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Toloki #1
Ways of Dying
Winner of the M-Net Book Prize
Shortlisted for the CNA and Noma Awards
In Ways of Dying , Zakes Mda's acclaimed first novel, Toloki is a "professional mourner" in a vast and violent city of the new South Africa. Day after day he attends funerals in the townships, dressed with dignity in a threadbare suit, cape, and battered top hat, to comfort the grieving families of the victims of the city's crime, racial hatred, and crippling poverty. At a Christmas day funeral for a young boy Toloki is reunited with Noria, a woman from his village. Together they help each other to heal the past, and as their story interweaves with those of their acquaintances this elegant short novel provides a magical and painful picture of South Africa today.
Ways of Dying was awarded South Africa's prestigious M-Net Book Prize, awarded by the TV channel M-Net to books written in one of South Africa's official languages, and was shortlisted for the Central News Agency (CNA) Award and the Noma Award, an Africa-wide prize founded by Shoichi Noma, onetime president of Kodansha International.
Shortlisted for the CNA and Noma Awards
In Ways of Dying , Zakes Mda's acclaimed first novel, Toloki is a "professional mourner" in a vast and violent city of the new South Africa. Day after day he attends funerals in the townships, dressed with dignity in a threadbare suit, cape, and battered top hat, to comfort the grieving families of the victims of the city's crime, racial hatred, and crippling poverty. At a Christmas day funeral for a young boy Toloki is reunited with Noria, a woman from his village. Together they help each other to heal the past, and as their story interweaves with those of their acquaintances this elegant short novel provides a magical and painful picture of South Africa today.
Ways of Dying was awarded South Africa's prestigious M-Net Book Prize, awarded by the TV channel M-Net to books written in one of South Africa's official languages, and was shortlisted for the Central News Agency (CNA) Award and the Noma Award, an Africa-wide prize founded by Shoichi Noma, onetime president of Kodansha International.
220 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1995
69 people are currently reading
2869 people want to read
About the author
Zakes Mda
33 books257 followersZakes Mda is the pen name of Zanemvula Kizito Gatyeni Mda, a novelist, poet and playwright.
Although he spent his early childhood in Soweto (where he knew political figures such as Walter and Albertina Sisulu, Oliver Tambo and Nelson Mandela) he had to finish his education in Lesotho where his father went into exile since 1963. This change of setting also meant a change of language for Mda: from isiXhosa to Sesotho. Consequently Mda preferred to write his first plays in English.
His first play, We Shall Sing for the Fatherland, won the first Amstel Playwright of the Year Award in 1978, a feat he repeated the following year. He worked as a bank clerk, a teacher and in marketing before the publication of We Shall Sing for the Fatherland and Other Plays in 1980 enabled him to be admitted to the Ohio University for a three-year Master's degree in theatre. He completed a Masters Degree in Theatre at Ohio University, after which he obtained a Master of Arts Degree in Mass Communication. By 1984 his plays were performed in the USSR, the USA, and Scotland as well as in various parts of southern Africa.
Mda then returned to Lesotho, first working with the Lesotho National Broadcasting Corporation Television Project and then as a lecturer in the Department of English at the University of Lesotho. Between 1985 and 1992 he was director of the Theatre-For-Development Project at the university and founded the Marotholi Travelling Theatre. Together with his students he travelled to villages in remote mountain regions working with local people in creating theatre around their everyday concerns. This work of writing theatre "from the inside" was the theme of his doctoral thesis, the Ph.D degree being conferred on him by the University of Cape Town in 1989.
In the early nineties Mda spent much of his time overseas, he was writer-in-residence at the University of Durham (1991), research fellow at Yale University. He returned for one year to South Africa as Visiting Professor at the School of Dramatic Art at the University of the Witwatersrand. He is presently Professor of Creative Writing at Ohio University.
Although he spent his early childhood in Soweto (where he knew political figures such as Walter and Albertina Sisulu, Oliver Tambo and Nelson Mandela) he had to finish his education in Lesotho where his father went into exile since 1963. This change of setting also meant a change of language for Mda: from isiXhosa to Sesotho. Consequently Mda preferred to write his first plays in English.
His first play, We Shall Sing for the Fatherland, won the first Amstel Playwright of the Year Award in 1978, a feat he repeated the following year. He worked as a bank clerk, a teacher and in marketing before the publication of We Shall Sing for the Fatherland and Other Plays in 1980 enabled him to be admitted to the Ohio University for a three-year Master's degree in theatre. He completed a Masters Degree in Theatre at Ohio University, after which he obtained a Master of Arts Degree in Mass Communication. By 1984 his plays were performed in the USSR, the USA, and Scotland as well as in various parts of southern Africa.
Mda then returned to Lesotho, first working with the Lesotho National Broadcasting Corporation Television Project and then as a lecturer in the Department of English at the University of Lesotho. Between 1985 and 1992 he was director of the Theatre-For-Development Project at the university and founded the Marotholi Travelling Theatre. Together with his students he travelled to villages in remote mountain regions working with local people in creating theatre around their everyday concerns. This work of writing theatre "from the inside" was the theme of his doctoral thesis, the Ph.D degree being conferred on him by the University of Cape Town in 1989.
In the early nineties Mda spent much of his time overseas, he was writer-in-residence at the University of Durham (1991), research fellow at Yale University. He returned for one year to South Africa as Visiting Professor at the School of Dramatic Art at the University of the Witwatersrand. He is presently Professor of Creative Writing at Ohio University.
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December 13, 2020
I’m surely not in the position to critique or praise this book in any way. After all, I have never previously read a book by a South African author nor am I familiar with the South African literary tradition.
That being said, I found this book both odd and brilliant, unlike anything else I have previously read.
Meandering inbetween the past and the present, the narrators (1st pr. pl.) retell the story of Toloki “The Professional Mourner” and his homegirl Noria. The narrative is set both in the villages, the tourist-occupied areas of the cities as well as the townships and informal settlements. No matter where though, death is always unapologetically prevalent. Set against the socioeconomic, political and cultural realities of the time, the author discloses the different ways of dying but also the different ways of living. What first seems as the story of death, becomes the story of survival. All of this done without emphasised pathos. The detailed and colourful writing becomes dry when encountering death, as if to stress it’s ordinariness. It is these moments that became especially memorable and revealing.
P.S: The only! part of the book which I disliked was the ending which seemed a tiny bit kitschy. However, kitsch as a category originates in western tradition, and so such label is not in any way suitable. Even me distinguishing between the non-kitschy and “kitschy” regarding this book is indeed problematic. Coming from different unparalleled literary traditions, we need to be aware of the categories and labels we imply to their creation.
That being said, I found this book both odd and brilliant, unlike anything else I have previously read.
Meandering inbetween the past and the present, the narrators (1st pr. pl.) retell the story of Toloki “The Professional Mourner” and his homegirl Noria. The narrative is set both in the villages, the tourist-occupied areas of the cities as well as the townships and informal settlements. No matter where though, death is always unapologetically prevalent. Set against the socioeconomic, political and cultural realities of the time, the author discloses the different ways of dying but also the different ways of living. What first seems as the story of death, becomes the story of survival. All of this done without emphasised pathos. The detailed and colourful writing becomes dry when encountering death, as if to stress it’s ordinariness. It is these moments that became especially memorable and revealing.
P.S: The only! part of the book which I disliked was the ending which seemed a tiny bit kitschy. However, kitsch as a category originates in western tradition, and so such label is not in any way suitable. Even me distinguishing between the non-kitschy and “kitschy” regarding this book is indeed problematic. Coming from different unparalleled literary traditions, we need to be aware of the categories and labels we imply to their creation.
October 13, 2025
Formas de vivir
Esperaba muy poco de esta novela, que había comprado en medio de mi entusiasmo africanista, basado en el prestigio del autor. Y lo cierto es que me he llevado una grata sorpresa.
Toloki y Noria se reencuentran después de muchos años en la ciudad. Fueron mejores amigos en su infancia, en tiempos en los que Toloki era denigrado y despreciado, en especial por parte de su padre: ¡feo y tonto!; por entonces Noria era la niña mimada de la aldea, bella, con una risa cristalina y una voz maravillosa. El tiempo los fue llevando por caminos diferentes, y sus experiencias de vida les han dejado muchas heridas y aprendizajes.
El trasfondo histórico es la Sudáfrica de los últimos tiempos del Apartheid, cuando mientras se negociaba una salida democrática (un hombre, un voto), parecía intensificarse la violencia.
