>> From the Library of Congress in Washington DC.
[ Silence ]
And I'm Mary-Jane Deeb, Chief of the African
and Middle East Division here at the Library.
So welcome, welcome to the Library of Congress.
I'm delighted to see you all here on this very special occasion.
Today, we're hosting the Poet Laureate
of South Africa Keorapetse Kgositsile.
I'm sorry if I mispronounced your name.
I've tried.
The home-- we're welcoming him here at the Library of Congress.
And this is the home of the Poet Laureate of America
and he's the Poet Laureate of South Africa.
So it's wonderful, wonderful to have him here.
This program is part of a series that we launched last October,
entitled "Conversations with African Writers and Poets."
We are three partners in this endeavor, the African section
of the African and Middle Eastern Division, the Poetry
and Literature Center here at the Library headed by Robert Casper.
And the Africa Society of the National Summit
on Africa who's President and CEO is Bernadette Paolo and she's here.
In a moment, you will hear more from both of them.
Suffice it is to say that the three partners have decided
to host a series of conversations with established African authors
and poets as well as with young
and upcoming literally figures whose interviews, we will tape
and make available on our website for everyone to see and use.
We started the program with an invitation to Professor Ali Mazrui,
one of the most reviewed scholars in Africa to share his thoughts with us
on the state of African literature, that was last October.
This was followed by an interview with Dr. Susan Kiguli, a professor,
writer at the University of Uganda.
She was here as a presidential fellow
with the African Studies Association.
And she wrote the poems and was interviewed for this series.
So this would be the third program in this series.
The African section and the African Middle East Division organizers
numerous programs, book signing, briefings, symposia, lectures,
music programs, films, on and about Africa for the general public.
We see our mandate here at the Library not only as acquiring
and processing publications, and other materials from the continent
but also giving people a better understanding of the life
and culture of the more than 50 countries
that constitute the region.
Today, Laverne Page will interview our honored guest.
LaVerne is an Africa area specialist in my division and a graduate
of Howard and Columbia University
which our honored guest has graduated too and taught at.
She's responsible for South Africa among other countries
and knows the country quite well.
She has traveled to it on a number of occasions.
And visited not only Johannesberg and Cape Town but also Petersburg,
Mafikeng, Stellenbosch, Ellis [phonetic], Umtata, Ulindi,
and other lesser known places.
So now I think you should hear from another of our partners,
and that's Bernadette Paolo the CEO and President of the Africa Society
of the National Summit on Africa, Bernadette.
>> Thank you so much.   [ Applause ]
Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen,
distinguished guests, all protocols observed.
Thank you, Dr. Mary-Jane Deeb and Dr. Robert Casper
and Dr. Angel Bapbiste, and Mattye Laverne Page for ensuring
that this global campaign to highlight the academic achievements
and literally contributions of African writers
and poets continues in 2012.
As you've heard this is our third program
but our goal remains the same.
And that is to demonstrate to the world, the impact of the continent
of Africa's authors and poets.   I'm sure that everyone
in this enlightened audience recognizes their collective impact
which has been profound.
And as I've said before has permeated the consciousness
of scholars and students as it has depicted the realities, cultures,
and aspirations of the continent's diverse citizenry
but our numbers are not enough.
For millions of others must be cognizant of their talent
and the wealth and meaning which lies
in their words and in their works.
We all know, we all see everyday playing
out before us the negativity in the media.
And that's what Americans think of when they think
about Africa and Africans.   And we have to change that picture.
The Africa Society, the National Summit on Africa is really pleased
to partner with the African section of the African
and Middle Eastern Division and the poetry and literature's center
of the Library of Congress for we believe in Africa's promise
and potential and in showcasing its many contributions to the world.
You know, we-- our mission is to educate Americans of all ages
about the country's cultures, peoples and contributions
of the continent of Africa.
And then executing our mission we can be in hundreds
of programs with many partners.
But this program is particularly meaningful for individuals
like Keorapetse Kgositsile, not only our artist
to shape people's perceptions,
they are in fact effective political change agents
who are using their craft to awaken the consciousness of others.
South Africa's Poet Laureate has not only impacted the country
of his birth.
He has also been a prophet for Africa and the United States
and a bridge between our country and the continent
at a critical time in our history.
We are so very proud to be a part of this program.
Your presence today inspires us.
And it reminds us yet again of all we have learned
from Africa's sons and daughters.   And reminds us also that art
and political activism are a powerful combination we are
delighted to have you with us.   Thank you very much.
[ Applause ]
>> And now, Rob, ladies and gentlemen.
>> Hi, I'm Rob Casper, the Head of Poetry and Literature Center
at the Library of Congress.
Mary-Jane Deeb, was less insistent than I will be
because I know how hard it will be for you to hear the conversation
if you're sitting more than 3 rows back so I really ask you
that you move forward, we don't have--
unfortunately, any amplification for the conversation.
We have a little bit of a mic issue so.
The reading will be well mic but the conversation will not.
So please do move forward if you can,
maybe take a second to move forward.   It will be worth it.
[ Noise ]
Plus you can have a new neighbor, you can say, hi.
It's a fun occasion.   Sorry about this.
