Fresh from the success of winning the Commonwealth Prize for Fiction (Africa) as well as the Sunday Times Fiction Award for The Heart of Redness, his investigation of the Nongqawuse story, Zakes Mda has turned his imagination to the Immorality Act. The Madonna of Excelsior (Oxford) deals with a 1971 court case in which 19 citizens of the Orange Free State town of Excelsior were charged under the Act. Mda has created archetypal characters that weave their way through the political maze; they symbolise race relations, pain, revenge and healing. The novel revolves around Niki, a fallen “madonna”, raped by a white man. Her daughter Popi is one of those who will struggle with identity and prejudice. Rich descriptions of Father Frans Claerhout’s paintings open each chapter, reminding us that suffering and beauty are often linked.
Why did you write about this case and how much is based on fact?
Many people have forgotten about this case. I thought it would make a good novel. A lot of it is based on research. I met with the women involved and still speak to them. I’ve merely replaced some of them with my own characters that interact with the facts. An oral tradition of storytelling informs my writing. I did not want to delve into the psychology of the characters.
It’s a very visual book.
The rights have already been optioned to make a film out of it. Ways of Dying [Mda’s 1995 novel] is also coming out as a film. I don’t want to be involved in the screenwriting — I enjoy seeing others’ interpretation of my work, as with my plays. It’s a work of art. It belongs to everybody. Different readers will get different things from this book.
The book talks much about the role of coloured people in the anti-apartheid struggle.
Especially the struggle of a coloured girl [Popi] who is a different kind of coloured. She’s born in a black community, grows up there and is by all purposes a Basotho girl, but who suffers extreme prejudice in the community.
“From the sins of our mothers all these things flow” begins and ends the book — please explain.
It’s irony and sarcasm, as the story tells you something different. It’s actually the sins of the white man and the black man — Niki’s father and husband. People tend to see things in black and white — as in who’s to blame. But in reality there’s a lot of good in us and bad — it depends on which side is dominant. I didn’t want to take a position on it.
How do you see your role as a writer in South Africa?
My stories have that historical backdrop, but first and foremost I write them to entertain. I’m a storyteller, but also a social critic and a teacher. I don’t see that as my primary role, but, whether I like it or not, that’s what happens. There shouldn’t be a specific, prescribed role. Artists should just create with all the freedom in the world and define for themselves what their role is as an individual artist. During apartheid, there was a strict social prescription to address the situation. With he demise of apartheid, the imagination of the artist has been freed. He/she can address politics and gender issues, or no issues at all.
Do you worry about commercial success?
It never worries me. If I like [a book], there must be someone [else] who likes it! In the same way, I know they will never all like it. That’s what life’s all about. If you are that kind of author, then you should fashion your art to appeal to a particular audience. Another type of artist creates a work of art without thinking about that. When the work is complete it defines its own audience. And hopefully there is an audience.
Most of your work is highly politicised.
Politics is what I know best. But the story that I’m writing now [The Whale Caller] is not overtly political. There is no piece of art that is not political, but this one does not consciously make any political statements. It’s about the eternal love triangle: man, woman and whale. It’s a departure of sorts.
What’s next for you?
I’m going to Ohio University to teach creative writing and Latin-American literature for one year. My relatives are in Lesotho, but Jo’burg is my favourite place — the arts, the theatre and the wealth of culture. I don’t think I could live permanently somewhere else.