Y el tema central son las formas de vivir, apuntando a tratar de aprender a vivir bien. Las circunstancias que le tocan a cada una de las personas pueden ser mejores o peores, y sobre ellas cada persona trata de trazar y construir la mejor manera de vivir, lo cual no significa renunciar a esforzarse por mejorar su situación y las circunstancias, pero sin dejar que en ese afán se les vaya la vida.
Una novela ágil y muy agradable para leer, que más allá de ciertas excentricidades de los personajes, transmite una gran sabiduría de vida, que me hizo acordar a los versos de Rabîndranâth Tagore:
Dormí, y soñé que la vida era alegría.
Desperté y entendí que la vida era servicio.
Serví y descubrí que el servicio era alegría.
Zakes Mda (Zanemvula Kizito Gatyeni Mda) nació en Sudáfrica en 1948, aunque vivió gran parte de su vida en Lesoto donde su padre estuvo exiliado. Luego estudiar en la Universidad de Ohio, regresó a Lesoto, donde trabajó con el Proyecto de Televisión y luego como profesor en el Departamento de Inglés de la Universidad de Lesoto. Actualmente reside en EEUU, donde es profesor de Escritura Creativa en la Universidad de Ohio. La mayor parte de su producción es teatral.
Esperaba muy poco de esta novela, que había comprado en medio de mi entusiasmo africanista, basado en el prestigio del autor. Y lo cierto es que me he llevado una grata sorpresa.
Toloki y Noria se reencuentran después de muchos años en la ciudad. Fueron mejores amigos en su infancia, en tiempos en los que Toloki era denigrado y despreciado, en especial por parte de su padre: ¡feo y tonto!; por entonces Noria era la niña mimada de la aldea, bella, con una risa cristalina y una voz maravillosa. El tiempo los fue llevando por caminos diferentes, y sus experiencias de vida les han dejado muchas heridas y aprendizajes.
El trasfondo histórico es la Sudáfrica de los últimos tiempos del Apartheid, cuando mientras se negociaba una salida democrática (un hombre, un voto), parecía intensificarse la violencia.
Y el tema central son las formas de vivir, apuntando a tratar de aprender a vivir bien. Las circunstancias que le tocan a cada una de las personas pueden ser mejores o peores, y sobre ellas cada persona trata de trazar y construir la mejor manera de vivir, lo cual no significa renunciar a esforzarse por mejorar su situación y las circunstancias, pero sin dejar que en ese afán se les vaya la vida.
Una novela ágil y muy agradable para leer, que más allá de ciertas excentricidades de los personajes, transmite una gran sabiduría de vida, que me hizo acordar a los versos de Rabîndranâth Tagore:
Dormí, y soñé que la vida era alegría.
Desperté y entendí que la vida era servicio.
Serví y descubrí que el servicio era alegría.
Zakes Mda (Zanemvula Kizito Gatyeni Mda) nació en Sudáfrica en 1948, aunque vivió gran parte de su vida en Lesoto donde su padre estuvo exiliado. Luego estudiar en la Universidad de Ohio, regresó a Lesoto, donde trabajó con el Proyecto de Televisión y luego como profesor en el Departamento de Inglés de la Universidad de Lesoto. Actualmente reside en EEUU, donde es profesor de Escritura Creativa en la Universidad de Ohio. La mayor parte de su producción es teatral.
December 22, 2018
Although I finished this read within 24 hours, I found it incredibly difficult to get into the story.
In true Zakes Mda fashion, the narrative is highly descriptive and tackles political and socioeconomic challenges of black people pre and post democracy.
The first person plural narration gave the narration an eerie disposition. It felt like Toloki, one of the two main characters who the story is centered around, a professional mourner, was walking around with souls of the dead in his trolley. A funeral crier, The Pied Piper Of Funerals, giving his character a surreal nature. It doesn't help matters that he was homeless. An unlikable character in the beginning, because of his day job I think, but Zakes dashes in and out of the past and present lives of the main characters and the supporting characters lending this read some type of grow-on-you feeling.
Though difficult to get into its groove in the beginning, once I was a quarter into it, I found Toloki's story demanding to be heard.
A well deserved 4 stars.
In true Zakes Mda fashion, the narrative is highly descriptive and tackles political and socioeconomic challenges of black people pre and post democracy.
The first person plural narration gave the narration an eerie disposition. It felt like Toloki, one of the two main characters who the story is centered around, a professional mourner, was walking around with souls of the dead in his trolley. A funeral crier, The Pied Piper Of Funerals, giving his character a surreal nature. It doesn't help matters that he was homeless. An unlikable character in the beginning, because of his day job I think, but Zakes dashes in and out of the past and present lives of the main characters and the supporting characters lending this read some type of grow-on-you feeling.
Though difficult to get into its groove in the beginning, once I was a quarter into it, I found Toloki's story demanding to be heard.
A well deserved 4 stars.
June 20, 2014
This was incredibly strange, but an oddly satisfying read nonetheless. Ways of Dying tells the story of Toloki, a "Professional Mourner" in Apartheid South Africa. The narrative moves between Toloki's childhood in his village and his current, meager life as a vagrant in a large city who offers his services to those who are burying their dead. At one funeral, Toloki encounters Noria, an enigmatic girl he remembers from his youth; he travels to the settlement (alternately: squatters' camp) where she currently lives to track her down, and the two rekindle their friendship after almost 18 years. Noria, blessed with seemingly magical powers to bring people joy, spent many childhood days singing for Toloki's father, acting as a muse that allowed Jwara to create beautiful figurines in his blacksmith's shop. Toloki, a perpetual runner-up to the beautiful girl, eventually struck out on his own and now remembers Noria only as "that stuck-up bitch," a nickname bestowed by his mother out of jealousy.
The 1st personal plural narrators tell stories of Noria and Toloki's village lives, as well as the hardships they've both encountered since leaving. I'm not sure I've ever read a novel with 1st person plural narration, and I really enjoyed it. It adds to the magical realism at work here, since they manage to be everywhere and everyone at once, able to comment as much on the characters' childhoods as their adult lives, separately and together. It also works to establish a sweeping feel when the political and tribal violence plays a part in the story, too. Apartheid isn't ever overtly mentioned or discussed, but the violence of the era plays into the characters' lives in a meaningful, natural way, making the novel not about Apartheid itself but the way it impacted human lives. Somehow, the narrative style adds an "Everyman" component to a story that is otherwise actually very specifically about these two characters.
My favorite passage is the one from which the novel takes its title, as Toloki and Noria discuss the brutal murders undertaken by tribal lords quietly aided by the government. Toloki tells her, "Death lives with us every day. Our ways of dying are our ways of living. Or should I say, our ways of living are our ways of dying?" Noria gently reminds him, "It works both ways." I found this to be an understated, eloquent, and horrible way to summarize the cycle of violence in South Africa, or of any embattled nation/community: one learns to live with death.
The 1st personal plural narrators tell stories of Noria and Toloki's village lives, as well as the hardships they've both encountered since leaving. I'm not sure I've ever read a novel with 1st person plural narration, and I really enjoyed it. It adds to the magical realism at work here, since they manage to be everywhere and everyone at once, able to comment as much on the characters' childhoods as their adult lives, separately and together. It also works to establish a sweeping feel when the political and tribal violence plays a part in the story, too. Apartheid isn't ever overtly mentioned or discussed, but the violence of the era plays into the characters' lives in a meaningful, natural way, making the novel not about Apartheid itself but the way it impacted human lives. Somehow, the narrative style adds an "Everyman" component to a story that is otherwise actually very specifically about these two characters.
My favorite passage is the one from which the novel takes its title, as Toloki and Noria discuss the brutal murders undertaken by tribal lords quietly aided by the government. Toloki tells her, "Death lives with us every day. Our ways of dying are our ways of living. Or should I say, our ways of living are our ways of dying?" Noria gently reminds him, "It works both ways." I found this to be an understated, eloquent, and horrible way to summarize the cycle of violence in South Africa, or of any embattled nation/community: one learns to live with death.
July 23, 2007
A book set against the turbulent and violent South Africa of the 70's and 80's. For the residents of the slums, murder is a daily occurence and nobody is spared, not even children or pregnant women. The main character Toloki, the son of a blacksmith in the countryside, moves to the city and struggles to survive. In a somewhat disjointed career move, he dons a cheap plastic undertakers costume and becomes a professional mourner. During one of his appearences at a funeral on Christmas Day he encounters Noria, a women from his same village who has caused problems with his family in the past. The two join up for survival, and the story involves etheral, dreamlike, and fantasy elements, and amongst all the death and decay they find happyness. As the Sunday Independent Review from South Africa States, "Once you have finished Ways of Dying, you won't know whether you read the novel or dreamt it. Zakes Mda has gathered up all the human waste and political detrius of South African life and distilled it into a magic realist text of great beauty, humor, pathos."
