TUESDAY, JANUARY 26, 2010
Ah, we must, now and again, give thanks to the gods for their graciousness in sharing the knowledge of the internet! (sigh) What would we do without the internet! Where else would we be able to fall over ourselves in tickles of laughter over….aah, hehehe, I’m sorry, the child in me is on the rampage today. The elders frown down at me, tell me with their eyes to shut up and be still. Ah, but this child-in-me is at that stage where children cannot be reigned in, where they say what they mean and do as they please. Let me attempt to reign her in (I do not promise that she will comply, though)
I am simply amused by the ‘so much hype’ over Petina Gappah’s ‘I don’t see myself as an African Writer’ statement. No, I’m sorry, I didn’t know so much was being made out of it, it is only yesterday that I read Ikhide R. Ikheloa’s ‘In Search of the African Writer’ on Next, and the commentary that followed ( after reading some of those comments, the compulsion to expletivate. Then I remembered what my good mother once said. Respect the opinions of others. We must nurture tolerance and embrace our diversity- it makes the world such a colourful place, makes for beautiful living. The mind is constantly challenged by new perspectives. And with that, comes growth. Open. Your. Mind. And listen to your mother!) This reminds me of another discussion I saw on Zimbablog, re Ms Gappah and her book- ooh, it’s never the posts that tickle but the commentary that follows! People were falling over themselves – murdering themselves – butchering themselves- all in the name of Petina Gappah. Ah! I think we should graduate Ms Gappah to celebrity status – anyone who has the ‘power’ to invoke such ‘chaos’ and ‘self righteous indignation’ just by a few simple words, should be given a celebrity tag. It won’t be long before the paparazzi are on her door step, hounding her dogs, filtering through her trash (work with me here), and the ‘fans’ (this can be in the form of a love-hate relationship) are stepping out in a murderous frenzy. (oh, I forget, that is a Western form of adoration- sooo unAfrican). Ok, so let me change that- perhaps we will condemn her into exile. That’s what we do in Africa. She will have to flee, before we chase her down the streets with machetes (this is metaphoric of course, she does not presently reside in Africa). Ooh, as Africans we have learned and learned well, our leaders have set the most wonderful examples before us- there is no room for individualism in Africa- again- it is such a Western notion- in Africa, we believe the good of the community comes first- individualism is a concept that simply cannot exist. As such, you cannot belong to yourself, you are owned by the people. Shut up and shut up, it is not about you, there is no you here, what is, what is this youbusiness, this me business, this I business…nonsense! There is only we here, free to say what you like, free to say what you like? Of course you can say what you like….but only within the confines of the shackles of this freedom. Whether you like it or not, any ascent on any platform automatically means you are representing the rest of us oppressed, marginalised masses. Which is why, if you stray from what we, the masses, want and perceive to be the ‘right thing’, we will quickly reign you into line. Unless you are untameable, of course, then following which we will kill you (oh work with me please, I am in hyperbole- kick me- kick me mode). Like if you say ‘I don’t see myself as an African Writer’, the messenger will run to all the crevices of the land, and by the time it gets to the other end, it will sound something like ‘Dear reader, I order you not to see me as an African Writer, I renounce my African-ness, I am ashamed to be black, I have an inferiority complex, get away from me all you black subhumans from the dark continent! I am not one of you. Oh oh oh!’ ( again you must forgive me, I am not my usual self today, I think I forgot to take my pills lol…) Kinda reminds me of that telephone game we used to play as children, where someone whispers something in your ear and you have to pass it on until it gets to the end of the line..by the time it reaches the end, it is something totally different from the original message. But. This baffles me. Since when, have we been given the license to take a personal affront at the statements made by others about themselves? How selfish are we, can we possibly be, to be able to turn something about another distant person, into something about ourselves? I mean was this writer elected-by-the-people-for-the-people (pamberi), to be some sort of spoke person for the people, and push forward the agendas of the people? I mean is this what writing, from an ‘African context’, is all about? Is this responsibility to martyr oneself to the general consensus re Africa, a prerequisite for the ‘African Writer’? Why can’t one simply be ‘a writer who hails from the continent Africa’, and shed the baggage of the ‘African Writer’? It is so tragic on so many levels.