[ Noise ]
We will be counting on the power of our reader and our interviewer
to project and for your strong and receptive ears.
I want to say thanks to Mary-Jane Deeb and Bernadette Paolo.
They've been amazing partners.
And I couldn't be more proud of our conversations
with African Poets and Writers series.
This event would not be possible without three people in particular.
Ethelbert Miller who I know is here somewhere, he move around,
there he is, a poet from the DC area who put me
in touch with Jeffrey Allen.
Jeffrey Allen coordinated Mr. Kgositsile's tour
around North America.
And we actually put together this event
with George Washington University.
And I know there are several George Washington University students here.
I want to thank Professor James Miller for helping us out
and bringing his students here.
I also wanted to tell you that we have two more events in the series,
our Conversations with the African Poets
and Writers series this spring.
The first event is tomorrow at noon, it takes place in the Africa
and Middle Eastern Division Reading Room which is in the second floor
of the Jefferson Building across the way.
It will feature writer
and journalist Donato Ndongo from Equatorial Guinea.
The only country in Africa to have Spanish as its native language.
And then the series will return--
for final event in the AMED Reading Room May first at noon
with a Nigerian author Helon Habila.
One other thing before we start if you could turn off your cellphones
Okay. And now on to the real thing,
Keorapetse William Kgositsile was born in Johannesburg in 1938.
He left South Africa in 1961 at the urging
of the African National Congress of which he was a vocal member.
After a brief stay in Dar Salam,
he moved to the United States to attend university.
And he received this MFA in creative writing at Columbia University
in 1971 with his first book and two literally awards under his belt,
not the usual thing for MFA graduate, believe me.
Throughout his celebrated career, he has viewed poetry
as an essentially political act stating, " In a situation
of oppression, there are no choices beyond didactic writing:
either you are a tool of oppression or an instrument of liberation.
Kgositsile's collections of poetry include " My Name is Afrika",
"Heartprints", "To the Bitter End", "If I Could Sing: Selected Poems ",
and most recently "This Way I Salute You."
He has received numerous awards including the Gwendolyn Brooks
Poetry Prize, the Harlem Cultural Council Poetry Award,
and the Conrad Kent Rivers Memorial Poetry Award as well as grants
from the National Endowment for the Arts,
and the Rockefeller Foundation.
In addition to his writing, Mr. Kgositsile has taught
at universities throughout the United States including the
University of Denver, Wayne State University, The New School
for Social Research and the University of California
in Los Angeles and Africa at the University of Dar Salam, Nairobi,
Botswana, Zimbabwe, and Zambia.
He returned to Africa in 1975 and to South Africa in 1990.
Mr. Kgositsile has been the National Poet Laureate
of South Africa since 2006.
Please join me in welcoming Keorapetse Kgositsile.
[ Applause ]   >> Thanks, thanks.
Good evening everyone.   >> Good evening.
>> After all of that, excuse me.   I hope you won't be disappointed.
I will start with the young
since they've hopefully would reach the future before us.
This poem is dedicated to my youngest son,
Thebe it's called rejoice.
He is as old as the new South Africa [inaudible] he just turned 18.
Rejoice says Thebe Neruda of a vibrant smile.
The eye so curious it is reluctant to shut the world out even in sleep.
I'm the dream keeper he says, this one tell me a song
and the dance pulsating with the force
of my people's ethos, watch me and rejoice.
I was [inaudible] repository of our memory, whose mouth is free
of all untruth who plays her voice as a horn says,
"You can do anything you want to do if you know what to do."
I am witness and celebrant here.
I do everything I want to do because I know what to do.
And the dreamkeeper is saying, the mouth that tells no lie.
I'm not a man, I'm a boy, beneficiary of the fruit harvested
from my people's memory, watch me and rejoice.
Poet leave him.   Leave him alone.
You have praised him.
You have praised him without knowing his name.
Thank you.   [ Applause ]
2012 as some might know, those who might have interest
in the world outside the borders of the USA is the hundredth anniversary
of the ANC, the oldest liberation movement on the African continent,
a lot of people fell in the struggle to bring it to 1994.
Among them was a doctor of Africa called Kate.
This poem is simply called Kate 'cause that's
where the quotation from a Jay Wright poem.
And death is the reason to begin again,
without letting go, Jay Wright.   About longing and lament of a night
when a limphearted moon leaks through this humid air.
And you on the dressing table in little sister's room,
little sister who like you neither knows nor remembers any glamour
or youth or exile and your eye piercing follows every move we make
like an eternal sentinel.
Your death was an end of death and here we begin again.
My sister, forgive us our demand for the improbable our longing
for your presence here right now though what happened
on that treacherous road and day we know.
Forgive us for right now it is not you but us shrouded in gloom.
My sister I could not come to see what remained of you even
if I had dared I couldn't whiskey my way out of your eye any more
than I could jump out of my skin.
Even on the sixth day after that treacherous Saturday
that whisked you away from us I could not come
to see what remained of you.
Your spectre patrols my restless moments
when I know I should be slitting fascist throats
or poeting your determined purpose but I bounce to impotence
like a check foreign to you
in your fashioning our future I could not even whiskey my way
out of your eye any more than I could jump out of my skin.