September 10, 2021
Aafrika autorite raamatuid ma olen vähe lugenud, aga iga kord üllatun positiivselt. Mingi mõtlemise faasinihe, suulise kultuuri kuklasse hingamine teksti taga. Lahe.
February 20, 2021
Among the greatest features of this book is simply how different it is from anything else I have ever read. It is in many ways very different from anything in the “western” kind of writing so one must just be open for the way it is written and respect it for what it is.
The book explores two main themes: death and navigating poverty. However, the way he goes about making these themes is different from how it is described in other book. For instance, death is not necessarily described as something tragic and unordinary, but rather as something that merely happens, reminding us how disproportionately are poor black communities affected by early deaths of various causes. Similarly, the author presents poverty as something that merely is and is dealt with differently by multiple members. Hence, it avoids any kind of stereotypes attaching to people living in extreme poverty, such as begging, but rather show that they also have their own belief systems and often go long way to preserve their dignity (whatever that means to them).
At the same time, the book also doesn’t shy away from “harder topics” such as black-on-black violence and many other events that accompanied the liberation struggle in South Africa that many today choose to ignore. It also sheds light on women, and how their contribution to the sustenance of life is often ignored.
Although this book in a way has a simple plot and even a somewhat lighthearted reading, one must not be mistaken. This book is very educative on wider topics such as even race, class and gender (and so much more!) and hence should be read by many.
The book explores two main themes: death and navigating poverty. However, the way he goes about making these themes is different from how it is described in other book. For instance, death is not necessarily described as something tragic and unordinary, but rather as something that merely happens, reminding us how disproportionately are poor black communities affected by early deaths of various causes. Similarly, the author presents poverty as something that merely is and is dealt with differently by multiple members. Hence, it avoids any kind of stereotypes attaching to people living in extreme poverty, such as begging, but rather show that they also have their own belief systems and often go long way to preserve their dignity (whatever that means to them).
At the same time, the book also doesn’t shy away from “harder topics” such as black-on-black violence and many other events that accompanied the liberation struggle in South Africa that many today choose to ignore. It also sheds light on women, and how their contribution to the sustenance of life is often ignored.
Although this book in a way has a simple plot and even a somewhat lighthearted reading, one must not be mistaken. This book is very educative on wider topics such as even race, class and gender (and so much more!) and hence should be read by many.
March 11, 2012
I liked Toloki's re-invention of himself as a professional mourner. I was immediately drawn into this book by this unique character and the first person plural narration. At first I thought that first person plural implied a folk tale, but this is a story that is too particular. The characters aren't archetypal folk heroes. Yet the book does reveal so much of what is happening to the poor in post-apartheid South Africa. In many ways the novel speaks for the entire third world where so many lives are marked by social turmoil and violence. I want to read Mda's second book about Toloki.
February 26, 2020
Kuidagi läks nii, et pärast "Minu Lõuna-Aafrika Vabariik" lõpetamist sattus näppu just LAVi ühe viljakaima kirjaniku teos. Algus läks pisut üle kivide ja kändude. Kirjutamisviis oli harjumatu aga siis (nagu tihtipeale juhtub), läks jutt käima ning raamatut enam käest ei saanud. Kuigi linnade nimesid ning aastaarve ei mainita, saab päris hästi aru, kus ja mis ajal tegevus toimub. Ja see pole aeg, kus tahaks ise elada. Paljud kirjeldused ning juhtumised on lihtsalt õudsad. Hirmsad. Kohutavad. Ja kõige jubedam ongi vist see, et asunduste/slummide elanike jaoks on tegu igapäevaeluga, rutiinsed juhtumised. Uskumatu, kuidas inimesed üksteisega käituvad ning kui palju põhineb nahavärvusel ja ka sellel, mis hõimust või külast sa pärit oled. Ja samas... isegi kui maailm on väga kole paik, leidub ikka midagi head ja ilusat, olgu selleks siis kasvõi oma hüti seintele ajakirja väljalõigete kleepimine ning unistuste aias jalutamine.
January 7, 2015
I have another new favorite South African novel. This one blew me away. Zakes Mda’s novel Ways of Dying is set in the early 1990s–if I had to guess, it would be 1990-1991: between the time Nelson Mandela was released from prison and when he was elected president (1994) and apartheid officially became illegal. The struggle existing in the Townships, Settlements, and Villages in that stage between full-fledged apartheid and real freedom for African people is conveyed with such power I feel as if I’ve lived it.
(First printing–Oxford University Press Southern Africa, 1991; Copyright 1995 would support my theory).
I wish I’d found this book earlier. I could have included it as required reading in my South Africa class spring semester. I think I’ll recommend it as supplementary reading, for sure. If I get to teach the class again, it will be on the syllabus!
This book feels almost too tragic to bear at the beginning. It’s so sad and keeps getting sadder that a reader can be tempted to set the book down. However, the character Toloki rivets us as and we can’t “look away.” We must keep reading to see what happens to him! Toloki has named himself a “professional mourner” because he’s lost his home and his business and needs work. He’s seen that one rich man makes his living from coffins; there is money to be made in death because there is so much of it, all around, and every day. So the homeless Toloki procures himself a Mourning Costume (the procurement itself a delightful story that I won’t spoil here) and starts attending every funeral he can for people in the Townships and Settlements (wealthier people have no need for such services).
As the story unfolds, the tragedy is not lessened: we see first hand the horrific “necklacing” of a five-year-old, destruction of settlement homes, and senseless murder in other ways. Still, our characters have hope and have life. They are survivors and they find joy and satisfaction and hope in everyday happenings. This is what survival is all about. This is what the human spirit can do. This is the truest meaning of life, perhaps.
The first time I took a group into a township–Khayelitsha in Cape Town–our guide said, “Do NOT feel sorry for the people who live here. Do NOT act like you are benevolent visitors. These people have pride. This is what they’re used to, and you are visiting their community. Respect them; respect their lives.” This book slams that lesson hope full-force. That’s why I want my students to read it. And that’s why it ends up not being a story of tragedy. It’s a realistic look at lives woven with a beautiful spirit of survival and love. I’ll read this book many times, I’m sure.
Another interesting note: I walked into the Coffee Hag (my favorite morning hang-out in Mankato besides my own house) to meet my friend Tracy Murphy who is also on sabbatical this semester. I was carrying Ways of Dying mostly because it was what I was reading, and I rarely go anywhere without a book, just in case there will be a few minutes of reading time available. She looked up, saw the book, and said, “I just read that! Isn’t it wonderful? I love the character Toloki!” We had a great talk about the book. Small world, and yet, stories like this are what make the world smaller. The world with all of its aches and injustices truly belongs to all of us. That means all of us must do our part to make it a better place. Zakes MdaAnd stories unite us.
(First printing–Oxford University Press Southern Africa, 1991; Copyright 1995 would support my theory).
I wish I’d found this book earlier. I could have included it as required reading in my South Africa class spring semester. I think I’ll recommend it as supplementary reading, for sure. If I get to teach the class again, it will be on the syllabus!
This book feels almost too tragic to bear at the beginning. It’s so sad and keeps getting sadder that a reader can be tempted to set the book down. However, the character Toloki rivets us as and we can’t “look away.” We must keep reading to see what happens to him! Toloki has named himself a “professional mourner” because he’s lost his home and his business and needs work. He’s seen that one rich man makes his living from coffins; there is money to be made in death because there is so much of it, all around, and every day. So the homeless Toloki procures himself a Mourning Costume (the procurement itself a delightful story that I won’t spoil here) and starts attending every funeral he can for people in the Townships and Settlements (wealthier people have no need for such services).
As the story unfolds, the tragedy is not lessened: we see first hand the horrific “necklacing” of a five-year-old, destruction of settlement homes, and senseless murder in other ways. Still, our characters have hope and have life. They are survivors and they find joy and satisfaction and hope in everyday happenings. This is what survival is all about. This is what the human spirit can do. This is the truest meaning of life, perhaps.
The first time I took a group into a township–Khayelitsha in Cape Town–our guide said, “Do NOT feel sorry for the people who live here. Do NOT act like you are benevolent visitors. These people have pride. This is what they’re used to, and you are visiting their community. Respect them; respect their lives.” This book slams that lesson hope full-force. That’s why I want my students to read it. And that’s why it ends up not being a story of tragedy. It’s a realistic look at lives woven with a beautiful spirit of survival and love. I’ll read this book many times, I’m sure.
