Online Reporter
Elliot Ziwira-At the Bookstore
In his forthcoming poetry collection “Body and Soil: Poems for the Greening of a Global Locus Standi for African Thought”, Tafataona Mahoso delivers a searing critique of coloniality, imperialism, and the ongoing struggles of African people.
In this anthology, divided into five books or sections, Mahoso philosophically examines the ways in which coloniality has evolved, adapting to new technologies and ideologies, while maintaining its grip on African lives.
One of the most prominent literary voices from the Zimbabwean landscape, Mahoso is an incisive interlocutor and listener, who strikes the reader as a philosopher.
He has a unique way of appealing to the inner man, even in instances where views are divergent.
His poetry is awe-inspiring, penetrating and soothing—preserving no kraals for sacred cows.
Following his 30-year sabbatical from the printing press after the success of “Footprints About the Bantustan” (1989), Mahoso made a literary comeback in 2018 through “Rupise: Poetry of Love, separation and reunion — 1977-2016”.
He returns in his candid garb one more time.
In the wake of new tech-driven gods, the philosopher-poet exposes the dark underbelly of coloniality, revealing its insidious mechanisms of control and oppression with characteristic lyricism and depth.
From the forced displacement of native Africans, depicted in “Rupise”, and “Footprints About the Bantustan”, to the possession and conversion of their identities, the poet lays bare the brutal logic of coloniality.
One of the most striking aspects of “Body and Soil” is its exploration of the intersection of coloniality and technology. Mahoso argues that artificial intelligence has become a planetary ideology that supports the rendition, as an instrument of foreign diplomacy and trade, and replacement of human beings.
“Rendition now seeks—automatically and without declaring ‘war’—to abolish the Native’s locus standi as a human being, and therefore, to seize and convert to imperial use all that upon which the native has laid claim as his/her rightful reparations,” observes Mahoso in the preface to the collection.
This is a chilling critique of the ways in which technology is being used to reinforce coloniality and undermine African identities.
The preface sets the stage for a critical examination of coloniality, imperialism, and the struggles of Africans. The philosopher-poet reflects on his previous works, “Footprints About the Bantustan” and “Rupise”, highlighting the evolution of his thought on decolonisation, reparations, and African identity.
In Mahoso’s view, “rendition” is a key feature of coloniality, where Africans are forcibly removed from their land, possessed, and converted into a tool of imperialism. He maintains that this process is ongoing, with the United States’ sanctions decree, Zimbabwe Democracy and Economic Recovery Act of 2001 (ZIDERA), being a prime example.
Throughout the collection, Mahoso draws on a rich array of historical and cultural references, from the struggles of the Palestinian people to the legacy of Cecil John Rhodes. The result is a work of profound depth and complexity, one that rewards close reading and reflection.
The anthology also explores the concept of replacement in the new world order, where the settler seeks to replace the native African as the rightful owner of the land. This is exemplified in the attempts to launder former white racists as third-generation Africans and the vilification of the late national hero and former President Robert Mugabe and the war veterans.
Mahoso situates the struggle against replacement within a global context, drawing parallels between Palestinian and African struggles against coloniality. He affirms the importance of distinguishing between AI as technology and AI as a planetary ideology that supports the rendition and replacement of human beings.
In the poem, “One African ‘Misreading’ of the White Witchcraze”, Mahoso confronts imperialism and neo-colonialism through metaphor, imagery, and thematisation.
He condemns the ongoing legacy of colonialism and imperialism, accentuating how powerful nations exert control over weaker ones through violence and manipulation, riding on destruction and chaos, as well as technological hubris.
The poem vividly depicts the devastating consequences of war and militarism, emphasising the human cost of conflict and the environmental degradation that accompanies it.
Critiquing the notion of technology as a panacea to humanity’s problems, the persona argues that it often perpetuates and exacerbates them.
Mahoso offers a distinctly African perspective on global issues, stressing the ways in which African societies are impacted by and respond to the challenges posed by colonialism, imperialism, and militarism.
The tone of the poem is one of scathing critique, irony, and warning.
The persona’s voice is urgent, reflective, and unapologetic, conveying a sense of outrage and dismay at the state of global affairs.
The central metaphor of the poem is the comparison of the drone (UAV) to a broomstick, drawing parallels between the medieval witch hunts and the modern-day “War on Terror”.
The “single-seat” broomstick, represents the destructive power wielded by those in control, while the drone symbolises the faceless, mechanised nature of modern warfare.
Using enjambment and caesura, the philosopher-poet creates a sense of urgency and flow, mirroring the persona’s emotions and ideas. Incorporation of historical and cultural references, for example, medieval witch hunts, and African Dariro (arena), adds depth and context to the poem.