Not that it would have made a difference had your hasty death
on the Morogoro road been foretold that was what you had to do clearly
as a philosophical choice a meeting, though at most
of them there is not much more than platitude or pretension,
clothes for the children, though to this day most remain
as naked as their young souls.   So now you are gone.
You had to take a final road not chosen by you and finally I came
and I looked and I was chilled to numbness a mouth full of cottonwool
where your weighted smile used to be body all shrouded
and deathly still no missile from your tongue or eye
which always demanded what and why.
Later I wished for rain to come smother my impotent tears Baba said,
"Only the pillow knows the tears of a man.
Now like my sister's embrace across the treacherous waters
and centuries I want to put my mouth on paper.
The poet in me wants to carve a monument
in song a simple song stronger than any granite wall a song
that says Kate Molale is the people but the poem won't come.
[ Applause ]   Thank you.
For David Rubadiri.
David Rubadiri is a Malawin poet who after independence
in Malawi was the first and Malawi ambassador to the United Nations.
But soon thereafter, Kamuzu Banda, ex-president and I guess ministers
of all the portfolios in the cabinet decided to establish trade relations
with apartheid South Africa.
And to which point, Rubadiri quit and so he would never work
for any African government that had any kinds
of relations with Pretoria maniacs.   [ Pause ]
Oh, okay. Thank you.   For David Rubadiri.
Every fella is a foreign country says, my sister who is an area
of mellow feeling and catharsis, who can rage and rave like the blues
or like La Guma's preacherman across the vastnesses
of land and water and memory.
Who knows the world don't belong to General Motors.
The world don't belong to Chaste Manhattan.
The world don't belong to Coca-Cola no matter how cool the pause
that refreshes.
[Laughter] Now, though I am neither scientist nor philosopher,
I know there is something of you in Rubadiri of the slow smile
which can explode into folds of laughter or the tears you can feel
in the depths of his heart.
Like you, Rubadiri is a foreign fellow.
He is you.
Rubadiri can ask a diplomat who talks, can you make a baby smile?
Rubadiri can ask any man, do you know how it feels to be pregnant?
Of a Sunday morning straight from service
where he has been scratching his jaw sedately, Rubadiri can ask
in a tone juvenile mischief would envy.
You know bhuti they talk as if Sugar daddies are a thing of now.
But Joseph, the father of Jesus, was He not the original sugar daddy?
[Laughter] It's not me [inaudible].
[Laughter] Cassandra Wilson will sing Let me sense the chaos I will
respond with a song why else was I born says Jimi of the purple haze
through Kalamu ya Salaam.
Now look, at those eyes, look at her arms follow her little finger.
I wonder what Jean Toomer who could see the Georgia Pike growing
out of a goat path in Africa would say about Cassandra Wilson tonight.
Perhaps, Cassandra does not even sing.
Here of course a voice there is possessed
by music like the rest of her.
Her whole body is song, her whole body has sensed the chaos.
I say look at those eyes, look at her arms follow her little finger
and understand perhaps why you were born with ears.
[ Applause ]
History does not always move straight on a linear path,
so even though the new South Africa is very out.
There have been things happening there, here and there
which are nothing to be proud off to say the least.
Those who follow the news, maybe are aware of something
that the media refers to as xenophobic violence.
So this, I'm not sure if it is a poem.
Anyway this attempts to explore that.
I'm saying this because also in a novel by Sam Selvon from Trinidad,
a novel called, "The Lonely Londoners", exploring the lives
of Caribbean immigrants in the United Kingdom as they say.
In describing or referring to the miserable situation of one
of the characters, the narrator simply tells us that the holes
around his feet had little socks in them.
So there might be a little poem in this.
No Serenity Here.   An omelette cannot be unscrambled.
Not even the one prepared in the crucible
of 19th century sordid European design.
When Europe cut up this continent into little pockets
of its imperialist want and greed it was not for aesthetic reasons,
nor was it in the service
of any African interest, intent, or purpose.
When, then did the brutality of imperialist appetite
and aggression evolve into something of such ominous value to us
that we torture, mutilate,
butcher in ways hideous beyond the imagination, rape women, men,
even children and infants for having woken up on what we now claim,
with perverse possessiveness and territorial chauvinism,
to be our side of the boundary
that until only yesterday arrogantly defined where a piece
of one European property ended and another began?
In my language there is no word for citizen, which is an ingredient
of that 19th century omelette.
That word came to us as part of the package
that contained the bible and the rifle.
But moagi, resident, is there and it has nothing to do with any border
or boundary you may or may not have crossed before waking
up on the piece of earth where you currently live.
Poem, I know you are reluctant to sing when there is no joy
in your heart but I have wondered all these years why you did not
or could not give answer when Langston Hughes who wondered
as he wandered asked what happens to a dream deferred.
I wonder now why we are somewhere we did not aim to be.
Like my sister who could report from anywhere people live I fear the end
of peace and I wonder if that is perhaps why our memories
of struggle refuse to be erased.
Our memories of struggle refuse to die.
We are not strangers to the end of peace here.
We have no women widowed without any corpses of husbands because the road
to the mines like the road to any war is long and littered
with causalities even those who still walk and talk.