Another interesting note: I walked into the Coffee Hag (my favorite morning hang-out in Mankato besides my own house) to meet my friend Tracy Murphy who is also on sabbatical this semester. I was carrying Ways of Dying mostly because it was what I was reading, and I rarely go anywhere without a book, just in case there will be a few minutes of reading time available. She looked up, saw the book, and said, “I just read that! Isn’t it wonderful? I love the character Toloki!” We had a great talk about the book. Small world, and yet, stories like this are what make the world smaller. The world with all of its aches and injustices truly belongs to all of us. That means all of us must do our part to make it a better place. Zakes MdaAnd stories unite us.
December 25, 2019
Tundub peaaegu võimatu, et keegi suudab kõikvõimalisest koledatest asjadest nii hästi kirjutada. Kartsin paaniliselt terve lugemise aja, et lõpus ootab mind mingi kole üllatus, aga ei suutnud sellele vaatamata raamatut käest panna.
Ja ometi on ka muda, haisu ja lugematute matuste vahel unistused ja armastus.
Ja ometi on ka muda, haisu ja lugematute matuste vahel unistused ja armastus.
April 2, 2024
What happens when you read something written by an author who knows things you will never be able to fully understand in your life, and is able to transfer that knowledge into a compact but incisive novel? You give it 5 stars, of course!
I first got to know Zakes Mda through a college literature class on postcolonial literature, reading The Heart of Redness and giving it 5 stars, despite it being totally outside the range of books I’d normally pick up myself. This year, while on a quest to diversify my reading and read books by more African authors that weren’t just from Nigeria and Ghana, I came back to Mda and discovered he had published a few more novels and plays.
It's hard to describe what happens in WAYS OF DYING, because very little actually happens in terms of plot. The main character, Toloki, is a quirky, one-of-a-kind “Professional Mourner,” making his living by grieving in a tragic way at funerals—and a great many funerals there are in the violent period that is post-apartheid South Africa. The living is good, even though he still sleeps on the docks, his mourning costume is wearing thin, and he only showers when the free public baths at the beaches are empty of more well-to-do holidaymakers. The story really begins when he crosses paths again with Noria, a woman who used to be the most beautiful and mesmerizing girl in the same village where they grew up.
Successful satires only come about if the author has a profound understanding of and love for their subject. In WAYS OF DYING, the love and hope that Mda has for the new South Africa is clear, and so is his grief for the ways in which his fledgling country is hurting its citizens through tribalism, racial violence, poverty, and corruption. The world of WAYS OF DYING is a place where old superstitions and ways of being are clashing with new problems. A place where human responsibilities and connections are abandoned in the search for riches. A place where its social services are rendered helpless due to red tape and correction: hospitals and morgues over capacity, healthcare workers take advantage of their roles to spread their gospels and sow their unsavory seeds, the police are a perpetually late and ineffective concept, and the government conspires with domestic terrorists to try and bring its citizens in line.
Reading WAYS OF DYING was a journey from snickering at Mda’s accomplished satirical descriptions to clutching at my chest to stem the waves of hurt as I read and read and read about how the new South Africa kept on disappointing and harming Toloki and Noria. I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Mda’s literary achievements are in a league of his own. The rest of his oeuvre has made its way onto my TBR list.
I first got to know Zakes Mda through a college literature class on postcolonial literature, reading The Heart of Redness and giving it 5 stars, despite it being totally outside the range of books I’d normally pick up myself. This year, while on a quest to diversify my reading and read books by more African authors that weren’t just from Nigeria and Ghana, I came back to Mda and discovered he had published a few more novels and plays.
It's hard to describe what happens in WAYS OF DYING, because very little actually happens in terms of plot. The main character, Toloki, is a quirky, one-of-a-kind “Professional Mourner,” making his living by grieving in a tragic way at funerals—and a great many funerals there are in the violent period that is post-apartheid South Africa. The living is good, even though he still sleeps on the docks, his mourning costume is wearing thin, and he only showers when the free public baths at the beaches are empty of more well-to-do holidaymakers. The story really begins when he crosses paths again with Noria, a woman who used to be the most beautiful and mesmerizing girl in the same village where they grew up.
Successful satires only come about if the author has a profound understanding of and love for their subject. In WAYS OF DYING, the love and hope that Mda has for the new South Africa is clear, and so is his grief for the ways in which his fledgling country is hurting its citizens through tribalism, racial violence, poverty, and corruption. The world of WAYS OF DYING is a place where old superstitions and ways of being are clashing with new problems. A place where human responsibilities and connections are abandoned in the search for riches. A place where its social services are rendered helpless due to red tape and correction: hospitals and morgues over capacity, healthcare workers take advantage of their roles to spread their gospels and sow their unsavory seeds, the police are a perpetually late and ineffective concept, and the government conspires with domestic terrorists to try and bring its citizens in line.
Reading WAYS OF DYING was a journey from snickering at Mda’s accomplished satirical descriptions to clutching at my chest to stem the waves of hurt as I read and read and read about how the new South Africa kept on disappointing and harming Toloki and Noria. I wouldn’t change a thing about it. Mda’s literary achievements are in a league of his own. The rest of his oeuvre has made its way onto my TBR list.
January 14, 2024
Ways of Dying, geschreven door Zakes Mda en voor het eerst uitgegeven in 1995, is uitgegroeid tot een klassieker binnen de Zuid-Afrikaanse literatuur en wordt alom geprezen voor zijn weergave van de woelige sociale realiteit in Zuid-Afrika net na de ondergang van het apartheidsregime. Mda neemt een duidelijke politieke houding aan en hekelt in het boek aan de hand van een diepzinnig maar verteerbaar liefdesverhaal allerlei wantoestanden die het land teisterden op een keerpunt in zijn geschiedenis.
Te midden van alle onrust volgen we het verhaal van Toloki, een professionele rouwer die zijn diensten aanbiedt op de talloze begrafenissen die elke dag plaatsvinden in een (niet nader benoemde) gewelddadige Zuid-Afrikaanse grootstad. Eén van de vele slachtoffers van de dodelijke mengeling van rassengeweld, paramilitaire bewegingen en extreme armoede is de zoon van Noria, een oude dorpsgenoot van Toloki. Op de begrafenis komen Toloki en Noria opnieuw in contact en al snel worden ze onafscheidelijk. Samen proberen ze hun trauma’s uit het verleden te verwerken, een plaats te geven aan de dagdagelijkse confrontatie met de dood en vooruit te kijken naar een betere toekomst.
De centrale gebeurtenissen worden door Mda weergegeven aan de hand van twee verschillende verhaallijnen. In de eerste, die zich in het heden afspeelt, volgen we het reilen en zeilen van Toloki in zijn job als professioneel rouwer. De tweede verhaallijn manifesteert zich in de vorm van flashbacks, die elkaar chronologisch opvolgen, vertrekkende van jeugdherinneringen aan het landelijke leven tot aan het beginpunt van het boek: het overlijden en de begrafenis van Noria’s zoon. De overgangen tussen deze verhaallijnen zijn helder en voelen natuurlijk aan, wat het begrip van de tekst ten goede komt. Het verhaal is enerzijds uiteraard sterk historisch gebonden, maar verkrijgt anderzijds een eerder universele waarde, aangezien er op geen enkel punt een nadrukkelijke plaats- of tijdsbepaling wordt vermeld.
Innovatief en ietwat bevreemdend voor een westers publiek is het vertelperspectief. Grote delen van de roman zijn namelijk geschreven in de “wij-vorm”. Het all-seeing eye of the village gossip (p.12) fungeert als alwetende verteller, die de handelingen in het boek aan elkaar rijgt. Uit deze ongewone invalshoek blijkt een duidelijke invloed van de traditionele orale literatuur en het gebruik van de storytelling. Niet het individu, maar de gemeenschap bezit het verhaal en vertelt het aan een publiek, dat zelfs expliciet aangesproken wordt (vb: p.12). Het belang van de mondelinge traditie blijkt ook uit de speciale rol die de zogenaamde nurses aannemen in het boek. Zij moeten op de begrafenissen, die trouwens een zeer belangrijk sociaal fenomeen vormen, het publiek een soort van levensverhaal van de overledene brengen en hen bovendien op de hoogte stellen van de laatste ogenblikken van diens leven.
Dergelijke invloed van mondelinge op schriftelijke literatuur is binnen de Afrikaanse context een typisch kenmerk voor het magisch realisme. Absurde elementen in het verhaal, zoals de bovennatuurlijke krachten van zang, verschijningen in dromen en denkbeeldige wandelingen in al even denkbeeldige huizen moeten dan ook absoluut bekeken worden vanuit dit interpretatiekader. Het belang van magie in de traditionele epistemologie ligt aan de grondslag van allerlei acties van de verscheidene personages. Wegens de diepe worteling in de plaatselijke culturele conventies gaan de nuances helaas vaak verloren voor een westers publiek, dat doorgaans weinig bekend is met de culturele en historische achtergrond, waardoor de vertelling ietwat ondoorzichtig wordt. De dramatische gebeurtenissen worden daarentegen zeer nuchter en realistisch beschreven. In een samenleving waar geweld een dagdagelijkse realiteit is geworden, kan men zich het niet permitteren in pathetiek te vervallen.
