Elliot Ziwira
At the Bookstore
Fiction is an expression of a people’s yearnings, aspirations, quest for liberation and cultural mores, because artists draw inspiration from their own experiences.
It follows, therefore, that if writers are inspired by the concerns of their own societies then, fiction will remain a true record of the obtaining issues prevailing at any given eon; past present or future.
However, if literary works are a result of the prevailing governing institutions’ gate-keeping instincts, then the sensibilities that should be informing them will be at fault.
The liberating nature of language in its expression of a people’s way of life and the preservation of ethos cannot be overemphasized.
This is why the reading of Emmanuel M Chiwome and Zifikile Mguni’s book “Zimbabwean Literature in African Languages: Crossing Language Boundaries” (2012), becomes apt.
The book advocates the use of indigenous African languages as the first step to decolonising the mindsets of the continent’s citizenry.
Mores and values passed from one generation to another through folklore cannot be adequately conveyed through alien languages.
Colonisation brought problems on the African landscape, which cannot be addressed using the same oppressive apparatus.
Little wonder why Kenyan writer, Ngugi Wa Thiong’o vowed to stick to his native Gikuyu to hoist his country’s flag above the colonial banner, as a way of liberating his people.
Chiwome and Mguni’s book is divided into sections highlighting the different eons and languages under review. It is an eye-opener, not only to literary critics and writers, but to those whose purpose of reading may not be mastery.
The institutionalisation of how reality can be perceived impedes freedom of literary expression. As “truth’s defence”, artists should be the voices of the gagged, feeble and vulnerable.
The Literature Bureau in Rhodesia determined the nature of books to be read both in schools and the general readership.
Hence, although indigenous languages like Shona, isiNdebele and Tonga could be used as expressions of liberation, they were skewed to serve the interests of the oppressor who controlled the printing presses.
The desire to see one’s work in print triumphed at the expense of creativity, which compromised the body of literary works produced.
As a result, the hopes and aspirations of the oppressed black people were relegated to the periphery of existence.
As a creation of colonial governments of Rhodesia since 1954, the Literature Bureau was at the centre of “the Zimbabwean people’s hopes, their true and false starts on their journey to liberation, greater self-awareness and fulfilment” (Furusa, 1994:125).
A perusal through early publications in both Shona and isiNdebele establishes the same assertion.
Solomon Mutswairo’s “Feso” (1956), the writers reveal, only saw the light of day after the “offending” first chapter, which deplored the displacement of Africans from fertile lands, was removed.
Bernard Chidzero’s “Nzvengamutsvairo” (1957) taps into Shona orature, and merges it with missionary teachings as a strategy to hoodwink Africans into accepting the new tide brought by colonialism.
Social progress is only made possible by creating interfaces of harmony between Africans and settlers; yet Africans are expected to disown their own cultural mores.
Other books by Catholic priests like Patrick Chakaipa, Emmanuel Ribeiro and Ignatius Zvarevashe were also “intended to gain more converts,” Chiwome and Mguni maintain.
This rationale obtains in books like, “Dzasukwa Mwana asina hembe” (1967), “Garandichauya” (1963), “Muchadura” (1967), “Rudo Ibofu” (1961), “Kurauone” (1976) and “Gonawapotera” (1976).
These books found their way into the school curricula in both Rhodesia and independent Zimbabwe.
It is the Government, therefore, that determines the nature of knowledge to be consumed; and because of this issues that affect the generality of the populace might not be explored.
African countries, though independent from the colonial yoke, are still at the mercy of the erstwhile colonisers, who sponsor the publication of books that advance their own interests; with promises of awards and international readership.
African traditions have been subjected to immense pressure from colonisation and technological advancements.
The Tonga people, for instance, had their songs and folklore, which were directly linked to the Zambezi Valley, their cherished abode, before the Kariba Dam flooded their area.
Their resentment of the displacement from the life-source they had known for generations cannot be fully articulated in any other language besides their own.
They are still to fully benefit from the dam, years after its construction, yet their association with the river basin as embraced in their folkloric songs and folklore remains painfully embedded in their hearts.
So, in a way they have been robbed of their freedom and no form of compensation will placate them.
Similarly, the Chingwizi community in the Mwenezi District, who were displaced when the Tugwi-Mukosi Dam overflowed its banks in February 2014, would never feel adequately compensated as long as a return to their ancestral land, where graves of their loved ones are left, is not part of the package.
Their feelings can only be captured through their own language, and not any other.
Even though governing institutions may determine what comes out of the printing press, artists can skirt around such gate-keeping stances, and come up with individual creations that capture the real issues affecting their societies.
Ndabaningi Sithole’s “Amandebele KaMzilikazi” (1956) aptly captures the disgruntlement of the Ndebele people with the colonial systems that subjugated and displaced them, leading to the 1896 uprising.
The book’s Afro-centricity is premised on the way the colonial establishment is deplored, which paves way for nationalistic thinking.
The liberation struggle could not have been possible had it not been for the encouragement of writers who captured the majority’s aspirations in their works.
Writers play a significant role in nation-building by creating symbols that breed national pride.
However, because of elitist literature, which is controlled by political establishments, themes that are disparaging and foist disunity and ethnicity are usually avoided.
As Chiwome and Mguni assert, many war novels and poems “avoid traumatic events that cause social embarrassment. The highest sacrifices paid in the war such as rape, betrayal and executions are avoided themes.”



