Caller: Hallo, is this Ms D. L
Me: Yes?
C: How are you?
Me: Ok?
C: That's good. Ms L, I am just calling to let you know that your raffle ticket was selected and you are a guaranteed winner-
Me: Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
C: Listen, you will need-
Me: Oh my God! I won Something! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! God, is this being recorded?
C: No its not being recorded, I am just calling to let you know that you were among the lucky ones.
Me: what did I win?
C: There is a range of things you stand a chance of winning. You could win R 50,000; a Mecer laptop, a getaway at a Resort of your choice; or a (sth) inch plasma TV!
M: I won sth! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
C: Maam, you will have to come to our offices tomorrow at 18:00 to claim your prize. There will be a draw and you will have to pick one of the items I have listed for you. Now, for marketing purposes-
Me: OMG!
C: For marketing purposes, we have to get your details, like do have a credit or cheque account, where we can deposit the money?
M: Not yet! I mean, I have a savings account.
c: Oh, Savings. That's okay. And do you have a job?
M: Yeah?
C: what is it?
M: Currently am doing a contract job at X.
C: What is your salary package?
M: Sorry? Sorry, I didnt get your name please
C: XXX
M: Ok. I am still not quite employed so I don't have a package yet, but will soon enough.
C: okay, I hope you know this is just for marketing purposes and nothing sinister. Now we will want you to come in tomorrow and sit through a presentation and then we will have the draw and you will win your package.
M: Presentation? will it be on national TV?
C: No no, its just us, we need to tell you a little bit about our company.
M: Oh, okay then. good. Just send me you address and I will be there.
Now, I know what you'all thinking. How can i be so daft? Thing is, this was the first time I was hearing of something like that. I hang up, and was soon day-dreaming about a holiday resort, consoling myself with a plasma TV, toying with the idea of a new laptop, but mostly, just eyeing the R50,000! Wow! I would shop till I dropped.
Then I began sharing my excitement! Those who did not know, like me, we as excited as me. But those who knew, just said...you go check it out, but don't sign anything.
That got me....'guaranteed winner? presentation? what the-' Okay, I became bold and asked. Four different people later, i am glad I asked.
Turns out the company that called me is part of a bigger marketting gig carried out by small companies that use these 'winning' moments as opportunities to sell timeshares. For the uneducated like me, "A timeshare is a form of ownership or right to the use of a property, or the term used to describe such properties. Timeshare properties are typically resort condominium units, in which multiple parties hold rights to use the property, and each sharer is allotted a period of time (typically one week) in which they may use the property" (Source: Wikipedia).
Now in a rich society, maybe these things really work, but imagine money being deducted from my 'inyana' salary every month towards a timeshare for a holiday resort somewhere, maybe for a week! Why should I pay for somethig I have not even planned for? Why! why did my one moment of glory turn so sour so suddenly? I am renewing my bid to read more, learn more and discover more this year. this will go down as my one near gloriuos moment of fame!
Ok. my presentation is at 18:00 today, only I will not show. I will sit at home and catch up on the sleep I never had!!!
If you knew about this kind of thing, take note and learn some more, if you didn't don't fall for anything. I am lucky its only my pride that got bruised!
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Reading and its merits
Those who know me well...and I mean well, know that I love to put my feet up and ease into my hand-me-down couch to watch...Sex and The City:-) Friends, Harry Potter (the whole lot of them), Desperate Houssies, name them. I even got to watch the first series of Allie McBeal and Nip-Tuck. All of these I collect, and watch and rewatch until I get value for my money. And for those who try to dissuade me from this habit, I say, "this is not one of the ways to get out of this alive..."
But once in a while I sit down and read, and read a good book. Leave alone the usual academic sort. I mean, I slept really late reading a book on Media Theory. Now, that is not exciting. Exciting is when you read a book and become completely cut off from the world. I used to feel that way what I was younger. It was mainly with African Writers Series, and later Mills and Boon, Harlequinn Romance, name them...oooohhhh, the joy of getting lost in that world, so woolly, cozy, fantastic, so not part of the harshness of reality of everyday life, so nice, fine...
Anyway, the African novels always filled me with a sense of adventure. Even though I am an African, I always found stories written by Africans (in the age pre-dating discourse and theory-oh i miss those days), so rich and intense. For instance, it has been years since I read Kenjo Jumbam's 'The White Man of God', but ask any of my friends, it is a book I always quote. Its wierd that years later, after reading 'HouseBoy' (Ferdinand Oyono), I realised just how popular the theme of the young boy child and the white catholic father was. But when I first read Jumbam, I was hooked. I also remember a book called 'The Great Siege of Fort Jesus!' The adventures of war right outside my doorstep still make me shake with excitement.
But enough about the yesteryears.
I just finished reading this book by Hanif Kureishi called 'The Buddha of Suburbia'. It is a fascinating read about the identity crisis of a young man, whose mother is white British and father Indian. It explores in great detail his sexual experimentations, which are at once experimental and dangerous, yet daring and forward. It is nihilistic in a twisted way, and reads more like a humourous recording of everyday life. I found myself muffling bits of laughter that threatened to escape from my mouth every few minutes as I read into the night. Of course it was not a hard read, and the politics therein were concrete experiences of London and South London. Me, who is yet to travel to these places could see the place that was painted in Dicken's writing re-emerging even as the time represented changed. It was an awesome read.
