<blockquote class="wp-block-quote is-layout-flow wp-block-quote-is-layout-flow">“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.”<cite>Toni Morrison, American novelist</cite></blockquote>

Quote 1

Quote Of The Day

At the well-attended launch of her book Good Morning, Mr Mandela in Johannesburg in June, Zelda la Grange, Nelson Mandela’s trusted aide who he called ‘Zeldina’, was introduced “as the person who walked in the same steps as one of the greatest legends”. Archbishop Desmond Tutu said in a televized message on the occasion: “Your utter devotion to Madiba was so obvious to anyone…In many ways, it was a symbol of hope for the new relationships in our country.”
La Grange says ‘Khulu’ (grandfather) or Madiba always knew she would write a book. The Afrikaner, who was brought up in apartheid South Africa, started as a typist in the office of the first democratically elected South African President in 1994 at the age of 23, going on to work with Mandela in various capacities for 19 years. She started penning down her thoughts in 2009, “not for the purpose of it becoming a book, but to offload memories”.
“It’s a personal memoir and I want people to read the book and be inspired by my change,” said la Grange, ahead of the launch, when we caught up with her for more:
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Can you describe your first meeting with
Madiba in 1994 at the Union Buildings?
I bumped into him, he extended his hand and I said ‘Good morning, Mr Mandela’. That was the turning point of my life.
He broke all my defenses. I was brought up to believe this person is my enemy, and when he spoke to me in Afrikaans, I felt guilty and started crying. I felt responsible, that my people and I were brought up to believe that he is the enemy. And yet you can see the sincerity on his face, his smile; and [I was thinking] why was I so afraid of him. It was in complete contrast to what I expected and I cried. He told me at that first meeting I was overreacting.
Did you draw any criticism in the early years when working for him?
At first, there was a lot of criticism within his own political circles, about why he chose a white woman. He was very careful to relate that story to me at first, knowing I was sensitive and after a while, he would joke about it. He would repeat the entire conversation and say: “Can you believe they would say this?”
It also provided people with entertainment. Madiba’s and my sense of humor had a strange similarity; so we would joke about even these things. He was always looking for humor in any situation. There is nothing laughable about being in prison for 27 years, but he was always trying to find the lighter side of things.
Did he ever get angry?
He had vices and virtues like everyone else. He was a very determined, almost hotheaded person. You couldn’t sway him once he decided something. You knew not to mess with him when he was angry. [But] Madiba didn’t hold grudges, he would get over something very quickly but you would know exactly how he felt. If you look at the CODESA negotiations, he was really angry at F.W. de Klerk at some point – the photographers managed to capture his body language beautifully. He managed to change the narrative. He always had this mindset of reconciliation, of unity, and there was a strategy behind whatever he did.
How was the transition once he retired from the Presidency?
The morning after his retirement was quite a wakeup call. We thought we would pretty much have access to state resources, and we could rely on certain things from the government, but any retiring head of state is in for a full surprise. We had no media protocol, no foreign affairs – all of that was gone.
You have traveled widely with him. Any memories?
I am reminded of our visit to Iran, during President Khatami’s presidency. In the book, you will see how important women’s empowerment is for Madiba. He insisted on me going to the palace where women are not allowed. So we went to dinner at the President’s residence, and there were only male bodyguards and security. I was fighting off photographers, as Madiba’s eyes were sensitive to flashlights. I tried staying in the back so not to offend anybody with my presence. It was very noticeable I was the only female there. A butler then sent for me, and Madiba said, “Oh Zeldina, the President wants to have supper with you.” The whole time, the President asked about South Africa, and Madiba would not answer; so I had to speak. I was put on the spot.
Did you get to spend enough time with him in the final years?
The later years, from 2008, when he started slowing down, he stopped all public appearances and meetings. There was no business any longer to discuss. I tried to go once a week to Qunu [to meet him], more on a personal basis.
How did you come to terms with his passing?
Those ten days of the funeral, I will never want to relive again. You have to deal with the outpouring of emotions from the outside world, and you don’t have time to deal with your own emotions. I still find myself thinking, has it really happened, is he really not there anymore? I have never lost anyone close to me. I am very fortunate. Both my parents are still alive. This is a very new experience for me.
Are you still in touch with
Graça Machel?
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I am very close to her. She is true to her name; she epitomizes grace and strength and has been an emotional stronghold for all of us, through his illness. She was not there only for Madiba, but for us as well.
What kind of work are you
involved in now?
I am still contracted with the Nelson Mandela Foundation; at present [I take part in] leadership courses for the foundation, and I do a bit of motivational speaking, just telling people my story and conveying the lessons I have learnt.
Did you ever think you put your life on hold?
I think I have gained so much, and have been so exceptionally privileged that I wouldn’t say I put my life on hold really. It evolved into something greater. My working hours were nonstop. When Madiba was President, he would call at 2AM and say, can you get hold of Minister Trevor Manuel? I didn’t go for a movie for 10 years. I was too scared he would call and I wouldn’t be able to help him.
You were very special to him?
It would be incorrect to say I was the only one, or the special one. There were other people who played vital roles in his life. My role was confined to his public life, so people need to see it in the context of my duties.

