adminElliot Ziwira The Book Store
THE masochistically sceptic writer, Stanley Nyamufukudza, comes to the fore in putting the role of the artiste in society in perspective as he flatly refutes the notion of the writer as a teacher to his community. Using nihilistic and surrealistic traits of modernism, he exposes the fatalistic nature of heroism.His scepticism, which is reflected in his work especially in “The Non-Believer’s Journey” and “If God was a Woman”, is explicit in the following: “The only responsibility I have is that of any other citizen. Books are not as influential as people think. My responsibility is to be honest to myself and therefore to society as I can. I think it is presumptuous for an author to say he is a teacher, but in Africa, writers are seen as people who have something significant to say, (Cited in Maveneke, 1983:5).
Although teaching takes a multiplicity of forms, it should be divorced from individual intonations, as it hinges on societal expectations, for this is what gives the individual bearings into the future. Though scepticism may seem to be the bane of humanity, especially when it is exposed through supposed torch-bearers like artistes, it is Nyamufukudza’s forte.
Refusing to be drawn into the essence of heroism which finds glory in many a writer’s repertoire, Nyamukudza uses a rather anti-hero in “The Non-Believer’s Journey”, as he seeks to make his kindred understand the futility of it all. Set in the pre-independence era, which naturally could have seen him captivated in the euphoria of the liberation struggle, culminating in inevitable and sweet freedom, the writer decides against swallowing it wholesome. Using Sam, a degreed, outspoken, charismatic and atheistic teacher, he pokes at the vanity of heroism.
Like Kanengoni in “Echoing Silences” (1988), George Orwell in “Animal Farm” (1945) and Charles Mungoshi in “Coming of the Dry Season” (1972), Nyamufukudza is contemptuous of heroism. His giving Sam a voice and ability to analyse life’s complexities, and determining what is right for him expresses liberty and freedom of communication; be it interpersonal or intra-personal. But the question that beckons is in determining whether freedom is a right or a privilege.
Sam decides that it is a right, unlike Munashe who makes up his mind that it is a privilege, and thus, should be exercised with caution. He is indeed a “non-believer” on a “journey”; not only the literal journey that he undertakes from Salisbury to Mutoko, but the metaphorical journey of life. Sam refutes the notion that being a man means fighting not only for one’s principles but defending others’ as well.
The protagonist persistently articulates his lack of belief in heroism by refusing to be drawn into hob-nobbing with a mere reverie of things that seem to be against what is hoped.
The ethnical tussling which besots the political leadership who “were accused by the guerillas of being crows, vultures, growing fat on the blood and sacrifices of those who did the fighting”, does not escape Sam’s telescopic eye, which makes him stick to his resolve.
His idea of freedom is rather individualistic, which makes it fragile and selfish as it is divorced from the communal nature of suffering which initiates universal suffrage.
After the roadblock where he displays his outspokenness, much to the chagrin of the young white soldier, Sam inquires about the arrival time from the driver, who curtly tells him; “How do I know we won’t run into another roadblock where they won’t like your smart talk.”
This is suggestive of the fact that being an educated person is one thing, and being an educated African is another different thing altogether, with the latter being futile.
Notwithstanding his incredulous nature, Sam’s foresight and rather prophetic vision on neo-colonialism, points to the vanity of politics in general and pertinently the futility of heroism as is aptly captured in the following:
“If we escape political enslavement, they won’t mind so much, as long as we take good care of their invested monies, go on working for them for peanuts, exporting all the profits to them.”
Like Mwireri WaMukirai in Ngugi WaThiong’o’s “Devil on the Cross”, the protagonist condemns such an arrangement with the contempt it deserves and he openly speaks of it. Also, like Mwireri WaMukirai, he meets his Waterloo.
He should have known like Benjamin in “Animal Farm” that sometimes silence makes the loudest noise; it really echoes, as is metaphorically apt in Kanengoni’s “Echoing Silences”. He has heard about the guerillas, but his comfort zone in Salisbury, where he teaches cushions him from any personal attachment with them; so he thinks. It was their war and not his, until fate whistles to him to toe the line, as he finds himself in the thick of things.
In his mind’s eye, Sam espies a hijacked revolution, haunted by ethnic rivalry, and decides to distance himself from it, so that he would die “a worthwhile death”, choosing his “own way of going” letting “them sort out their problems first before they call on (him) to die for their rivalries.”
His apt dismissal of heroism premised on the communal nature of burden, proves to be his demise as he is faced with the reality of having to see the freedom fighters first hand.
As someone from the city and with the means – both financial and mental, he has to play his role like everyone else by helping the guerillas with medical equipment.
Really, how could he play succourer to something that he does not believe in? He finds this hard to swallow as he feels that he should be allowed to exercise his right of refusal.
His vulnerability is exposed as his adamancy excites the beast in him, which bellows in retaliation, and infuriates the darkness in the guerilla commander who sends him to total silence forever; childless and single. All this ironically points to the bane of heroism and the triumph of silence.
It is rather sad that Sam suffers such a cruel death because of what he believes in, which is not “worthwhile” after all, but sometimes one must put his foot on the ground to stamp his authority.
However, it is the darkness inherring in Man that usually thwarts all possible avenues for compromise and tolerance. He probably could have swallowed his pride and allowed it to pass, and the commander could also have kept his cool for progress’ sake, but Man sometimes has a vain belief that he is in control of himself whereas in actual fact he isn’t.
He is just a fly caught up in the labyrinthine web of his existence, which he neither creates nor understands.
Online Reporter