Includes selections by R.R.R. Dhlomo, H.C. Bosman, Casey Motsisi, Can Themba, Alan Paton, Dan Jacobson, Ezekiel Mphahlele, Bessie Head, Nat Nakasa, Richard Rive, Doris Lessing, Nadine Gordimer, Ahmed Essop, Lionel Abrahams, Mbulelo Mzamane, Mtutuzeli Matshoba, and Njabulo Ndebele.
Like many of my counterparts in the black middle class, we are attracted to old African literature. We sat the other day in the library and picked out 28 copies of the Heineman African Writers Series from various eras. The majority of the books in the collection are extremly dark. They speak truth, yes, a truth of a certain time, a painful time in the black man's life, but it remains the truth of then. We find it problematic when we engage this literature with oorklappe over our eyes. When we use a context of the 1970's to refer to 2016. We end up adopting an attitude pf a different time. Just as that kid who claimed to hate white people for what they had done to black people, right after we watched 12 years a slave back in 2014. That isn't reason, it is ignorant escapism. This is one of two short story collections I own compiled by Norman Hodge, I've also read House Next Door to Africa by him. Obviously passionate about this land, and the role of stories in providing context, he writes this, "In its cultural diversity, the clashes and attempts at reconciliation, in the glories and horrors of the land and its social, economic and political histories, in the evolution and transition of its society. Southern Africa has proved fertile ground for literary imagination." The stories in this collection are anything short of beautiful. All of them dealing with the death of manhood in one or other form. I picked it up because of Can Themba's The Suit, and was not disappointed. I read it slowly, carefully, with heart, because I'm very interested in understanding the psychology of the black man's mind. There was never a point where I finished a story and would not pause for reflection, many times in shock, many times with a broken heart. The stories with the piccanins touched me most. From the grandmother who's heart cannot handle the loss of her future. To the children who refuse to live their mother's dream. The child who only ever wanted a mother. The little beggers who follow the little baas home... I read the Dog Killers last, and that left me with a bleeding heart. One story stood out above all else, Es'kia Mphahlele's Man Must Live.
“To Kill a Man’s Pride”, a collection of short stories from Southern Africa, was a reading assignment back in the days when I attended undergrad school in Antananarivo. I still remember professor Metcalfe bringing a few brand new copies of this book for her students at the English Department. At that time, there was nowhere to find new novels in English for sale in the capital of Madagascar. Not sure if things have changed nowadays…Anyway, this was the first new book written in English I ever bought as far as I remember. We did not finish reading it, or I did not finish reading it I should say, so I started reading it again from the beginning. The stories are dark but they are worth reading. They give the reader a rare glimpse into the South African literature and the not so distant past of South Africa at a time when black people still needed to register at the pass office before being able to work, a time when black writers were still not allowed to publish their work let alone to go abroad to study without losing their South African citizenship, a time when the hostel at Mzimhlope looked more like a prison than an apartment building for migrants from all parts of Southern Africa.
Like many of my counterparts in the black middle class, we are attracted to old African literature. We sat the other day in the library and picked out 28 copies of the Heinemann African Writers Series from various eras. The majority of the books in the collection are extremely dark. They speak truth, yes, a truth of a certain time, a painful time in the black man's life, but it remains the truth of then. We find it problematic when we engage this literature with oorklappe over our eyes. When we use a context of the 1970's to refer to 2016. We end up adopting an attitude pf a different time. Just as that kid who claimed to hate white people for what they had done to black people, right after we watched 12 years a slave back in 2014. That isn't reason, it is ignorant escapism. This is one of two short story collections I own compiled by Norman Hodge, I've also read House Next Door to Africa by him. Obviously passionate about this land, and the role of stories in providing context, he writes this, "In its cultural diversity, the clashes and attempts at reconciliation, in the glories and horrors of the land and its social, economic and political histories, in the evolution and transition of its society. Southern Africa has proved fertile ground for literary imagination." The stories in this collection are anything short of beautiful. All of them dealing with the death of manhood in one or other form. I picked it up because of Can Themba's The Suit, and was not disappointed. I read it slowly, carefully, with heart, because I'm very interested in understanding the psychology of the black man's mind. There was never a point where I finished a story and would not pause for reflection, many times in shock, many times with a broken heart. The stories with the piccanins touched me most. From the grandmother who's heart cannot handle the loss of her future. To the children who refuse to live their mother's dream. The child who only ever wanted a mother. The little beggars who follow the little baas home... I read the Dog Killers last, and that left me with a bleeding heart. One story stood out above all else, Es'kia Mphahlele's Man Must Live.