When Nathalie, whose young eyes know things says, "There is nothing left
after wars only other wars."
Wake up whether you are witness or executioner the victim,
whose humanity you can never erase, knows with clarity more solid
than granite that no matter which side you are on any day
or night an injury to one remains an injury to all.
Somewhere on this continent the voice of the ancients warns
that those who shit on the road will meet flies on their way back.
So perhaps you should shudder under the weight of nightmares
when you consider what thoughts might enter the hearts
of our neighbours, what frightened or frightening memories might jump
up when they hear a South African accent.
Even the sun, embarrassed, withdraws her warmth
from this atrocious defiance and unbridled denial of the ties
that should bind us here and always.
And the night will not own any of the stench of betrayal
which has desecrated our national anthem
so do not tell me of NEPAD or AU.
Do not tell me of SADC and please do not try to say shit about ubuntu
or any other such neurosis of history.
Again I say, while I still have voice, remember, always remember
that you are what you do, past any saying of it.
Our memories of struggle refuse to be erased,
our memories of struggle refuse to die.
My mothers, fathers of my father and me how shall I sing
to celebrate life when every space
in my heart is surrounded by corpses?
Whose thousand thundering voices shall I borrow
to shout once more: Daar is kak in die land!
Thank you.   [ Applause ]
Do we still have time we can read one last one?
[ Pause ]   It's called Letter from Havana.
A while back I said with my little hand upon the tapestry of memory
and my loin leaning on the blues to find voice:
If loving you is wrong I do not want to do right.
Now, though I do not possess a thousand thundering voices
like Mazisi kaMdabuli weKunene nor Chris Abani's mischievous courage,
as I trace the shape of desire
and longing I wish I was a cartographer of dreams.
But what I end up with is this stubborn question:
Should I love my heart more because every time I miss you
that is where I find you.   Thank you.
[ Applause ]   Thank you.
Thank you.
>> It's really wonderful to have you here and I'm enjoying you here also.
I spent a bit of time on Youtube looking at presentations about you
and looking at performances.   And it was wonderful.
So I won't talk anymore about Youtube.
I think I'll go into the prepared questions.
[ Pause ]
The first question I am supposed to ask is when did you start writing
and why did you turn to poetry as a medium of expression but I think I'd
like to ask something else first.
I'd like to ask about music because there's musicality and because
with these Youtube presentations I was looking at they talked
about The Last Poets, a group in the '70s that took their--
the name of the group from one of your poems.
And they-- I hear so much about you in New York
and performing in Jazz clubs.
And I was wondering if you actually play an instrument
or if the music is in your head.   That's my first question.
>> Is it okay?   >> Yes.
>> Fine, okay.   >> No, I do not play an instrument.
But I think without music there would be no poetry not even
in English.
And I'm saying this carefully because I think given the history
of the development of the English as a language it's quite--
I don't think past to try to make English sing
because it is not a poetic language.   >> But your language is.
>> Yeah. [Laughter] It's only that its history is different, you know,
I mean I think anyone interested in language would know
that the development of English as a language had more to do
with immediate economic needs than anything aesthetic, right?
Okay, so the music I would say influences poetry
and poetry influences music.
That in the oral tradition, for instance, even today if you go
to the country side in South Africa or Botswana or anywhere,
you might find an oral poet who might start reciting
and seemingly seamlessly start singing and so.
And move back and forth between the two without any problems.
I hope that answers you.   >> Oh yes, yes.
So, when did you start writing and why did you turn to poetry
as a medium of expression?
>> [Inaudible] I think for as far back as I could remember,
I always wrote because I like playing
around with language to begin with.
I read a lot which among certain friends was not the particularly the
best thing to do or to be admired.
But I never thought of myself as would be right now--
I was writing to entertain myself and my friends.
And I did that by telling little stories and so on.
But later as I grew older, I tried to write stories.
I tried to write fiction.   I thought I could tell a story.
But after years of that well I did not write anything that I liked.
Actually in all my life I think I may have published 2
or 3 short stories at the most.
At some point I don't know how in my early 20s I realized the reason
that I could not write fiction was
that I could not think in a story line thought.
That I when I was writing that I thought in sheets of images
and that automatically meant poetry with me.
>> Okay.   [ Pause ]
When you came here to the United States and when you were
in New York, you were mixing with musicians and you were mixing
with poets and you were coming up with something
which at the time I think was new.
Now we talk about the early, we talk about early hiphop and we--
well I just, it's outstanding to me.
So could you tell us a bit about your involvement with the people
in New York, with African Americans and also Pan-Africanism,
the literary scene in the United States in the 1970s?
>> Well, maybe I would go back a bit further than that.
That maybe somethings need to be clarified here, you know.
Hiphop or rap is nothing new
that even during the Harlem renaissance people
like Sterling Brown, like Langston Hughes
and so on could rap, you know.
And that in the '60s when people started like The Last Poets,
they were consciously attempting
to reclaim an old oral tradition from Africa.
Okay, the problem developed later I think with the hiphop
and its being packaged in Hollywood and so on, the west forms of it
that people or young people
on the African continent started mimicking the mimics from Hollywood.
That's where the problem started.   [ Laughter ]
>> And Pan-Africanism.   >> And Pan-Africanism, okay.