How Madiba Changed Me

Inspired by the life of her son Dan Eldon, a Reuters photojournalist who was stoned and beaten to death in Somalia in 1993 when he was 22 years old, Kathy Eldon co-founded the Creative Visions Foundation. It is a hub where creative activists (like her son) turn ideas into positive actions to build social movements that impact the world. (Disclosure: I am a board member of Creative Visions Foundation.)
Kathy is also the author of In the Heart of Life, her memoir that was released this month (Harper One). After I read the book, I immediately sent Kathy an email filled with unedited thoughts straight from my head to the keyboard:
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“I finished In the Heart of Life late last night. It is a gift and will be a gift to all who read it. I was moved, touched and unsettled. I cried, smiled and thought. I felt lucky to be let into your life – a real and raw life – a book that is authentic and transparent. I felt your pain and suffering – the pain and suffering that happened years before your son Dan’s tragic death. I tried to stay removed – to not internalize it – but that was impossible. It brought up every emotion, made me think, took me to places I had thought were buried and gave me permission to always live my life. You’ve inspired me…”
I asked Kathy to answer this question: “What are the top five calamities, catastrophes, disasters and disruptions that were critical in your growth and enabled you to become who you are meant to be and live a life of joy? Lessons others can learn from.”
&nbsp;
<h4>1) Apartheid South Africa</h4>
When I was 16, I was thrilled when selected for a seven-month stay as a foreign exchange student in South Africa. However, marooned in an Afrikaans-speaking school in Bloemfontein (which bore an uncanny resemblance to my hometown, Cedar Rapids, Iowa), I spent my time learning a language that sounds like you’re spitting up phlegm. Even worse, meeting black Africans was strictly prohibited in Apartheid South Africa, and my host family was under surveillance by the secret police because “Oom” Bram, Uncle Bram, had defended Nelson Mandela and freedom fighters during the notorious Rivonia Trial. He managed to save those convicted from execution, although they were condemned to life imprisonment. Tragically, Bram was also punished for his radical beliefs. Accused of being a Communist, he was also sentenced to life imprisonment and died as a result of the harsh treatment he received in jail.
Living in South Africa shattered my Midwestern illusions about life, but the experience prepared me for a lifetime as a journalist, author and filmmaker, determined to tell stories about courageous individuals like my first hero, Bram Fischer, whose fearless stand for justice forever disrupted my life.
&nbsp;
<h4>2) Kids</h4>
I was only 24 when I had my first child, Dan, an unexpected development for a determined Wellesley grad whose only ambition was to get out of college and change the world. Suddenly, after marrying an Englishman and moving to London, the only thing I was changing was diapers. Living in a dreary British suburb, with no money for babysitters, and another baby on the way, I had to reinvent myself as a creative hometrepreneur, creating work I could manage without leaving the house. I sewed my clothes, wrote children’s books and produced toys and jewelry to sell to my neighbors. When the kids were in nursery school, I worked as a substitute teacher at the American School in London, overseeing noisy middle-school kids who thought art class was recess.
A loud voice, eyes at the back of my head, as well as a creative approach to problem-solving and the ability to deal with just about anyone are qualities that have served me well since my frustrating years as mother, teacher and wife.
&nbsp;
<h4>3) Divorce</h4>
Removed from all that was safe and familiar, in search of a self I had somehow lost along the way, after leaving my husband I developed a devastating blood condition that nearly killed me. After slowly recovering, I was still filled with guilt and shame, and faced a bleak and uncertain future. But then, by chance, I met a remarkable Ismaili woman, Zarina Dyer, who introduced me to Shakti Gawain’s book, Living in the Light. By page three I was hooked on the author’s description of a place that “all of us must pass through at one time or another, what mystics call ‘the piercing of the veil of illusion.’”
“It’s the point when we truly realize that our physical world is not the ultimate reality and begin to turn inward to discover the true nature of existence. The moment may co-incide with a sense of reaching rock-bottom, but then we may fall through a trapdoor into a bright new world, the world of spiritual truth. “Only by moving fully into the darkness can we move through it into the light.”
Over the next few weeks I met frequently with Zarina, who urged me to be patient with myself. “Everything happens in its own time,” she said, adding, “When the student is ready the teacher appears.”
After my serendipitous encounter with that unlikely teacher I realized that I had to find the trapdoor and allow myself to fall into it. After a terrifying
descent into profound darkness, one day I was able to emerge again, blinking in the unaccustomed light, aware that once again, my dreams of hope, purpose – and even love – were possible again.
&nbsp;
<h4>4) Death Of My Son</h4>
My son Dan became a photojournalist for Reuters in Somalia, where he covered a devastating famine and a bloody civil war. When he and three friends were murdered by a mob, I descended into a downward spiral. Wracked with guilt at having encouraged him to become a journalist, I knew I was to blame for his death at the age of 22.
My journey to understand why my son died to tell an important story – and why I had to live to tell one – was to shape the next 20 years of my life. Over time, thankfully, I have discovered that Dan’s creative, activist spirit, as transmitted through 17 journals he left behind, has inspired countless others to believe they, too, can lead more exciting, adventurous and purposeful lives. Because Dan was killed, we launched the Creative Visions Foundation which celebrates “creative activists” like Dan, who are telling stories that need to be told about problems that need to be solved. Since 2004, we have worked with more than 200 artists, writers, photographers and filmmakers whose powerful, positive spirits ignite sparks in others, bringing new light, life and purpose to our world.
&nbsp;
<h4>5) Happiness</h4>
Recently, after a long patch when my husband had to deal with a deadly form of cancer, and then the after-
effects of the harsh cure, a new chemo treatment resulted in remission for Michael, a delightful disruption from the endless round of blood transfusions and weariness that has accompanied him for more than three years. Now, we don’t take anything for granted, instead we focus on creating vivid memories of moments, hours and days that will remain with us always, a reminder of the joy of now, and the preciousness of each second we have on earth.

