LAUNCHING DUMAN'S DEEPEST SPRINGS

BY HECTOR KUNENE

Dateline: 18th June 2010

LAUNCHING DUMAN’S DEEPEST SPRINGS

It was an inspiring, unforgettable affair as the voluminous, imaginative work, Deepest Springs, by NMM Duman was launched in the city of Roses.

Firstly, I must say that the library space that was used was very welcoming and showed that a major preparation and decorations were taken into deep consideration. From the poets who rendered their pieces - the likes of Mr. Magic Raselebeli Khotseng to Mr. Kgang Abel Motheane and yours truly (Hector Kunene) was absolutely amazing.

The charming Charmaine Mrwebi was the chairlady and addressed the crowd of about 35 guests well with great motivation for the young writers who still want to get their work published. She also emphasized that it is of vital role for authors to use their mother tongue in order to promote indigenous languages.

Hector Kunene delivered a pulsating speech and a poem called a Life of a woman and dedicated it to the Author of the day, Mrs. Duman. Mr. Motheane stated that it is important for writers to express themselves and tell stories from generation to generation. He also motivated more on bridging the gap and learning other languages; as a result he is a living example as some of his books he has written in Zulu, Sotho Tswana, Pedi and Xhosa.

Mr. Raselebeli blazed the crowd with a poem called “If wishes were horses” and got the crowd “eating out of his palms” The book reading by three ladies who rendered a couple of chapters of the book gave an alarming call about the character of Dikeledi and Kuena whom it is a responsibility of all to find out by reading the book which will soon be available in the library however the contacts are available for those who would love to purchase a copy.

I understood the book to be multi-diversity in terms of where the author was aiming to reach. It is politically and culturally inclined. There is a point of beginning and it reaches climax at a certain point and the only way to get to the full story is by reading it.

I enjoyed the humility of the writer herself when she took the stage and addressed her crowd. I felt her sense of humility and the love for writing as she explained that the over 400 paged book was actually double the size it is now, so the publisher had to speak her down in cutting the story for printing! I said to myself: “Yoh this great woman can write!”, and right there she demonstrated that you don’t need to write according to schedule. She pulled a bank letter that she also wrote on it a new story; now that is a writer that means business.

I was also captivated by her smile and her pride of achievement that was hidden deep inside her humble voice; and she exhumed with brio and a level of excellence as she presented her love for writing and that she was actually inspired by her mother who told her stories. By now I was gasping for air, wondering what she was going to say next as she rivaled with words and made pure sense. Although she did not want to sell the book herself but I could tell that she had it covered as she did not go into details about the book price… but then came her husband who spoke more about money and publishers other than other things.

The book cover was designed by the author’s daughter, so I guess a family has shown us that together working as one we can achieve many. Apparently the other daughters also write, so I take it that we must expect a lot from the Duman family! The book looks brilliant outside and I picked up that once you start reading it you will never stop until you are finished. At some point I wanted to swipe my card right there and buy a copy - however there was no facility to do this but I owe myself a copy.

Last but not least Mrs. Duman seemed more to me like Bessie Head. Her style of writing reminded me of the book I read years ago called Maru by Bessie Head and apparently the book also has a character called Dikeledi. After the launch I grabbed myself a sandwich as I avoided a queue behind Mrs. Duman and when I approached her she was signing an autograph to another fan so I waited for her to finish and whilst I was talking with her, another fan was queuing behind me so you can imagine what the future holds for Duman. I wish her all the best and I must say she has challenged me and other writers based in Free State and the outside world.

By the way, our brilliant author started writing her book in 1996 - and it’s just been released in 2010! Do the Maths; now who can say dreams don’t come true! She will do great and with that size of the book it means business. What a humble woman she is. May God bless her work….

The sparkling poetry of Teboho Mohanoe

By O Bolaji

When we read something - be it a piece of prose or poetry, we often want it to interest us, to fascinate us, to come across as fresh, as the experts say. Normally the language used in poetry is supposed to be heightened hence those we refer to as "poets" often have impressive facility with words.

A poet like Job Mzamo (in Mangaung) is a sort of wordsmith, using language and imagery to fascinate us, knocking words into light, bouncy, lissome, even irreverent, burnished shapes; and creating poetry in the process. Teboho Mohanoe is on the way to becoming a sophisticated poet, and this short essay is about him.

