Kizito Muchemwa is a poet and a lecturer in English, literature and media studies at the Zimbabwe Open University, Masvingo Campus. He was born in 1950 in Chirumanzu and did his B.A. (honours) and M.A. in English when the university in Harare was still the University of Rhodesia. Later he took a graduate certificate in education at the University of Zimbabwe and teaches now African, African-American and Caribbean literature.
Kizito Muchemwa's poetry has been published in T. O. McLoughlin's two books, 'New Writing from Rhodesia' and 'When my Brothers Come Home', in 'Poems from Central and Southern Africa', edited by Frank Chipasula (Wesleyan Univ. 1985), and in 'And Now the Poets Speak', edited by M. Khadani and M. Zimunya (Mambo Press 1981).
Mucheamwa has also edited a book on 'Zimbabwean Poetry in English' (Mambo Press 1978) and contributed with a chapter, entitled 'Perspectives on the Poetic Fiction of Yvonne Vera' in the anthology 'Sign and Taboo' (edited by Robert Muponde and Mandi Taruvinga, Weaver Press 2003) . He has also written essays on Zimbabwean poetry for the Internet site 'Poetry International'. See www.poetryinternational.org
There
seems to be a difference in the situation of the artists in Africa
compared to Europe in that you have a to me slight schizophrenic
situation where artists are working from their own experience, from
their own culture and even are expected to put some kind of mark of
their art signalling that it comes from their culture, yet at the same
time the overwhelming part of the market is not here. This goes for
painters and it goes for sculptures. I do not know whether it also goes
for authors?
I wouldn't say
that this applies to authors at the moment. You know, there is a local
market for writers and the local writers do not set out to
anthropologise themselves and the country. They set out to interpret
their experience for a local readership or a local audience. The
schizophrenia that you are talking about, I do not seem to see that in
literature.
I think what I see as the main worry in
Zimbabwean literature is that writers are dealing with the nightmare of
the colonial past and the nightmare of the present. These are the two
nightmares that the writers are dealing with. The past just traumatised
the nation and writers are trying to come to terms with the traumas of
the past. But the colonial past is going to be a remote past very soon.
The immediate past that the writers are dealing with is the liberation
war. It has traumatised the whole nation, and it has affected almost
every aspect of culture in this country.
If you look at writers like Yvonne Vera, Chenjerai Hove and Kanengoni,
they are dealing with this immediate past, this nightmare of the
liberation war and how it has shaped us and our consciousness.
I think there are two ways of dealing with the past for any country,
for any writer. One way is to romanticize, to idealise the past and the
other way is to realistically portray the past, to see the past and not
to see it as a grand narrative of one group, but to see its history as
a multiplicity of narratives that needs to be interrogated, that needs
to be portrayed. If you look at Zimbabwean writers, they are normally
associated with what is described as the nationalist aesthetic. This
nationalist aesthetic to a certain extent is associated with the
creation of a grand narrative
Could you give some examples of such writers?
I
will start off with the writers who have sort of started the creation
of nationalist aesthetic: Stanley Samkange, and Solomon Mutswairo.
These are the first generation of writers. And you also have the old
nationalists, like the late Ndabandingi Sithole.
You find a writer like Charles Mungoshi in 'Waiting for the Rain'
writing in this tradition. He develops a myth about the founder of the
clan and the tribe. Now that is a grand narrative that the writer is
trying to create so as to be used by as a source for individual and
national identity. But what I find a bit disturbing about the creation
of grand narratives is that they suppress other narratives: the
narratives of women, the narratives of other groups who are not
associated with this myth that has been created.
Could you say that Yvonne Vera's 'Nehanda' is a kind of attempt to include another narrative but not collide with the nationalist narrative?
I think 'Nehanda'
is an attempt to find another narrative, this time one that would
accommodate women. Because the grand narrative that I am talking about
in the nationalistic aesthetic is very patriarchal, it excludes women.
Yvonne Vera from 'Nehanda' and through 'Under the Tongue' and 'Without a Name', questions this narrative that we find in the fiction written by men.
Are there white writers also who belong here under that heading, Zimbabwean literature?