Women in politics: myths debunked

After tragedy in Somalia,  one woman’s path to self-discovery and pure joy

<h4>Rumours</h4>
<h4>by Mongane Wally Serote</h4>
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This is the second novel by poet and former political activist, Mongane Wally Serote. The first, Revelations, was published two years ago.
This book is definitely not Serote’s best work but it may appeal to supporters of the ANC, the movement in the book.
Rumours describes the hangover after the apartheid regime. We learn how living in exile affected the lives of comrades and their families.
Keke, the protagonist, is a Umkhonto we Sizwe veteran and failed CEO of a cellphone company. He also struggles with issues at home.
Keke abandons his family and job and ends up a homeless alcoholic. This thrusts him into a spiritual journey, where he attempts to reconnect with his family and find a purpose for his life in post-apartheid South Africa.
The author’s obsession with so-called media rumors is resonant of the ANC’s disapproval of the press exposing corruption and bad governance. The controversial arms procurement by the South African government is justified as preparedness for the defense of the ‘African Renaissance’. The overall message is that the west is to blame for Africa’s failures.
&nbsp;
<h4>Armed and Dangerous</h4>
<h4>by Ronnie Kasrils</h4>
&nbsp;
I approve of books like this, even the second time around. This is an updated version of the 1993 edition. Anyone who has enjoyed the sweet taste of a free South Africa should know of the grim and grimy struggle that helped create it. In this, former government minister, Ronnie Kasrils does it justice. Kasrils is a principled humanist with a conscience that was the father of his role as an operative in Umkhonto we Sizwe—the armed wing of the African National Congress.  As a young man, he abhorred the casual violence and hatred directed against black people; this is what drove him into exile everywhere from London to Luanda.
There are a few surprises in the book, including the snippet that Kasrils had a relationship with the late singer Miriam Makeba, who used to slip into his flat posing as a domestic worker.
The sting is in the tail. Kasrils, ever the party man, uses the last few paragraphs to register his dismay with the government he helped put in power. A very unexpected and thought provoking end to a weighty tome. Sounds like the prelude to another book, Ronnie.
<h4>Ruth First and Joe Slovo in the war against Apartheid</h4>
<h4>by Alan Wieder</h4>
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Alan Wieder’s Ruth First and Joe Slovo in the War Against Apartheid offers a refreshing read for any enthusiast of South African history.
Focusing on one of the most prominent couples in the anti-apartheid resistance, Wieder’s novel retells their story through the oral narratives of those around them. The author reveals a complex marriage between the two people who changed the world of politics.
A journalist and communist party member, First turned resistance fighter after being exiled from South Africa for her outspoken views against the regime. Her influence around the globe was silenced by the apartheid government after she opened a booby-trapped envelope-bomb in Maputo, Mozambique.
Slovo led a life as dangerous as First’s. The student activist, lawyer and co-mastermind of Umkhonto we Sizwe, the African National Congress’ militant arm, Slovo lived to see South Africa become a democracy in 1994.
A reader looking to get an insight into the behind-the-scenes activities of a revolution will not want to skip this book. It goes beyond a boring history lesson, bringing to life never-before-seen personalities and struggles.
&nbsp;
<h4>Springboks, Troepies and Cadres: Stories of the South African Army (1912-2012)</h4>
<h4>by David Williams</h4>
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Springboks, Troepies and Cadres takes the reader on a journey through 100 years of the South African Army and the three major wars in which it fought: both World Wars and the Border War.
It all started with a command from Britain in 1914 to seize control of German South West Africa so Germany could not gain access to its colony’s shores—a campaign successfully carried out by the newly-created Union Defence Force, which spawned the creation of the South African Air Force. The move set the scene for South Africa’s political landscape, sparking an uprising by the Boers who had been part of the war against the British Empire years earlier. It ultimately led to the establishment of the “purified” National Party in 1948.
South Africa’s strong sense of citizenship between conscripts and volunteers created a diverse culture that allowed for the implementation of a unique blend of military tactics. This was a major factor in the South African Army being touted as one of the world’s greatest in the 1980s.
The book is laden with facts but keeps the reader engaged, even those with only a vague interest in the military.
<h4>Dystopia</h4>
<h4>by James Siddall</h4>
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Dystopia is an autobiographical book about South African journalist, James Siddall, and his journey through alcohol and benzodiazepines addiction as well as his descent from a glittering media career to becoming the scourge of pubs and shebeens of the Kwa-Zulu Natal province. Siddall was an award-winning journalist, who became deputy editor of Playboy magazine at just 26, and lived a life filled with fast cars and beauty queens. But along the way Siddall’s drinking got out of control. His life had transformed into one that involved excessive drinking, drugs and even prostitution.