At the-- okay at the political level it is also worth noting
that the Pan-Africanism originated
in the diaspora not the African continent.
It developed because there was a need
to assert one's identity collectively.
On the African continent there wasn't.
Okay a few years ago maybe then, for instance Thabo Mbeki as President
of Africa made some statement like I'm an African and sounded profound
but you couldn't imagine a colleague of his anywhere else
on the African continent saying,
"I'm an African," and not sounding stupid.
But in South Africa, when the oppressor decided they were African
which is bad for African.
The Africanness of the African was denied
and the African was called Bantu, was called Plural,
was called all kinds of things but African.
Then, therefore, beneath to assert and affirm that Africanness arose.
Hence, Mbeki could say, "I'm an African and not sound like a fool."
Okay. That is at the political level.
At the cultural level, even way before the Harlem Renaissance
and later, the Negritude movement, there was for instance
in Puerto Rico, in Cuba, into what was called Negrismo.
When at the cultural level, people were reclaiming their Africanness
and trying to find that voice, that the hiphop ended up bastardizing.
And I think even that it is worth noting
that the movement also developed outside in the Diaspora
because it had been denied.
On the continent, there was still continuity,
except maybe among a few derailed members
of the little [inaudible] elite where they've might have existed.
I mean, nobody had [inaudible] a sense of who they are,
except those who had tried to run away from who they were, okay?
>> With the contemporary scene now in South Africa,
with the contemporary literary scene, could you describe it more
and could you describe how you relate to that?
>>I would say a few things too of that.
That in the past, those of us who wrote predominantly
in English were a minority perhaps even an irrelevant minority.
The bulk of our literatures was produced in indigenous languages.
Then, a bit later, leading up to the 90's, for some weird reason,
some younger writers thought to write meant to do it
in English even though you were not in control,
you were not competent in the language.
So that in the early 90's for instance when I went back
and would run some workshops,
I would try to advice the younger writers to write
in whatever language they were most comfortable in.
They would be suspicious, how can someone writing
in English tell us not to write in English.
Maybe he is afraid of competition.
[Laughter] You know, but I'm glad to say,
now that complex no longer exist.
So, people do write in languages they are comfortable with.
And in [inaudible] in connection with the poetry,
I think the most powerful dynamic voices, among the young
for whatever reason I don't know [inaudible] okay?
[Inaudible] by the ruin I could go on.
And perhaps in the present when they decided they were breaking the walls
of the exiles wherever the patriarch might have exiled they have voices
too that they were truly going to be liberated without asking anyone
for permission or a passport to liberation.
And I would say, for me I've always hoped
that my poetry would be contemporaneous
So, that I don't get left behind, or I don't leave the poetry behind.
I argue often but I do not sit down to write a political poem that when
in terms of content, it ends up being political,
it is because I'm unapologetically political.
[Laughter] so, whatever my preoccupation is
at any given moment, in fact, when I write poetry,
I don't think because I approach it the way I expect a musician taking a
solo, let's say, saxophone trumpet or any to produce music [inaudible].
When you get on the stage to play, I don't expect you
to be thinking music, it's too late for you to play.
So, when I sit down to write, I write, I don't think.
I think when I'm interacting with dim light.
>> Several things come to mind, for some reason,
do you think in English came to mind of--
you're described as a revolutionary poet.
I guess I'm thinking maybe you think in music.
I'm not really sure [laughs] where to go with that.
There were just several things from your comments.
Language is a very important issue in South Africa,
and it seems to be maybe more important in South Africa
than many other African countries.
We-- here at the Library are getting more in African languages.
When the younger people are performing or writing,
they're doing more of it now in English
or are they still comfortable in whatever their mother language is,
and how then does this relate to the contemporary scene in other parts
of Africa where there's a lot of writing
in English or European languages.   So--
>> Yeah.   >> Was that a bit muddled?
>> No, I think--   >> Okay.
>> That teaching [inaudible].
No, I think-- thinking of the people producing literature
in the languages of the former oppressors as being predominant,
is more a reflection of what happens at the market place,
than what happens at the level of production.
No people, people produce a lot of literature
in their indigenous languages.
But, a lot of it even in South Africa today,
the big publishing empires do not want to touch books that are written
in indigenous languages, and they argue that there would be no market.
How, do you know there's no market for something you haven't tested?
I'm to the degree that right now the Department of Arts and Culture
in South Africa gives the National Library a huge allocation
to reissue the indigenous languages classics,
because the publishing houses won't do that, right?
And the new contributions to those languages are published mainly
by struggling independent, small publishers that often get grants
from government, from the Department of Arts and Culture.
>> Okay, thank you.
My last question, and this I will read.
What steps do you think need to be taken to bring attention
and recognition from the international community to the body
of literature and poetry of African authors?
>> I think again we are talking about the market place here,
and I'm not really equipped to deal with that.
But I think if notions of one, they cannot in a--
I would suppose institutions of a higher learning were demystified
and destroyed, that would be a step in the correct direction.
Number two, if the arrogance to assume that some cultures
and therefore, some literatures are better than others.
If that too were destroyed we would be moving somewhere
because recognition of difference does not have
to be competitive, right?
