No, Ngugi can’t dictate my literary language

A month after my first novel came out in 2006, I got an email inviting me to arguably one of the best organised literary festivals I have ever attended in the world, Time of the Writer, in Durban.

At the festival, which goes on for a week and always happens in the third week of March (and had its last day last Saturday), all writers no matter how great or humble, stay in the same hotel.

One day as part of the festival, we were hosted by Mbulelo Mzamane at the Centre for African Literary Studies at the University of Kwazulu Natal’s Pietermaritzburg Campus to discuss writing.

It is here that a few of us younger writers found ourselves debating the great Ngugi wa Thiong’o. The older man suggested to us youngsters that we should seriously consider writing in African languages.

My response was that if a writer wanted to write in an African language, they were welcome to do so. I chose to and preferred to write in English and that was alright, too.

Further, I stated, I felt it was a form of decolonising my mind to write in English and let the former coloniser or neo coloniser know what it is I was writing about them (if I was).

Living in a country that has 11 official languages, I added, I ran the risk of discounting a large section of South African readership, black and white, if I were to write in my native isiXhosa.

WIDER AUDIENCE

I wanted to reach as many people as possible with my work and what most of literate South Africans have in common is the ability to speak and read the English language. 

I went further, “Baba, when you published Decolonising the Mind in 1986, you were already so well known that you could have written in any language you wanted and there would have been many people standing in line to translate your work.” The debate went on with some for and others against as will often happen at these discussions.

Two weeks ago I found myself in the midst of a similar language debate at a PEN workshop in Eldoret. We had participants from six schools in the Rift Valley.  In the red corner (and for African languages) were Jacob Oketch and PEN Chair Chris Wanjala. In the blue corner with the covers of the pens off, were that Sheng-writing literary gangster Tony Mochama and I.

Mochama sparked the debate when asked by Prof CJ Odhiambo what language he wrote in.

He responded that he wrote in English and a bastardised language which is a combination of Sheng and English that he chooses to call ‘Smitten’ for his column Smitta Smitten.

He then went on to tell the students that he was tired of having African languages romanticised and if the students wanted to reach as many people as possible, they should write in English.

At this point, Prof Wanjala interjected, highlighting that there was a danger of our African languages dying if we were so colonised that we only wrote and spoke in English.

Wanjala further stated that works could be translated from whatever African languages into English for greater reach.

Oketch then took up the argument, stating that, although he had written in English in the past, after a challenge to write a short story in Luo, he was certain that he would write more in that language.

“Children who are encouraged to learn their mother tongue first,” Oketch argued, “are more likely to be proficient in English, anyway.”

It was now my turn to give my input. I started by asking the PEN President Khainga O’Okwemba whether, being that I am South African, I would have been invited to be part of the workshop if my books were written in isiXhosa.

The point I was making was that he, and some in the audience, were only familiar with my work because it is written in English.

DICTATING TO THE ARTIST

I went further to say that I like that my work is accessible to readers in Nigeria, Zambia and a few other African countries.

I then conceded something on African languages. One of my favourite novels is a Shona detective novel called Sajeni Chimedza by James Kawara.

Those who can read Shona often cite it as one of the funniest books they have ever read. Unfortunately, 31 years after its first publication, this book has not yet been translated into English and I sadly cannot share some of its funny parts with friends who do not speak or read Shona.

Those who like visual art do not tell Michael Soi what colours to use when he paints. They appreciate him for the artwork he does. No fan tells Salif Keita what beats he should use for his music either.

It occurs to me that literature is the only art form that everyone else feels the need to dictate to the artist what language to write in and sometimes even, what one should write.

Do I want African languages to die because I write in English? Not at all. My minor solution is that as an artist, I should write in whatever language I feel comfortable in writing. I do, however, think that works should be translated to preserve African languages. Who will do that, you ask.

On this continent, there are state-funded universities with language departments. I would like to suggest that as part of anyone receiving their Master’s degree from any school of languages, one of the expectations should be to translate at least one work or three from the language of study to another. Say Kalenjin to English or vice-versa at Moi University.

And the job of a writer should remain being just that. To write in whatever language they are comfortable in.

Over to you, readers! Your thoughts?