Het werk vertoont bovendien vele kenmerken die typerend zijn voor postkoloniale Afrikaanse literatuur. Zo zien we dat de focus ligt op gewone mensen en persoonlijke tragiek. De individuele ervaringen van Toloki en Noria primeren. Alle personages zijn ook complexe psychologische karakters, wier handelingen allesbehalve voorspelbaar en vaak onderling tegenstrijdig zijn.
Daarnaast weet Mda een grote hoeveelheid lagen van sociale kritiek op een relatief kort tijdsbestek te incorporeren. Ten eerste is het boek zeer kritisch voor het postapartheidsregime, dat niet alleen corrupt is en er niet in slaagt om het etnische geweld in te tomen, maar zelfs banden lijkt te hebben met paramilitaire agressors en verantwoordelijk is voor het platwalsen en platbranden van huizen in de squatter camps. Daarnaast zien we een eerder algemene kritiek op de exploitatie van etnische narratieven en raciale argumentatie, die ten grondslag liggen aan het geweld in Zuid-Afrika. Toch overstijgt Mda de typische antithese vriend - vijand en brengt hij nuance aan in het maatschappelijk debat, door ook vormen van intraraciaal geweld te belichten en bekritiseren. Zo zijn de verantwoordelijken van de dood van Noria’s zoon de “eigen mensen”, de Young Tigers. Tot slot vinden we in het boek ook een onbetwistbare problematisering van de genderrollen en de positie van de vrouw terug. Toloki merkt op dat de vrouwen, die al het werk verrichten in de settlements de eigenlijke drijvende kracht zijn van de grassrootsbewegingen, terwijl de mannen zich gewoon bezig houden met lege theorieën bedenken en profiteren van de inspanningen van de vrouwen. Toch zijn er nauwelijks vrouwen die het tot bestuurlijke functies schoppen op regionaal of nationaal niveau (pp. 175-176). Daarnaast zijn in Ways of Dying de vrouwelijke personages vaak dapper, sterk, onafhankelijk en hebben ze haast mythische allures, terwijl de mannen worden afgeschilderd als agressief, onbetrouwbaar en al te onderhevig aan passies en geestdriften.
Mda werkt al deze kritieken uit aan de hand van kleine, individuele elementen die een allegorische waarde krijgen en zo een achterliggende waarheid symboliseren. Op die manier lukt het hem om op een simpele manier diepzinnige reflecties over te brengen aan een breed publiek. Zo representeert iemands slaaphouding diens sociale stand en het verlies van de culturele affiniteit met zijn landelijke afkomst in de typische dichotomie tussen stad en platteland.
Het meest opmerkelijke voorbeeld van deze symbolische illustraties (en tevens het centrale thema van Ways of Dying) is de dood. Elk personage heeft er op de een of andere manier mee te maken, maar reageert er zeer verschillend op en gaat er anders mee aan de slag. Zo manifesteert de dood zich in het verhaal in dramatische gebeurtenissen die levens veranderen, maar biedt het ook financiële mogelijkheden en een manier om de sociale ladder op te klimmen voor hen die op de enorme hoeveelheid aan overlijdens weten te kapitaliseren. Daarnaast dient het voor Mda als middel tot oproeping van tradities en volksgebruiken, maar schetst het ook een beeld van de dagdagelijkse realiteit in de steden, waardoor het een maatschappijkritische ondertoon verkrijgt. De dood draagt trauma’s uit het verleden met zich mee, maar dient ook als aansporing tot leven en het vormen van menselijke connecties.
Enerzijds is Ways of Dying dus onlosmakelijk verbonden met de sociaal-politieke situatie in het Zuid-Afrika van de jaren negentig en verscheidene tradities binnen de Afrikaanse literatuur. Anderzijds voelt het werk aan als een hoogst persoonlijke creatie van een begenadigd schrijver, die aan de hand van individuele ervaringen een universeel beeld weet te schetsen, met de bijhorende kritische ondertonen en psychologische reflecties.
Te midden van alle onrust volgen we het verhaal van Toloki, een professionele rouwer die zijn diensten aanbiedt op de talloze begrafenissen die elke dag plaatsvinden in een (niet nader benoemde) gewelddadige Zuid-Afrikaanse grootstad. Eén van de vele slachtoffers van de dodelijke mengeling van rassengeweld, paramilitaire bewegingen en extreme armoede is de zoon van Noria, een oude dorpsgenoot van Toloki. Op de begrafenis komen Toloki en Noria opnieuw in contact en al snel worden ze onafscheidelijk. Samen proberen ze hun trauma’s uit het verleden te verwerken, een plaats te geven aan de dagdagelijkse confrontatie met de dood en vooruit te kijken naar een betere toekomst.
De centrale gebeurtenissen worden door Mda weergegeven aan de hand van twee verschillende verhaallijnen. In de eerste, die zich in het heden afspeelt, volgen we het reilen en zeilen van Toloki in zijn job als professioneel rouwer. De tweede verhaallijn manifesteert zich in de vorm van flashbacks, die elkaar chronologisch opvolgen, vertrekkende van jeugdherinneringen aan het landelijke leven tot aan het beginpunt van het boek: het overlijden en de begrafenis van Noria’s zoon. De overgangen tussen deze verhaallijnen zijn helder en voelen natuurlijk aan, wat het begrip van de tekst ten goede komt. Het verhaal is enerzijds uiteraard sterk historisch gebonden, maar verkrijgt anderzijds een eerder universele waarde, aangezien er op geen enkel punt een nadrukkelijke plaats- of tijdsbepaling wordt vermeld.
Innovatief en ietwat bevreemdend voor een westers publiek is het vertelperspectief. Grote delen van de roman zijn namelijk geschreven in de “wij-vorm”. Het all-seeing eye of the village gossip (p.12) fungeert als alwetende verteller, die de handelingen in het boek aan elkaar rijgt. Uit deze ongewone invalshoek blijkt een duidelijke invloed van de traditionele orale literatuur en het gebruik van de storytelling. Niet het individu, maar de gemeenschap bezit het verhaal en vertelt het aan een publiek, dat zelfs expliciet aangesproken wordt (vb: p.12). Het belang van de mondelinge traditie blijkt ook uit de speciale rol die de zogenaamde nurses aannemen in het boek. Zij moeten op de begrafenissen, die trouwens een zeer belangrijk sociaal fenomeen vormen, het publiek een soort van levensverhaal van de overledene brengen en hen bovendien op de hoogte stellen van de laatste ogenblikken van diens leven.
Dergelijke invloed van mondelinge op schriftelijke literatuur is binnen de Afrikaanse context een typisch kenmerk voor het magisch realisme. Absurde elementen in het verhaal, zoals de bovennatuurlijke krachten van zang, verschijningen in dromen en denkbeeldige wandelingen in al even denkbeeldige huizen moeten dan ook absoluut bekeken worden vanuit dit interpretatiekader. Het belang van magie in de traditionele epistemologie ligt aan de grondslag van allerlei acties van de verscheidene personages. Wegens de diepe worteling in de plaatselijke culturele conventies gaan de nuances helaas vaak verloren voor een westers publiek, dat doorgaans weinig bekend is met de culturele en historische achtergrond, waardoor de vertelling ietwat ondoorzichtig wordt. De dramatische gebeurtenissen worden daarentegen zeer nuchter en realistisch beschreven. In een samenleving waar geweld een dagdagelijkse realiteit is geworden, kan men zich het niet permitteren in pathetiek te vervallen.
Het werk vertoont bovendien vele kenmerken die typerend zijn voor postkoloniale Afrikaanse literatuur. Zo zien we dat de focus ligt op gewone mensen en persoonlijke tragiek. De individuele ervaringen van Toloki en Noria primeren. Alle personages zijn ook complexe psychologische karakters, wier handelingen allesbehalve voorspelbaar en vaak onderling tegenstrijdig zijn.