I hope that somewhat but also we keep them.
[Laughter] You know, it isn't that long ago it seems to me,
when the national party for within the--
in South Africa took over immediately after World War II.
At that time there was very little African literature to speak of
and a lot of the Dutch descendants there thought of themselves
as speaking Deutsch, not Africans.
But, in 1961, they decided to break ties with Brittain,
with their mother country and declare South Africa a republic
and declare themselves African and therefore a new species,
right on the African continent on its terms.
Then they decided that, that was there language
and very aggressively developed that in a short period of time
in universities in Europe even in the US, even at an institution
like UCLA that they had a department of African language and literature.
Before they had any African language these things are not accidental I'm
trying to say they serve certain interest that people set
and take conscious decisions
that this is what we are going to do, they do it.
>> Wow.   [ Laughter ]
I would just like to say that here at the Library of Congress for those
of you who may not be acquainted with our collections,
we do have a considerable amount
from South Africa in indigenous languages.
And poetry, we just have a wide range of material here
and you're welcome to come to do research.
We have a number of your publications
and I have this list here.
One of the things that we're doing and I think it's great
to promote African culture, African literature is to have a series
like this where we can have writers, poets come and talk to us,
read their own works and then talk to us and then to answer questions.
So, that will be the next part of our program.
And we have about 25 minutes for that
and Rob do you want to emcee or should I?
I was talking to a student from Howard University who pointed
out that sometimes people give speeches before they ask
their question.
And so we ask if you would just simply ask your question [laughter].
So, let's see, how can we do this so that we can best hear,
and also it would be good if the question could be recorded
because otherwise it might not show up on our video.
So, did you have a question?   >> Yes.
>> Okay. Could you come a little closer to ask?
>> I was just interested in finding out if some
of these indigenous publications whether they are actually
translated, the publications, the African publications
in the indigenous framework.   Is there a program for translation?
Do you know people that are translating some of the material?
>> Well let's repeat the question for them.
>> Okay, the question is about translation whether or not some
of the publications which are in indigenous languages whether
or not there are English language translations for that.
And so, you mean in poetry--
>> Poetry.   >> -- as well as other writings.
>> There is no program as such.
Some of the work, yes if available in translation.
The problem here it would be very costly, would be how-- excuse me--
how do you say it in South Africa and decide you are going
to translate into English and not Russian or Vietnamese
or some other language that you'll write that I think it would have
to be a combination of the speakers of the language
that the text would be translated into or a representative
of that along with someone from the country of origin
who speaks both languages, because you can say for instance,
there are no publishing houses in Western Europe and the US
which have foreign languages publishing, you know,
specializing in publishing foreign literature as they used
to have in socialist countries.
In the socialist countries, all of it was--
take business, but after Gorbachev and what followed even
in Moscow the huge, huge publishing foreign languages publishing house
no longer exists.
>> No, I just like to insert something here.
Here in the Library's collections, we do have publications
in Russian language publications for example, which were translated
into Swahili and there are few Chinese publications translated
into Swahili, children's literature translated into Swahili
and probably some other languages, so again,
a very interesting collection.   You have a question?
>> I can talk loud, can you hear me?   [Laughter] Sure.
Thank you.
My name is [inaudible] I'm a student at Howard and as a South African
out here, you know, I look back in my country, it's like looking
from outside into a hut at night and the lights are on,
you see more clearer and my question is twofold, if you will.
Wally Serote, Mazisi Kunene, [inaudible]
and Don Mattera among others including yourself,
might be described as what's such called intellectual [inaudible]
who still got their hands dirty in the struggle.
Assuming that you knew and still know some of them well,
would you briefly sketch
out the different parts your lives have taken as poets
of South Africa involved in the struggle in general,
in the ANC in particular, especially shared disappointments, that's why--
I'm sorry the second part is in December 2009,
in your very moving eulogy, quite personal eulogy on TV,
I watched you, the eulogy of ma-- Manto-- Dr.
Tshabalala-Msimang.
Your catalog set in intimate details of the struggle
that hardly find their way into latter-day writing
in our-- of our struggle.
Has the history of the liberation struggle been written well?
Do you think Dr. Tshabalala-Msimang an accomplished daughter
of the liberation struggle got the short end of the stick of history?
Whew it's my only chance.
>> If-- to start with the first question.
I think it would be risky to generalize on a group of writers
because their path happened to intersect at a certain point.
Because there have never been a mutually-agreed upon commitment
that anyone betrayed, right?
To give you an example, [inaudible] although he was against oppression
and exploitation and so on, never belonged
to a political organization.
The closest was to the South African teachers something,
something before he left the country.
He would do a few things on behalf of the liberation movement
if he could, but that is why when he got tired of exile after 19 years,
he went back without asking without consulting with anyone, right?
[inaudible] I guess [inaudible] at some point got tired or something
and had other interest, or no, or we could go on down the line like it,
but it is not fair because history does not move in a straight line,
even the history of individual people.
And it would be in the first place,
with what authority would I be judging them if--
because it would boil down to judging them
with to say they betrayed me when they haven't.
Okay. The second question, have to do with--
>> Msimang?   >> Oh with Manto Tshabalala-Msimang.