The memoir, cleverly written, follows the black hole of substance abuse, tracking Siddall’s life as he becomes homeless and loses his job. The book is often repetitive as it tells the story of an addict who continues to relapse. Eventually he is faced with a court order sentencing him to a two–year stint at a rehabilitation center, where he struggles with sobriety and the fight to become a functioning human being and a working journalist.
An easy read, raw, brutally honest and for many reading it, it may hit home. It delves into myths and misconceptions surrounding addiction. But one may struggle to find anything different about this book.

dreamstime_m_19199524

Book Reviews

Apocalypses, domination by robots, intergalactic wars or futuristic post-Armageddon societies have never appealed to me. I have always been a bit of a literary and culture snob, and have turned my nose up at any science fiction. I have never watched any of the Star Wars movies.
But to be a good writer, you need to read a lot. Not only that; you should read widely. So last year, in the spirit of being a good writer, I gritted my teeth and took my first journey into the world of sci-fi.
For my initiation, I chose award-winning South African writer and documentary maker, Lauren Beukes. Admittedly, I chose her acclaimed novel, Zoo City, because I have a strong bias towards Afrocentric literature. And the fact that it offered an alternative vision of South Africa’s Johannesburg appealed to me.
Zoo City is not Beukes’s first piece of speculative fiction, her debut novel, Moxyland, outlines a futuristic, corporate Apartheid Cape Town. However, Zoo City is the one that has been highly praised; it won the Arthur C Clarke Award (think Nobel Prize for science fiction), among others.
And with good reason. As I read, it becomes less of a grudge read and more of a literary experience. In a world where there is an unspoken rule that African fiction must be political and/or historic to be considered worthy, this book is refreshing and innovative. Beukes deftly interweaves traditional African belief systems with traditional sci-fi to create a post-modern, unexpectedly viable, vision of Johannesburg in the future.
I became more interested in the genre and soon discovered that Beukes is not alone or a pioneer. Afro-futurism has been around for more than 100 years, with its roots in the African Diaspora. African Americans, former slaves, imagined futures where men and women, white and black, were equal.
Early pan-Africanist W.E.B. Du Bois, for example, wrote a number of science fiction narratives.
Over the years, both Africans on the continent and in the Diaspora have increasingly developed Afro-
futurism as a literary and cultural movement that blends science and magic realism in order to explore Africa in the past, present and future.
In a talk entitled ‘Afro-futurism in popular culture’, Kenyan film director Wanuri Kahiu speaks of Afro-futurism as a means of reclaiming the past. Look online for a recording of her TEDxNairobi talk and you too will get a real sense of the brave and unconventional woman behind her film, Pumzi.
After winning five awards at the African Movie Academy Awards in 2009 for her debut film, From a Whisper, this was Kahiu’s first venture into Afro-futurism. Pumzi was also Ken-ya’s first sci-fi film.
The 23-minute film imagines a futuristic, post-apocalyptic Africa, where there is no water and where people live in contained communities. Released in 2009 at the Kenya Film Festival, Pumzi went on to be screened at the prestigious Sundance Film Festival in 2010, as part of the New African Cinema program. Kahiu hopes to turn the film into a full-length feature.
Nigerians have always been the toast of African literature, so perhaps it is not surprising that Nigerian-American author Nnedi Okorafor is at the forefront of the push to move African sci-fi from the fringe into the mainstream literary canon.
In addition to the science fiction prizes she has won, such as the Carl Brandon Parallax Award, Okorafor has some of the biggest awards in African literature under her belt. She received the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature in Africa for her young adult book, Zahrah the Windseeker, and the Macmillan Writer’s Prize for Africa for her children’s book, Long Juju Man.
Of the three women I refer to in this column, Okorafor, a Chicago State University creative writing professor, is particularly prolific in African sci-fi, and has published six books in the genre so far.
The world of science fiction is one of infinite possibilities. Afro-futurism is a cultural movement that increasingly reflects the current mood of optimism about the political and economic future of the continent. It is, as I have discovered, an important genre. And that more young African women such as Beukes and Kahiu are joining and even leading the movement is not only exciting but also necessary.
If one of the central tenets of Afro-futurism is the ability to reclaim the past, then this movement will give expression to the political, cultural and artistic aspirations—and frustrations—of a new generation of young African women.