Yes. If
we say there is no place for white writers we are simply going to the
flipside of colonialism, where we reverse the process of writing out
and suppressing the histories of other people. Zimbabwean literature is
very much concerned about the question of identity and the development
of an indigenous identity is the focus of the nationalist aesthetic.
But indigeneity is not a very simple and straightforward question. It
is a healthy sign that in Zimbabwean literature the simplistic
conceptions of indigeneity are being questioned from within. Yvonne
Vera does that, right? She does that.
Also on the question of whites? Would you call Doris Lessing a Zimbabwean writer?
A
very Zimbabwean writer. Yes, she is very Zimbabwean. You cannot exclude
her. It is unfair to just write out the history of other people like
that.
It seems that there is in
Zimbabwean literature more than in other countries a certain refusal to
idealise the national liberation war and courage to describe the
horrors of violence ...
Have you read
Thomas Bvuma, the poet and ex-guerrilla fighter who has produced his
collection of poems 'Every Stone that Turns'? Then there is Freedom
Nymabaya. She has written two collections of poems, one of them is 'Dusk of Dawn' and the other one is 'On the Road Again'.
I
also read a book of interviews that the Zimbabwean Women's writers had
done, Women of Resilience and some of their stories were very
non-romantic as to say the least. I doubt that there is room for the
same kind of frankness in any country in southern Africa that has gone
through a national liberation war.
One
Zimbabwean scholar has explained the absence of this romanticisation.
He says that most of the writers were not in the high command of the
liberation war and were not articulating official ideology think that's
very healthy. ZANU and ZAPU, unlike the ANC and MPLA, did not have a
Department of Culture. I am sure it was because of the urgency of the
war; they concentrated on the actual fighting. But it was an advantage.
That kind of total control was not there in the department of Arts and
Culture. They are trying it now. But I think it is too late. Closing
the stable door when the horse has bolted. You know, they are trying to
control arts, they are trying to control artists, but I think it is
rather late.
Why, what do you think is happening?
There
is been a rapid, phenomenal growth in universities in this country but
that growth, that expansion, has not been met with corresponding
expansion in openness of debate. There has been a narrowing of vision I
am sure and the emphasis, from a political point of view, is the
emphasis on the expression of a single vision.
But then, of course, authors can survive even when they have to be silent.
I
think as far as literature is concerned, any writer worth her salt has
to find strategies of survival. Every regime has it is own
sophisticated ways of censorship and writers have to find strategies of
beating these strategies. Good writing will emerge no matter how
repressive a regime can be. Good writing will survive. Writing that
does not seek to beat these strategies of censorship will end up, as an
appendage to the department of propaganda. Unfortunately, one of our
writers, Chenjerai Hove, is in exile.
To some people it is not exile.
What is it?
Voluntary withdrawal? One thing I wanted to pick up with you was the role of the literary
criticism. Very often the critics are those who can write and maybe
also are writers themselves?
Yes, we have that kind of scenario in this country. There is an incestuous relationship between writing and criticism.
But how much would you say that literary criticism means for the development?
It
is very difficult to measure the role of criticism for creativity but
what I find is absent in this country is a forum for the exchange of
critical ideas or creative ideas.
Where
do young and budding authors get into literary debate? They seem to
think there is absolutely nothing that prevents them from becoming
stars except certain publishers.
I
also get bombarded with mail. I edited the first anthology of poetry in
English in this country, it was 1978 and most young writers, as soon as
they get to know who I am they send me their scripts, they want to find
out if I can assist them to get published. But most of them have very
little to say and new to say. There is sameness in terms of subject
matter, sameness in terms of style which can be irritating at times.
But
is it a good sign or is it a sign of some serious misunderstanding that
these lots of young people want to be poets and writers?
It
is a good sign and sometimes a bad sign. It is a good sign that there
is potential out there. There is no development right now as far as
writing is concerned in this country. The National Arts Council is more
interested in dance, theatre, sculpture and no in writing. I am sure
that we would need a kind or organisation that will harness this energy
that is out there. Not all of them are going to be great writers, not
all of them are going to be Yvonne Veras, and not all boys are going to
be Dambuzo Marecheras.
Writing is very demanding
profession. It is very demanding and it is unfortunate that it is not
the kind of thing that can be taken up by a person who is worrying
about where is the next loaf of bread is going to come from.