Ah. The elders have finally spanked the child-in-me. She has run out of steam. They look at me in disapproval and try to figure out which one of them I take after. It cannot be any of them, such indiscipline! It must be from my mother’s side. When I am bad, I am my mother’s child. When I am good, I am my father’s child. Hmmm.
I am simply amused by the ‘so much hype’ over Petina Gappah’s ‘I don’t see myself as an African Writer’ statement. No, I’m sorry, I didn’t know so much was being made out of it, it is only yesterday that I read Ikhide R. Ikheloa’s ‘In Search of the African Writer’ on Next, and the commentary that followed ( after reading some of those comments, the compulsion to expletivate. Then I remembered what my good mother once said. Respect the opinions of others. We must nurture tolerance and embrace our diversity- it makes the world such a colourful place, makes for beautiful living. The mind is constantly challenged by new perspectives. And with that, comes growth. Open. Your. Mind. And listen to your mother!) This reminds me of another discussion I saw on Zimbablog, re Ms Gappah and her book- ooh, it’s never the posts that tickle but the commentary that follows! People were falling over themselves – murdering themselves – butchering themselves- all in the name of Petina Gappah. Ah! I think we should graduate Ms Gappah to celebrity status – anyone who has the ‘power’ to invoke such ‘chaos’ and ‘self righteous indignation’ just by a few simple words, should be given a celebrity tag. It won’t be long before the paparazzi are on her door step, hounding her dogs, filtering through her trash (work with me here), and the ‘fans’ (this can be in the form of a love-hate relationship) are stepping out in a murderous frenzy. (oh, I forget, that is a Western form of adoration- sooo unAfrican). Ok, so let me change that- perhaps we will condemn her into exile. That’s what we do in Africa. She will have to flee, before we chase her down the streets with machetes (this is metaphoric of course, she does not presently reside in Africa). Ooh, as Africans we have learned and learned well, our leaders have set the most wonderful examples before us- there is no room for individualism in Africa- again- it is such a Western notion- in Africa, we believe the good of the community comes first- individualism is a concept that simply cannot exist. As such, you cannot belong to yourself, you are owned by the people. Shut up and shut up, it is not about you, there is no you here, what is, what is this youbusiness, this me business, this I business…nonsense! There is only we here, free to say what you like, free to say what you like? Of course you can say what you like….but only within the confines of the shackles of this freedom. Whether you like it or not, any ascent on any platform automatically means you are representing the rest of us oppressed, marginalised masses. Which is why, if you stray from what we, the masses, want and perceive to be the ‘right thing’, we will quickly reign you into line. Unless you are untameable, of course, then following which we will kill you (oh work with me please, I am in hyperbole- kick me- kick me mode). Like if you say ‘I don’t see myself as an African Writer’, the messenger will run to all the crevices of the land, and by the time it gets to the other end, it will sound something like ‘Dear reader, I order you not to see me as an African Writer, I renounce my African-ness, I am ashamed to be black, I have an inferiority complex, get away from me all you black subhumans from the dark continent! I am not one of you. Oh oh oh!’ ( again you must forgive me, I am not my usual self today, I think I forgot to take my pills lol…) Kinda reminds me of that telephone game we used to play as children, where someone whispers something in your ear and you have to pass it on until it gets to the end of the line..by the time it reaches the end, it is something totally different from the original message. But. This baffles me. Since when, have we been given the license to take a personal affront at the statements made by others about themselves? How selfish are we, can we possibly be, to be able to turn something about another distant person, into something about ourselves? I mean was this writer elected-by-the-people-for-the-people (pamberi), to be some sort of spoke person for the people, and push forward the agendas of the people? I mean is this what writing, from an ‘African context’, is all about? Is this responsibility to martyr oneself to the general consensus re Africa, a prerequisite for the ‘African Writer’? Why can’t one simply be ‘a writer who hails from the continent Africa’, and shed the baggage of the ‘African Writer’? It is so tragic on so many levels.
Ah. The elders have finally spanked the child-in-me. She has run out of steam. They look at me in disapproval and try to figure out which one of them I take after. It cannot be any of them, such indiscipline! It must be from my mother’s side. When I am bad, I am my mother’s child. When I am good, I am my father’s child. Hmmm.