And I remember having a similar experience with 'Spud' by South Africa's John van de Ruit. With characters bearing names like Spud, Rambo, Mad dog, Rain Man, Gecko, Fatty and Boggo, the book was surreal yet rooted in my own boarding school reality way back when I hated the experience. I say surreal because it does not always remain in-sync with my experiences-I went to a boarding school where frequent visitation was prohibited, so i only saw my parents once in a long while. Also, the school in 'Spud' reeked of privilege which is not what I can say of MY boarding school, but hey, boarding school is boarding school, miserable, annoying and desperately lonely. Survival is key, and this one must learn, even before figuring out where the toilets are upon arrival!!! Well, 'Spud' was a great read, and often i found myself laughing out loud. I had not read something so good in a long while. I must read 'Spud: The Madness Continues...'
so anyway, where was I? ah, the merits of reading books that make you smile. Reading generally is very active, as opposed to watching TV. you feel well rewarded after you start a book and find out it contains information, narratives, anything really that is beneficial to you, even if just in excercising your brains to stop them from vegetating from too much TV...
I know it when I pick a good book. I finish it.
I am right now contemplating my next read. I know. I have so much work to do right now, but it still makes me happy just knowing I can sneak a few chapters down the time line, even as I battle with bigger issues of planning and sorting myself out for the rest of the term/semester. Its just good to know sometimes that when you read, it is something you will enjoy. So this year, apart from resolving to read more of the newspapers, I want to make sure I produce book reviews of everything I read. That way, I will always come back to this website to self-grade, and ask myself if I had made any progress or if I was still stuck watching my series, and exploring You Tube and the like. I still believe life offers the greatest ironies. I had to get to this stage of my life to realize there are still things i care about that have nothing to do with the selfsih capitalist agenda of bettering my career or making money. It is something I enjoy doing, and its one of those things that comes naturally.
Nuff
But once in a while I sit down and read, and read a good book. Leave alone the usual academic sort. I mean, I slept really late reading a book on Media Theory. Now, that is not exciting. Exciting is when you read a book and become completely cut off from the world. I used to feel that way what I was younger. It was mainly with African Writers Series, and later Mills and Boon, Harlequinn Romance, name them...oooohhhh, the joy of getting lost in that world, so woolly, cozy, fantastic, so not part of the harshness of reality of everyday life, so nice, fine...
Anyway, the African novels always filled me with a sense of adventure. Even though I am an African, I always found stories written by Africans (in the age pre-dating discourse and theory-oh i miss those days), so rich and intense. For instance, it has been years since I read Kenjo Jumbam's 'The White Man of God', but ask any of my friends, it is a book I always quote. Its wierd that years later, after reading 'HouseBoy' (Ferdinand Oyono), I realised just how popular the theme of the young boy child and the white catholic father was. But when I first read Jumbam, I was hooked. I also remember a book called 'The Great Siege of Fort Jesus!' The adventures of war right outside my doorstep still make me shake with excitement.
But enough about the yesteryears.
I just finished reading this book by Hanif Kureishi called 'The Buddha of Suburbia'. It is a fascinating read about the identity crisis of a young man, whose mother is white British and father Indian. It explores in great detail his sexual experimentations, which are at once experimental and dangerous, yet daring and forward. It is nihilistic in a twisted way, and reads more like a humourous recording of everyday life. I found myself muffling bits of laughter that threatened to escape from my mouth every few minutes as I read into the night. Of course it was not a hard read, and the politics therein were concrete experiences of London and South London. Me, who is yet to travel to these places could see the place that was painted in Dicken's writing re-emerging even as the time represented changed. It was an awesome read.
And I remember having a similar experience with 'Spud' by South Africa's John van de Ruit. With characters bearing names like Spud, Rambo, Mad dog, Rain Man, Gecko, Fatty and Boggo, the book was surreal yet rooted in my own boarding school reality way back when I hated the experience. I say surreal because it does not always remain in-sync with my experiences-I went to a boarding school where frequent visitation was prohibited, so i only saw my parents once in a long while. Also, the school in 'Spud' reeked of privilege which is not what I can say of MY boarding school, but hey, boarding school is boarding school, miserable, annoying and desperately lonely. Survival is key, and this one must learn, even before figuring out where the toilets are upon arrival!!! Well, 'Spud' was a great read, and often i found myself laughing out loud. I had not read something so good in a long while. I must read 'Spud: The Madness Continues...'
so anyway, where was I? ah, the merits of reading books that make you smile. Reading generally is very active, as opposed to watching TV. you feel well rewarded after you start a book and find out it contains information, narratives, anything really that is beneficial to you, even if just in excercising your brains to stop them from vegetating from too much TV...
I know it when I pick a good book. I finish it.
I am right now contemplating my next read. I know. I have so much work to do right now, but it still makes me happy just knowing I can sneak a few chapters down the time line, even as I battle with bigger issues of planning and sorting myself out for the rest of the term/semester. Its just good to know sometimes that when you read, it is something you will enjoy. So this year, apart from resolving to read more of the newspapers, I want to make sure I produce book reviews of everything I read. That way, I will always come back to this website to self-grade, and ask myself if I had made any progress or if I was still stuck watching my series, and exploring You Tube and the like. I still believe life offers the greatest ironies. I had to get to this stage of my life to realize there are still things i care about that have nothing to do with the selfsih capitalist agenda of bettering my career or making money. It is something I enjoy doing, and its one of those things that comes naturally.
Nuff
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