My main concern here is his poem, "Mary" published in his book, Enter the Night (DRUFOMA 2001). It is one of his simpler poems, but one with a powerful message. The message comes across at the very end. In this poem the poet begins by telling us about how a particular lady is abused, is long suffering. Then the very end:

"And she was buried today"

This haunting ending is proof enough that the poet has succeeded admirably at putting across his message - and in a style which is simple enough. The freshness of the poem reaches an apogee by using this style.

In fact the way the poem is structured reminds me of a poem, "Just a passer by". By Oswald Mtshali. (Published in "A selection of African Poetry" edited by Senanu and Vincent) In this poem, the poet describes how a man was gruesomely killed, as if (the poet) does not really care. Then he goes home, and a woman neighbour says to him:

"Have you heard? They’ve killed your brother"

"O No! I heard nothing. I’ve been to Church"

The strength of the poem lies in the fact that the poet is ultimately being ironic and sarcastic; for he not only heard about the death; he witnessed it himself!

The first time I read Mohanoe’s poem, "Mary", I asked him whether he had read Mtshali’s poem (referred to above), and in his typical inscrutable, inconclusive manner, Mohanoe just smiled and nodded. Maybe he was impressed by the much earlier Mtshali poem hardly matters; as Mohanoe’s "Mary" is distinctive in its own right.

Lovers of poetry might also draw a parallel between Mohanoe’s poem, and Michael Echeruo’s "Threnody" (Also published in the book, "A Selection of African Poetry"). Here the poet light heartedly seems to be rejoicing with the world (nature); then suddenly:

"I caught my doveIn the heart of spring
And I was dead!"

This type of conclusion tends to jolt the reader’s attention, resulting in concentrated bafflement and interest. And such writing appeals to a large number of people.

HOW DO I TALK ABOUT MY ORDEAL?

New book by Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga

“Maiwe –mama - we –mama - we, can somebody please help me!,” she could not fight back anymore. All she could do was just kick and scream but to no avail. The monster grabbed her with his iron like, muscular hands. “If you continue making noise I am going to kill you. I can slaughter you even now, you hear me?” He looked her straight in the eyes, wearing a face of brutality with red eyes and she continued sobbing looking on the ground. She realized he meant what he said. In her heart she was just praying that he would just take whatever he wanted and leave her alive.

Maze was a pretty, intelligent, smart and innocent girl with a very bight future. She was the kind of girl who could not even kill an insect. Her mother always used to fight with her because she was scared even to slaughter a chicken. Her defense was that even though it was meat she always felt sorry to end its life.

Just sixteen years old, she was developing into a very beautiful woman like her mother. Having been raised in a strict family, she was determined to do well in her life. Her father was a pastor at a mission in the village and her mother was also teaching at the same mission. All she wanted in life was to become a nurse; surely she could make it because she was bright and committed to her school work. Even her mother agreed that, it was the best profession for her because she was very kind. In the near future she wanted to go and study her nursing in the city close to her one and only David.

David, her boyfriend was her senior at school. He was an intelligent young man but very short tempered. Everyone, even his teachers knew that he was a no nonsense young man. David passed his matric very well and went on to study medicine at the university. Even though he was far in the middle of the city he continued to communicate with his sweetheart. Maze was really the darling of his family, they all loved her. It was also the same situation at Maze’s family, they all loved David. They wished the two will get married and grow old together.

If only she knew what she was going to meet today she would have stayed home. But such is life; we never know what tomorrow brings. Maze spent the whole morning and afternoon at home. In the afternoon her best friend from school, Memory came to visit her. The two young friends spent the afternoon studying, gossiping and giggling. Memory was staying about two kilometers away from the mission. It was in the same village but there was a forest in between. When it was almost Sunset, Maze accompanied her friend to her place. “Maze my dear you have to go back home. I do not want your parents to panic for no reason.” The two friends hugged each other and went different directions.

Moses was a very talented footballer but very ill disciplined. His teachers told him to work hard and take football as a career but to no avail. He liked to drink and smoke. Some even suspected that he was a drug addict. He ran away from school without even finishing his matric. It is always like this - once a student starts drinking and smoking. It is not easy to concentrate on school work. Smoking is addictive and not all students have the money to buy cigarettes even though they like blow the smoke in the air. Moze, as he was known by his friends, joined a junior team. Sometimes he would go to training sometimes they would never see him even for more than a week. The coaches liked him very much but they could not do anything with his ill discipline.

One day his coach saw Moses’ picture in the paper. The police were looking for him in connection with house robbery. Moses ran away from the city to a small village where he knew people don’t see newspapers everyday. It was in this forest that he met helpless Maze coming from her friend’s place.

