| Back |
DANIEL KUNENE |
| Once the black writers confront the question squarely and honestly: Should we or should we not write in English? It is predictable that the answer, by an overwhelming majority, would endorse the continued use of English. However, the affirmative answer would result from reasons as complex as the South African situation itself. Having come to that conclusion, they would have to devise a modus vivendi whreby they can retain the respect of their black audiences at the same time. I would suggest, as the first prerequisite, that, in reading to black audiences, the readers must read in one or other of the black languages of South Africa. It doesn¹t really matter whether one reads a Zulu poem to a predominantly Sesotho audience. There might be no way of determining this predominance, anyway. A Mosotho in such an audience will appreciate your Zulu or Xhosa or Ndebele etc. Even if he may not understand much of what you are saying, just as readily as he will feel offended by your English which to him is a measure of your alienation from your own people. Given the government¹s ethnic zoning of the townships, an assessment of the linguistically dominant group in any given township audience might not be too difficult a task, thus turning this divide-and-rule trick into advantage. One is constantly inspired by the fact that the South African Student Organisation (SASO) and the Black Consciousness Movement arose out of a ghetto college which was subverted by the students to a beneficial use quite in opposition to its original purpose. When poets read in the situations described above, they must never miss the opportunity to explain that they also have to write and read in English because they have a message for the white oppressor who would otherwise not understand what they are saying. They might even go to the extent of translating some of their more militant poems into an African language, just so that their audience might partake of the joy of this newfound emancipation. For it is an act of self-emancipation to be able to confront your oppressor face to face and tell him in uncensored language what you think of him. The poetry suddenly becomes alive with the I (Black man) you (White man) confrontation, in which the accusatory Œyou¹ is hurled like a barbed spear at the white oppressor. The languages explodes with swear words like shit and fuck, and images of violence such as throw up, vomit, throttle, retch which are scattered all over the poetry. Yet these are neither swear words nor words of violence. They are an expression of freedom as legitimate as the shout ³I¹m free!¹ They constitute an explosion of the bottled up feelings of forced restraint over these many centuries. Sharing this feeling will make any oral performance session much more consciously an educational event aimed at consciousness-raising. Composing originally in an African language and later translating into English may be another way of boosting the morale of one¹s black audience. Let the poem be born in the black language. Such poets woulds be in good company. -Daniel P. Kunene, ³Language, Literature and the Struggle for Liberation in South Africa², in Staffrider, vol. 6 no. 3, 1986. |
|