Hustlin’ for a Legacy

Girls of Afro-futurism

Master storyteller; revolutionary author; passionate poet. Chinua Achebe was awarded more than 30 honorary degrees and won numerous international prizes, including the 2007 Man Booker International Prize for his achievements in literature. His first novel, Things Fall Apart, was published in 1958, two years before Nigeria gained independence from Britain. The groundbreaking story of village leader Okonkwo and his subsequent downfall was acclaimed for looking at the destructive impact that Western colonial values had on Igbo society. It has sold more than 8 million copies, been translated into more than 40 languages, adapted for the stage and screen and has become required reading for students around the world.
Things Fall Apart was unique. Achebe used it to change the role of African fiction into a tool for social and political analysis and psychological insight. Three days after its publication The Times Literary Supplement wrote that it: “genuinely succeeds in presenting tribal life from the inside”. Through Achebe’s storytelling, and due to him writing in English, which was rare in African literature at that time, the world was introduced to African life as seen through African eyes.
Achebe’s journey towards becoming the father of modern African writing began at a young age. Although his family converted to Christianity, traditional Igbo religion always fascinated Achebe. His interest in Igbo rituals and customs would become a key part of his fictional works, which are filled with depictions of Igbo life and proverbs. At school, Achebe was an avid reader. His love for English literature led him to William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. But the books he read, including Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, often portrayed Africans as uncivilized and in a dehumanizing light, according to Achebe. At first, he agreed with the depictions; however, by 1948, he realized that he had taken on negative Western representations of his own people. He revealed, during a lecture in 1975, that he believed Conrad was a “thorough going racist”.
While studying English, history and theology at the University of Ibadan, where he graduated in 1953, Achebe was compelled to write.
After reading Mister Johnson, the story of a young Nigerian who falls foul of the British colonial regime, by Irish novelist Joyce Cary, Achebe was angered by what he called: “the most superficial picture of not only the country, but even of the Nigerian character”. His desire to become a rebel against Western representations of Africa was sparked. He used his prowess for incisive commentary to tear down European notions of Africa and examine the tensions between African traditions, colonial modernity and Christianity. This, he powerfully demonstrated in four other novels—No Longer at Ease (1960), Arrow of God (1964), A Man of the People (1966) and Anthills of the Savannah (1987)—as well as several poetry anthologies and children’s books, short stories and essays. Achebe can draw the reader in without being overly academic, by using tales about complex individuals as a microcosm for the wider world.
He has used this gift to reflect Africa’s struggles with colonialism to its victorious battles for independence. His criticism has moved from the European colonizers to African leaders and, more recently, to contemporary Western perceptions of Africa.

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Quote Of The Day

How Madiba Changed Me

After tragedy in Somalia, one woman’s path to self-discovery and pure joy

Book Reviews

Girls of Afro-futurism

Farewell The Father Of African Writing