She never saw him coming. But judging by the way he grabbed her by the waist she knew she was in deep trouble. There was no way she could fight this monster. He was strong, muscular and evil. “Your chance to survive lies in doing what I want you to do. If you want to be stubborn I will show you that I can be stubborn too.’’, she could not reply, all she could do was sob.

Moses carried the poor sobbing girl away from the small road to the small shrubs far away. He laid her on the ground, tore her pants and forcibly opened her legs….

Read the rest of this short story, in the new book of stories: HOW DO I TALK ABOUT MY ORDEAL? by Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga. Those interested in the book can phone 071 0446879

WRITER HONOURED

The Bloemskrywerskring (Writers’ club) of Heidedal in Mangaung has presented author Omoseye Bolaji with an award for his outstanding contributions to Free State, and African literature. He was given a trophy and certificate for producing “excellent, thrilling fiction on a consistent basis”

The award was presented to Bolaji by Marika Du Plessis, Secretary of the club, who said: “Libraries are of very great significance, as the young ones should learn good habits of reading from an early age. The great thing about Mr. Bolaji is that his books have a lot of appeal because of their local colour. His literary productivity has been very consistent and seems to scale new heights on a yearly basis”

Omoseye Bolaji has published well over ten books of gripping fiction. He created the Tebogo Mystery series which is now world famous. Books under this series include Tebogo Investigates, Tebogo’s spot of bother and Tebogo Fails. Bolaji is also the author of novels like People of the Townships, The Ghostly Adversary, and Impossible Love.

Flaxman Qoopane, well known Free State writer and long-time colleague of Bolaji, said: “It is a pity that African writers are not celebrated in great fashion, unlike their counterparts overseas. It’s very irritating, but we hope things will become better. For example I have inaugurated a literary museum, but so many of our people do not know the importance of this. This produces the incongruous situation where writers like Bolaji are celebrated overseas much more than they are in their own continent”

Indeed, Omoseye Bolaji is now one of Africa’s top creative writers. This can be ascertained from the hundreds of references on his writings on the internet. Among many awards, Bolaji was the first black person to be conferred with the Chancellor’s Medal by the University of the Free State (in 2007)

Bolaji, who lives in Bloemfontein, is the author of over 20 books which are internationally recognized. They include The Termagant, The Guillotine, The Subtle Transgressor, Tebogo and the Haka, Tebogo and the epithalamion, and Tebogo and the pantophagist.

- Courtesy of FS Sun (May 28 2010 edition)

XULU DIES

Muntu Xulu part of warp and weft of Zulu Literature Muntu Jeremiah Xulu, novelist, playwright, former teacher, journalist and editor died after a long illness at his home in Vukazenzele, Mangaung in Bloemfontein on the 05th May 2010.

Bekumthetho S.Nkosi from Bhekuzulu in Kwa-Zulu Natal told Free State News “Muntu was my relative, he was an outstanding novelist, playwright and comedian. He published many novels, plays and a book of jokes in his own Zulu Language which was widely read at schools and universities in the country. Xulu had the gift of the pen.”

Jeremiah published the following novels in Zulu, Kunje Ke! published by Shutter and Shutter Publishers in 1987, Amalutha Emalutheni published by Educum Publishers in 2000, Amathe Nolimi published by Shutter and Shutter in 1997, Uthando Lunjeke published by N.G Kerk Printing Press in 1978, Nondela Mtanami Nondela published by Longman Publishers in 1988 and Mahlayana Mahlayana published by Shutter and Shutter publishers in 1981.

As a result of his contribution to the Zulu literature, the national Museum in Bloemfontein honoured him as part of their literary exhibition.Nhlanhlanhle L.Xulu from New Castle in Kwa-Zulu Natal said “My father studies journalism at Kitwe School of Journalism in Zambia in 1957 – 1958. He did another journalism course with the International correspondence School of Journalism in London, Britain in 1964 – 1969,”

He was born on 28 November 1930 in Johannesburg. He grew up in Kwa-Zulu Natal. In 1950 he completed his Teachers Training diploma at Umphumulo Institution.He was buried at the South Park Cemetery in Mangaung on 15 May 2010.