The persona’s self-awareness to “misreading” the situation projects the intricacy and nuance of issues at hand.
In “Processions of Pre-Emption”, Mahoso lambasts neoliberal peace.
The poem critiques the idea of neoliberal peace, which prioritises superficial reconciliation over meaningful justice and reparations.
Using the example of post-apartheid South Africa and Israel, the persona argues that the Nobel Peace Prize, awarded to Desmond Tutu (1984), and Nelson Mandela and Frederik Willem de Klerk (1993), is a symbol of this flawed approach.
The philosopher-poet insists:
“In Africa South and Israel,
The Nobel Prize for Peace was
A lamp with fuel generously given
Knowing it would run out
Before the critical moment arrived,
Like those five failing lamps
In the laps of Matthew’s foolish virgins. . .
“And South Africa was offered three
Such lights to lead the queues
Waiting for the Groom of Reparations,
Three Nobel lanterns for Africa South,
Unlike the five failing lamps
In the Gospel of Matthew”.
Mahoso purveys the failure of the South African government to provide meaningful reparations to the victims of apartheid. He contends that the Nobel Peace Prize was a distraction from this critical issue.
He expresses disappointment and disillusionment with anti-apartheid hero, Nelson Mandela, who is portrayed as having accepted the Nobel Peace Prize and its limitations.
He asserts that Mandela failed to deliver on his promise of reparations and land restoration, likely to haunt future generations.
Furthermore, biblical allegory used gives the poem a deep and intricate complexion, while repetition, such as the repeated reference to lanterns, emphasises the idea that the Nobel Peace Prize is a blemished and superficial recognition.
Mahoso raises a critical issue on neoliberal peace, arguing that reparations failed in South Africa, hence offering a powerful commentary on the ongoing struggles of post-colonial societies.
He unapologetically, scathingly, and reflectively expresses his disappointment on the irony of it all.
Metaphorically, the poet compares the Nobel Peace Prize to a lantern with limited fuel, stressing the idea of a fleeting and artificial recognition, devoid of lasting change.
The lantern’s inadequate fuel also symbolises the restricted scope and duration of the peace process in South Africa.
Mahoso is probably at his lethal best in “Leopard Rock” and “Tangwena”, where he explores the legacy of Chief Rekayi Tangwena, who inspired his people to resist colonial oppression.
Both poems confront colonialism and its ongoing impact on African communities through symbolic elements.
The leopard rock in “Leopard Rock”, which ironically depicts colonial hegemony and displacement embodied in Leopard Rock Hotel, Leopard Rock Park, and Leopard Rock Castle Lodge in Vumba, denotes African identity and resistance.
Through powerful storytelling and lyricism, Mahoso revisits the story of the Tangwena people, and situates it into the collective struggle for independence in Zimbabwe.
Using rich imagery, he evokes sensory details through vivid descriptions of the natural landscape characteristic of the Eastern Highlands, the people, and their struggles, to convey themes and ideas.
The imagery is evocative and immersive, drawing the reader into the world depicted.
Moreover, Mahoso explores the theme of land and belonging, showing how colonial oppression disrupts and destroys indigenous communities’ connections to the abode of their ancestors.
The exploration of the cultural significance of the leopard rock and the Tangwena people’s connection to their land and heritage, demonstrates the significance of cultural identity and tradition.
Tangwena and his people refuse to give up their heritage, despite the efforts of the settler authorities to suppress them. Connection to their land and heritage is a source of strength and resilience.
The poem is written in free verse, with a loose, conversational structure reflecting the natural rhythms of speech and storytelling. The use of repetition and refrain also emphasises certain themes and ideas, creating a sense of rhythm and musicality that adds to the poem’s emotional impact.
However, typical of Mahoso, the poem is quite long and meandering, making it difficult to follow at times. Some readers may find it tasking to navigate the poem’s many sections and themes.
While the language is often vivid and evocative, there are moments where it can be obscure or overly complex, thus clouding overall meaning.
Furthermore, the poet repeats some phrases and ideas, which, though effective in accentuating thematic concerns or ideas, may feel repetitive or heavy-handed.
Overall, “Body and Soil: Poems for the Greening of a Global Locus Standi for African Thought” is a call to action, a summons to African people to reclaim their identities, lands, and futures.
A must-read for anyone interested in African studies, post-colonial theory, and the intersection of technology and coloniality, the forthcoming anthology is a challenging, yet rewarding work that will appeal to readers of Mahoso’s previous literary works.