Daarnaast weet Mda een grote hoeveelheid lagen van sociale kritiek op een relatief kort tijdsbestek te incorporeren. Ten eerste is het boek zeer kritisch voor het postapartheidsregime, dat niet alleen corrupt is en er niet in slaagt om het etnische geweld in te tomen, maar zelfs banden lijkt te hebben met paramilitaire agressors en verantwoordelijk is voor het platwalsen en platbranden van huizen in de squatter camps. Daarnaast zien we een eerder algemene kritiek op de exploitatie van etnische narratieven en raciale argumentatie, die ten grondslag liggen aan het geweld in Zuid-Afrika. Toch overstijgt Mda de typische antithese vriend - vijand en brengt hij nuance aan in het maatschappelijk debat, door ook vormen van intraraciaal geweld te belichten en bekritiseren. Zo zijn de verantwoordelijken van de dood van Noria’s zoon de “eigen mensen”, de Young Tigers. Tot slot vinden we in het boek ook een onbetwistbare problematisering van de genderrollen en de positie van de vrouw terug. Toloki merkt op dat de vrouwen, die al het werk verrichten in de settlements de eigenlijke drijvende kracht zijn van de grassrootsbewegingen, terwijl de mannen zich gewoon bezig houden met lege theorieën bedenken en profiteren van de inspanningen van de vrouwen. Toch zijn er nauwelijks vrouwen die het tot bestuurlijke functies schoppen op regionaal of nationaal niveau (pp. 175-176). Daarnaast zijn in Ways of Dying de vrouwelijke personages vaak dapper, sterk, onafhankelijk en hebben ze haast mythische allures, terwijl de mannen worden afgeschilderd als agressief, onbetrouwbaar en al te onderhevig aan passies en geestdriften.
Mda werkt al deze kritieken uit aan de hand van kleine, individuele elementen die een allegorische waarde krijgen en zo een achterliggende waarheid symboliseren. Op die manier lukt het hem om op een simpele manier diepzinnige reflecties over te brengen aan een breed publiek. Zo representeert iemands slaaphouding diens sociale stand en het verlies van de culturele affiniteit met zijn landelijke afkomst in de typische dichotomie tussen stad en platteland.
Het meest opmerkelijke voorbeeld van deze symbolische illustraties (en tevens het centrale thema van Ways of Dying) is de dood. Elk personage heeft er op de een of andere manier mee te maken, maar reageert er zeer verschillend op en gaat er anders mee aan de slag. Zo manifesteert de dood zich in het verhaal in dramatische gebeurtenissen die levens veranderen, maar biedt het ook financiële mogelijkheden en een manier om de sociale ladder op te klimmen voor hen die op de enorme hoeveelheid aan overlijdens weten te kapitaliseren. Daarnaast dient het voor Mda als middel tot oproeping van tradities en volksgebruiken, maar schetst het ook een beeld van de dagdagelijkse realiteit in de steden, waardoor het een maatschappijkritische ondertoon verkrijgt. De dood draagt trauma’s uit het verleden met zich mee, maar dient ook als aansporing tot leven en het vormen van menselijke connecties.
Enerzijds is Ways of Dying dus onlosmakelijk verbonden met de sociaal-politieke situatie in het Zuid-Afrika van de jaren negentig en verscheidene tradities binnen de Afrikaanse literatuur. Anderzijds voelt het werk aan als een hoogst persoonlijke creatie van een begenadigd schrijver, die aan de hand van individuele ervaringen een universeel beeld weet te schetsen, met de bijhorende kritische ondertonen en psychologische reflecties.
May 17, 2024
When I finished
When Morning Comes
by Arushi Raina, I got in touch with the author to ask for her recommendations of other works by BIPOC South African authors. She recommended Zakes Mda and Kagiso Molope and this is the first book I picked up based on those recommendations.
Ways of Dying is a masterpiece, weaving together storylines of life in a rural South African village with life in an informal settlement during the People's War that tore through South Africa during the early 90s.
I loved the concept of a Professional Mourner. It occurred to me that it could have become a full time profession as death rates soared in the early 90s and never really completely declined again.
Like no other book I've ever read, Ways of Dying humbled me. I'd known residents of informal settlements when I was living in South Africa but I was ignorant of their daily experience. I was especially moved by the experience of a character (no spoilers) who moves from being homeless to living in a shack and feels like they've hit the jackpot.
I'm usually not a fan of magical realism but was absolutely on board with it in this novel. I think it's that it was South African magical realism and how it permeates culture there. Just like I believe, in some sense, in fairies and woodland creatures in England, I believed every word of magical realism in Ways of Dying because it was the characters' experience.
I'd be interested to know what non-South Africans make of this book or those not aware of the violence that tore apart the country in the lead up to the election. Mda speaks about the state-sponsored violence, about the "tribal chief" who instigated the violence from the hostels and the attacks on township and informal residents. Readers might think that is fictional but it really wasn't.
This book dragged me back to the early 90s and that time, just like the Bang Bang Club which I read last year.
Ways of Dying is a masterpiece, weaving together storylines of life in a rural South African village with life in an informal settlement during the People's War that tore through South Africa during the early 90s.
I loved the concept of a Professional Mourner. It occurred to me that it could have become a full time profession as death rates soared in the early 90s and never really completely declined again.
Like no other book I've ever read, Ways of Dying humbled me. I'd known residents of informal settlements when I was living in South Africa but I was ignorant of their daily experience. I was especially moved by the experience of a character (no spoilers) who moves from being homeless to living in a shack and feels like they've hit the jackpot.
I'm usually not a fan of magical realism but was absolutely on board with it in this novel. I think it's that it was South African magical realism and how it permeates culture there. Just like I believe, in some sense, in fairies and woodland creatures in England, I believed every word of magical realism in Ways of Dying because it was the characters' experience.
I'd be interested to know what non-South Africans make of this book or those not aware of the violence that tore apart the country in the lead up to the election. Mda speaks about the state-sponsored violence, about the "tribal chief" who instigated the violence from the hostels and the attacks on township and informal residents. Readers might think that is fictional but it really wasn't.
This book dragged me back to the early 90s and that time, just like the Bang Bang Club which I read last year.
June 24, 2019
Mda weaves together a beautiful story that explores the ways that people find dignity in the constraints of the structural violence they experience. The main character, Toloki, founds the profession of Professional Mourners. Through Toloki's work he runs into his homegirl (girl from his home village), Noria. Mda weaves together tales of their pasts and presents that show how the characters have grown through experience of urbanization. Way of Dying reminds us that there is beauty in ways of living, even the ones we don't expect.
May 16, 2016
I devoured this book on two plane rides.
The book is populated by strange, practically mythical, but also heartrendingly real characters. Set in the slums of South Africa, the book tells the story of a smithy's son who has moved to the city to improve his lot. Introduced first as a Professional Mourner, his story is slowly revealed through stories from his past. There are definitely elements of magical realism here, but only enough to take the edge off the horrific violence that is part of the everyday existence for the people in the neighborhood.
This is a book that will stay with me for a while. I'm very interested to read more from this author.
The book is populated by strange, practically mythical, but also heartrendingly real characters. Set in the slums of South Africa, the book tells the story of a smithy's son who has moved to the city to improve his lot. Introduced first as a Professional Mourner, his story is slowly revealed through stories from his past. There are definitely elements of magical realism here, but only enough to take the edge off the horrific violence that is part of the everyday existence for the people in the neighborhood.
This is a book that will stay with me for a while. I'm very interested to read more from this author.
December 28, 2015
This book reads like folklore. I felt as if I was listening to a storyteller while reading it and like I would come away with some grand moral once I reached the end. There is a moral to this story, but it's not necessarily obvious. Well written and at times funny despite the harsh violence peppering the narrative. I really enjoyed it.
January 2, 2016
Oh, the pain!
Goodness, what a beautiful book! Beautiful, but oh so painful. It is only a short novel, but one of enormous power – though, for me, cleverly hidden power. Ultimately I think it samples and passes on a piece of the deep pain of living with human creativity, expressed in marvellously poetic terms. Which are perhaps the only terms possible, given the subject matter of this novel: an aspect of the nature and role of creative art in the human condition (what else is it that makes us human, other than the ability to be poetic – poetic and immeasurably, unfathomably kind - or cruel - to each other?) And a moving, effective and convincing glimpse of the truth of the human condition is the stuff of which all great books are made in my vie. Expressed a little differently and more exactly: what we have here is succinct commentary on the situation – the joy, the pain – in which extremely creative human beings find themselves. Highs and lows. The highs of creativity; the lows of often being a social outcast because of how different you are from the rest. Bullying, in other words. And the idea that in order to reflect artistically on the world, you first have the feel the pain which fills it?
The key metaphor for me in the book is Noria's singing. It is her ability to sing so sweetly that is the magical, the mysterious, the unexplainable key to creativity that enables, firstly Jwara to create his figurines (strange word, charged with meaning – not "carvings", or "models" or even "statuettes" – they are figurines), and then , later, when she sings for his son, the main character of the book, Toloki, to create his form of art, i.e. to draw. It is almost as though, for a man to be able to create, to be the full man, he needs a woman to sing to him. OK, so we aren't exactly in the realm of 21st Century feminist-oriented civilisation here, but the idea does fascinate me. A man needs a woman in order to unleash his full potential. Not sexually, though sex (love between man and woman) does play a role in events described.