Again [inaudible], I mean Manto like a lot of people had all kinds
of contradictions and when she died
and Bra Mendi Msimang then had asked me to say a few things
at the funeral, I decided I would talk about those aspects of her life
that no one had ever talked about, that you know, that in addition
to everything else she was just another human being and I talked
about the human being that I knew.   I didn't create anything new.
I simply said what people what they knew of her.
And their daughters because at some point they had actually lived
in my house.
That's all, that's all I want to-- knowing them that closely.
Manto Tshabalala [inaudible].   >> Okay, who is she?
>> She was minister of health, at some point.
[ Pause ]   >> Okay. Anymore questions?
>> Your last poem really got me thinking
about the artificial borders that were created within the continent
of Africa and it made me wonder, do you feel like there's--
there are sometimes good reasons to use those borders as descriptions
because Africa is a large country and not everybody is the same,
there's so many different cultures and sometimes they feel--
sometimes I can be irritated if someone says, "Oh I went to Africa."
Well, it's a big place you didn't go to the whole place.
So, I don't know, I wonder how you felt about using those distinctions
because it's useful sometimes.   >> There is no possible way
that I personally would you justify what the Europeans did in Germany,
in Berlin in 1855 when they sat down and cut up this continent
and created this little piece of fictions we call South Africa,
Kenya, Ghana, whatever, whatever.   That was done for their interest.
That Africans had been living on that continent for--
since creation because supposedly we come--
we all come from the there, right?   The cradle of humankind is there.
That, there had never been a need to create borders.
They had even, you know, if you think back and this is in terms
of human existence on this planet, it's only yesterday.
That the path of European history referred to as the Age of Discovery.
While Europe decided to go slaughtering all over of the rest
of this planet, they did not need passports.
Citizen-- that concept had not been created yet.
So, these things, these boundaries also were created
because they served identifiable interest, right?
Now, for me to say they could be justifiable
at some point would mean all of a sudden I subscribe to some
of those interest, I don't.   >> So, how can-- we [inaudible].
How can you talk about the other cultures and kind
of respect the differences between everybody on that huge continent
without using the European kind of divisions that have been given?
>> I just said, before the Europeans set
in the 19th century, in Berlin, right?
Those boundaries were not there but the people lived.
All of a sudden they have problems because European set in Berlin
and on a piece of paper drew the borders.
But it's interesting, because yeah, it also needs--
leads to the question of the nation state and nationalism as a product
of Europe that a few years ago we saw Europe herself getting tired
of that and redesigning their own borders.
While we are holding on to their creation on the African continent.
It doesn't seem to make sense to me.
>> Okay, well, oh yeah, I have to call on my [inaudible].
[Laughter] That's okay.
I wanted to ask you, you know, you dedicated your first poem
to your young son who was born, you know,
with the new states in South Africa.
What are those young people 18, 20, 22, 25, writing about?
What are they-- what are their thinking, they are living
in post Africa, they are living in a different world today?
What are they talking about?   What are they writing about?
>> The unfortunate thing is that a lot of them live on some [inaudible]
that is not related [laughter] because they believe that the--
in '94, we reached our destination, we reached where we were struggling
to get to which is either a lie or an illusion,
which needs to be corrected.
But I would say in that sense they are not exceptional.
If you go around the world today anywhere they use--
there seems to be a disconnect,
which makes me wonder what the older generations are doing
because they could not have just disconnected,
one day I owned [inaudible].   In another what t I'm trying to say,
I suspect that the older generation started or looked
at these young people as a problem instead
of as young people with problems.   And then either they fear them
or they're trying to stay away from them.
So, there's no kind of convenient.
>> Does the technology also affect the way because they can link
up to the rest of the world?   >> Yeah.
>> Does it affect the way of writing?
>> No I think there's nothing wrong with technology,
it is how it is used that matter.
I think they use it the way they do because some way we failed.
You know that when we get involved in social transformation.
It is our responsibility to create mechanisms,
to influence the direction that the transformation that they do.
We haven't done that, right?   [ Pause ]
>> We have about 10 minutes left, so, one, two,
three, four, five [laughter].
>> I wanted to know how long you lived in Tanzania?
>> Long-term.   >> Did you live there?
>> I lived there first for one year and then 15 years later I went back
and lived for five or six.
>> So, do you have poetry in Swahili?
>> No my Swahili is not good enough to write poetry [laughter].
>> Okay--
>> Last time I used Swahili no [inaudible].
[ Inaudible Remark ]
>> Thank you, following on your response to the previous question,
I was wondering if you could talk a little more about the role of poetry
in transformation, social transformation, social change.
The roles that it can play maybe that it--
you felt it did play in the liberation struggles of Africa.
>> I think sometimes the role that poetry can play is overrated.
Because I think if poetry aspires to be a manual
for social change there's a problem.
I think the best that poetry can aspire to is to [inaudible] life
as creative activity and social transformation is creative activity.
In that sense then there's a relationship between them.
And in which case I would say the role of poetry never changes.
It has never change since any language spoken has been developed
In other words that the things in life or lived experience
that poetry explores always responsive
to have remained constant.