- F Qoopane

Modern trappings in Tebogo and the Haka

By Pule Lechesa


Recent fictional works reflect how the world has moved on in the New Millennium, positively affecting the lives of countless black people at grassroots level all over Africa . This patent trend can be seen for example in Omoseye Bolaji’s work of fiction, Tebogo and the haka

We read and re-read our old favourites, novels, plays etc written by distinguished African writers over the decades and we are struck about the rather old-age ambience of such works. We feel that there is something missing – and most likely that thing is modern technology. Pick up Njabulo Ndebele’s classic, Fools for example and the ambience seems not so different from the setting of 19th century books like Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.Yet Zamani, the protagonist in Fools, is a school teacher and “middle class” in orientation. But he has few comforts compared with the modern world perks. Not even electricity. Nowadays we are awash with modern gadgets and technology and these things are incorporated into modern fiction.

Gone are the days when stationary phones and faxes were the ultimate in technology as can be seen from thousands of books published just a few decades ago.The face of the modern world has changed so much that most people now have access to things like cell phones, the Internet and ipods. In fact it is understood that in some African countries now “even beggars have one two or more cell phones”. This shows how the whole world has changed. Very few African blacks might have access to internet in their private house but with so many “Internet cafes” all over the place – not to talk of at many libraries – the world has opened up, so to speak.

Hence Tebogo Mokoena , the private investigator of the Tebogo Mystery series reflects this exposure to modern technology, moreso in Tebogo and the haka. His wife, Khanyi, is in France but of course she keeps in touch with him thanks to modern technology, via emails and by phone. SMS (text messages) keep their love glowing despite the vast physical distances between them:

“Before I slept, I was delighted to receive a text (SMS) message from my wife, Khanyi. She reiterated her love for me, said Paris was great but she would prefer to be with me. ‘Sweet dreams honey,’ she ended, ‘big, big kisses’….I slept well”
(Tebogo and the haka)

As we see later on in the book SMS messages add to the mystery of the story as the plot unravels (but I do not want to give the plot away here); also, as part of the deference to modernity at the end of the book we are told about “slick, sophisticated tape recorder on my person”Despite the fact that Tebogo is in a small town (Ladybrand) he still has time to go to the Internet. As we are told:

“He (the owner of the Internet shop) smiled. ‘Ah, sometimes we just open for a few hours. Now people are becoming more interested in the Internet. Alas, right now, only one computer is working well. You can pay for 30 minutes, an hour…to user the internet’‘An hour would be fine,’ I said. ‘I’d like to catch up with my emails…’ I paid for an hour and read my disappointingly few emails. I had hardly spent 15 minutes here and I was more or less through…’”

(Tebogo and the haka)

Other aspects of the story/mystery here involve recordings being made and being shown on computers (not on TV which apparently has become common place!). We are no longer surprised these days that many people at grassroots level have access to computers and sophisticated recorders. It is all part of our modern trappings – which keeps on improving and growing daily.

There are some people who believe that the modern generation has lost a lot (spiritually and intellectually), with so much technology around; that the likes of the Bronte sisters 200 years ago (Emily and Charlotte, to mention the most famous duo) honed their intellect because there was no electricity then (so no electrical gadgets at the time) – that they had ample time to think, go for walks, meditate and construct. The quality of their published works certainly shows their awesome intellect.

However others point out that with so much knowledge available to the world now – accessible more or less instantaneously from the Internet – people are over-spoilt for choice now and can avail themselves of wonderful opportunities. Certainly writers continue to write, and reflect and complement the goings-on in our world, as can be seen from Omoseye Bolaji’s Tebogo and the Haka.
* Originally published in 2009 in Lentswe. Slightly revised here

THE INTENTION OF MY LEGACY

The intention of my legacy

A poem by Hector S Kunene

I am.
My birth symbolised irreversible revolution
I am glad I was not aborted, though I can never dispute a possible thought
My legacy lives on between my thoughts and my action
This life is but a flowing river from one to fill the other yet maintaining its origin.
These are the defining moments of where my ability is to bring about existence
These are the times of my true expressions releasing my inner potential
These times were recorded in the big book time before my journey began
My breaths and wreaths, sweats and statistics of my life were before I am.
I stretch my thoughts till my veins pound blood clots of ideas
Questioning time after time the true potential bared before my path
My legacy to toll and scroll down the life I aspired every breath I took
I finally understood the true meaning of my purpose of my legacy on earth
This life will not surpass my hard efforts in vain
I will never bear a fruitless crown on my walks long before I fall
This world can take a gift and send it to the dogs for a game of fouls
There is a true meaning of one's existence, every one's existence!
There is magnificence in a spoken word
There is a certain equivocal meanings that one is imperative to find
This life is of no use for the useless mind
I am.
I stand by my word that binds and defines who I am. H.S. Kunene