But this is not a love story in the conventional sense, and there is no hint of a sexual relationship between the child Noria and the adult Jwara – though Jwara's wife is hideously (and perhaps forgivably) jealous of Noria's ability to "enable", or perhaps complete her husband in a way that she cannot, because she cannot sing for him. Indeed, creativity can be a most destructive force, because it is often highly impractical (doesn't put food on the table), and is thus viewed as wasted, unproductive energy. But, at the same time, those who have it are revered and, because it is, paradoxically, a highly desirable quality, because it is rare and because it defines us humans, those that don't have it are often extremely jealous of those that do, but confused and frustrated by it, too. Phew!
On another level, this is a Bildungsroman, a picaresque, journeyman's tale of a youth who leaves his village to seek his fortune in the big city and become a man. In the tradition of this genre, our very likable, honest, innocent abroad hero, Toloki, tries various professions, eventually prospering in one of them, only to lose it all by a stroke of ill luck. He finally finds his true vocation as a "Professional Mourner", selling his services at funerals by wailing and mourning for dead people, whom, and whose mourners, he never met, dead or alive. Although this profession does actually exist in southern Africa, besides the (black) comedy of it (which is enhanced by his bizarre costume that he dons for this job of work – there is more than a hint of the innocent clown, even of the buffoon, and definitely of the sad, pathetic tramp (children laugh at him), given his homeless, depressed existence), I do think there is a large slab of symbolism in this. The creative man (OK, let's be up-front here: the artist), is a man who is paid to mourn the human condition, but at the same time to bring comfort amongst the inevitability of human suffering – as the old adage says, the only thing we can be sure of in our lives, apart from the fact that we will suffer, is that one day we will die.
Art as the accompaniment to our sorrow, as well as the comforter against it. The artist as the member of society who takes on the suffering of others, but at the same time makes a living out of it. To do this requires huge sensitivity, the capacity to recognise and even draw attention to other people's sorrow and to react in a way that brings comfort but at the same time, cynically almost, brings in the money that is necessary for the artist to live on. A formidable tightrope to walk.
On another level, it is of course a love story. The story of how two children lose each other and then find each other again as adults. And it was only by dint of them having grown up together (under bizarre, stifling, but oh so human circumstances), that enabled them to find each other later, scarred by their experiences of the cruel, merciless world but still optimistic and open enough to fall in love and comfort each other in maturity. Mature love as a shelter from the storm that life has proven to be. And, of course, the woman's ability to sing for a man and thus enable him to bloom to his full potential. And the love that a man has for a woman that inspires him to build a shelter for her, and which they later share.
And what beautifully controlled language Zakes Mda uses. And how deftly he controls the plot, which moves almost in ever widening concentric circles, moving from village to city slum, from childhood to adulthood, weaving its narrative with deceptive subtlty and studding the story with larger-than-life, colourful, almost Dickensianly eccentric characters. In prose that is simple and composed in short sentences in the narrative simple present. Just to take one beautiful paragraph, almost at random (there are so many), but one which captivates for me the elusive simplicity of his prose, which then serves to deepen the meaning (the symbolism is not obscured by pompous words, rather it is made more powerful by their very simplicity). It comes at the stage in the story just after when Toloka and Noria have (re-)built their house (shack) that has been ripped down by, by what? By, primarily, vindictive, revenge-driven, misguided, human violence and evil. But then:
The sun rises on Noria's shack. All the work has been completed and the structure is a collage in bright sunny colours. And of bits of iron sheets, some of which shimmer in the morning rays, while others are rust-laden. It would certainly be at home in any museum of modern art. Toloki and Noria stand back, and gaze admiringly at it. First they smile, then they giggle, and finally they burst out laughing. Sudden elation overwhelms Toloki. Noria's laughter is surely regaining its old potency.
Goodness, there is so much of the novel in that simple but poetic paragraph (poetic in the sense that, in its sum, there is so much more in it than the mere words – shimmer; potency add poetic weight to the meaning). That creativity, even of something as prosaic as a simple shack to live in, lies at the heart of being human. That, once the creation is complete, it can and does inspire us to be joyful, to revel in our humanness (the giggling laughter). That even simple creations could and perhaps should find their homes in museums (is a novel even a kind of museum, isolating and setting out experiences and ideas (as opposed to objects) and putting them on display for all-comers as it does?). And that the best creations are ones which men and women – or perhaps a man and a woman, achieve together. And then a hint of that central theme of Noria's laughter and song as being the driving force behind a man's creativity – her enabling force.
I came to this novel looking for a book about South Africa, one which perhaps summed up the conditions for the poorer, black people there. In a way this book does this – there are graphic descriptions of the grinding township poverty and degradation under which many, many South Africans of colour lived and still do live. But I found, over and above this, a book that achieves much more (and does not have that theme, important though it is, at its centre).
It finds and shows us grace amidst the degradation, tenderness amongst the cynical hate and violence, and above all beauty and poetry in the bleak, prosaic stench of grasping humanity. In short, this book goes way beyond South Africa, to encompass and reveal the poetry that is within all of us, were we but prepared – at great personal cost, admittedly – to give vent to it.
I was deeply, deeply moved by this marvellous book.
December 4, 2025
Adınla Başlar Hayat, orijinal adıyla Ways Of Dying (Ölme Biçimleri), Güney Afrika toplumunun, daha doğrusu onların ölümlerinin romanı. Güney Afrika Cumhuriyeti’nde Apartheid rejimi yıkıldıktan hemen sonra sefaletin, ırkçılığın, toplumsal şiddetin ve yıllanıp azgınlaşmış bir öfke denizinin içinden okura sesleniyor. Sivil çatışmalar, çeteler, paramiliter gruplar, polis şiddeti, kabile ayrışmaları ve hepsinin sonucu sürekli ölen siviller. Zemini cesetlerle dolan morglar, toplu cenazeler, binlerce ölüm şekli, hatta iki kere doğup iki kere ölen bir çocuk bile var.
Ölüm, kitaptaki her ritüelin, her olayın başrolünde, günlük hayatın olağan bir parçası. Mesela ana karakter Toloki’nin mesleği profesyonel yas tutuculuk, hayatını bununla kazanıyor. Ben kitabı ilk okumaya başladığımda bunun o coğrafyada bir gelenek olduğunu düşünmüştüm ama okudukça anladım ki bu Toloki’nin kendi kendine icat ettiği bir şey. Bu da romanın trajedisini güçlendiriyor çünkü her gün o kadar çok cenaze oluyor ki cenazeler günlük hayatın olağan bir parçası hatta bir sosyalleşme biçimine dönüşmüş, sonuç olarak bunun etrafında yeni meslekler ve ritüeller oluşmuş. “Ölüm her gün bizimle yaşıyor. Gerçekten ölme biçimlerimizle yaşama biçimlerimiz aynı.”
Şiddet o kadar yaygın, o kadar her yerde ve her an var ki sebebe ve manaya ihtiyaç yok artık. Mesela bir cenaze korosunda şarkı söylerken öldürülebilirsiniz ya da defin sonrası yas ritüelleri konusunda yaşanan anlaşmazlık yeni bir cinayete yol açabilir. Bir domino taşı gibi, insanlara “Böyle giderse yakındır, doğumun bile ölümünü göreceğiz” dedirten bir ölüm döngüsü.
Bütün bu anlattıklarıma rağmen romanın kasvetli ve karamsar bir tonu yok. Çünkü kitap boyunca umut etme, hayata tutunma ve ölme biçimleri karşısında yeni yaşama biçimleri bulma vurgusu çok güçlü. Bu yüzden Noria ve Toloki bütün bu sefaletin ortasında iki aşık olarak değil, toplumsal dayanışmanın bir simgesi olarak birbirine tutunuyor. “Güzel bir insansın sen Toloki. Bu yüzden istiyorum, yaşamayı öğret bana. Ve bağışlamayı.”
Kitabın dikkat çekici yanlarından biri “biz” anlatıcıyla yazılması. Bu “biz” bazen her şeyi bilen Tanrısal bir göz, bazen köyde dedikoduları duyan kulaklar oluyor. Temelde Güney Afrika halkının kollektif bilinci ve sesi diyebiliriz.