All they made is the-- you know that I would argue that no writer
on this planet in terms of content can introduce anything new.
Nothing it is there, how not the what that is new in literature.
>> Thank you.
I know we won't suppose to make any comments before asking a question
but I really just want to say that it's truly an honor to meet you
and in many ways as any budding poet to meet someone,
you know they say we stand on the shoulders of those
who have come before us, and to sort
of see living histories really an inspirational push forward when,
you know someone who is still struggling
to become a poet actually seeks-- meets someone like you.
So, thank you for your presence here today.
My question really is that you mentioned this threat of economy,
the economical pedagogy basically,
the threat in a sense to inspiration.
So what would you advice specifically,
a person who identify themselves as this problematic African,
who is trying to find a voice through poetry, how they can engage
with economical threat and maybe if I can put it more simply.
As you said you write because you just write,
I mean you have no choice in poetry, it comes to you
and you are compelled to put it down.
However, once it's on paper you then start to see it through the prisms
of what it's worth and the prisms of [inaudible] and the prisms of--
or, you know all the other, you know, "guardians of literature."
How do you push back against that in trying to establish your poems?
>> If you write yourself also, I would say you consciously try
to unlearn anything, everything you've ever been taught
in a classroom about literature.
No, this might sound crazy but actually I mean it because a lot
of what happens in the classroom is damaged, it has nothing to do
with giving people tools to begin to appreciate literature, right?
It is that simple.
There are aesthetic standards in any art form
from any culture on this day.
There are also even in terms of elements that are deployed
to produce literature, in this case let us say,
let us pick something like rhythm in poetry.
In English poem, it involves the stressed
and unstressed syllables in the line of it.
In Setswana or Zulu or Swahili
or whatever African language you can think of, it would to be talking
about the music in the language not the stressed
and unstressed syllable, right?
So that even though I write in "English "my reference,
my literally reference are not English.
That is if English is going to express my lived experience,
my response to a life in poetry it has
to be tamed to speak my language.
>> Thank you, that's an excellent technique.
>> [Inaudible] I just wanted to ask about that is,
people have been talking about the young people--
I want to [inaudible] about ask about the legacy
that you are giving us voice to the young people
or just generally literature in the African continent
which maybe may further come over to the United States
where we might grow up, what has been done for us to learn--
to have African authors in our classrooms rather
than I know they want-- we need to learn, although we learned
from the European authors and everything, what is being done
that we also learn, we have pride in our own literature as African
in our own home that we may bring this pride over here,
that maybe students, high school students can stop picking
up your literature books as we have literature books in American,
you know that that's would [inaudible] probably the language is
maybe, it means people can understand more
about our own authors but if we don't have a pride about it, I can--
I grew up in Zimbabwe and now you are the literature [inaudible]
to my ear levels but never read one Zimbabwean author.
I read [inaudible] similar authors but what I'm going to do, how we--
what is your legacy that you may leave for us
so we might learn more about authors in Africa?
>> What's happening today in South Africa right now?
This year, the Department of Arts and Culture has started discussions
with the department of basic education to have writers
in their schools not as excuses for teachers as writers
in their school to [inaudible].
In other words, to have practicing poets teaching poetry
to the children from the earliest possible [inaudible] and I suspect
that before the end of next year that would be implemented.
And perhaps I can have that for a year.
In a few months [inaudible] in a very sneaky move in a meeting
at the Luthuli House, the headquarters of the ANC,
I was in a meeting where the Minister of Basic Education was
and I raised the question [inaudible] of having artists,
having poets in the schools, and I was very pleasantly surprised
that he readily endorsed it at that venue, which gives more hope.
But I think these things cannot just be imposed in the classroom
as a little compartment of society,
you know with the supermarket mentality, dairy produce here, meat,
beef, other, that I think everyone in society has to be involved.
In other words, parents at the home have to start reading
to those children in those languages.
They have to participate in passing on the collective memory
so that the-- because that is also on the question of identity,
whether we realize it or not.   That for those children to grow
up with a connective sense of who they are.
It cannot be left to the teacher in the classroom.
>> What language, what is unique to [inaudible] do you write--
>> Setswana.   >> And do you write in Setswana?
>> Yes, I do.
And even in exile, my children grew up speaking their language.
I would argue that I got paid for speaking in English.
It makes me an English man [Laughter]
>> And you-- okay well the last.   >> Well, I'm not going to be long.
Okay. I have read somewhere that you have--
oh it was called as you say when you returned back to South Africa.
And I think you were listening to your wife.
And you spoke about the impact of having to think and write
or something to do with the African language was actually inspired
by your grandmother.
And I thought I just wanted you to share with us.
If it's true that what I've read,
or was it something outside of what really happened?
>> When I grew up as a boy.   >> Uh-hmm.
>> There was a blunder I could commit was in talking
within hearing distance of my maternal grandmother,
use an English phrasal with or something in what I was saying
and when-- her response would be,
oh we have little English [inaudible] [laughter].
It was a condemnation you never wanted to hear [laughter].
But, at the same time, if I heard there was a test at school
or an exam in English and I did not top the class,
I was in serious trouble [laughter].   [ Applause ]
>> Thank you so much.   Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> This has been a presentation of the Library of Congress.