Ölüm, kitaptaki her ritüelin, her olayın başrolünde, günlük hayatın olağan bir parçası. Mesela ana karakter Toloki’nin mesleği profesyonel yas tutuculuk, hayatını bununla kazanıyor. Ben kitabı ilk okumaya başladığımda bunun o coğrafyada bir gelenek olduğunu düşünmüştüm ama okudukça anladım ki bu Toloki’nin kendi kendine icat ettiği bir şey. Bu da romanın trajedisini güçlendiriyor çünkü her gün o kadar çok cenaze oluyor ki cenazeler günlük hayatın olağan bir parçası hatta bir sosyalleşme biçimine dönüşmüş, sonuç olarak bunun etrafında yeni meslekler ve ritüeller oluşmuş. “Ölüm her gün bizimle yaşıyor. Gerçekten ölme biçimlerimizle yaşama biçimlerimiz aynı.”
Şiddet o kadar yaygın, o kadar her yerde ve her an var ki sebebe ve manaya ihtiyaç yok artık. Mesela bir cenaze korosunda şarkı söylerken öldürülebilirsiniz ya da defin sonrası yas ritüelleri konusunda yaşanan anlaşmazlık yeni bir cinayete yol açabilir. Bir domino taşı gibi, insanlara “Böyle giderse yakındır, doğumun bile ölümünü göreceğiz” dedirten bir ölüm döngüsü.
Bütün bu anlattıklarıma rağmen romanın kasvetli ve karamsar bir tonu yok. Çünkü kitap boyunca umut etme, hayata tutunma ve ölme biçimleri karşısında yeni yaşama biçimleri bulma vurgusu çok güçlü. Bu yüzden Noria ve Toloki bütün bu sefaletin ortasında iki aşık olarak değil, toplumsal dayanışmanın bir simgesi olarak birbirine tutunuyor. “Güzel bir insansın sen Toloki. Bu yüzden istiyorum, yaşamayı öğret bana. Ve bağışlamayı.”
Kitabın dikkat çekici yanlarından biri “biz” anlatıcıyla yazılması. Bu “biz” bazen her şeyi bilen Tanrısal bir göz, bazen köyde dedikoduları duyan kulaklar oluyor. Temelde Güney Afrika halkının kollektif bilinci ve sesi diyebiliriz.
August 22, 2020
Mõtlemapanev lugu nii suremisest kui ka elamisest endast. Kuigi teos sai läbi ühe hommikupoolikuga, jätkuks siit mõtte- ja arutlemisainet veel oluliselt rohkemakski. Ja seda ma siit teosest ootasingi, nii et olen väga rahul ja julgen soovitada.
January 24, 2022
A subtle, sad, but not joyless book about precarious living in difficult times. There was a hint of magical realism, but most of the book felt very rooted in the tragic and mundane life of people in poverty and struggle. The final lines will certainly stick with me for a while.
February 27, 2020
It's fascinating how magical realism can put a lens on trauma that feels entirely real and more true than many attempts to tell the same story with hyper realism.
November 25, 2008
Mda's "first adult novel," whatever that means. The story of Toloki, South Africa's first professional mourner and his reunion in the city with Noria, his homegirl, long after they had both left their village. A good introduction to the instability (to say the least) of life in urban South Africa in the 90s. Probably better to describe it as the struggle to live when death is everywhere you turn. Taxi wars, necklacing, denunciations, poverty, death, love, forgiveness. This is the first novel of Zakes Mda that I've read and I liked it. Narrator is omnipresent "they" - "we are the all-seeing eye of the village gossip...The community is the owner of the story, and it can tell it the way it deems it fit."
The community tells the story like a short story- no beginning, middle, or end necessarily. I think it was appropriate for this subject because it isn't clean, there's no real resolution- the potential for a resolution is there but in a social setting like this, nothing is certain when death is everwhere and anywhere.
"Tyres can burn for a very long time. The smell of burning rubber fills the air. But this time it is not mingled with the sickly stench of roasting human flesh. Just pure wholesome rubber."
The community tells the story like a short story- no beginning, middle, or end necessarily. I think it was appropriate for this subject because it isn't clean, there's no real resolution- the potential for a resolution is there but in a social setting like this, nothing is certain when death is everwhere and anywhere.
"Tyres can burn for a very long time. The smell of burning rubber fills the air. But this time it is not mingled with the sickly stench of roasting human flesh. Just pure wholesome rubber."
June 4, 2025
My second time reading Zakes Mda’s “Ways of Dying”. The communal voice, South Africa’s ‘they’, tells this story. “The community is the owner of the story, and it can tell it the way it deems fit” (12). Like Ayi Kwei Armah’s “The Beautyful Ones are Not Yet Born”, this novel is written in the aftermath of what seems to be the author's disillusionment with the post-colonial state as a living and breathing body.
Toloki mourns for the nation (166), and the many thousands of daily deaths acquire a life of their own - functioning as a constant, death becomes life, and the living are “enshrouded by the smell of burning flesh. The [national] community would never be the same again…”(66). Mda’s South Africa is a funeral scene, and, despite unspeakable acts of violence, the novel remains explosively hopeful. It does not flinch when confronted with Apartheid law that renders the Black majority “manless” (63).
Instead, amid obliterated subjectivity, Mda states that the “salvation of the settlement lies in the hands of women” (176). Restless, always on the move, always on the go. The settlement women, Madhimbaza’s dumping ground, and the invincible children. This book may read as hopeless, but it seems clear to me that South Africa’s 'beautyful' ones are on the way.
Toloki mourns for the nation (166), and the many thousands of daily deaths acquire a life of their own - functioning as a constant, death becomes life, and the living are “enshrouded by the smell of burning flesh. The [national] community would never be the same again…”(66). Mda’s South Africa is a funeral scene, and, despite unspeakable acts of violence, the novel remains explosively hopeful. It does not flinch when confronted with Apartheid law that renders the Black majority “manless” (63).
Instead, amid obliterated subjectivity, Mda states that the “salvation of the settlement lies in the hands of women” (176). Restless, always on the move, always on the go. The settlement women, Madhimbaza’s dumping ground, and the invincible children. This book may read as hopeless, but it seems clear to me that South Africa’s 'beautyful' ones are on the way.
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May 2, 2011Ci sono molti modi di morire, ma la crudeltà con cui si muore nel romanzo dello scrittore sudafricano Mda, o forse ancor meglio la facilità con cui si muore, lascia interdetti. Lo sguardo del narratore è quasi quello di un bambino: il romanzo è raccontato da una voce narrante onnisciente impersonata dagli occhi collettivi di un villaggio del veld sudafricano, come il coro di una tragedia greca, voce della coscienza comune; la narrazione si sviluppa per lo più sul piano del presente, quasi una dimensione temporale sganciata dal continuum e "sospesa" a metà tra il sogno e l'incubo; Toloki, il protagonista della vicenda, sembra procedere tra funerali, dolore e atrocità con l'inconsapevole leggerezza dei bambini...
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September 8, 2014
This novel is unusual in the way it captures township life as South Africa is at the brink of either civil war or a new-found democracy, a time when the townships were being torn apart by war between the ANC and traditionalists. The main character is a professional mourner—a man who goes from funeral to funeral (and there are a lot of them) mourning loudly and paid through tips. He takes his job seriously, seeing it as a spiritual calling. When he meets up with one of his “home-girls,” a woman from the village he left many years ago, the novel explores—through flashbacks and memories—the complex reasons why young people left the rural areas and came to the cities, despite the violence and poverty they encountered.
November 26, 2014
A beautifully written book set in South Africa in the early 1990's. Toloki is a professional mourner who meets up with a woman who was a childhood friend in his home village at her son's funeral. The story moves back and forth between memories of the traditional rural way of life and the harsh realities of poverty and violence in the city.
November 13, 2015
At first 'read', this story appears to be a simple one about a
Man who appoints himself to be a 'professional Mourner' at funerals. However, extreme poverty, senseless killings, racial inequities, and the inequality of the sexes are ever present in this book by South African author, Zades Mda. It's well worth a second 'read'.
Man who appoints himself to be a 'professional Mourner' at funerals. However, extreme poverty, senseless killings, racial inequities, and the inequality of the sexes are ever present in this book by South African author, Zades Mda. It's well worth a second 'read'.
November 4, 2014
I really liked the narration, but the dialogue annoyed me.
The overall themes and ideas represented were progressive & beautiful to read.
The story was a mixture of cute/lovely and ridiculously gruesome.
The overall themes and ideas represented were progressive & beautiful to read.
The story was a mixture of cute/lovely and ridiculously gruesome.
June 23, 2023
A good example of Mda's magical realism and social commentary, both of which I enjoyed. However, I wasn't taken in by the plot or by the main character. If you're new to Mda's work, I would recommend starting with "Heart of Redness".
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